#wewillfindourwaythere

[wewillfindourwaythere]

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[hardyimagines]

Him

So I just wanted to write something random and quick to see if I COULD and this is what I jotted down. It is the most Drabble of a Drabble to ever exist. I’m sorry if you hate it, but it is merely a ‘try again after so long of not writing’. 💛 thank you for your patience. I am so grateful.

He was nestled in your mind like a bookmark stuffed between the folded pages in a book.

The taste of him burned your tongue, a tingling sensation you’d never be able to forget. Warm, sweet, addicting.

His facial hair scraped your tender skin, short, sharp strands causing you to wrinkle your nose when he’d press his plump lips against your own. He could hold more oxygen than you.

He resembled a bear, slouched in the velvet, floral patterned furniture in your dimly lit living room. He occupied majority of the cushions, his heavily rising and deflating chest, moving with every deep inhale and exhale as he tried and managed to catch his breath much quicker than you could.

He wore jewelry every day, covered in it from head to toe it seemed, merely because of the amount his fingers cradled. The ink that stained his tanned flesh, marking his big hand and wide chest, were ones that complimented the cold, silver and gold accessories.

He was breathtaking to look at, to watch as he read the newspaper. You’d peer over the rim of your coffee cup as you tipped the pot and filled the mug to the brim with steaming liquid. It smelled sweet, tasted sweet, but would never live up to the taste of the man in your living room. Would never smell as good either.

Coffee breath stained your exhales every morning, something that bothered you when it would waft back in your face as you slouched on the sofa nearby, content with watching the flames burn in the fireplace or the trees blow outside the cracked window. Try as you might, your gaze would always make its way to the scruffy-faced, blue-eyed bloke with bread crumbs in his beard and small scars on his face.

He wasn’t quiet. Little grunts and incoherent mumbles would fall from his lips, filling the comfortable silence in the room. It always pulled a smile from you as you continued to sip the hot beverage, never bothered by the lingering scent it left long after the burning liquid slid down your throat, for Alfie seemed to like the way it complimented the ‘vanilla and ember’ you tasted like.

The first time he’d described your kisses as tasting like ember, you’d almost felt the need to hide. To scrub your tongue and teeth with your toothbrush until you were toothless. He’d explained it wasn’t negative, that it probably wasn’t the best description but he didn’t have a way with words — he wasn’t used to handing out compliments. He did his best to explain ember, to explain that it meant you tasted like home. You tasted like what he yearned for. It had made the sticky, sweet, honey-like feeling form in your stomach, dripping internally until you felt absolutely sick to your stomach.

How could someone make you feel so strongly? Love certainly was a mystery.

The nights when he was tucked away in the distillery, working long after the sun had faded away and the moon shone on the city below, you’d dance around the living room, your hands intertwined with the sound of music that guided you in a routine dance that had formed in less than a week. You envisioned it was him, carrying you around the living room with such ease. He wasn’t much of a dancer, you assumed, but he didn’t need to be. Your imagination was a gift, filling in the spaces that he didn’t seem like the type to do. You’d never asked him to dance and you were sure he wouldn’t decline. He might huff and puff and insist it was silly, but he rarely declined you. Not behind closed doors. Not when the paper thin curtains were drawn to a close, but even with the flimsy blinds, it sealed the outside world out. It was only in the day time, when the sun illuminated the cloth that people could see through it. So invasive. An invite for them to watch the pair of you as your bodies connected on the sofa, the creaking furniture threatening to break any day now.

The thought brought a smile to your lips, the curve flattering as your barefeet led you in a twirl along the rug. The expression made your heart flutter, the man being the cause of it even when he wasn’t home.

You’d never be able to thank the man for all he’d done for you — knowingly and unknowingly. But even without his presence, you tipped your head back and let the music hold you just a little tighter as your breathless whisper flooded the room.

“Thank you, Alfie..” Your voice was almost silent, as if he’d hear you from miles away. Your tone dripped with bliss.

The clock in the corner ticked on by and you knew sooner or later those heavy boots would hit the porch and the jingling of his keys would join in the quiet night air, accompanying the quiet hum from the flickering porch light as he unlocked the door and piled inside. Most nights he was tired, but he always led you to bed with him, his body big as it locked around your own, so secure and protective. He was a blanket of security.

Your blanket of permanent security. He never left you feeling unwanted. Alone. Forgotten. He was the reason your brain swam with the idea that soulmates existed. The reason the lightbulb inside you burned bright. He was a constant inspiration, a positive impact in your life. He may have been dangerous, crass, blunt, rude, a bit sassy, and intimidating. But who he was to you didn’t have to be the same as who he was to most.

And for you, he was tender, inviting, still a bit sassy, introverted. He was yours. Just your’s and that was enough.

———————————————————————

Will tag people soon 🥺 I’m sorry!

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[wewillfindourwaythere]

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I'm back!

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Particular Taste

The boys of Hawthorne academy take a field trip to Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, Michael gets a little too infatuated with one of the witches.

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Y/N

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm, reader playing hard-to-get 🤪, Young!Michael, Pre-smut? maybe? Sexual tension

Word Count: 1.2k

She’ll take your name and number,

 then hit erase and walk away.

“Cordelia, is this really necessary?” You inquired, pacing after the blonde supreme whilst sending a confused eyebrow raise towards Zoe who stood in the living room mentoring another generation of witches, who were incredibly rare to come by in this day and age.

“It will be a nice change of scenery for the warlocks,” She stated, as almost if she was trying to convince herself into the whole ordeal leaving you even more baffled in the process.

“And when have you become lenient towards this idea?” You exclaimed, your voice raising as it seemed to do when you were offended, proving a point, or questioning one’s logic it seemed to be the latter in this situation. 

“They say one of them is rival to me as supreme,” She reiterated while turning on her pristine white heels to face you, her expressionless face almost intimidating, but you had grown to see through the facade she held up to protect her girls including you.

“But there is no way, there has never been-,” You began to attempt to muster up an excuse for it to be cancelled, gesturing with your hands to emphasise your point. 

“I know Y/N, now get back to preparing for your classes I have matters to deal with,” Cordelia explained, shutting you down abruptly. She was hiding something you could tell but you decided not to press any further. 

You felt like you were being scolded by your mother, as the best in the class you took offence to Cordelia’s words holding a back a snarl of disrespect. Hasn’t she realised that you might be in line for the next supreme?

“I want to meet this rival,” You spoke bitterly, mumbling to yourself while standing in the hallway clenching your fists almost painfully.

The next few days you anticipated were full of pressing anxiety about meeting the young warlocks, unsure of how to approach them without showing your distaste and impulsiveness. The two traits that almost defined you as a witch.

“They’ve arrived,” Coco called out signalling the rest of the coven to get in line to greet their male equivalents, hopefully, they would adjust easily and not cause too much of a ruckus.

“Girls,” Zoe scolded, coordinating the witches into the line whilst sending you a reassuring smile which seemed to calm you down slightly, it was like you were radiating steam as you stood poised on the staircase.

As the warlocks began to enter, you stepped elegantly down the stairs in the small black dress you wore on ‘special’ occasions. Catching the needy eyes of the warlocks you let out a scoff, lips upturning into a smile when you reached the bottom, your heels clicking against the floor satisfyingly. 

“Miss Cordelia will be down soon,” You explained cordially, with the help of your sisters you began to usher the warlocks into the living room.

Your eyes locked with a strawberry blonde-haired boy noticing the way he was gawking, you gave him a playful wink. The power you had over the male species gave you surges of energy that nothing else could. 

Their uniforms were very cute, the small buttoned on tie and black and white ensemble was a proper gentleman’s outfit.

They had no issue sitting in their assigned seats, however, the one that had caught your eye before sat next to you regardless of the name placements on the table. 

“What’s your name?” You asked him, fixing your gaze on tapping the blue ballpoint pen repeatedly against the table trying your hardest to be polite.

“Michael, Langdon,” His name rolled from his tongue like pure honey, making you almost tingle with how unexpectedly deep his voice was. After a long almost awkward silence, he spoke up again gaining your attention.

“And yours?” He pursed his lips, as if he was holding his breath which almost made you let out a small laugh his persona was cute, you’d have to admit.

“Oh, you’re going to have to work a lot harder for it than that,” You sincerely replied, tilting your head at him almost observingly as your silk-like hair fell in front of your face.

The sound of Cordelia’s iconic heels clicking against the ground caught your undivided attention, staring at your supreme your lips upturned into an ignorant smirk. 

“Welcome, to Miss Robichaux’s Academy for gifted women,” Cordelia introduced, gathering a few scoffs from the audience which prompted you to send the few death stares.

“Today, you will be split into the levels of your magic ability, each group will be assigned an instructor,” She went on, pacing around the room unnervingly she seemed to have that effect on males.

As soon as those words left her mouth, You, Zoe, Coco and Mallory raised your hands signalling that it was them. 

“Level one’s with Coco, level two’s with Mallory, Level three’s with Zoe, Level fours and fives with Y/N,” After stating the instructions, she quickly exited the room leaving the girls to handle the warlocks.

Slowly but surely each level left the room, you scorned as you realised Michael was stuck with you, how coincidental.

“So you’re the warlock who is rivalling the supreme?” You asked, removing yourself from the dining table waiting for him to follow after your actions. 

“It seems that way Miss Y/N, do you have a problem with that?” He fired a question back at you, his tongue was going to get him in trouble one day if it hadn’t already.

“Depends,” You whispered into his ear, leaning into his figure noticing how his breath hitched you kissed your teeth in response as if you were debating something before pulling away, leaving the poor boy flustered as a faint blush dusted across his cheeks.

“Well that explains a lot,” You giggled, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear, acting like a typical school-girl. Turning to walk away, he clasped his nimble fingers around your fragile wrist refraining you from doing so.

“I’d be careful If I was you, Y/N,” He warned, his face just uncomfortably inches away from your face as your hand pressed against his chest.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” you exclaimed overdramatically rolling your eyes as you tried to awkwardly tug your arm away from him.

“Michael, I’ll ask you once, kindly let go of me,” You growled through gritted teeth, seeing the excitement flare in his eyes, he was asking for it. 

He shook his head a smirk forming on his perfect lips, making your jaw clench out of instinct. 

“Rursus,” You muttered under your breath, barely lifting a finger as his body went flying back onto the cold hard ground in the living room, the force enough was nearly enough to knock him out.

“You’re more powerful than I thought, I’m impressed,” He coughed out regaining the air in his lungs as he stood up fixing his tie, his prince charming like hair was now dishevelled.

“My effort wasn’t half bad, but you should see me in bed,” You remarked, hearing another loud unexpected cough from your comment probably taking him by surprise with your confidence.

“Now are you coming or not warlock?” You bit your red-stained bottom lip a mischievous smile evident on your face, facing the hall waiting to feel his presence behind you.

He shook his head almost in disbelief as he began to trail after you, pinning his own hands behind himself and comfortably almost contently listening to your sultry voice.

[idontseeyoucrocheting-blog]

Sending a virtual hug ! and positive vibes :)

[viktorniliforv]

wewillfindourwaythere replied to your post:In the last month I’ve gained 50 new followers. I...

Its cause your Awesome : )

Why thank you!! :D

[lovelustandleto]

Just wanted to say Hi ! And sorry for being a creeper (for liking everything ) lol

Hello!!! And thats not creeper omg thank u lovely 

[fyeahzackmerrick]

I thought that i should say Hi ! : ) since I'm always reblogging and liking everything ( so I dont feel like a creeper) lol btw i love you're blog its the best Zack one yet !

hi omg no dont feel like a creeper ilysm pumpkin thank you :)))

[hardyimagines]

The Bed

Okay so I had this little idea so I’m taking a little brain break to jot this down and upload it because I just think the image is cute/funny 🥵

Warnings: nothing too graphic, frustrated Tommy wants sex with his girl!

———————————————————————

It was not easy to have sex on an air mattress.

The fan in the corner was high-powered, silver plastic-blade spinning as quickly as the motor in the back spurred it to. Tommy had blindly reached behind him during your makeout session to turn the switch on and drown out the constant creaking from the blow up bed the pair of you were laid on. You weren’t told by his older brother, Brendan, when the pair of you agreed to spend the night, that the two of you were going to have to camp out in the living room because their only spare bedroom was being painted and nobody was allowed to stay in there and inhale the fumes. The sofa in the corner wasn’t big enough for the pair of you to sleep comfortably on either, so Brendan had offered the inflatable bed.

It was better than nothing. But not very suitable for what Tommy was trying to do to you.

Tommy moaned out softly against your lips, pulling you from your faraway thoughts and instead back to the moment. You moved your small fingers to the blanket draped around his hips and pulled it up to his back. Cradling it there securely because the fuzzy fabric kept trying its hardest to fall down to his bum due to his feverish thrusting, your legs opened further so that he could get even closer to your body.

“Tommy..” You purred out against his open mouth. Groaning breathily, you lifted your head off of the pillow and moved it to his ear so you could playfully bite at his lobe. “That’s feels so g..” Your eyes fluttered as he adjusted his hips. His toes curled, knees sinking more firmly into the bed as he switched up his angle and his speed. His hand found the pillow that your head was propped up on, body moving on top of your own just a little quicker. “Baby- you cant!” You whispered out hurriedly, but he’d already quickened his thrusts.

The bed beneath the two of you sunk with the added spread of pressure. You gasped quietly beneath him before groaning out in agitation instead of approval when the bed instantly began to deflate.

Tommy sighed heavily before leaning back on his knees and breaking away from your small body. “This fucking bed.” He let out a loud moan of frustration. When the man started to stand, you wrapped the blanket around his hips tighter to remind him that standing while nude probably wasn’t a good idea because Brendan, his wife, or their kids could come sauntering down the stairs in the corner at any given moment to get a drink or midnight snack. He stiffened at the reminder before kissing your cheek in thanks. Reaching beneath the blanket, he struggled to pull his boxers back on before he maneuvered himself to where he could get out from under the blanket and off of the stupid useless thing on the floor. “It has to have a hole in it.”

Your eyes were glued to the bulge, tucked away in his underwear as he moved to the table in the corner. His hand curled around the black pump, thumb sliding along the side of the thing in search of the power button. You wiggled your hips, struggling momentarily to draw your shorts back on. Once you had, you climbed off of the bed, smoothing down the t-shirt of his that embraced your body. You stepped out of the way before folding your arms over your chest and watching the man get to work.

“Maybe we could find the hole and put some tape on it.” You offered quietly. Your breaths were ragged, hot, and he could hear the evident shake.

“Babe, I haven’t got any tape.” He looked toward you, brows lifting as if to ask if you had any. Your shy head shake made him huff. It’s just pointless to even keep airing up.” He grumbled out.

This was the third time.

Tommy knelt down beside the hole, adjusting the bed so that the nozzle slid into the insertion on the side. He crossed his legs and slumped on the tan rug, eyes narrowing as he turned the loud, but needed, pump on. You were no longer tempted to cover your ears. The dull humming sounded louder than it actually was in the small space, but you were sure, since you’d done it so many times now — that nobody upstairs could hear the obnoxious sound. Moving your gaze from the bed to your boyfriend, you watched the muscles ripple deliciously in his back as he shifted. Drawing your lips in, you gnawed on them lazily before stepping forward and squatting down behind him.

“Forget it.” You told him quietly. You waited for the pump to turn off before you lifted your hands to his shoulders, fingertips tracing his hard muscles and the ink that stained his flesh. “This time.. maybe we should just fuck on the floor.” Tommy’s palm was pressed firmly against the bed, feeling for any sort of hole where the air could be escaping. He didn’t get to thoroughly check though before your words distracted him. He narrowed them, pondering your suggestion.

The first time you’d tried to have sex on the air mattress, the clip that held the hole tightly shut had popped off and you’d been a giggling mess. Tommy had aired it back up and resumed with what he’d been doing. Your bodies were connected as they’d been moments prior to the accident, but they didn’t stay that way for long because then the bed had tilted. The top half had deflated and your bodies had ended up lopsided. It was a very difficult position to have sex in. But then the third time, the bed had just given out in multiple different places an at this point, Tommy had to. The bed was unreliable. It wasn’t helping his raging arousal in the slightest.

He rotated around without giving you a verbal answer and answered the questioning look in your eye by swiftly hoisting you up. He stood and simultaneously lifted you along with him. Propping you up on his strong hips, he leaned in and stole multiple kisses before taking you toward the sofa. The furniture wouldn’t be possible to sleep on, but you could at least use it instead of the floor to have sex on. He dropped you on the cushion with a lazy smirk before climbing on top of you.

“How about here?” He spoke out huskily.

“This works too.” You hummed out quietly. The fan in the corner would continue to drown out your sounds and the family sleeping upstairs would continue to remain oblivious to the frustration the two of you had dealt with that night.

But most of all, the bed in the center of the room would continue to lose air because of the hole, punctured in the center of the air mattress. The second the two of you climbed on to the bed to get some sleep, it would sink. But you weren’t worried about the bed right now and neither was your lover. You were both a bit more focused on one another.

Tommy let out a low moan against your lips, boxers once more looped around his ankles as he pulled at your shorts. He’d never had to undress you so many times in such a short period of time. You rolled your neck to the side so he could press lazy kisses against your throat. Smiling beneath his lips, you relaxed into the sofa, confident that it wouldn’t sink like the inflatable you currently had your eyes set on and the two of you would finally get to have sex tonight.

———————————————————————

A/N: frustrated Tommy Conlon just tryna love on his baby and he can’t because of the dumb bed 🥵😤

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[wewillfindourwaythere]

4 years later and things don't change #carblife #tbt 🌮🌯🍮🍞🍦

[hyunnielix]

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You Should See Me In A Crown

Being sick of the pastor who rules the satanic church, you decide to do something about it, while meeting an attractive blonde boy in the process. 

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Y/N

Warnings: Fluff, Gore?, Death, Reader may be a bit psychotic, Time skip

Word Count: 1.4k

Wearing a warning sign

Wait till’ the world is mine

Fell for those ocean eyes

“I’m about to gouge my own eyes out so I don’t have to look at this weak ass congregation anymore, I need to hear some sins,” The woman donned in a crimson red robe spoke egotistically, pacing around the satanic symbol that was plastered on the church’s wooden flooring.

“Madelyn, stop your whining it’s getting irritating,” You exclaimed rolling your eyes in an unimpressed manner, rising out of the seat of the furtherest pew away from the ‘stage’ muttering a quick excuse me to the dirty blonde who had just stumbled in without invitation.

Your blood red heels clicked against the wood, strutting down the middle of the church you abruptly stopped just in front of the woman, almost intimidatingly as the way you carried yourself seemed to radiate a mostly dominant aura.

“And who are you?” Her voice dripped with venom, eyeing the get up your wore up and down disgustedly which made you scoff in her face in retaliation.

“Your worst nightmare sweetie,” You leant forward, sliding your hand around her throat and licking a stripe up underneath her jaw, letting out a psychotic giggle at her reaction.

“Now let’s have some fun shall we?” You rhetorically questioned, circling the womans’ shorter figure and letting your hands roam all over her body trying to distract her from the fact you had a knife hidden underneath your little black dress.

Inconspicuously pulling the metal blade out of your garter, you grabbed a fistful of her hair in your hand, pulling her body against yours smirking as the audience seemed more than captivated by your performance.

“I’m sure the so-called antichrist will love this,” You cooed sarcastically, bringing the scalpel-like blade quickly across Madelyn’s throat, red sticky substance began pouring out of the cut immediately, drowning the floor in the crimson colour as she choked, desperate for air to enter her lungs.

Gasps echoed through the church as you let go of her lifeless body, curtsying evilly, you licked the metallic substance off the knife before shoving it back into the garter, marching down the side of the pews to reach your seat promptly.

Rudely crossing your legs against the head of the pew in front of you, you focused your gaze on your chipped black nails frowning as you knew you had to put the effort in to redo them.

“What are you all looking at me for? I just did what had to be done,” You explained, the many eyes of the silenced audience making you feel slightly uncomfortable under their gaze.

Once the chatter began again, the nerves that had ridiculed your stomach disappeared as the small donation basket finally reached you.

Paying attention to the newcomer, you held the basket out towards him waiting patiently for his donation to the cause or what you liked to call charity.

“I don’t have any money right now,” The mumbled words fell out of his mouth almost tiredly, His five o’clock shadow was more than prominent when he turned his head towards you, noticing the tear streaks down his cheeks your expression softened. His dishevelled blonde hair made his appearance look even more rugged than the tattered clothes he wore.

Parting your lips, you inhaled his scent that smelt similarly of the pine trees that the city was surrounded by, the lush forests were what the town was known for.  

“Or any food by the looks of things,” You whispered to yourself, his gaze wavered back to the dead body that lay on the floor, rubbing his face in the palm of his dirty and raw hands.

“Let’s ditch this freakshow, I’ve got some food back at my place,” You smiled softly, tilting your head to the side to give you a better view of his face.

“That’s actually really nice of you,” He muttered, pulling his bottom lip beneath his teeth as he nodded accepting your offer unfolding his crossed arms and waiting for you to lead the way.

“What can I say? I do charity work,” You chirped happily, standing and shuffling awkwardly out of the pew, you reached for his hand to pull him up, however, his reflexes were too quick and instead he had clasped onto your wrist in reaction to your movements.

Letting out a gasp, your widened eyes followed his gaze to your now aching wrist that he held tightly in his grip.

“I’m s-sorry,” He apologised profusely, making you furrow your brows as you slid your hand over his to try and calm him down, somewhat questioning if you should really let this stranger into your home.

“I’m not used to-,” He began to explain becoming overwhelmed easily with his own conflicting emotions, you shushed him by placing your finger on his lips.

“It’s fine, come on now,” You hummed, leading the way out of the church as the rest of the occupants ignored your fleeting absence.

Dragging him into your bathroom by the ripped collar of his shirt, you shut the door behind both of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up huh?” You asked, opening the cabinet above you to reach for the shaving foam and an unfortunately pink coloured razor.

“Why did you kill her?” He asked curiosity roamed his dull blue eyes while you tilted his chin up, allowing the razor to have better access to the stubble that donned his more than pretty face.

“She was annoying me.” You shrugged, pursing your lips in concentration as you scraped the razor slowly down the side of his jaw. You swore you saw the sides of his lips twitch into a smile at your honesty.

“Why are you so nice to me?” He questioned yet again, leaning his head without prompts now making it easier for you to shave him as he was becoming more comfortable with you.

“You remind me of a younger version of myself, who I didn’t take care of very well. It’s only fair I fix that mistake,” You uttered, trying to convince yourself that you were finally doing something remotely right, the regrets that lingered in your mind were definitely going to be your downfall.

He let out a sigh, nodding slightly in contentment, he seemed to like your presence and your ability to converse easily even with complete strangers like him.

“I haven’t asked for your name,” You stated almost dumbfounded at your own obliviousness, handing him a towel to wipe his face on in the process.

“Michael,” he promptly replied, his previously dull blue eyes now glimmering with something you could almost begin to call hope.

“Y/N, here have a shower I’ll be waiting outside,” You demanded, replying with your name swiftly before scooting out of the bathroom at lightning speed leaving him be.

Scrounging around for at least five minutes you were able to find your Ex-Boyfriends ripped skinny jeans and band shirt, placing them on the bed you knew they’d fit Michael. You had to admit he cleaned up quite nicely, literally and figuratively.

Looking away from him for the sake of his own privacy, he got changed at an inhuman pace, quickly diving under the covers of your bed as if he was excited to fall asleep.

“Goodnight,” You softly whispered, nearing the door to exit your room, you’d just sleep on the couch for now it couldn’t be that bad.

“Sleep next to me?” He coaxed while sitting up in the bed, patting the spot next to him while he furrowed his brows.

“I don’t think that’s a g-good idea,” You stuttered reaching for the door handle, but a weird pressure almost stopped you from leaving.

“Please?” He mumbled, his gaze looking down at his hands that had been cut from the rocks he used to make the pentagram to summon his father which obviously failed on his half.

For the first time in a while, you felt your heart ache at the brokenness of his voice. Wandering over to the edge of your bed, you reached for the silk sheets allowing for your body to slip underneath easily.

Facing away from him, you were surprised when you felt his arms wrap around your waist as much as they could, pulling you into him comfortably.

He buried his head into the back of your shoulder, feeling his warm tears on your hot skin made you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Goodnight Michael, sleep well.”

[kenzipher]

wewillfindourwaythere replied to your post: does anyone know how to scan a fucking picture on an HP printer/scanner.

what year is the printer ?

its a 2010 i think. its an HP deskjet F2480

[hardyimagines]

Rosy

may i ask for something like Reggie finds Ron and you kissing sweetly and he is like o.O and ron gets embarrassed and you are like 😍😍 cause you can't believe you're in love w this teddy bear

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Red. It was the color of passion. It was the raw, blinding color you saw in moments of intense heat. It was the color that stained your boyfriend’s cheeks when you complimented him. It was the tint that circled your swollen lips after hours of kissing. The color of racing hearts. Cherry chapstick. Mingling tongues. Angry stares.

Ron was stood in the corner with his elbow laid out on the sticky countertop. The bar was drenched in spilled liquor and toppled over glasses, waiting to be tilted upright. He sent a glare toward the dishes, too annoyed to pick them up himself, so instead he merely stared. His fingertips drummed against the counter hollowly, beating against it repeatedly and without fault in its rhythm. He casted a glance toward the drunk guests that weaved between one another and danced clumsily around the room. Each and every person in the club was pumped full of the addicting alcohol and as he watched the laughing idiots, he couldn’t help but to pity them. They looked so pathetic, he decided, as he watched men roar with laughter and women bat their eyelashes toward blokes who were clearly uninterested. Alcohol made people stupid and stupid people got on his nerves.

A heavy grunt left his lips, a sound drowned out by the noisy music in the room. He ran his tongue over his lips before turning away from the noisy occupants and instead completely toward the counter.

His twin brother, Reggie was stood on the opposite side of the counter, dishing out cups of ice for thirsty consumers. Usually neither of them tended the bar, but tonight, Reggie felt a bit generous and wanted to be more involved. Ron watched as ice cube after ice cube was placed in a cup before that cup was given to whoever had requested it. He was bored, completely and utterly ready to go home. The man use to find entertainment in hanging out with the lads, but that no longer mattered to him.

He use to enjoy toying with the boys that worked for them. Using them as much as possible. But he never truly loved them. He’d just cared for them when need be. His blue eyes fell to the counter, sticking to it like the liquor did. But they didn’t matter anymore — not since he’d met you.

“Your girl’s here.” Reggie informed his brother before pointing toward the door.

Ron didn’t hesitate before craning his neck around so he could look in your direction. You rarely ever stopped by the club. You were similar to Ron in a sense of hating crowds. Especially overly loud ones with people who wanted to convince themselves they were much drunker than they actually were. The red dress you wore embraced your body snugly. It twinkled beneath the bright lights in the room, shimmering because of the sparkles that bordered the entirety of it. And it didn’t take long at all for you to spot him. Your pretty painted lips curved upward, a delicate smile sent directly in his direction.

Reggie moved out from behind the counter to tend to Albie who’d requested his presence earlier, so as he slipped away from the bar just as you moved between the crowd and headed toward your boyfriend.

He always looked so handsome at work, dressed down in a smart suit. Tonight he wore black. Solid. No pinstripes. The white collar that bordered his jacket was from the button down under his blazer and he looked sickeningly attractive. Ron lifted his fingers to his glasses, pushing the frame up and along the curvy bridge of his nose as he watched you approach. Everyone else in the room faded away and all he saw was you.

Your small hand extended toward his when he was within reach and he wasted no time at all before locking his fingers around your own and guiding you into him completely. Your hands lifted to his strong chest, laying against his warm skin as you stared up at his features.

“Evening.” He uttered hoarsely.

“Good evening, Mr. Kray. Are you having a good night?” You inquired breathily. He bit his cheek briefly.

“It’s much better now, innit.” He murmured before placing his large hand on the curve of your hip. His thick fingers were strong on your waist, tender but firm as he drew you forward and toward him, no shyness in how close he held you to him.

“Such a charmer, you are.” You smiled playfully before moving your hand to his cheek. Tracing his warm, soft skin, you sucked in a deep breath before using the height of your heels to assist you in reaching your boyfriend’s lips. You’d been waiting all day for a kiss and you’d be damned if it’d be delayed any longer. Placing your hand on the back of his neck, you drew him forward and toward you so your mouths could connect.

Ron never kissed you in public. It was too dangerous. Too unknown. What if someone dangerous saw? But in that moment he found it too hard to care. His stomach twisted with delight and his heart hammered with excitement. His mouth slanted perfectly against yours, opening and closing at just the right pace. You hummed out breathily, always in shock by how good something so simple felt. Your arms wound around his shoulders, refusing to part with him. He tasted so good. He kissed so good. He made you feel so good.

“Jesus, can’t the pair of you get a room?” Reggie’s voice cut into the mix. It was an instant mood killer. Ron drew back sharply, as if your lips had been burning his own and when you looked toward his twin, it was only to shoot daggers at him. Ron was red in the face, blood boiling and stomach twisting from frustration. All he saw was red. You wouldn’t have been surprised if all hell broke loose, but Ron managed to keep himself cool.

Reggie was baffled. You could see that as you ogled him. He knew that the pair of you were dating, but he didn’t know you were that close already. He’d never seen his brother kiss anyone before so the sight was a bit.. shocking. He folded his arms over his chest stiffly before looking toward Ron with a confused expression. He knew that the pair of you were serious, but this serious? Serious enough to kiss in public and expose your relationship to everyone?

Ron Kray had red cheeks and shuffled his weight like a child who’d just been told off as he lazily messed with the glasses on his face. He looked so pathetically innocent in that moment — so deceiving. He couldn’t drag his eyes off of the floor as he tried to swallow down the ebarassment he felt at being caught. You fidgeted too, though your wiggling was from impatience. You wanted to kiss him again.. so you didn’t wait much longer before slinking closer to your handsome man. You stepped closer to the front of your boyfriend before swallowing thickly. Gently grabbing ahold of the front of his smooth tie, you lugged him down and forward in order to lock your lips together, staining his pink lips red.

Reggie lifted his hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the sight. A low growl left his lips, a sound warning his brother to find a different space to kiss you in, but the sound Ron set free was enough to make Reggie back off. He wasn’t moving this time. And he wasn’t breaking the kiss. You’d given him the confidence he needed as your mouth opened unashamedly against his, arms curling around his middle this time as you lazily began to sway to the soft music.

A grumpy Reggie moved around the pair of you, unsure of how to process the fact that his brother was in a stable relationship before he was. He took it upon himself to wipe down the counters and clean up the dishes in order to avoid looking anywhere but at the gross scene of his brother making out with you.

Ron, on the other hand, was beginning to lose the rosy color in his face. His skin returned to its normal tone and his arms wrapped around you more securely, kissing you deeper and deeper as each second ticked by. It was a lovely surprise having you stop by the club, and after today, he hoped you’d do it a lot more often.

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[hardyimagines]

For The Best

Short little thing because I’m in my feels & thinking of my ex soooo here you gooo

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Cold. It was instant. It felt like all the warmth in your body had drained and you were left feeling so empty. He was peering at you, discreetly. You hadn’t even noticed his stare. It was only when the dull thud of his heavy footsteps came thumping toward you that you lifted your gaze away from your work. But he wasn’t coming toward you, not directly, just past you.

Alfie adjusted the folder he held in his hand, fingertips tracing the length of the file absentmindedly. His eyes caught yours for only a millisecond when he lifted them and although he saw all the pain, love, and desire shimmering in your watery orbs, you saw nothing in his. He diverted his gaze so quickly to the floor that it made you positive he’d never felt anything for you. You’d been a toy. Just a plaything for him to enjoy for a while. He’d given you the world so you’d given him your heart and just when you thought the relationship was perfect, he’d tossed your heart to the floor and walked off, stomping on the artery without a care in the world.

Your head swam with raging thoughts, endless ones; retitive reminders that he didn’t want you.. and probably never had, filled your aching head.

Meanwhile Alfie forced himself to stare at the blurry words on the paper in front of him. The jab of pain in his heart was enough to make him let out a harsh grunt that he masked with a quiet cough. Despite the fact that he loved you more than he’d ever be able to voice, he loved you enough to let you go. To keep you safe. To protect you from afar. Being together was too dangerous. Too risky. Your pain wasn’t permanent, but death was and he wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything ever happened to you. So with one last glance over his shoulder toward your small, hunched over form, he shut his eyes and vanished around the sharp corner. This was for the best. He was sure of it.

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[hardyimagines]

Foreign

Drabble!

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“Not how you do it, pet.” Alfie grumbled out beneath his breath. His sudden words made your ears twitch before you craned your neck around to eye him. He was sat at the sturdy, wooden desk in the center of the room. You were stood in front of the tall bookcase, dusting the spine of his various books, stacked high above your head. Unbeknownst to you, your boss was watching your every move out of his peripheral. The glasses on his face had slid down the bridge of his nose and were now, no doubt, agitating him. He kept wrinkling his nose and scrunching his brows together, as if the constant movements would magically nudge the glasses back up and into their rightful place.

Without saying anything, you merely cocked a brow and resumed your task. The rag in your hand was coated in dust, filthy pieces, wads that were very visible as they fell from the vanity and floated to the floor to join the sticky contents that was spilled alcohol. There was a lengthy moment of silence before you spoke up. Alfie assumed you were pondering a comeback.

“Mr. Solomons,” a lengthy, drawn out silence followed, one that lured him in so that you were sure you had his attention. “If you’re so picky about the way your books are cleaned, why don’t you clean them yourself.” The twitch of your brows and curl of your lips made him feel as if you were mocking him. Silently teasing him in a ‘you don’t know what you’re doing either sort of way.’ He almost smirked visibly at the thought. He’d taken care of the novels for years and he didn’t plan on letting them waste away now.

The leather seat he was perched on moaned out as his weight was lifted up and off of the thing. He nudged it lightly to the side, palm falling to his trousers so he could lazily pick at the fabric and pull it off of his skin. The room was hot so the fabric he wore was clinging to him like a wet rag. Ruffling his brown locks, sweaty and a bit messy from the hat he’d worn all day, he stepped up behind you. His arm was longer than yours. His legs were the same. He stood taller than you, capable of reaching the high places that were too far for you. You’d had intentions to use a step-stool, but clearly your height wasn’t what he was complaining about.

The space was small. The book case was wedged in between two walls, a perfect fit for the costly piece. Alfie gripped your wrist, fingers still clamped around the rag you’d been using to flick at the dust. His chest, broad and tight, pressed against your back in the slightest, warm breaths tickling the side of your neck as he spoke.

“Right, pet, i, yeah, have got more important fucking matters to tend to, haven’t I? Yeah, I do, right, so you, yeah, you’re gonna have to learn how to do this fucking properly, ain’t ya?” His words seemed to blend together when he spoke. Your ears constantly twitched and burned as you strained to catch every word, because of his thick cockney accent. His fingertips were rough to the touch as they grazed your warm, soft flesh. He adjusted the way that you held the rag. Instead of balling it up in your fist, he angled it to where the cloth circled your fingers instead of vice verse. “Up and down, yeah, along the spines.” His voice seemed so much huskier when he spoke quietly. His hips accidentally brushed against your own, delicate touches as he showed you how it was done. “Not side to side, pet, right, that just smears the mites.” Focusing on his words was impossible to do. His voice, low in your ear, mixed with the tingles and goosebumps on your skin caused from his hot breaths, and his hand enclosed around you wrist, guiding your arm as his front brushed against your back made it entirely too difficult to concentrate.

It was thrilling to say the least. Alfie Solomons was a very attractive man. Gentleman was pushing it. Kind, protective, possessive, defensive. He’d hold a door open for you, but he’s not the type of man a mother would swoon over. You had it bad for Alfie anyway. No approval was needed. No conversations or inquiries with family members for their opinion because he was older and it was just a clear assumption that nothing would progress between the two of you.

Eye-sex, brief little touches, a skim of the fingers, a brush of your chest against his back when you hunched over him to point at the papers on his desk — that was all fine. All innocent. Too impossible to tell if it was just simple or something more. It just left unanswered questions.

But Alfie, chest grazing your back and hips rubbing against yours each time he leaned in to get a better, firmer wipe on the books, made your eyes flutter and your heart thump noisily. You were sure he could hear it. It was involuntary as you swallowed thickly. Your lengthy lashed fluttered closed and the room tripled in temperature within seconds. Your hips pushed backwards as you simultaneously took over cleaning the books. “Like that?” Your voice held entirely too much seduction.

Alfie, with no expectations of what you’d just done, let his hand fall away from your wrist, but only so he could cradle your hip. Neither of you expected the slight — but very noticeable movement, but neither of you said anything about it either. Alfie drew his bottom lip in and lazily suckled on the pink flesh before he slowly moved his gaze back to the books. He could see your hand shaking. The twitch of your fingers. He bit his cheek before pushing his hips, just as firmly as you had, back into your own. Your hipbones pressed against the vanity, sharp against your tender flesh, but too good to be true and too good to stop. Your free hand fell to the desk, steadying yourself, as the other tried lazily to skim the covers. It was so pointless. Every time he moved. Every time he breathed. You crumbled more and more. “Just like that, pet.” Before you knew it, his palm lifted to the center of your back and without warning, he pushed you down so that you were laid on it, flat, belly pressed against the wood and head turned to the side so your warm cheek could cool, pressed just as firmly against the surface.

He watched you daily as you did your duties. Scrutinizing, silently correcting, pleading with you to notice what you were doing was wrong. And yet, you never did. He inhaled deeply, lengthily, eyes squinted and features hardened as he stared down at your arched back. Another part of him hardened as well, especially as you innocently wiggled in front of him, ass rubbing his crotch with every little twitch of your hips. There was no question about what was to come. He wouldn’t have shoved you, face-first, down on the table unless he had intentions of having his way with you.

And as you felt those fingers, those hot fingers clad in cold jewelry, slip inside the back of your dress, you knew he was about to do just that. The dress you wore was rolled up swiftly, far too easy. He fisted his hand in the material and held it around your waist, squeezing it roughly in order to prevent himself from doing it to you and leaving a bruise. All this time.

Watching. Waiting. Waiting. Watching. Wandering. Examining. He’d paid such close attention to you and you were oblivious. The sound of his belt, leather scraping cloth, filled the room before the thing thudded to the floor. You sealed your eyes shut and adjusted your body on the table before moaning out your response. “Mr. Solomons.” The professional means to address him made him harden further. He loved the control. “Mr. Solomons.. I need this.”

Alfie’s free hand ran along your leg before up to your hip. He tugged your naked hips backwards and rubbed his clothed crotch against your bare one, eyes fluttering. The sensation was so nice. You moaned out pleadingly, so desperate for him. “I need this too, yeah, I fucking do..” His eyes fluttered. “You’d best brace yourself, yeah, it’s been a while for me, innit?” Your arms opened before extending across the table so you could grip the back of the bookcase. Clutching on to it, you let your eyes slide shut.

“Don’t hold back.” Your plea was clear. “I can take it, Alfie.”

And take it you did. Like a champ. Hips were no doubt bruised, lower back surely sore. Your mouth was swollen from his sloppy, but the blame was on the position, eager kisses and your eyes hadn’t stopped watering since your orgasm — Alfie Solomons knew exactly what he was doing.

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PSA: IM HALF ASLEEPX, WROTE THIS IN 10-15 MINUTES AND JUST HAD THE IDEA SO I JOTTED IT DOWN ): HOPE YOU ENJOY IT❤️

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