#And it took me into my early 20s to realise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

disneyprincemuke · 2 months

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she's the man * vr dts special

what does netflix have to say about the first and only woman to make it on the grid in almost 2 decades?

warnings: danica patrick jumpscares

notes: hi im procrastinating my assignment that's due tomorrow so i'm making this for you guys <3 and this is so...? poorly written is what i'm trying to say bye

[will buxton] there is a new team on the grid: andretti's appeal to be the 11th team on the grid was approved early last year. there was a lot of talk about who they could hire in their driver lineup. nobody expected sebastian vettel, who literally just retired from being an f1 driver, to be stepping into the shoes of a race engineer. and to take a chance on a rookie driver...

what did you want me to say? she looks down at the clapperboard that's been handed over to her, lifting it up and down as she tries to ease her nervousness. [producer] introduce yourself first and we'll take it step by step from here. she nods and presses her lips together with a smile. hi. i'm driving for andretti racing for the 2023 season and i am the first female on the grid in almost 20 years.

[sebastian vettel] i... you know, i realised i have nothing to do if i don't race. so i took up the job with one exception – they allow a rookie into the team.

-> bahrain, 2023

she smiles, tapping her card onto the reader. she just waves at the crew ahead of her, cameras held up and lenses pointed directly at her as she walks alongside logan and oscar.

i'm a little nervous, of course – i didn't think i'd get this far. in all honestly, i thought f2 was the furthest i'd get when it came to racing. but i'm lucky. sebastian is taking a big gamble putting me in an f1 car this year.

[danica patrick] a woman in f1? i don't expect that will go well overall. does she even have the aggressiveness to be driving alongside these men who, for them, things like these come naturally.

-> abu dhabi, 2022

"well, would you look at that? the sole woman on the grid has made it to the podium. and that would," there's a pause from crofty, taking a deep breath as a smile spreads his lips, "award her as a runner-up in the drivers' championship slightly ahead of liam lawson. she's driven amazing all year round and it's just a wonder if she will ever make it further than formula 2 if she can produce these results at this level of racing."

[susie wolff] she's amazing behind the wheel. toto and i have watched a couple of her races over the years. it's an experience to have her around every weekend beside big household names like lewis hamilton and max verstappen. if her team can give her a good enough car to produce massive results, or she outperforms everyone's expectations this year, it could be very telling for the sport. and it sure opens a lot of opportunities for new generations of racers to come.

[sebastian vettel] well, she produces the results you'd want in a race car driver. i'd like to change the course of things around here, so there was no question that i'd vouch for her to get in a car with the best of the best. she's been in an f1 car before – with haas a while ago – so there's really not much worry about how she'll do this year. she just needs a good car to start.

[claire williams] nothing wrong with taking a chance on a rookie. but as a new team in the sport, you'd want to prove to everyone that you fought rightfully so for your spot as a new addition to the pitlane.

-> bahrain, 2023

she stands at the back of the garage. the camera zooms into the girl toying with the neckline of her fireproofs. she presses her lips together as sebastian talks to her. "so you're starting p18 tomorrow."

"oh." she looks down at the ground and purses her lips together. "well i told you: the car still felt a little difficult in the braking zones earlier. that was the best i could do without burying myself into a barrier."

"yeah, of course. that just means you'll have to work a little extra tomorrow during the race," sebastian grins. he places his hand on her shoulder to shake her gently. "you did your best today. don't even worry about it. you'll come back stronger tomorrow."

"of course. i didn't get this far just to fumble the bag at my first race."

[danica patrick] qualifying p18 as a rookie and as the sole woman in the sport... it's not a good look for either herself or the people who decided to take a chance on her.

"and that's the checkered flag. p11," sebastian says into her ears.

she sighs as she slows the car down for a cool-down lap. she lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "i could have pushed a little more to get better results. i'm sorry."

"ah, you finished ahead of a lot of people and you climbed 7 places on the track. it's a good first race."

[will buxton] right now, it seems that not everyone is fond of having a woman on the grid. that's very prominent in the fan side of things. but a lot of people are forgetting that she raced with some of the big names that people know today and was on par with them in the results growing up.

[oscar piastri] well, we go way back. you know, growing up karting together and constantly being in competition with one another, i think really encouraged her to stay in the sport. when we moved up to f3 from formula renault, she kinda got left behind to stay. so when i was poached by prema to race into f2, i suggested that they give her a chance.

well, i was up there fighting with oscar and logan, and occasionally liam, for good results during karting races and eventually in formula renault. the only disadvantage i had compared to them was that i'm a girl. you know, growing up, i would constantly be told that i wouldn't get very far cause this is a boy's sport. that really does discourage you from wanting and thinking that i'd get into official leagues, but i owe it to my best friends for pushing me to dream bigger and retain the passion i had for racing.

[logan sargeant] i mean... she kinda did hand me my ass every single time we were out on the track. if that doesn't tell people that she's a good racer, i'm unsure what will.

[zak brown] it was, truthfully, down to her and oscar for who should come in and drive for mclaren. but we weren't sure if the risks to bring her in would be worth it. so we went with the safer option.

[james vowles] i know a couple different teams – i'm definitely not namedropping – who were eyeing her for her performance last year. prema did a very good job marketing her as their driver as well so there's an extra factor. she's lovely.

-> australia, 2023

"oh, andretti's rookie passes the flag ahead of the alpha tauri and puts her in the points!" there's cheering in the grandstands, and nobody can believe their eyes at the results of the purple race car. "you see it here first – she is the first woman, in decades, to score points to formula 1"

"that's p9! there's your first points in formula 1!"

"oh? oh my fucking god! i did it!"

scoring your first points as a formula 1 driver... it's a very big feat as a rookie. but it means even more when you're in my position.

she runs to where sebastian stands, helmet in her hands. she screams as her team erupts in cheers at the sight of her sprinting towards them and she pumps her fists into the air.

"i did it!" she screams, immediately surrounded by the personnel clad in the bright andretti purple. "i scored my first points!"

she's seen in the middle of their makeshift circle, thrown around by her team as they bask in their first achievement in the sport and of the year. she's seen with tears running down her cheeks briefly before sebastian pulls her in for a very tight hug.

"i told you everything will be fine. you just had to be patient, kid."

[sebastian vettel] scoring points alone is already a step in the right direction. now we just need to focus on being consistent race after race.

-> azerbaijan, 2023

"there's a yellow flag here in lap 40. we're waiting to hear who it was caused by," the camera pans to the car head first into the barriers at a turn, "and it seems to be an andretti."

when you crash front first out of a turn, it's like the rudest jumpscare a person could have. it's nothing to do with the car – it was straight up a driver error.

[sebastian vettel] no driver wants to crash their car during a race and then admit to the whole world that it was their fault. especially when you're in her position, you know? the statement she released and choosing to be honest about it being a driver error – it was her decision to handle it that way. personally... he giggles with a smile. i wouldn't have done that.

[will buxton] she only seems to be getting better and better every single weekend.

-> monaco, 2023

"that's another finish in the points, kid. good race. that's p5 for you."

"thank you. the car felt great this weekend."

-> singapore, 2023

"here we have the andretti rookie in her engineer and mentor's arms, on a very historical evening. she has just scored her first podium this weekend at the singapore grand prix."

she jumps as she's in sebastian's arms, her face buried in his chest. she is seen pulling away slightly from him and he grabs her face, "amazing– you were amazing, kid! congratulations!"

tears, again, roll down her cheeks as she nods at his statement. her chest heaves as she cries. "thank you. oh, my goodness. thank you."

"there's no words. just that you were amazing this weekend."

a hand lands on her back. she turns around and covers her face as she fights the biggest grin. "you beat me in f1, mate!"

the australian accent fills her ears as he congratulates her. oscar takes her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as they lock themselves in a tight embrace. he rubs circles on her back. "congrats on the podium, mate."

[danica patrick] now they're in a weird spot. oscar, on one hand, has been backed by mark webber for years. his best friend is racing under sebastian vettel. everybody knows those two don't get along – is it possible that it could reflect on their friendship as well?

-> silverstone, 2023

"overtake available." her andretti, slowly inches towards the mclaren of oscar's up ahead. "whenever you see fit."

"what's the gap?" oscar huffs, head snapping over to his side mirror briefly.

"0.2."

at the next turn, she takes a big lunge on the inside of the track to go ahead of oscar.

"there's a bit of fighting at the midfield here between a mclaren and an andretti. oscar piastri, however, does not let her go. he is still fighting to hopefully finish ahead of her in today's race."

"keep the pace. try to shake oscar off, he's still close behind you."

"noted."

racing on the track with oscar? nothing i haven't done before.

[oscar piastri] she's always been great at keeping up and being a challenging competitor on the track.

[logan sargeant] she's very fast on and off the track. i rarely beat her in racing... so...

"oscar piastri takes the checkered flag behind the andretti, failing to fight with the incredible pace the new car has shown this weekend."

in parc ferme, the girl takes her helmet off, turning around sharply to the man in papaya orange as he lifts himself out of the car. "good fight, mate."

"good fight," oscar smiles. they share a quick hug before the younger girl briefly runs away from him to approach logan further down the lane.

[danica patrick] we've seen what the sport does to friends. it does not matter how long you've been friends – it will eventually catch up to you and everybody involved.

-> austin, 2023

"the andretti finished in p5 and logan sargeant has just been promoted to p10 following the disqualification of charles leclerc and lewis hamilton. oscar, however, retires from the race following a crash with esteban ocon."

i don't beat oscar often – so whenever the rarity comes up, i take it with open arms.

"ah, screw you mate," oscar laughs, throwing his arms around the younger girl once again. "good finish."

she flips her hair as she pulls away and bats her eyelashes. "what can i say? i'm made for formula 1."

[sebastian vettel] they're sweet kids. i don't think there is any animosity between them. they lived together while they karted weekend after weekend. they're used to it... i think.

we've fought about things like these growing up. oh, for sure. we're both the oldest siblings – so the competition never ends between us.

[oscar piastri] she is very competitive. she's only fair when it comes to racing on the track though. everything else, she finds a way to come out on top.

-> oxford, 2023 (winter break)

"i won."

logan turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "no, you didn't."

now stood up, the girl looked down at logan with a mirrored bewildered expression on her face. "yes, i did."

"no," logan repeats with his eyebrows raised, "you did not."

she clenches her jaw. "yes, i did."

"dude." logan turns to look at oscar, sitting across the table from them. their gazes all land on the card that she puts in the middle. "that's a yellow card that you coloured over with red marker. you lost – just admit it."

"what do you mean? that's a legit card." she lifts it up and reveals to the camera a card that's been poorly coloured red with some scratches that reveal the authenticity of the yellow that logan had just pointed out.

[logan sargeant] she's such a sore loser.

-> abu dhabi, 2023

"that's the andretti of the rookie driver crossing the finish line in p4, and that puts her in 6th place in the driver's championship. we might just be at the start of history being made, folks."

[sebastian vettel] what can i say? i'm never wrong with who i place my bets on.

[danica patrick] she proved a lot of people wrong this year, including me. she is an exciting up and coming driver.

she shrugs with a smug grin on her face. oh, i'm here to stay, babes.

andretti has secured her with a multi-year contract with the team – she will be racing under them until 2028.

the clapperboard clicks loudly, a man sits there with a cheeky grin as he stares into the camera. i'm liam lawson and i'm now an andretti race car driver. see you on the track in 2024.

– bonus

"aw, mate! they totally twisted that whole scene up!" she scoffs, throwing a small pillow at the tv screen. "dalton was the one that coloured that uno card in. not me!"

oscar turns to her. "yet you still used it despite the fact that we agreed to not use it in games anymore."

"the game would not have been fair if we were missing one card!"

logan scoffs. "we let you win, anyway."

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harryslittlefreakk · 3 months

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my policeman

Summary: Harry is the police officer assigned to your case, though you are inexplicably drawn to one another 🤭 this will be the first instalment of a new series (if you guys like it lol)

Warnings: age gap romance, Harry is approx mid 40s and MC is early-mid 20s 🥰 smut!!

A/n: I hope you enjoy!! I really like this idea & the storyline so far for these two

You can join my taglist here! And my masterlist is here!! Happy reading 🫶🏼

“I need to speak to someone please, I’ve been mugged.”

You were panting, having run the ten minute journey to the police station from the bus stop. Someone had snatched the bulky work bag from your shoulder as you walked, then fled down a side street before you’d even had time to comprehend what had happened. Your natural instincts were to just run, and that’s exactly what you did. You ran until you stumbled through the police station doors, your heart still pounding with adrenaline.

“Styles!” the man behind the desk called out, an outstretched arm directing you to a closed door. You shuffled over, legs jelly after your spontaneous sprint. You weren’t sure whether to go through the doors or wait there, and the officer behind the desk had his back to you. But as you shifted awkwardly, the doors swung open, revealing possibly the hottest police officer you’d ever seen. He was old, older than you’d usually be interested in, but there was something about him. He was stocky and toned, grey streaks peppered through his deep brown curls. He smiled at you and extended his hand. "Officer Styles, but you can call me Harry.” Officer Harry Styles, the world’s sexiest police officer. You followed him down the corridor, into a tiny room with only a desk, a chair and a small sofa. It was cold and clinical, four grey walls lit by the same sort of lights you’d find in hospitals. It made you uneasy, but Harry’s eyes were laced with warmth as he looked over at you. "First of all, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You whispered a quiet “yes”, your response barely audible, but Harry caught it. You felt vulnerable now, having been too close to danger and not realising it at the time. You’d lived in London for years, heard so many tales of rape and mugging but never experienced it yourself, or had it happen to someone close to you. You were lucky to only have your work bag taken and be left otherwise untouched, but you couldn’t help feeling shaken by the encounter. “I was mugged,” you told Harry.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. Just took my bag.”

“M’sorry that happened to you,” he said. There was a slight northern twang to his voice, the kind that suggested he’d been in London long enough to start losing it, but been in the North long enough for the accent to be stubborn. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked, tapping his pen against the sheet of paper in front of him.

“No, they were already running before I turned around.”

“Where did it happen?”

“The bus stop near Florence Gardens, going towards the station.”

“What did they take? Any valuables?”

“My work laptop. And my lunchbox,” you told him, corners of your mouth turning up slightly at the thought of the thief finding your leftover pasta. “They were in my rucksack, I had my phone and keys in my pocket.”

“What does the bag look like?”

“Black, it’s leather. I can show you?”

You pulled up a picture on your phone and handed it to Harry, watching as he wrote down the details.

“Alright, give me 10 minutes to file this, okay? You’ll be okay waiting here?” He handed the phone back to you and stood up as you nodded, then strode toward the door, the glinting badge on his chest catching the light. You’d never had to deal with the police before, and always been a little bit scared of authority figures. But Harry was warm, he made you feel safe despite the circumstances that had brought you to the police station.

It wasn’t long before Harry was back, a thick puffer jacket now covering his torso and a huge tote bag slung over his shoulder. He reached out and gently placed a comforting hand on the back of your seat. “Come on, my shifts over so I’ll walk you home.” You smiled as you followed him out of the room, grateful beyond words for his company.

“Do you not have worse crimes to solve than my stolen lunchbox?” you asked him as you walked, somehow comfortable in his presence. “Not anymore,” he told you. “Been in the police for 25 years now. Did a lot of that but wanted to settle down the last few years, s’better for me like this.”

“Guess it’s nicer for your wife that you’re not out chasing murderers,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from Harry. "Yeah, m’sure she’d appreciate it if she hadn’t divorced me already," he said with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” you told him, glancing over to try to read his face. Truthfully, you were excited by the idea of him being divorced. It didn’t mean he was single, and it definitely didn’t mean he’d be into you, but it was one less hurdle in your mind. "It's alright," he said. "Sometimes things jus’ don't work out, you know?”

“Mm, I know. My flat’s just down here,” you pointed the way to Harry. He walked you all the way to the doorstep, staring up at the building. “It’s not the best area,” he told you. "Be safe, okay? If you need anything, or remember anything, don't hesitate to call," Harry told you, a touch of protectiveness in his tone as he took out his phone. He sent a text to your number so you could save his, then watched as you opened the front door. “Thank you Harry, for everything,” you smiled. “I’m only a call away,” he said, rubbing a hand on your forearm.

Jesus Christ. You collapsed against your front door as you got inside, heart racing from just a gentle touch. You’d get mugged every day if it gave you the chance to be around Harry more. The thought of seeing him again made your head pound, the fear and violation you felt earlier in the evening long forgotten.

Maybe it was a reaction to the weirdness of your evening, maybe it was a way to work through all the emotions you were feeling, but you found yourself reaching for your vibrator as you stepped out of your work clothes. Harry was all you could think about, his hands trailing down your body, his fingers pinching at your nipple, his mouth pressing hot kisses across your abdomen. You could almost feel him hovering over you, so close and yet not close at all. He would be authoritative, demanding you press the vibrator to your clit, his fingers beginning to pump inside of you as you writhed on the bed.

You were moaning into the ghost of his mouth, his nose brushing against yours as your core tightened, a rush of emotions filling you to the brim. It was too much, your toy working at your clit with the idea of Harry’s ringed fingers pounding at your pussy, your free hand gripping onto his loose curls. You were coming faster than you ever had, hips bucking as you screamed out his name.

It was borderline insane. Coming so fast and so heavily for a man you barely knew, crying out his name as if he were here, riding you through your high. You felt almost dirty as you chucked your vibrator to the side, too mentally preoccupied to even shower or eat before climbing into bed. You just wanted to dream of Harry, try to work through your delusions before you had to see him again.

—

Your thoughts of Harry came and went over the next few days. Your manager had suggested you work from home for a few days, your only route home from the office marred by your mugging. The four walls of your apartment felt too small, too closed in even before you had an imaginary Harry following you around. You’d tried to push him out of your mind, desperate to avoid a crush on a man you hardly knew. You did this all the time, it was a symptom of being chronically single. As soon as a man showed kindness towards you, you fell in love. Harbouring a crush on the police officer working on your case was bad news, and yet as you thought about him, his name flashed up on your phone.

“Hey, y/n. How are you?”

“I’m okay, you?”

“Better for hearing your voice.” You could almost hear the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Listen, do you have time to swing by? Wanted to update you on a few things.”

“I can come now?” you offered. Working from home was slow, and you’d already completed your tasks for the day. So how could you wait any longer to see Harry again?

You looked over yourself in the mirror as you put the phone down, tightening your ponytail and smoothing a hand down the front of your top.

Harry was waiting in the reception area when you arrived at the police station, a big beaming grin sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks when he saw you. Truthfully, he could have spoken to you over the phone, but he wanted an excuse to see you again. It was silly, childlike even, the way he’d racked his brain for reasons to call or message since he’d dropped you off at home a few days ago. He felt ridiculous, far too giddy over a girl far too young for him, but he couldn’t get you off his mind.

“We think we’ve located your bag,” Harry told you as he ushered you into the same room as before. “Really?” you squeaked. “It’s not 100% yet, but we have had a few more reports of thefts in the area. We’ve tracked down an address, and we’ll be going in this week.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you grinned, throwing your arms around him before your brain could stop you. Harry chuckled, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before freezing. You’d both suddenly remembered where you were, who you were, and yet neither of you wanted to step away.

Harry gently squeezed you before saying, "It's all part of the job,” a small smile on his lips. There was something unspoken in the air as you stepped back, your gaze meeting his. “Sorry,” you muttered. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Harry told you, his lingering touch burning against your skin. You stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, tension heavy in the air, until a familiar call of Harry’s name broke the spell. You stepped further away from him, glancing down at the floor as the professional mask settled back into place on Harry’s face. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you later,” you smiled, turning your back on him.

—

You needed to distract yourself, arranging a last minute girls night to take your mind off of Harry. And yet, it was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you. The man you were specifically going out to forget was standing on the doorstep of your apartment building, hand poised to buzz your intercom as you opened the door. “Harry-” you started, unable to find any other, better words.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said, gaze trailing up and down your body. You were wearing your ‘good’ jeans, the ones that sucked you in in all the right places yet showcased your curves in all the best ones. You had more makeup on than he’d seen you in before, though your freckles and beauty spots still peeked through. The oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders obscured the top half of your body, but Harry didn’t need to see any more to know just how good you looked. “Please,” he added, holding up a single red rose.

“Dinner with you,” you repeated, a little stunned by his offer. “Dinner.. with me. Should we say it once more for good luck?” Harry laughed. “Maybe once more,” you smiled, pulling your phone from your back pocket. need to cancel, something came up x you sent quickly to your best friends. “Where are we going?” you asked Harry, eyes locking back onto him as he walked back down the path. “In first, questions later,” he told you, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door for you.

“You’re acting very murdery for a man of the law,” you laughed, sliding onto the seat. “It was a test, and you failed. Should never get in a strange man’s car,” he joked.

The drive was mostly silent, except for the rhythm of Harry’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You were suddenly nervous, mouth dry and heart pounding as you watched the city become a blur. The sun was starting to set overhead as you drove further from home, street lamps and homes beginning to light up around you. Harry glanced over at you, brows furrowed as he tried to read the emotion etched onto your face. “You okay?” he asked, resting a strong hand on your knee.

“Shy,” you smiled weakly. It had only just hit you that you didn’t know Harry at all, couldn’t even think of anything to say to cut through the silence. You wanted the evening to go well, wanted to explore the connection you felt with him. But if you stammered and stuttered all night long, you’d have to go into hiding before a future with Harry even became a possibility.

You watched him as he drove, brows knitted in concentration as he navigated the busy streets. You hadn’t even paid attention to what he was wearing before, and as your eyes wandered over his body, your jaw went slack.

Harry wore a loose white dress shirt that although slightly oversized, seemed to fit him perfectly. He’d left the top few buttons open, allowing glimpses of his toned physique. As he moved his hands around the steering wheel, the material of the shirt shifted, revealing intricate tattoos that adorned his arms and chest. You’d seen a couple on his arms, but the amount that littered the tanned skin of his torso made your heart race. With each tiny movement, his tattoos peeked through the fabric, muscles flexing underneath the inked skin. He was handsome in a way that was new to you, rugged and yet soft.

There was something about his age that drew you to him, his years on you more a challenge than anything. He clearly knew how to act and had no problems going after what he wanted, a world away from the men you knew who were all still stuck in their fratboy mindsets.

“We’re here,” Harry said, resting a gentle hand over yours to pull you from your daydream. He’d pulled up in front of a quaint pub. The bold blue exterior was littered with bright flowers in hanging baskets and window boxes. A crowd of merry customers had spilled out onto the pavement outside, the warm glow from the pub washing over them. “This is so cute,” you told Harry, following him through the open door. “Officer Styles!” a man called out from across the bar. Harry greeted him with a firm handshake, turning his ear to the man’s mouth to hear him over the music. It wasn’t long before he turned back to you, grabbing a hold of your hand to lead you up the stairs. “I did some work for the owner,” he told you, pulling open another door. “Don’t live far from here so I come often now. Good food and good views,” he smirked, stepping out of the way to reveal the scene set up for you.

The balcony was slim, only just wide enough to fit two small tables. One was set up for dining, a bottle of red perched among ice in the middle. The other was covered in candles, wax dripping around a beautiful bouquet in the centre. It was secluded and romantic, the dream setting for your first date with what could be your dream man.

You talked and laughed for what felt like forever, voice hoarse from giggling at Harry’s jokes. The sharing plates he’d ordered sat cold and forgotten in front of you both, almost empty glasses stained pink from the wine.

A hint of a smirk played on Harry's lips as his eyes trailed over yours. “Quickfire round, since I have a feeling you won’t let me kiss you until we know each other better. Family?”

“My brother’s younger, he’s in uni. Parents live by the coast,” you told him, heat rising through your core at the very idea of kissing him.

“My mum lives up north, got an older sister too. Hobbies?”

“I like painting. Don’t do it as much anymore but..” you let your voice trail off.

“But you’re going to paint me?” Harry grinned, turning his back to you and peering seductively over his shoulder. “Draw me like one of your French girls,” he drawled, a mocking glint in his eyes.

“Nuh uh. Got to answer or you’ll never get that kiss.”

“I don’t have hobbies. I like working out and like puzzles,” Harry shrugged.

“Typical old man hobby,” you laughed. Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Well, maybe I am an old soul trapped in a sexy young body," he replied with a playful grin. "Can't complain about that, right?"

You nodded, still amused by his choice of hobbies. "You’re right, I can’t.”

As your conversation continued, you and Harry discovered more and more about each other. Your dreams, fears, and your favourite childhood memories. You laughed and shared stories, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“M’not ready to let you go yet,” Harry smiled, looking out over the river. It was almost totally dark now, the last rays of evening sunshine nearly vanished behind the horizon. You smiled back at Harry. “"I'm not ready to go either," you admitted, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth as you looked over him, taking in the beauty of the scene. He was the definition of a silver fox. You’d noticed heads turning as you left the pub, young (and older) women captivated by just a glance of Harry. Being the girl on his arm felt good, even if it was just for the evening.

“Let’s walk,” Harry told you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You strolled down the riverside hand in hand, chatting mindlessly. Harry shared stories of his childhood, his years working for a local bakery before he moved to London and joined the Met.

You felt so much comfort and warmth as you listened to Harry. His stories painted vivid pictures in your mind, a glimpse into his past giving you some understanding of the person he was. As the two of you continued walking, the sound of the flowing river created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over your surroundings, and you couldn't help but feel a growing connection with Harry. It was as if time stood still, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

You found yourself opening up to Harry, sharing your own stories. He listened attentively, his eyes filled with genuine interest and understanding. It was refreshing to be with someone who truly cared about getting to know you on a deeper level.

As the evening progressed, the conversation shifted towards more lighthearted topics. Laughter filled the air as Harry recounted some of the funnier people he’d encountered during his career. His animated gestures and contagious laughter made it impossible for you not to join in. There was a boyish charm behind his manly facade, and the more time you spent with Harry, the more you realized how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. There was a natural chemistry between you, a connection that went beyond words. It was a feeling of familiarity, as if you had known each other for years.

As darkness began to envelop you, Harry gently squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to the present moment. You both paused, eyes trailing over the other’s features under the moonlight. Harry tugged on your arm quickly, pulling you towards the wall. Your heart quickened as his gaze fell to your parted lips, his body gently pressing your back into the brick. The light cast a soft glow on his face, lust etched into every line on his face.

You felt as if you were floating somewhere outside your body as Harry leaned in, his warm breath mingling with yours. His lips brushed against your own, gentle yet filled with an insatiable longing.

You responded eagerly, your hands instinctively finding their way to his waist. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of lust and unspoken desires. Harry's lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, his hands roaming your body. It had been a long time since a kiss had ignited a fire within your core, and yet you were burning brighter with every touch.

The taste of him was intoxicating, warm wine, sweetness and desire on his tongue leaving you breathless. He pressed you further into the wall, your bodies molding together perfectly as if they were made to be intertwined.

It had started to rain at some point, though you were too consumed by the raw passion that existed between you to notice the soft raindrops running down your skin. All you could focus on was Harry’s tongue licking into your mouth, a silent promise of the yearning and desire that he felt for you.

He pulled your bottom lip into his mouth before you both pulled away, breathless and panting. The world slowly came back into focus, but the sight of Harry before you nearly made your heart stop. The rain had soaked through his shirt, the thin material now translucent and dipping and weaving over his toned abdomen. His curls were slick against his forehead, raindrops lingering on the end of his eyelashes. His jaw was tense as he looked over your face, one hand gently grazing your waist. He was mesmerising, powerful and yet vulnerable as he stood soaked through in front of you.

You reached out with a gentle hand, pushing the wet curls from his face. But just as your swollen lips parted to speak, the heavens opened above you. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you and Harry, raindrops pelting you from every angle. You looked at each other in shock, a laugh tumbling past your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of your hand and ran, the sound of your footsteps slapping against puddles breaking the silence of the now empty streets. You were barely able to hold yourself upright from laughter, falling into Harry’s body as your legs carried you closer to the car. His grip tightened on your wrist, guiding you through the dark paths.

As you reached the car, Harry fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking from the sudden cold. You stood beside him, shivers of adrenaline running through you. The rain smacked against the roof of the car as Harry unlocked it, pulling open the door for you. Even in the pouring rain, he was still a gentleman. You slid in quickly, the sudden warmth fogging up the windows.

You sat in silence for a moment, eyes trailing over each other as you caught your breath. A smile played on Harry’s lips as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush your sodden hair from your face.

—

There was no way you could sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for at least an hour, the ache in your core too much to sleep on. All you could do was replay the evening in your mind, wondering exactly how you ended up alone in Harry’s bed.

“Here,” Harry handed you one of his T-shirts and some pyjama bottoms. “Shower’s through there, get yourself warmed up.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you headed into the bathroom, a tiny sigh of disappointment slipping past your lips. You were desperate for him to join you in the shower, craving more of his touch. A night of stolen glances and gentle touches had you burning up even before the kiss, but after seeing what Harry’s mouth was capable of, you were dying for more of him.

As the water washed over you, all you could think about was Harry’s lips on yours. The hunger in his eyes before he kissed you, the taste of red wine on his tongue.

—

“Would you not get in trouble for this?” you asked Harry, hands wrapped tightly around the hot chocolate he’d handed you. “Maybe. But once we have your stuff back, the case is over. They can’t say anything then,” he shrugged, turning to lean against the kitchen counter. He got more handsome every time you looked at him, as if that were even possible. Now, standing there with his old man plaid pyjama pants and a T-shirt tight against his muscular frame, you were left pressing your thighs together to keep the heat in. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Harry smiled from the sofa. You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice, having tried your hardest to creep silently into the kitchen. He looked adorable, tucked under a thick blanket with his long legs squashed up at the end of the sofa. “Just needed water,” you told him, grabbing an empty cup from the counter.

“Why don’t you want to share a bed with me?” you suddenly burst out, turning on your heel to face him. You weren’t going to beg, didn’t want to whine, but the words came out before you could stop yourself. Harry chuckled, padding over to join you by the sink. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek with his free hand. Pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, he whispered, “come on,” his voice low and husky.

You followed Harry out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He patted his legs, signalling for you to join him. You straddled his thick thighs, eyes fixed on his as he looked over your body. In only his t-shirt and your tiny panties, you’d never looked more delicious to him. “I didn’t share a bed with you because I try not to sleep with women on the first date,” he told you, slipping a hand under your t-shirt before holding your waist with a firm grip. “And I wouldn’t be able to resist if I were in bed with you.” His eyes came to rest on yours, his pupils blown under thick eyelashes. “You don’t have to resist, Harry,” you replied, your voice small, barely slipping out past your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hand moved further up your body, thumb running over your nipple.

“Y’so beautiful,” Harry cooed, pulling your t-shirt off in one quick movement. He sat back for a second, an arrogant smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he gazed over you. Hunger was written all over his face, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, his lips soft as they brushed against yours. Gentle, yet fuelled by desire. His tongue moved around yours, a delicate dance that left you breathless against his mouth.

Harry’s hands roamed your exposed skin, tracing patterns of heat and need. His touch was electric, insatiable as he gripped and groped at every bit of skin he could reach. He moved with purpose, tracing the curves and contours of your upper body. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your throat, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips smooth as he suckled and nibbled at the sensitive flesh.

You shifted slightly on his lap, his hard cock nudging at your folds through his pyjama pants. The room was filled with a symphony of whispered moans and ragged breaths as you rubbed yourself on him, the soft scratch of Harry’s pyjamas between your thighs only adding to your desire. You needed him in a way that transcended reality, a hunger that went beyond the physical. Your yearning was deep in your soul as Harry’s hands continued to explore you, his touch more than just a physical sensation. It was a language of its own, speaking unbridled passion.

He wrapped an arm under your hips, lifting you up just enough to slip his pyjamas down his thighs. His cock sprang up between the two of you, grazing your entrance. You whimpered as his tip touched you, your head falling onto Harry’s shoulder. He stroked a hand down his shaft, hissing as his thumb brushed over the angry tip. He started to move you, not expecting you to want to ride him, but you wrapped a firm hand around his neck and shook your head softly, pulling your face from his shoulder to meet his eyes. “Like this, Harry,” you whispered, shifting in his grip until his head lined up with your folds. You pulled your panties to the side, your juices warm against his head.

“You’re on birth control?” he asked, voice strangled as he resisted the urge to push into you. You nodded, sinking down slowly until his thick cock was deep inside of you, splitting your walls wide open. A deep cry fell from your lips as you stilled, his shaft throbbing as it settled into you.

“So fuckin’ tight, kitten,” he drawled, lips planting hungry kisses along your jawline. His eyes were fixed on the mirror behind you, watching his hand grip onto the curve of your ass. His free hand slid under you, easing you up ever so slightly. You could feel him everywhere, in your stomach and in your throat as he pushed deeper into you. Your walls were threatening to burst around his shaft, the size of his cock scratching an itch you never knew you’d had. It was pure ecstasy.

“Harry,” you whined, gripping him tighter as you pushed your hips upwards, starting to find your rhythm. The burn was white-hot in your core, tingles of pleasure spreading through your body as you bounced up and down on his lap. Your nails raked down his back as he fucked into you, deep whines and moans being pulled from your mouth every time Harry’s cock hit your sweet spot. His strong arm was guiding your hips up and down, his free hand still exploring your body as he pressed kisses along your throat. You still wanted more of each other, still searching each other’s bodies as if you had been starved of touch for years.

You were as close as you could be to him, your bodies melding together with every push of his hips. Your clit was rubbing against the fabric of your panties with every movement, every slap of your cheeks against his groin sending you further into your spiral.

“You’re mine, all mine, huh?” Harry mewled against your skin, his lips moving down to find your nipple. He sucked and licked around the bud, his lips swollen and hot. “All yours,” you whined, your orgasm creeping up on you after Harry’s dominant ownership. He held you tightly, your trembling legs heavy on his arm despite how light you felt. You were sure you could take flight in that moment, pleasure coursing through you with every buck of his hips. You threw your head onto his shoulder as you came, a strangled cry pushing past your dry lips.

Your walls tightened around his cock, his lips pressing a tiny moan into your skin. He flipped you over once your breathing slowed, the new angle pushing his cock deeper into you. Harry splayed a hand across your stomach, feeling where he was fucking into you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, watching the way your tits bounced with every rock of his hips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, his hips knocking into you harder as he came close to his high. You could feel him throbbing inside of you as he panted, jaw slack as he pulled out of you quickly. One hand stroked the length of his cock as he came, his come splashing violently all over your chest. You released the hand gripping his shoulder to swipe a finger through the puddle, licking it from your fingertip hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, chest heaving as he watched you.

You were more content in that moment than you’d ever been, silently thanking whoever had decided to steal your bag. If it was all an insane plan to get you here, covered in Harry’s come, you’d thank them every day for the rest of your life.

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pullhisteeth · 6 months

Text

worry lines | eddie munson

requested here -`♡´- your ex turns up and Eddie gets jealous. idiots in love! 4.7k

cw !!! for a borderline abusive (ex-)boyfriend. 18+ please and thank you x

contains hurt/comfort, fluff, jealous!Eddie, fem!reader, conflict, shitty ex-boyfriend. everyone’s in their early 20s

He was cruel, Eddie knows that much. Cruel enough that it took weeks and lots of gentle handling to coax it out of you.

You were a shell of yourself until you weren’t. Eddie doesn’t know the details, because who would he be to make you relive it if you didn’t want to? But he knows enough to sear a tar-black scorch mark in his gut, a branding, a fury reserved only for him.

And he’s perhaps a little oblivious to it, but Eddie’s patience never went unnoticed by you. The two of you might be like parallel lines - apparently doomed to just miss one another forever - but you’re still filled to the brim with giddy love for him. The fact he stuck around through it all only adds fuel to the fire. Something unruly burns behind your eyes every time you think about him.

“What about this one?”

You hold up a record and show him the front while you peer at the back. Eddie looks up from the stack he’s been flipping through for the past three minutes.

“Garbage,” he mutters, eyes back on his busy fingers.

“What?!” you exclaim, mouth wide and attempting to hide a grin. You’re fighting him for fun, really; you’re already putting the record back where you found it. “It came out, like, a month ago! How’ve you heard it already?”

“Gareth’s mom got it for him for his birthday,” he tells you without looking at you, side stepping only slightly to move onto the next box of albums. He’s close enough now that you could lean over and bump his shoulder with your own. You don’t.

You sigh, though it’s bright with amusement. You go back to your own shelf, eyeing up the scarce new releases stock that Trax only manages to update every few months.

“No shit,” you whisper, grabbing with greedy hands at the record you’ve spotted. You catch Eddie’s attention, his own hands stopping as he looks over. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere!”

He smiles, not because he likes the album - it’s The Cure, and they’re far too British, even for him - but because he likes your smile. Sometimes you make a face, with your mouth twisted to the right, because you’re holding it back. You told him once that you don’t like your smile very much, that it’s too wide, too toothy. He couldn’t disagree more, and when he catches you in these moments, the ones just before you realise you’re grinning and close your mouth, he cherishes it.

“You want it?” he asks, tone nothing but genuine.

“Fuck off, Eds,” you say anyway, still smiling. He’s lapping it up. “I can buy it myself now, don’t need your filthy drug money.”

He elbows you softly with an expression of faux offence. “Hey, y’didn’t mind my filthy money all those times it got you food at Benny’s.”

This makes you giggle, and Eddie is on cloud nine.

You tear your eyes away from the cover to meet his and he damn near keels over; it’s like a mallet on his temple, a slap across the cheek. He could look at your eyes forever and it’d never not hurt.

“Can I buy you one?” you ask him, adding “please?” when he gives you a look like he’s about to tell you no.

“Absolutely not,” he says, still grinning.

“But you’ve bought me so many!” You’re closer now, toe to toe with him, beaming back at him and gripping the record between clenched fingers. “I make my own money now. Consider it me payin’ you back, or at least starting to.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he mutters, “I like buyin’ you records. At least it meant you listened to somethin’ other than this shit.” He bumps the bottom of the cardboard sleeve with his fist.

“Hey,” you bite, pulling it out of his reach. “I like The Cure.”

“I know y’do, that’s the problem.”

You look at him for a beat, one so brief he only just gets a chance to take in your pensive face - adorable - before you scrunch your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

“Suit yourself,” you say, turning on your heels and marching down the aisle, heading for the cash register.

He watches you cross the store, the way your walk shifts from comical to confident. This walk is familiar to him; it’s your I’m-nervous-because-I’m-in-public walk.

His eyes are still on you when you take your change from the girl behind the desk. He watches you pocket it, and catches your self-satisfied smile as you turn. And then he watches as it falters, and your face drains of colour, and he feels himself walking over to you before he has time to think about it.

You’re looking at the door, where the bell’s just chimed, and the bottom of your stomach’s fallen away. Heart in your throat, you stare blankly at the man who just walked in.

“Oh, hey,” he says, though he may as well be on the other side of the glass for the way he sounds so distant. He shakes snow off his hair and you feel the ghost of it between your fingers. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

You feel Eddie before you can muster up a response. He stands behind you, just close enough that, if you wanted to, you could reach behind and take his hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly, just by your ear, words for you alone. “Who’s this?”

There’s something simmering in his voice, something defensive. He knows.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak, fingers clutching the plastic bag you’re holding to keep them from shaking. “Hi- uh, Eds, this is, uh-”

“Tom,” the man says, sticking a gloved hand out to Eddie. You feel him shift slowly behind you; his eyes move between the back of your head and the man in front of you a few times before he returns the gesture.

He’s handsome, Eddie thinks. Better looking than he is, anyway. Cleaner, softer; none of the hard edges Eddie harbours that he doesn’t know you think are soft as anything.

“We used to go out,” you say quickly, before Tom tries to explain it himself and makes you feel smaller than you already do. You hope Eddie gets the hint.

He does. The burning in his gut flares and his hands clench into fists without him meaning them to.

“Eddie,” he states, sharp and blunt.

“We were just, uh- We’re headed out,” you say, and the way you’ve come over all nervous and quiet is almost enough to make Eddie’s heart split right down the middle. He hovers a hand over the small of your back and steps around you, around Tom, until you follow him.

“Well, see you around,” he says as the bell chimes again and Eddie damn near pulls you out into the snow.

The cold, damp flakes that land on your flushed cheeks are a sweet relief. So are Eddie’s hands, which wrap around yours to take the bag from you. He doesn’t miss how they shake.

“Fuck,” you breathe. The air escapes your lungs and doesn’t return for a second, long enough that you have to think to inhale. Eddie looks you over, desperate to pat you, fawn over you, kiss the snowflake off the bridge of your nose.

He opts for something safer. “You alright?”

The busy Indianapolis sidewalk doesn’t allow for too much fussing, and you’re quietly grateful for the bustling Saturday afternoon crowd pushing the two of you along and away from Trax.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, breathless again, trudging through stomped-over snow. “Just took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, no shit. When’d you last see him?”

“When I picked up my stuff from his place.”

“Shit.”

You walk aimlessly around the corner, until Eddie begins to lead the way. Wordlessly you follow him for six blocks, and think to yourself that maybe he’s getting you as far away as he can.

He knows a coffee place, apparently, one so much better than any of the ones around Trax that you know are just as good. He ushers you into the warmth and buys three pastries - one each and one to share - and you eat until you’re not thinking about Tom anymore.

Robin sidles into the booth beside you, the familiar shape of her slotting into your side without care. She nudges her hip into yours, a wordless signal for you to move around and make more space.

The six of you squeeze around the tiny table as Eddie and Steve place drinks down across it. Pints of beer, far too big glasses of wine and six sickly coloured shots decorate it and all of a sudden you’re counting to five and banging a tiny glass on the varnished wood.

It tastes of sour apple and coats your lips with a shiny, sugary lacquer. Eddie sits opposite you harbouring a fiery urge to lean over and kiss you clean.

You grin at him, missing the flicker of affection in his tipsy eyes, and lean into Robin, who takes a swig from one of the pint glasses.

“Rob!” Steve shouts, reaching over and grasping at the glass. “You asshole, that’s mine-”

“What’s yours is mine, dingus,” she slurs, her dopey smile met not by something frosty but by Steve’s own grin. The tenderness inside your stomach is just as sickly as the shot; you’re drunk on sugary liquor and an unbridled love for your friends.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The bickering stops as Eddie raises his glass from the table.

“A toast,” he says, “to the newly-weds.”

You grasp your own pint and raise it too, along with everyone else, as Nancy and Jonathan beam back at you. They’re the picture of happiness, her rosy cheeks blooming from joy and champagne, his smile so wide you’re scared he might split in two. Nancy’s so pretty in a simple, short dress, Mrs Wheeler’s pearls around her neck, and Jonathan looks so smart in his suit, fresh from the dry cleaners courtesy of Joyce. A long day of family celebrations ends here, in this bar on the east end of Indianapolis, four walls that have seen the six of you grow up and into yourselves.

Nancy and Jonathan thank everybody, and Steve disappears without a single one of you noticing, reappearing with a new round of shots. Robin takes your hand in hers and squeezes, which tells you that she’s putting off crying. You’ve already covered the shoulder of her new shirt in tears. Happy tears.

If some benevolent force happened to be looking down and caught a glimpse of your happy little table, they’d find that your mind and Eddie’s look very much alike right now. Dizzy daydreams of a future neither of you are confident in, that neither of you think the other would ever even dare to consider.

The distant call of your name pulls you up off Robin’s shoulder. You hear it again, and the voice it’s called in sends your blood running cold. Regardless it beckons you and you turn to look, seeing him approaching like a fucking stalking lion.

“Oh,” you breathe, “hi.”

His unwelcome hands spread over the back of the booth, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. You bristle.

He grins down at you and then looks up and around at everybody else. “Hey, guys. I guess these are your friends?”

All you can do is look up at him. Eddie can see you recoiling and his stomach churns.

“Oh, hi again,” Tom says, spotting Eddie. This is your nightmare situation, frankly, and you’re afraid of where Tom might take it.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. His words are lopsided because he’s three pints and four shots in and too giddy to recognise this for what it is.

“Steve, right?” Tom asks. His knuckles whiten as he grips harder.

“Mm-hm,” Steve hums, leaning just enough to the left that Eddie has to push him upright. In the brief moment he’s preoccupied with his untrustworthy friend, he doesn’t see the way Tom dips his head to meet yours, or the attempt at a kiss on the cheek that you dodge, or even the quick words whispered in your ear. He does see you flush, your face, already warmed by wine, becoming even brighter. Before he can ask what’s happening, Robin’s scooting out to let you stand, and Tom’s hand’s on your waist and you’re off to the bar together.

Nancy shifts uncomfortably beside Jonathan, her hands on the table. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Fuck,” Jonathan breathes.

“No way,” Robin barks, almost loud enough for Eddie to chastise her; you’re only twenty feet away.

Despite the stretch of time separating this moment from your last one with him, Tom’s hands haven’t become any less curious. They paw at you, never settling but instead trying each possessive spot he loved to frequent before you left him. Your waist was his favourite, but you’ve felt the unwelcome impression of his palm on each arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, and when he goes for your hip you twist just enough that he’s forced to drop it.

He’s telling you about his promotion. When you left, he’d been clamouring for it, doing everything he’d once confessed to hating: sucking up to his boss, shmoozing, working late. It pays well, apparently; well enough that he’s got his own place. It’s a five minute cab ride away. Want to come see it?

“Why would I want to do that?” you ask him, emboldened by the fiery rage his wandering hands are reigniting within you.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, cooing your name with a sincerity so false that you taste the saccharine flavour of it on your gums, “you’re not telling me you haven’t missed me, huh?”

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I haven’t.”

“What, you with that metalhead or something?”

“Eddie is just a friend”, you bite.

“Yeah, right,” Tom scoffs, slamming his glass on the bar. He’s leaning closer, crowding you, and there are too many people behind him and all of a sudden you’ve lost sight of your table. “Knew I was right to put a stop to that.”

“Fuck you, Tom,” you spit, trying desperately to wriggle free. “I want to get back to my friends now, please.”

“Had his fuckin’ hands all over you the other day,” he continues, ignoring you. “Bet he tried it on when we were together, didn’t he?”

“No, he- Fuck, Tom, will you please just let me out-”

Eddie catches glimpses of you between passing bodies. He sees the way Tom’s crowding you and how you’re squirming and, honestly, he wants to walk into the sea.

Tom was never introduced to your friends. It was mostly his own choice, but Eddie and Robin and everyone else saw it for what it was. You just managed to get out before he cut you off from them all completely.

Now, in the low light of the bar, he’s not so certain that you’re done with him. Sure, you seemed unnerved when you bumped into him at the record store, but he begins to wonder if maybe you’d just been caught off guard, and if you’d thought about him since then. Had you called him?

“Hey,” Robin mutters, leaning over the table to Eddie with her eyes on you, “I think- I don’t know, she looks annoyed.”

Finally, there’s a gap in the crowd, and he sees it too. The pinch of your brow, and the squirming that isn’t squirming. You’re scared.

He stands so quickly that his head spins. He sees Nancy in his peripheral vision standing too, though she’s penned in by Jonathan and Steve. Eddie’s heavy footsteps take too long, he’s too slow; Tom’s hand is around your arm and he’s leaving, taking you with him, willingly or not.

He follows the silhouette of Tom, dark against the brash streetlamp light coming in through the glass doors. He can see the top of your head and feels himself pulled to you like a fish on a line.

He catches up just as Tom pushes the door open and stumbles into the snow, blinded by the fluorescent bulb in the lamp above. You feel the inebriation seep out of you with every second spent in the cold, your bare arms covered in goosebumps.

“Tom, what the fuck?” you spit, finally separating yourself from him. You feel the burn left by his tough grip on your upper arm. He’s still close, close enough that he can take your head in one firm hand.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, his breath too hot on your face, “couldn’t see you properly in-”

“Hey.”

You turn just as Tom does to find Eddie in the doorway. His fists are clenched again and so is his jaw; you know him well enough to see your own anger reflected back at you.

“You okay?” he asks, looking at you, tender as always and it does something to dampen the fiery rage you’re keeping at bay. You nod as Tom drops his hand and scoffs.

“See,” he spits, “loverboy won’t leave you the fuck alone.”

You take three steps back. Eddie comes closer.

“Go home,” he says to Tom as you reach out and take his fist into both hands. He relaxes, and you wind your fingers together.

“Oh, c’mon,” Tom says, “you can’t be serious? Look at him, babe, he’s…”

“Can we go back in?” you whisper to Eddie, whose stern face is beginning to worry you. He says nothing but tugs on your hand and, to your relief, Tom seems to back away around the corner as you retreat indoors.

The door shuts and Eddie turns, but before he can say anything you throw your arms around him and push your face into his neck. He’s startled, but not so much that he can’t return it, his own arms around your back, the pressure a welcome thing.

“Hey,” he coos, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thank you,” you say, muffled by his shirt. “Thank you.”

He pulls back, too worried to care to hug you any longer. Instead he lets himself fuss over you, a tentative hand at your jaw as he looks you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you finally say, sighing. “I hate him.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “I do too.”

“Thank you for not hitting him,” you murmur.

His fingers hover by your ear and just as you think he’s going to touch you, he lowers his hand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I knew you’d hate that.”

He takes your hand again, a gesture which sends both of you independently loopy, and returns with you to the table, where Nancy nearly falls over Robin to get to you. As you reassure her and take your seat again, sandwiched between the two girls, Eddie takes a long swig of beer.

“Hey,” Steve slurs, leaning over to you. “Did y’know Eddie’s ears go red when he’s jealous?”

You look back at him with wide eyes as Eddie gives him a swift thwack to the arm, telling him to fuck off.

“It’s true!” Steve assures you. “I saw it with my own eyes! Like, five minutes ago, I-”

He’s stopped by more of Eddie’s playful hitting.

Quietly, just to you, Nancy says, “It’s true.”

You turn to look at her. She’s got that sparkle in her eye. It appears when she’s got a plan, or an idea, or knows something.

“For a minute, it looked like you were enjoying it,” she continues. “I bet he could’ve burned this place to the ground with how jealous he was getting.”

She nods to her left, where Eddie is dealing with a still restless Steve. He senses you looking and meets your eye, and the pretty pink blush that covers his cheeks is enough to make you look away.

The coffee machine pings just as the doorbell goes.

You jump, startled by both noises. Leaving the coffee to stew you pad through the apartment and open the door slowly, making sure to hide behind it to save the postman seeing you in your pyjama shorts.

When you pull it back, you’re surprised by the sight of your best friend, standing at your door in his own pyjamas.

“Morning,” he says, chuckling lowly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you let him inside. “Did you- Did you walk here in that?”

“God no,” he says, “have you seen it out there?”

Truthfully, you haven’t dared pull the curtains back yet. “No,” you admit, locking the door again and wishing you’d had the sense even in your drunken stupor to put your good pyjamas on. You pat the front of the crinkled cotton at the top of your thighs, smoothing it down to no avail.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” you tell him as you step over to the living room window and pull back the blind to reveal what can only be described as a blizzard.

Eddie comes in behind you with two steaming mugs. “Slept on Steve’s fucking couch,” he says, laughing again. “Dimwit couldn’t get himself into bed and then the weather got too bad for me to get a cab home.”

Steve lives two floors above you, in an apartment much the same as your own. His couch is small. Eddie’s back must hurt.

“How is he?”

“Steve?”

“Hm.”

“He’ll be fine,” Eddie sighs, throwing himself onto your couch and kicking his feet up, socked toes just missing the side of your bare thigh. “Probably regrets the fourth round of shots, but at least he had fun.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I mean- Of course.” He reaches over to pick up your coffee and leans over to pass it to you. “Didn’t you?”

You take it from him and sit back, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, just…”

Your throat is suddenly too thick to drink the coffee. You stare at it, the deep mahogany liquid pouring steam into the tepid room.

“How does he still manage to ruin everything?” you ask, the question more an abstract frustration than anything aimed directly at Eddie.

He stiffens on the other end of the couch. He knows you don’t mean Steve, that your mind is elsewhere, on the impatient hands that couldn’t keep themselves from pressing painfully into your arm or the coddling of his hot breath on your face out in the snow.

“Hey,” Eddie coos, softening when he notices your hands shaking. He takes the mug, his own hands gentle on you to save from startling you, and replaces it on the table. “Here, c’mere-”

You lean into him, pushing your face into the softness of Steve’s sweater that he’s wearing. You keep apologising - variations of I’m sorry spat out between quiet sobs - and he keeps telling you it’s okay. One hand holds your elbow while the other smooths up and down your back, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, and he exhales when he hears the smile in your words.

“Y’don’t have to thank me again,” he says. You lean back and the two of you sit as mirror images of one another, one knee up on the couch and the other foot on the floor. You wipe your eye with the back of your wrist. Eddie yearns to knock your hand away and do it himself, to clean you up and kiss you when he’s done. He keeps his hands to himself instead.

“I dunno what I’d have done,” you whisper, “I mean, I don’t think he’d have done anything, but I still don’t wanna think about it.”

“I don’t either,” Eddie agrees before he can stop himself.

You look at him. There are deepening shadows beneath his eyes that you’re sure the couch is to blame for, and his hair’s unruly, matted from what you can only imagine was an useless night’s sleep, but your favourite thing - the mellow brown of his eyes - is just as pretty as ever. So’s his skin, pale and imperfect where he’s inked the left side of his neck and you can see the very top of the scar that stretches over his collarbone. He broke it when you were both ten, and he still teases you about how quick you were to run from him when you saw the bone and the broken flesh. You’re desperate to know if it’d be warm under your fingertips, your lips, your tongue.

“Do your ears really get red when you’re jealous?” you ask him. You see him stiffen at the question, his eyes narrowing just so, as his hands flex over his knees.

“Steve’s an asshole,” Eddie says.

“I know-”

“But yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth breaking loose into a smile, “He’s right. It’s stupid.”

You kick his foot with your own softly and laugh.

“Why were you jealous?”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Yes! Why were you jealous?!” you repeat, grinning.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, all dramatic and silly and you laugh until his restless hand lands on your knee instead of his own.

“I thought you were glad to see him,” he admits.

“I don’t know how you got that impression,” you say. You’re trying to ignore the soft rumbling in your chest, lest it take your breath away.

“Dunno,” he says, and suddenly he reminds you of sixteen-year-old Eddie, awkward and goofy, the boy you fell for.

“Well,” you say, “I’m very glad you came to my rescue.”

“I didn’t rescue you, you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself,” he says, laughing. His knee knocks yours and his fingers spread until the tips of them are meeting the middle of your thigh.

“Still, it was a nice thing to do.”

He hums and you inhale as you place your hand on his. He looks up at you and the contact seems to provide some courage.

He says your name, and it’s softer than ever in the quiet of your living room. As far as the two of you are aware, there’s nothing beyond here; no blizzard, no hungover Steve two floors up, no shitty ex-boyfriends. Just you and Eddie and the string of starlight pulling you together.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a whisper, leaning in, already resting more weight on the hand on your thigh. Somehow, it feels like the most natural question in the world.

You nod. “Yeah, please.”

He closes the gap with his forehead to yours, tilting his head enough that his nose slots beside yours as he kisses you. You expected a peck, something nervous, but that’s impossible when there’s a decade of want behind it. He’s firm and certain as his hands finally take grateful handfuls of your hips, and your mouth burns as you kiss him back. He worries he’s being too handsy, especially after last night, but when you feel him retreating you take his larger hands in yours and keep them there.

This morning, as his tongue moves past yours, Eddie tastes like spearmint, coffee and tobacco. You miss the taste as soon as his lips paint tender kisses at the corner of your mouth and over the hill of your jaw, but you keen at the sensation anyway, arching into him.

“This okay?” he asks in a pant, pulling back and hiding a smile as he hears you whine.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You use shaky fingers to push curls back so you can see his face and, holding him in both hands, kiss the swell of his cheek followed by the other. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me,” he says, chuckling.

“What do we do now?” you ask him.

He looks back at you, feeling more whole than ever, and notices the creeping worry lines between your brows. Pushing against your hold, he leans forward and kisses you there. The satisfaction of feeling you relax is enough to keep him going for a thousand years.

“Well,” he whispers, and his breath isn’t too hot like Tom’s. It’s warm and friendly where it blooms over your closed eyes. “Go take care of Steve, probably.”

“Kiss me again?”

He does, wordlessly, softer than before, once on your mouth and another on your forehead. You wind your arms around his back, and with cheek resting on the top of your head, he says those fateful words into your hair:

“Love you.”

You squeeze without thinking, smiling into his chest.

“Love you too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie imagine #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie #eddie munson angst #stranger things au

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xxblairexxss · 8 months

Text

Who are you? p.2

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff, I think

Word count : 2.9k

Warning! Poorly translated French

Part 1 Part 3

It was your second time meeting the country’s gem boy but it surely wasn’t a smooth one.

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"I’m gonna put you here. Oh my God! I’m so excited!” You squealed and dipped your hand into the large box of new clothes that had just been delivered. Linda was all ready for your little haul, like she always was while putting her face mask on. "I bought this dress!"

"It’s so cute! Try it on!”

"What? Right now?" You were in jeans and a crop top, waiting for your VIP driver to pick you up as promised or as you were forced to agree two days ago. You didn’t know if he was the right on time person or someone who never bothered to check the time, so you got yourself ready for the day early because you surely couldn’t survive another round of humiliating yourself in front of the country’s precious gem again.

"There’s like 20 minutes left. He’s not going to knock on the door any second. Quick, try it on! I want to see how it is on you!” Linda assured.

"Fine. Give me a second.” You took out the dress from the packaging, stripped yourself until you were left in your underwear, and slipped the dress on.

It was pretty, as you pictured it would be but it was tight. Too tight.

You definitely picked the wrong size that you couldn’t even walk properly in it.

"Damn! You look good!” Your best friend’s eyes widened as you walked into the frame, completely ignoring your suffocating expression. "Why is the upper part a little loose?"

"I picked the wrong size! I can’t even zip up the back.” You whined and tried to reach the zip part. "Oh, I got it.” You pulled it up, roughly three quarters from the full length, and gave up when it put you out of breath. "Nah, it’s too tight."

"It looks so freaking beautiful! You would be getting all eyes if you ever wore that in public!"

"Only after I change it to the right size because now—oh no." You frowned, tugging on the zipper a little harder. It won’t budge.

"What? Y/N, what?"

"It’s stuck!" You cried and tugged on the zipper again. "What am I supposed to do?"

"How can you get stuck in the dress?” Linda, being the most amazing friend you could ever ask for, burst out laughing.

"It’s not funny! I need—" You whirled your head towards the door as the bell rang. "Fuck! He’s here. What should I say?"

"Ask for his help!” Linda suggested as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"He can’t see me looking like this! Are you kidding me? Talk to you later.” You ended the call before she went into another round of laughter as the bell rang once again.

"Hey?" Charles tilted his head, brows arched as you opened the door with the chain on, which only allowed him to see you from the small gap. "Your appointment is in 5 minutes."

"I’m going with someone else. Sorry for troubling you.” You moved your face away as if the door would hit you when he pushed the door back.

"I thought you had made an agreement with Charles Monaco?”

"I don’t have time for a joke!” You shut him up and groaned. "I can’t go out like this."

"Like what? What is the problem this time?"

"Like this!" You whined.

"In case you didn’t realise, I can only see your head. What do you actually want to show me?” He heard the chain went loose as you closed the door.

"This.."

Charles stepped back when you opened the door all the way, much wider this time, revealing your little dress that grasped every curve of your body. "Dang, you tryna hit the club with that sprained wrist?"

"No, I’m going to punch that pretty face of yours." You stepped aside as he walked in. Just like everyone else’s first time being in a new area, he started looking around, waiting for you to elaborate further on your problems. You, on the other hand, were unable to look at him or bring up the topic, though it felt like you were going to faint anytime soon for the lack of oxygen.

"So? Your problem is?” He took another glimpse of you before checking his watch. "There’s no sense of urgency in that gorgeous body of yours, I see."

You locked your gaze on your feet and mumbled. "I’m stuck.."

"You what?" His brows were drawn closer, frowning at you.

"I’m stuck in this dress!” You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the humiliation that was about to come.

"How the heck did you get stuck in the dress?" Charles wanted to laugh, and he knew you knew he was going to make fun of you too, but seeing you in the dress with your wrist secured in a bandage wrap made him feel bad. "Turn around. Let me see."

"Go ahead." You looked up and glared at him.

"Go ahead, what, silly? I’m trying to help you." He stood there like a statue, waiting for you to turn around because there was no way he would move to your back. He was nearly charged with an attempted murder two days ago, and he definitely didn’t want to take another leap in the dark. And he just met you. No woman would be comfortable enough to show the back of her body to a random guy.

"Go ahead and laugh at me."

"I don’t have time for a laugh, Y/N. We are late! They kept spamming my phone with calls. Just turn around.” He sighed.

You pursed your lips, gathering your hair in one hand as you turned your back on him, waiting for him to fix the zipper.

Charles was astounded. His hands went a little clammy as he saw your half-bare back. The way the body line became more obvious as you moved your arms even by a little bit, stunned him.

"Quit staring!"

"Oh, sorry." He muttered and took a step forward. The zipper was indeed stuck at the spot, as he had to tug on it a little hard to move it down. "Is this okay?"

You just wanted to dig a hole to hide yourself. Nothing could mortify you more than this. Not only did you not recognise the country’s athlete, he was here in your house with your exposed back for him to see. You felt his touch on your back as he pulled the zipper down and had to pray that you weren’t sweating from it. "Yeah, that should be fine. Let me just take this.” You turned around and quickly picked up your jeans and top that you had worn before and scurried to your room to change.

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"We should be able to take your bandage off in two weeks! Until then, please take the medicine if there is any discomfort. If it lasts more than 2 days, give us a call or just come here for a further check-up."

"Oh! Can you.." You took out your phone and went to the notes. "..change the phone number to this one? It’s mine, so it should be easier.” You grinned and handed the phone to the staff.

"No." Charles took the phone away before it reached the staff’s hand.

"What is wrong with you? I’m so sorry. I don’t know this guy and why’s he acting like this.” You sent a glare to the driver and smiled again towards the staff. "Can you just use this phone number, please?” You took the phone back and handed it back, only for it to be in Charles’ hand again.

Your mouths were wide open as he proceeded to speak in French to the staff, completely ignoring you as if this didn’t have anything to do with you at all. The staff nodded and took the phone in his hand as he handed it back to you right away.

"What did you say to her?” You finally asked as you got into the car, after being stopped ten times by his fans for autographs and pictures.

"Oh, I told her she could remove my phone number and proceed with everything in the future with yours.” He arched a brow and smirked, which made you pull your face. "What are you doing?"

"It seems like everyone wants to take a picture with you. I should take my chance too!” You brought up the phone, angled it to where you and Charles were in the frame, and clicked on the snap button. "Gotcha!"

"You need to pay for that.” He turned the engine on and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Yeah, right. Don’t try to scam me. You didn’t ask for money from the fans earlier”. You stared at the picture you just took and cackled at his expression.

"That’s because they asked for my permission. You didn’t. They could sue you."

"Funny!" You pulled the seatbelt as the car started to move and waited for him to pull a face, but he didn't, so your lips went into a straight line. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah. Do I look like I’m playing around?” He turned the blinker on before turning right.

"Do I still get sued if I just keep the pictures on my phone?”

"No, I don’t think so. I can ask my manager about that.” He tilted his head to the right and bit his lips to keep himself from laughing as he saw you gripping your phone with the picture on the screen.

"I’ll just keep it in my photo album. Wait, where are we going? You missed the turn! My apartment is there!”

"Relax! I know!" He kept his gaze forward and proceeded in a straight line.

"Then why aren’t you turning around? I’m calling the police.”

"And tell them what? Charles Monaco is kidnapping you? They won’t do anything.” He turned the blinker again and headed left; your apartment was no longer in sight as he went further away. "You owe me something. Remember when I told you I was in a rush after accidentally hitting you? I had a haircut appointment."

"So we are going to a hair salon? I haven’t been to one since I moved here.” You touched the part of your hair with your free hand while keeping your gaze on the window.

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Charles pulled the door open, allowing you to walk in first as he followed behind. The place was spacious, neat, and decorous. It reminded you a lot of your local hair salon. There were a few people inside getting their hair done, with a few workers walking by.

"Boujour! Est ce que je peux vous aider?" (Hello! Can I help you?)

"Um.." You turned around, waiting for him to take over.

Charles walked all the way to the hairdresser as she hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. The middle-aged woman then looked over to you and gave off a smile as she said something, as if asking the guy to take a seat while she walked back to get something.

You quickly made your way to Charles and tiptoed to whisper in his ear. "Is she your fan too?"

He looked at you and chuckled. "No, she’s my mom.”

"Are you being real? Stop joking around!”

He twirled the chair around and shrugged. "I’m being serious! She gave birth to me, Y/N."

"Oh.." You breathed out. The woman came back, and you stepped aside as she started working on the haircut while you took a seat on the couch at the back where you were facing them and still within the radius where you could hear them talk, though you didn’t understand anything except for the constant repetition of this one word.

"Elle pensait que je m'appelleais Charles Monaco." (She thought my name was Charles Monaco)

"Vraiment? D’où vient Charles Monaco?" (Really? Where did Charles Monaco come from?)

"Je ne sais pas, mais c’est mignon." (I don’t know but it’s cute)

For the next 20 minutes, you had been playing a game where you had to match the colours of the items together and hit the goal in order to go up to the next level. It was very distracting that you lost track of time and managed to go up to 50 levels ahead until he called your name.

"Making yourself at home? Should I pick you up tomorrow?” He laughed as you quickly stood up and walked over to him. "I’m just kidding."

"Charles!" His name was called out and you tilted your head,nodding at the older woman as she approached both of you with something in her hand. "Ceci est pour vous." (This is for you)

She handed you a small bag full of cute hair clips and kept on patting your arm as she said something to her son. "Ramenez-la à la maison en toute sécurité." (Bring her home safely)

"Thank you so much for these!”You grinned and turned to see that he was looking at you with a smile plastered on his face.

"Take care! Come if you need any haircuts, love!” She hugged you before making her way to treat her other customers as you left the store and headed back to the car with him.

"Oh my God, it’s so cute!" The soft pink hair claw caught your attention the most, so you picked it out and wrapped your hair around it, making your hair into a bun while looking at yourself through the sun visor. "It’s so cute, isn’t it?"

"You look cute with your hair up. Anyway, sorry for dragging you all the way here." He muttered.

"Give me a second. Where is it?" You frowned and dug your fingers inside the bag to find the matching pairs for the strawberry hair clips. "Oh, it’s okay! I got cute hair clips.” You shrugged it off and pin the matching clips to your face framing bang.

"I’m sending you off after this because I have a plan with my friends for dinner. Is it okay for you?” Charles found himself beaming at the sight of you trying every clip on, despite having your hand wrapped up in a bandage.

"What do you mean, is it okay for me? You are supposed to drop me off after your haircut.” The hair clips on your hair were taken off as you dropped them into the bag and left with just the hair claws to keep your hair up.

"Do you not have any plans with your friends?" He asked, picking a random topic to carry a conversation.

"Oh, I don’t have any friends in here.” You replied and played it off with a chuckle. Moving to a new country all on your own was such a new adventure for you that you barely had any time to find some new friends. Your mom kept on saying you weren’t able to find one because you kept on living in your own bubble, but how exactly did you start a friendship with someone who was never in the same school, class, or even neighbourhood with you? D9 you just go to their table and introduce yourself because surely no one would just barge their way into your life just to be friends? "You can just drop me there. I can walk my way up on my own because my hand is the one fully wrapped like a mummy. My legs are all safe and working very well."

He chuckled as you gave a thumbs up before gathering your stuff in one hand and opening the door as he stopped by the side of the road.

"Are you sure you don’t need my help?"

"Yeup! All good. I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” You pushed the door closed and turned back to head to your apartment.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yeah?" Turning around, you bent down a little just to catch his gaze from inside the car.

"We are friends, right? I can be your first friend here in Monaco."

"I’m not sure if you want to be friends with me. I’m not an athlete. I can’t even run 100 metres without dying.” You cracked a joke, but he wasn’t laughing along with you.

"I’m not just friends with athletes, silly. No one’s trying to challenge you to a 100-metre race."

"I’m not rich too.." You mumbled.

"Okay, I really want to know how your brain works because there is not a single hint of logic in everything you are saying right now. Do people in your country print out their bank statements first before accepting a friendship? No one’s flashing their wealth in here!"

You laughed at how frustrated he was. "Okay, sure! We are friends!"

"Which means I can text you, right?”

"Good luck in finding my phone number, Charles Monaco! Bye!" You waved and made your way back without looking back, thinking that would be the last time you would hang out with him again.

Without knowing he had your phone number saved on his phone with the help of the hospital’s staff earlier.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

✧.* tag list for p.2 @styles-sunflower @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @lexiecamposv

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fluff

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fredwkong · 10 months

Text

Sneakerhead

(inspired by a prompt from the incredibly welcoming @idesofrevolution )

It started because of some shoes.

Joel really wanted some classic Air Jordans, the 4s, black with red accents. He’d been having some trouble dating lately, passing out of his early 20s, when girls just wanted a guy who used deodorant. In their late 20s girls wanted shit like 401(k)s and moving in together. Joel’s solution? Date younger.

To do that, he needed some new style. He’d been grabbing streetwear for a while, but the Js would be the centrepiece, what he needed to perfectly set off distressed jeans and an oversized flannel. With his slender frame and boyish looks, with some new style Joel was sure his clean lifestyle would attract plenty of younger dates.

The shoes remained elusive, however. Too expensive to buy new, impossible to thrift. Finally, a gay guy acquaintance of Joel’s mentioned Sneaker Swap, a trade/sale site. He offered to send Joel a special invite link, an unreadable look in his eyes. Apparently this link would fast track Joel’s account progress somehow, give him unique access to shoes. Some gay kink thing, probably, Joel thought.

When he got home from the bar where he and the guy had met up, Joel followed the link and downloaded the app. The app took a while to load, he noticed, but the loading spiral was pretty nice to look at, so it was fine. It was one of the Js in the middle of several swirling concentric circles with a rainbow pattern.

Finally, the app loaded, inviting Joel to make an account. He input his shoes size, blinking at the afterimage of the spiral in his vision. When the main page loaded, and sneakers started to populate across the screen, his dick jumped unexpectedly, probably a side effect of being so close to finally having his Js and getting a date.

The guy Joel finally ended up buying his Js from lived across town, so Joel drove to his house to make the trade. As soon as he pulled up, he noticed a rainbow flag in the front window. The guy had seemed pretty intelligent and straightforward while Joel negotiated, but when he opened the door the guy seemed totally out of it. He barely remembered agreeing to the trade, he tried to grope Joel’s ass, and worst of all, all he was wearing were some tight boxer briefs and his sneakers, which gave off kind of a funky smell.

The dumb guy left Joel standing next to his shoe rack while he went to go find the Jordans and their box. As he waited, a distinctive smell started to fill Joel’s nose, the rich, buttery aroma rising off of the pile of used shoes in the rack. This guy must not own any socks, Joel thought in disgust. If those Js were gonna smell this bad, he might need to look for a new pair. He started to load sneaker swap, watching the spiral turn for several seconds.

Maybe the smell wasn’t that bad, he realised, sniffing the air again. It wasn’t like he wanted his feet to smell like that, but it wasn’t so surprising for a guy to want to fill his shoes with his essence. Mark his territory. Show off his manliness.

Joel had drifted back toward the shoe rack by the time the guy came back with the shoes. He spotted the Sneaker Swap app, still loading on Joel’s phone.

“Huhu, what a great app,” the guy grunted, handing over the shoebox. “Totally changed my life, bro.”

“Uh, thanks, man,” Joel said, handing over cash for the Js and pocketing his phone. He wrinkled his nose at the smell coming off the guy’s hairy muscles. “Thanks for the shoes.”

“Totally,” the gay guy’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Joel’s pants. Joel hadn’t even noticed his erection. “Hey bruh, if you want to,” the guy paused and licked his lips, “trade sneakers again sometime, hit me up.”

Joel beat a hasty retreat back to his car.

As he drove home, he kept thinking about the smell of that guy’s shoes. It was almost like it was still in his head, fogging up his brain. In fact, it was getting stronger. Joel pulled over and grabbed the shoebox from his passenger seat. He hadn’t smelled it in the house, but his fancy new Js were impregnated with the smell of the guy’s feet. Joel groaned, now he would have to figure out how to clean the shoes without ruining them.

Joel kept the shoes in a box in the back of his front closet, not wanting to have to smell them while he figured out how to wash off the stench. By the time he had finished his dinner, though, a faint foot funk was permeating his kitchen like a haze. Those shoes were powerful. Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap. Maybe they had a forum that could help. At the very least, he wanted to comment on the guy’s profile so other people knew what they were getting into.

The loading spiral was so relaxing. Joel could just sit and watch it… Some time later, Joel found himself looking at the main page of the app. When had it gotten so dark? He’d been about to do something on the app. He was going to—he was going to look for more shoes, right. He was already planning more outfits with different pairs.

The next morning, Joel was leaving for work when he saw the Js he’d bought yesterday sitting out on his shoerack, their smell eye-watering at close range. Had he put them there? He must have. The smell seemed different today, more complex and deeper, there was almost an appeal to having it filling him up… Joel shook his head. He should have looked up how to clean them last night, his whole house was gonna smell if this kept up. He went to open the Sneaker Swap app, and watched the spiral load.

He was nearly late for work, he spent so long looking at shoes to buy. How was he getting so absentminded lately? He must have had a latent interest in cool shoes this whole time, he reasoned.

The pattern continued. Every time Joel passed through his entryway, he smelled the musky Jordan 4s on his shoerack. He thought about cleaning them or putting them away, and started to load up Sneaker Swap, then got distracted by looking at shoes. It was starting to affect other parts of his life, too. A girl at work commented on how spacey and airheaded Joel had been acting lately. He just shrugged, unable to think of an answer other than, “Sorry, head’s full of shoe stink.”

By the time his next paycheck came through, Joel had three different pairs on hold with local bros. He was jittery and excited all morning, then loaded up into his car for an afternoon driving around to make the trades.

It was… weird. Joel couldn’t put his finger on it, but all three of the guys he met were different than he’d expected. Maybe it was how slow and stupid their voices were, or their nudity, or the fact none of them had washed or put on deodorant. All three wore their sneakers in their houses, and all three had a pile of smelly shoes by the front door. But every time Joel tried to think about it, the smell of all the shoes seemed to overtake his mind. All three guys had such unique scents to them, Joel found himself fascinated.

On the drive home, Joel barely noticed the three pairs of shoes stinking up his car, too busy thinking about how all those shoes had smelled at the source, where the guys he’d bought his Js from kept all their dirty sneakers. In a daze, he carried the three smelly boxes into his house and absently set the three new pairs of shoes next to the first, which he still hadn’t tried on. He kept meaning to clean them, he should look up how on Sneaker Swap… The loading spiral was so captivating…

Later, Joel found himself sitting on the floor next to his shoerack, his phone open to Sneaker Swap in one hand and one of his new Js in the other. Another couple shoes were in his lap. He took in the complex, different scents of each of the guys he’d bought them from, some salty, some bitter, and one even an almost sweet scent. It was like a signature, their unique trace on the shoes, something he’d be honoured to add to now that he’d inherited the legacy from them.

The next morning, Joel sniffed himself and decided he probably didn’t have to shower this morning. He looked at the deodorant on his bathroom counter, puzzled, and then threw it in the trash. While he ate breakfast, Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap and, after watching the spiral for a while, started looking at shoes. When he got ready for work, he grabbed the first pair of Js he’d bought and shoved his socked feet into their musky interior without a second thought.

Joel had the style now, but he noticed that he was having even more trouble scoring dates now. Girls seemed put off by the manly smell that Joel was building up. He’d started going to the gym more, and showers just seemed so much less important than building up his personal brand of musk to fill in to his shoes. At one bar, a girl wrinkled her nose at him as soon as Joel came up to the bar and she fled. Meanwhile, a passing boy in some little sexy shorts paused walking past Joel, nostrils flaring. Joel watched as the guy’s little dick suddenly tented out his tiny package, and smirked when their eyes met.

He was noticing guys more and more lately. At first, it was just their shoes, like the spiral from Sneaker Swap appeared around the feet of any guy in Js. He kept wondering what it would be like to smell a guy’s feet for real, rather than just through getting his musky shoes. His collection was growing, and each time he went to get new shoes the guys he traded with got more fun. Their houses were full of such hot scents, and their hot, smelly bods looked and smelled so good. They kept pressing up against Joel as they passed him their shoes, passing on their musk to him to take care of. It was so hot.

As much as he loved the thick, musky smell permeating his house now, Joel still hadn’t gone all the way and stuck his face in one of his Js. He didn’t know if he could take the smell that close to the source. The day he brought home his tenth pair of shoes, though, Joel decided that his little collection deserved to be commemorated on his Sneaker Swap profile. He opened up the app and watched the loading spiral.

He recollected himself as he hit “post” on his new profile pic. He looked at it. His Js were neatly laid out on the shoerack, but off to the side, there he was, in the picture, his face buried in one of the 4s, the first ones he’d bought with the red accents. As likes and comments started to pour in from the guys he’d bought the shoes from, a chorus of “bruh” and “noice” and “sniff that sneak, dude” Joel realised that he was still holding the shoe over his mouth and nose.

Right in the back of his mind, Joel had an instant of fear. Was this really him? This stinky sneakerhead? He’d been different before, clean-cut and even straight! He instinctively took a deep breath, and his negative feelings vanished as all his thoughts were overcome with the salty, musky tang of the shoe, so much stronger at close range that it was a physical sensation on his tongue. Joel’s growing foot stench had blended with the buttery scent of that first dumb himbo he’d bought the shoes from.

It felt like his whole mind was being filled up with musk, slowing his thoughts down like they were moving through molasses. Everything was perfectly fine. He had his shoes, he had his musk, and his big cheesy cock. Life was pretty much perfect for a dumb sneakerhead like him.

The next morning, Joel woke up in bed, cradling one of his Js against his face like when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t bother putting on more than some boxers and a used pair of socks, sticking his feet into a pair of sneakers as he got out of bed. A new user on Sneaker Swap wanted to buy a pair of his 4s, and after that he’d invited the guy he’d bought his first pair from to come over and check out his collection. Hopefully Joel would be able to get his mouth on that guy’s hot, smelly feet this time.

He needed to message that guy who’s given him the link to this app. Maybe he could give him a reward, Joel thought, kneading his weeping cock through his boxers.

#mental change #male transformation #feet kink tf #shoes tf #musk tf #straight to gay #dumber tf #hypno tf #himbofication #idesofrevolution #prompted story #male tf #all fwkong

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embrosegraves · 2 months

Text

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣

(request) Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader Starting a committed relationship means telling all of your deepest secrets

Warnings: Mentions of negative mental health, mentions of abu$e, mentions of su!cide, talks of selfh4rm. I am begging you, don't read this if the topics discussed may trigger you

Note: I've never gone through anything like this myself so, with permission, I have based a little bit of the story on a very close friend of mine. It's not exact obviously, but there are elements of a real experience.

You hadn’t been dating Fernando for very long. Just barely 3 months. It still felt like a very new relationship, even if people said otherwise. It had been enough time to realise that you might genuinely love him. He never pressured you, he never made you feel less than, and he always made sure to tell you that you were enough. Sure it was the bare minimum, but it was always nice to know people could be like that.

However, the fact was that you were scared to love him fully. You had almost sworn off dating completely because of your last partner. Your ex had made you feel so unworthy of everything. He had almost convinced you that he was the only person who would ever love you. Almost. Thankfully you had an amazing support system in your friends and most of your family. They had helped you get out of a horrible situation and they were with you the entire time, helping you recover from the trauma you had experienced.

When Fernando had told you he was serious about dating you, you had said to him that it would be a long while before you went further than kissing and holding hands. Like a true gentleman, Fernando had told you that he completely understood that some things would take time, but he was willing to wait for however long it took for you to be comfortable. Which is why today was so important for you.

“I’m nervous to show him, Y/f/n. What if he runs off after seeing it?” You had called your best friend, who was basically like your sister, trying to get rid of the rest of your nerves and anxiety.

“Babe, I’ve seen how he treats and looks at you. He won’t run off and you’ll be okay.” She said, “You’re so brave and incredibly beautiful and he will see that regardless of your skin and scars. I promise if he hasn’t said ‘I love you’ before, he definitely will after this.”

You scoffed. “Thank you but I doubt it. Once he sees he’s going to run for the hills.”

“Who’s running for the hills?”

You jerked your head around and saw Fernando walking through the door. You quickly said goodbye to your friend who wished you luck, and hung up the phone. You turned your body so that you were fully facing Fernando. Thankfully he could understand that this was going to be a serious conversation, so he gingerly sat next to you and took a hold of your hands.

“I need to tell you something important.” You said, keeping your eyes firmly on the space of blanket between you. His thumbs started rubbing circles over your knuckles, bringing you some comfort.

“I don’t need to know if you’re not ready to tell me.” He said softly.

“No. You need to know this.” You took a deep breath before you launched into your explanation. It was now or never.

“When I was in my early 20s, I was dating this guy. He was my first serious relationship that I’d ever had and for a time I thought he was going to be my future. I didn’t realise it at the time but he was very isolating, and controlling. There were times where he would scare me and laugh when I’d cry. He wouldn’t always, but he would often tell me that he was the only person who could ever love me, and for a time I believed him.” You didn’t want to count the amount of times your voice had already cracked.

“It really took a toll on me. So much that in the last few months of that relationship, I started to hurt myself. Because part of me thought he was right. When he found out what I was doing, he started to- He started-”

Fernando wiped a tear from your face. When had you started crying?

Taking in another big breath, you continued. “He started to hurt me as well. He would press on them while they were fresh and he would bruise me to see the colours. If my brother hadn’t walked in, I probably would’ve taken my life.” You finally looked at Fernando’s face and saw that he had begun crying too. Lifting one of your hands you wiped his gathering tears.

“I decided that if our relationship is going to go further, then you need to see what I did to myself.”

You slowly stood up, taking your hands from his, and began to shimmy your trousers down until they were pooled at your feet. You kept undressing before you could chicken out. You took your cardigan off and your shirt followed soon after. Standing there, in front of Fernando in just your undergarments, your scars were on full display. The scars on your thighs and stomach had been healed over for many years now but they still looked just as angry as the day they appeared. You had to force your arms to stay at your sides instead of curling around your stomach like they wanted to. You tried your best not to flinch when Fernando brought his hands up to gently trace them with his fingers.

Fernando looked up at you from where he was still sitting. He looked at every inch of your face and he saw just how broken you were. His heart hurt just thinking about all the abuse you were put through. He took hold of your hands again and slowly dragged you closer to him, giving you plenty of time to back away if you wanted to.

When you stood directly in front of him, he wrapped his arms gently around the back of your thighs and laid his head to rest on your stomach. Your hands were on his shoulders.

“You don’t know how incredibly strong you are, Mi Vida. You are so, so strong and I’m so lucky to be with you now.”

By now the both of you had tears streaming down your faces. Neither of you bothered enough to wipe them off. You were terrified of how your relationship was going to continue, if it was continuing at all.

You felt Fernando leave soft kisses just over your scars, as if he was afraid to hurt you by pressing more firmly. Quiet sobs broke their way past your lips. Your grip on his shoulders tightened just a bit.

“Please don’t leave.” You whispered, voice heavy with emotion. Fernando loosened his grip and stood up to cup your face in his hands. You brought your own hands to rest on his wrists as he held you.

“There is not a single thing about you that would make me leave.” His thumb brushed a stray tear away. “I love you more than I can say.”

Hearing his words, you closed your eyes and began sobbing harder. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as you buried your head into his chest. Fernando hugged you close to him and gently caressed the back of your head.

“Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.”

I hope you enjoyed reading this! I tried my best to write this in a way that was both a little detailed but also very vague so let me know how I did!

as always, likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

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thegirlwhowrites642 · 18 days

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Could you recommend us some of your favorite hinny fics? Love your work btw!

Thank you <3

I would tell you to look at my bookmarks on Ao3 but I'll give you some highlights (I'll keep wips out of this because I never know how to feel about recommending unfinished work):

Gone was any trace of you -- I'm pretty sure I've read this something like a billion times, I can quote it word by word

Come stay for the summer -- this is always such a light fun work to re-read, I'm a big fan of muggle hinny, I really have a soft spot for it

Altered -- the obsession I have for this one-shot, this to me is hinny in its purest form

A Weasley reunion -- some hardcore pining from Harry, and fake dating, what do you want more from life?

Time -- Harry realising he wants children, with Ginny. The specific way in which the realisation is written is something I adore

Summer rain -- this is great, what else there is to say really, it's just great

Sacred new beginnings -- I love how this somehow manages to be a retelling of sixth year despite being a muggle AU with young adults hinny

Orchards -- the author definitely has a higher opinion of the "golden trio" than I have but the way she writes dialogues between Harry and Ginny is perfect, she also does a thing I love which is to make Ginny actually funny. It's one of her main personality traits and yet it's forgotten so often, I think it happens due to some sort of unconscious bias about women not being funny (not native English speakers writers are forgiven though because being funny in a foreign language can be quite hard)

After the leaves have fallen -- this talks about what I call Harry and Ginny's never-ending argument and it's written so beautifully

Everything I am is yours -- I just noticed that on ao3 it's signed as the first chapter of two but it definitely can stand on its own and is a very well done muggle retelling of Harry and Ginny's story

take what I took and give it back to you -- a beautifully written soulmates marks au that doesn't really change Harry and Ginny's story but, as one of the comments says, seems to bring up an existing implied element of the canon one

Already here -- because Hannah's stories that I love the most (they are all great though) are wips, I'll put this one in the hopes that one day she'll decide to turn it into a multi-chapter story (@takearisk-ao3 think about it 👀)

The brilliant dance -- this is so fucking funny and entertaining while also being heartwarming. Fucked up but inevitable/obsessed with each other hinny spending their early 20s being a hot mess is my AU drug

Someone else's life -- finished reading this a few days ago, a very well developed brilliant idea

[I already know the second I post this I'll realise I've forgotten some brilliant work]

#hinny #harry potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny

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laurenairay · 3 months

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Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.

Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.

a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler

Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles

2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.

But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.

Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.

A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”

His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.

“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.

Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.

“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”

“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.

“He’s perfect…”

Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.

“…a border collie, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.

Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”

At least he understood.

With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.

“So, you live here then?”

You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.

“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”

You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.

Brock just grinned.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”

Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.

Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.

So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.

“Well this looks cosy.”

You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”

He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.

This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.

And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.

He really was so handsome though.

“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.

“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.

“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.

It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.

It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.

From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?

To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text

From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?

You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.

To: Brock Of course I don’t mind

From: Brock Of course?

You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.

To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.

From: Brock Well I definitely do now.

You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.

To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon

The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.

But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.

“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.

“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.

Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.

“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.

Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.

“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.

“Great!”

The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.

“Coola! Chill!”

Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.

“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.

There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.

“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.

All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.

From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?

You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.

There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.

When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.

“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.

The last thing you wanted was to intrude.

“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.

Oh. Now you felt stupid.

Wait, a welcome surprise?

“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.

“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.

Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.

“SHE’S HERE!”

“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!

“YEAH I’LL COME!”

Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.

“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.

“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.

Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.

“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.

“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.

You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.

“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.

You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”

Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.

“Really?”

“Really really,” Elias nodded.

“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”

You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.

You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”

Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”

You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.

“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”

“What?” Elias frowned.

“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”

As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.

Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“Brunch? Can we go?”

Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.

“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.

Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.

Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.

He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.

“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.

“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”

Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.

“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.

Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.

It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.

“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”

Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.

“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.

Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?

“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.

“I wanted to.”

The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?

“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.

Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Oh.

He…really?

You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?

While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Another drink?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.

The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.

“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”

Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.

From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.

You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?

Surely not.

But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.

“Is Brock on his way?”

“Brock isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.

“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.

You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?

“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.

Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”

The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.

Absolutely.

The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.

“Shall we watch another?”

“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”

Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.

Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.

It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.

You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.

It took ten minutes for everything to change.

Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.

The ball was in your court.

Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.

The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.

So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.

“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.

He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.

“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.

Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”

He swallowed heavily before nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”

You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.

“I should go,” he said softly.

No!

Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.

“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.

You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.

“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Oh wow.

For a while?

You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.

“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.

The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.

You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.

#my writing #winter fic exchange 2k24 #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson fanfic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic

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peakyswritings · 4 months

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Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VI

Summary: After the events of the previous day, Tommy and Nina are forced to come to terms with a truth they have refused to acknowledge for far too long.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, mentions of attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: like in the last chapter, there are some dialogues which are supposed to be in Italian, which I chose to write in English for the sake of the readers (and mine, ‘cause otherwise I should’ve translated lots of stuff). In this case, it is the second dialogue between Nina and her mother. I’m sorry for the long wait, and thank you for bearing with me!

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credit

Dividers credit

The first light of the morning filtered through the lace curtains of the kitchen window, bathing the room in a warm glow. Holding a cup of coffee in her hands, Nina stared into space, the events of the night before repeatedly playing in her mind. Tommy’s touch still lingered against her cheek, hesitant and tender as he touched her with a gentleness she had never known before. A gentleness that made her lean even closer, eager to feel more of the bare brushing of their lips, that made her wonder what it would feel like if she allowed herself to melt into him. His strong body seemed like a safe space, like something steady and reliable. But that warm, unfamiliar feeling was soon replaced by the blast of cold that suddenly hit her when he moved away.

How could she have been so stupid?

She had let her emotions get the best of her, and humiliated herself for nothing. It wasn’t him that she wanted. What she wanted was to get rid of the skin-crawling feeling that Stefano’s hands had left on her, so she had clung to the first person who had offered her a hint of safety and comfort. What a fool she had been, for forgetting that the only person who could ever bring her safety and comfort was herself. For letting Stefano mess her up once again. It was all a game of power to him, he had played her like a pawn, and she had fell for it. Because Stefano did what he did to let her know that he could do everything he wanted to her, if he just decided to. With the blood boiling in her veins, she promised to herself she wouldn’t let him hold that much power over her, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cave. She’d go on as if nothing happened, but without forgetting what he did. And when the right time came, she’d make him regret ever daring to lay his filthy hands on her. He had tormented her for years, tried to force her into a marriage, scared and threatened her in her own home, a place where she was supposed to be safe. He would pay for that.

“Sei già sveglia?” (You’re up already?)

Her mother’s voice pulled Nina out of her thoughts, and only then did she realise how tight her hold around the cup’s handle had become. She loosened her grip, a sigh escaping her lips as the pain of her own nails digging in her palm eased. Sinking lower in her seat, she fixed her gaze upon a crack in the wooden table, well aware that she couldn’t escape Maria Ferrante’s ever-observant eye. “Sono andata a letto presto, ieri.” (I went to bed early, yesterday.)

The older woman walked further into the kitchen, squinting her eyes as if she had spotted something. Still carefully avoiding her gaze, Nina watched her get closer from under her lashes, until she stopped right in front of her. She let out a groan as her mother took ahold of her chin to get a better look at her face. “Che hai in faccia?” (What’s that?)

Nina gulped, her mind trying to find an excuse for the scratch that Stefano had left when he had dug his fingernails in her cheek. “È stato Winston,” she professed, turning her head to free herself from her mother’s grip. (It was Winston.)

The woman mumbled some curses towards the poor animal that, for once, was actually innocent.

“È stata colpa mia,” Nina quickly added. “L’ho fatto arrabbiare.” (It was my fault, I made him angry.)

Maria Ferrante pursed her lips in disapproval, and a frown appeared on those once beautiful features, which had started to wither way too soon under the weight of the years and of a life devoted to caring for others and never herself.

Nina had to restrain herself from breathing a sigh of relief when her mother walked over to the cupboard, letting the matter drop. But as she watched her bustling about to make breakfast for everyone, she was overwhelmed by a mounting sense of unease. It was a familiar feeling, one that had been accompanying her for as long as she could remember, yet she had never been able to figure it out. It usually rose without warning, making her head spin, sending her into a state of distress that made her feel physically sick, and she got the impression there was something deeply wrong with her life. After years of dealing with it, she had found a pattern, and she had realised that most of the times - although not always - it was connected to her mother.

All her life, Nina had feared to become like her. Always silent, always compliant as she let her husband and sons treat her like a slave, pretending not to notice the way they unconsciously looked down on her - because she was not clever, she was ignorant, she wasn’t even able to read or write. She was a wife and a mother before being a person. They loved her, but they loved her like something that belonged to them. And deep down, Nina knew she was loved the same way.

She knew the opinion they had of her was not that distant from the one they had of her mother. It didn’t matter that she had finished school, it didn’t matter how much she kept on studying and learning on her own, it didn’t matter how much she tried to prove that she was capable. She was always a woman. That limitation was the wall the stood between her and the world, and the more she tried to climb over it or walk around it, the taller and wider it grew.

To some extent, in her family, Nina was already her mother.

Standing in front of the mirror in the room that had become his in the last couple of weeks, Tommy straightened his tie, his gaze scanning his whole figure to make sure nothing was out of place. His face was freshly shaved, his suit neatly pressed, his shoes polished. The only jarring note were the purple shadows under his eyes, proof of a sleepless night. Ever since he had left Nina’s room, he had been tormented by a strange feeling of restlessness. He had hardly closed his eyes, his mind relentlessly circling around everything that had been happening in the last month, and everything that was to come. But in that endless vortex, one thought emerged above all others. How was she?

The question nagged at him, making it impossible for him to shift his attention on any other subject. From the moment he had met her, Nina had seemed to him an unbreakable force. She was fierce, and untamable, with a fire in her eyes mighty enough to burn whole cities to the ground. That was why, when he witnessed her vulnerability, he was almost surprised to see that she, too, could be fragile. But with that fragility came a whole different wilfulness, a stubborn refusal to bend that made her even more ardent. More beautiful. And he wondered how many more sides of herself she kept hidden.

Almost a month had passed since his arrival in Sicily, and during time, she had slowly made her way into his head, clouding his judgment. Because he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about her, not when he was courting her cousin. Not when the decision had been made. But the events of that day had put him in front of a truth he had refused to acknowledge, a truth that made him feel something too close to fear.

Last last night more than ever, he couldn’t take his mind off her, off her scent, off the feeling of her soft hair brushing against his skin. Did she have any idea how hard it had been for him to pull away? That he had only left her room because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself any longer? That, had she been in a less vulnerable position, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do what every cell in his body was begging him to do?

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself. There was no need to make things more difficult than they already were. He opened the drawer of his bedside table, revealing the velvety box that had been closed there for far too long. He reached for it and opened it to take a look at the ring he had bought along the necklace he had gifted Agnese a few weeks earlier, when he had declared his intention to marry her. The big diamond ring seemed to stare back at him, and his stomach clenched at the thought that it was time to do what he was expected to do. He snapped the box shut and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket, telling himself there was no point in dwelling on things that had no chance to exist.

As he headed downstairs, the sound of Nina’s voice came to his ears, and his nerves started tingling with anticipation. How would she act, now? How was he supposed to act? Should he ask her how she was, or should he pretend nothing had happened, just like she told him?

He could tell there was a whole story behind what had happened with Stefano the previous day, one that he wasn’t aware of, and part of him wanted to ask her. The other part, however, feared that she might close off again, and that all the steps forward that they had taken would be erased, taking them back where they started.

Before Tommy could cross the living room, Nina came out of the kitchen, too lost in thought to notice him, at first. But once she did, she stopped in her tracks, and an unreadable expression spread over her features. For the next few seconds, they just looked at each other in complete silence, waiting for the other to say something. The small scratch on her face caught his eye, suddenly taking him back to last night, when he had ran his knuckle over it with a softness he didn’t know he possessed, when he had got the impression that her cheek had been made just to fit perfectly in the palm of his rough hand. How close she had been…

“Good morning.” Nina’s voice harshly brought him back to reality, and it was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

Tommy cleared his voice, struck by an odd feeling of guilt for indulging further in those thoughts. “Morning,” he murmured, recollecting himself. He had to remember where he was, and where his priorities stood. But it was so hard when the warmth of her body so close to his was imprinted on him, and when he could still feel the way her lips had barely brushed against his.

“I’m having lunch at Agnese’s house today,” he blurted out before he could think about what he was saying. And maybe his words had some kind of effect on her, but she was so quick to hide it that he figured he had probably imagined it.

Nina nodded, hoping that whatever she was feeling in that moment wasn’t written all over her face. She wasn’t even sure what it was that she was feeling, she just knew that she didn’t like it. And that it wasn’t right.

Tommy was going to propose.

That awareness knocked the air out of her lungs, and she cursed herself for feeling like that. It was wrong. And she had no right. She had to get a grip and take control of those emotions, before they irreversibly took control of her. Tommy’s icy stare seemed to be piercing right through her, making it impossible for her to focus and formulate some coherent sentence. Fucking blue eyes.

“Good,” it was all she could manage to utter.

Another heavy silence fell down upon them, and the words they really wanted to say - the words they didn’t even have the courage to tell themselves - were left hanging in the air, where they would vanish, sooner or later. Because the things left unsaid would never be real.

In the late afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table, Nina tried to keep herself busy by reading a book, but the words seemed to vanish right in front of her eyes one by one. She was too agitated to read. According to what her brothers had told her before leaving the house earlier that day, the men of the family were currently holding a meeting Tommy Shelby at Agnese’s house. They had mentioned something about Sabini and the next moves, but she had only half-listened to them, her mind occupied by something else entirely. Looking out the window, she glanced at the house on the opposite side of the shared garden, the urge to know what was happening inside it growing with each moment that passed.

“He hasn’t proposed.” Maria Ferrante stormed into the kitchen, carrying a basket full of freshly-picked figs.

Nina blinked, her train of thoughts interrupted by her mother for the second time that day. “What?”

“Mr Shelby hasn’t proposed to Agnese,” she clarified, placing the basket on the table with a thud. Under her daughter’s disconcerted stare, she took some of the figs and walked over to the sink to wash them with hasty, agitated movements. “The poor girl’s desperate, she thinks she has done something wrong.”

It took Nina more than a moment to process her mother’s words, but once she did, it took her way less to realise what that might mean. For her, for Agnese, for the future of her family. As her mind began to race in an all too familiar way, her eyes quickly scanned the room in search for something to focus on in order not to slip into the whirlpool of scattered thoughts, but the clatter caused by the older woman’s fumbling with the cutlery only added to the frenzied state of her brain. Her heart pounded in her chest, drumming in her ears, and she found herself jiggling her leg up and down to ease the tension. Finally, her attention was grabbed by the clock hanging on the wall, and in the second hand her restless gaze found something to hold on to. With each second that passed, her heart decreased its speed and the noise in her mind quietened, bringing her some relief. Closing her eyes, she exhaled a breath, glad to be back in control of herself. “This whole thing was a mistake,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

Even though she was facing away from her mother, Nina could tell she had halted, because the fuss suddenly stopped. “What do you mean?” She asked, but before her daughter had the chance to answer, she placed a plate with some figs cut in half in front of her. “Eat.”

At first, Nina scrunched her nose, sure that the mere sight of food would be enough make her stomach turn. Ever since the events of the previous day, it had been too knotted up for her to feel hungry. However, as soon as the delicious smell of the fruits filled her nostrils her appetite awoke, and she was quick to take a bite. The sweet pulp melted on her tongue, and the sensation almost made her forget what she was about to say. “I mean,” she spoke again after eating the first piece. “That it isn’t the Shelbys we should’ve tried to form an alliance with.”

Her mother’s eyebrows shot upwards, and a disapproving expression made its way on her face. “These things are not our concern,” she reproachfully pointed a finger at her daughter, sitting on a chair in front of her. “Your father and your uncles are doing-”

“They’re doing all the wrong things.” Nina interrupted her, slightly raising her voice. “And it is our concern. It’s our life, we should have a say in it.”

“Your father knows what’s best for this family.”

“Does he?”

Maria Ferrante crossed her arms over her chest, averting her eyes from her daughter’s, and the silence that followed gave Nina the chance to go on. “This was a mistake, you know it too,” she added, lowering her voice again. “You might fool dad by pretending you know nothing about this business, but you can’t fool me.”

A strange glimpse crossed her mother’s eyes at her words, but it didn’t last more than an instant. Her features hardened again, and it was like that subtle, ephemeral emotion had never been there. “What I think is not important.”

This time, it was Nina who chose not to reply. It was useless, after all. Her mother had spent her whole life convinced that all she was born to do was to take care of someone else, without ever being able to make a single decision for herself, or voice her thoughts, and that conviction was too deeply rooted inside her to be eradicated.

“You’re a lucky girl, Nina. You shouldn’t forget that.” Maria leaned over the table, looking her daughter right in the eyes. “Take a look around you. You have a big, nice house with a big, nice garden, and a room you can call your own. You have never known misery, nor hunger,” she paused, her gaze becoming absent, as if getting lost in some old memory. She then leaned back in her chair, staring at a point in front of her. “It feels like bites. Hunger, I mean.”

Nina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, letting those words sink in. Although her mother’s stark expression gave nothing away, she sensed that some old, unforgotten pain was begging to be acknowledged, and she could almost feel that pain as if it were her own.

Coming back to her senses, Maria fixed her eyes on her daughter again, her gaze displaying a fierceness that appeared almost odd on her face. “You don’t know it. You haven’t even known it during the war. That’s all thanks to your father, and what he does.”

Nina watched quietly as mother got up from her chair, starting to busy herself with what needed tidying up. “He does what he does for us. Be grateful, and don’t question his decisions.” Her voice took on a stern tone, one that brooked no arguments, indicating that the discussion was over. “And eat,” she ordered, nodding toward the plate.

Pouring the tea she had just made in a cup, Nina glanced at the clock. Midnight had passed a long time ago, but once again her brain was keeping her up, preventing her from getting some much needed sleep. She’d had lots of time to think, though, and the long, relaxing bath she had taken had helped her free her mind for a while. She could see things more clearly, now.

Her first fear had been that Tommy might decide to go on with the war, but after pondering the subject, she had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t an option. He had proposed an alliance because he knew he had no chance of winning that war, the attacks to his pubs and his men were the proof. Not to mention that if he were to decide to call everything off he would be killed on the spot. The Peaky Blinder Devil was surrounded by potential enemies, with not a single man by his side, and he had willingly put himself in that position.

Because he was not afraid to die.

That was the answer to all of her questions, the missing piece that had prevented her from fully understanding why her family feared him so much, to the point of not even considering to form an alliance with Sabini instead. Tommy Shelby was not afraid to die, therefore, he had no limitations.

But the more she seemed to be close to figuring him out, the more questions rose, and Nina couldn’t explain why - despite all her efforts not to think about him - her mind was so adamant on trying to unravel the mystery that was Tommy Shelby. She had started because she didn’t trust him, because she wanted to know what his true intentions were, because she wanted to try and anticipate his moves - something that the men of her family seemed to fail at. Now she just couldn’t stop, for what she had found was so far from what she had expected.

She couldn’t explain the deep connection she felt to him, a connection that perhaps had always been there, since the very beginning, when all she seemed to feel for him was spite. Even then, there was something drawing them towards one another, forcing them to keep on bickering and bantering, to look for those apparently insignificant quarrels and challenges. Then there were their secret meetings, those nights where time seemed to stand still, where he wasn’t Tommy Shelby, and she wasn’t Nina Ferrante, and they were almost normal people, and they were allowed to let their masks fall. She remembered every laugh he had drawn from of her with the stories of his childhood, every smile she had managed to coax out of him with her witty retorts. And she had learned he was not a Devil, like everybody called him. Behind his steely glare and the layers of ice that protected him like an armour, he was very much human.

There must’ve been a reason why every night since the first casual encounter they had left their rooms in the hope of just enjoying each other’s company. There must’ve been a reason why their eyes begged to meet every time they were in the same room, and their hands longed for the slightest touch. There must’ve been a reason why she was standing there, hoping he would walk through that door.

But that reason didn’t matter. Because in the light of the day, he was Tommy Shelby, she was Nina Ferrante, and he would marry her cousin. Soon he would go back to Birmingham, and she would stay there, going back to the life she had grown to despise. The seas between them would erase the invisible string that seemed to bind them together, and she would forget how he had made her laugh, how she had made him smile. And it would be as if her soul had never met his.

Nina’s heart increased its speed when she heard the footsteps that had become now familiar to her, and she had to remind herself that night wouldn’t be like the others. She had to push him away, restore the distance between them before it was too late. If they crossed that line, there would be no going back.

Silently, Tommy entered the kitchen. All the spontaneity their relationship had acquired over the weeks was gone, and he was unsure how to behave. He didn’t even know what had brought him there again, after he had told himself he had to stop thinking about her. Maybe the same thing that had kept him from proposing to Agnese.

Nina was standing near the table, pouring her usual awful amount of honey in her steaming cup of tea. Leaning against the doorframe, Tommy allowed himself a moment to admire the way the white cotton of her nightgown brought out her tan skin and dark hair. She seemed off guard, but he knew she was aware of his presence. Once she was done, she gazed at him, and her fiery eyes shone in the dim light, pinning him right where he stood.

“I was thirsty,” he explained after a moment of hesitation, walking further into the room.

Without saying a word, Nina took a glass from one of the cabinets and poured water in it. When she handed it to him, her fingers brushed against his, and shivers of electricity raced across his skin. With the proximity, he was engulfed by the scent of lavender and honey that had been plaguing him in his sleep, making him long for something he could never have.

He would never feel anything like that with Agnese.

Nina took a few steps back, breaking the bubble that formed every time they were close to each other. Tommy tightened his grip around the glass for a second, then placed it on the table. He didn’t need to pretend it hadn’t been just an excuse to see her. He searched for something to say, but Nina beat him to it, and what she said next felt like a stab through his chest.

“You should propose to Agnese.”

She wasn’t even looking at him. She was cold, distant, almost like the day they had met. Taken aback by her sudden statement, Tommy blinked, hoping he had misheard. “What?”

“You’ve been courting her long enough,” she said bitterly.

Nina’s words aroused a certain anger in Tommy, the same anger he felt every time he sensed that his hand was being forced. But it wasn’t just anger, there was something else with that. “It’s not your place to decide-”

“It is my fucking place,” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. “This is my family. And the more we wait, the more we give Sabini the time to act against us.”

Tommy’s expression changed, and all the annoyance she had read moments before on his face gave way to something else. He raised his eyebrows in a mocking way, taking a look around before shifting his gaze on her again. “So you’ve finally admitted it,” he he said, and the shadow of a smug smirk appeared on his face.

“Admitted what?” She seethed.

“That your family needs my family.”

Nina snorted, fighting the urge to slap the smugness out of his face. Even in a serious situation, he couldn’t resist looking for a way to get under her skin.

“That’s not the point,” she argued, averting her eyes from his. “The point is - it’s time to get this over with.” The more she spoke, the harder it became to keep her voice steady, but she did it nonetheless, attempting to sound as convincing as she could. Maybe she’d end up convincing herself as well. “And this…thing that we’re doing,” she paused, the words burning in her throat as she uttered them. “It has to stop.”

Something flashed across Tommy’s features, and Nina instantly regretted addressing the topic. A strange tension fell into the room as his face became serious again.

“This thing,” he emphasised, as if pondering her words. The way his deep voice echoed in the silence of the room awakened something inside her, and heat crept up cheeks. “Tell me,” he squinted his eyes, starting to walk in her direction with slow, measured steps. “What is it that we’re doing?”

The breath hitched in her throat, but Nina stood still in her place, forcing herself to bear his gaze. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” he repeated, nodding to himself. He took another step forward, looking down at her with a hint of challenge in his eyes, almost daring her to deny what was right in front of them one more time. She was now trapped between his body and the table, and the closeness alone was enough to make his nerves tingle.

“Tommy, please,” she whispered.

God, had she ever called him by his name before? The way it rolled off her lips, along with her intoxicating scent and the feeling of her warm body - too close to ignore it but still too far away to feel it completely - threatened to destroy the last shred of his self-control. It was hanging by a thread, a thread that was about to snap at any given moment.

He tucked an unruly strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear, then his large hand travelled down the side of her neck, his thumb gently rubbing against the delicate skin of her throat. She quivered almost imperceptibly, and her eyes lit up in a way that ignited his whole being. And the thread did snap. His hand went to grab the nape of her neck, and he crashed his lips against hers in a desperate, almost harsh kiss.

But it didn’t take Tommy more than a few seconds to regain control of his instincts. He pulled away, sucking in a sharp breath as he was hit by the realisation of what he had just done. His jaw twitched when his gaze met Nina’s wide eyes, and an overwhelming sense of guilt - way more powerful than the one he had felt that morning - started to weigh on his conscience. Then, as if the contact of their skin had burned him, he let his hand fall and took a step back. He tried to utter an apology, but no sound came out of his mouth. For an amount of time that seemed to stretch into eternity, neither of them did anything, and the possibility of having scared her only added to Tommy’s feeling of guilt. But a second glance was enough to realise it wasn’t fear that was painted on Nina’s face. Before he had the chance to say something, she closed the distance between them, grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss. After the initial surprise, he was quick to wrap his arms around her, bringing her closer, eager to feel every inch of her body pressing against him. Her soft mouth moved against his tenderly, with a bit of hesitation that made his head spin. Their tongues danced together as he took control of the kiss, and he felt like he could melt right there in her arms. And as much as he wanted to restrain himself, to handle her more delicately, he couldn’t. He had waited far too long.

Tommy’s scent invaded Nina’s nostrils, clouding her senses, and she feared her knees might give out as he kissed her like a man starved. It was passionate, sensual, and lit a fire inside her she had never felt before. And despite everything, it felt right. Nothing had ever felt so right like the feeling of his strong frame against her.

But it wasn’t right. In a moment of clarity, Nina reluctantly broke their kiss, her lips still brushing against Tommy’s. Catching her breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to quieten the turmoil inside for her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

With great gentleness, Tommy grabbed her chin, raising her face so that she would look at him. “I’m not.”

NEXT PART

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic

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lucy90712 · 7 days

Text

By your side- Jude Bellingham

I thought I had my life together I was engaged, planning a wedding and had just found out I was pregnant everything seemed so perfect. I don't know how it all went wrong so quickly I just came home from work to be greeted with a note from my fiancé saying he was leaving me because he had been cheating and felt he was more in love with the other woman. He was so kind to let me have the house that I bought and only took his things from it although he did leave the place in a mess doing so. To start with I didn't feel anything as I was so in shock but once it sunk in I haven't stopped crying. Luckily finances aren't a worry for me as I make a good amount of money so I can continue to pay all the bills and can afford everything for the baby but having no support has been hard especially because no one knows I'm pregnant as I'm still quite early on.

All of this happened Friday so I haven't been back into work yet and I know I should probably take some time off to figure things out and give myself time to work through my feelings but I need the distraction I can't wallow in self pity anymore. Luckily today I just have a lot of paperwork to do so I'll be in my office just getting on with things not talking to the players who would definitely ask questions as to why I'm not wearing my ring. Something I didn't account for out of pure stupidity is all my co workers as soon as I arrived they asked about my weekend just to be nice but just being reminded of everything that happened hurt. One then asked where my ring was as I never take it off and I had to just lie and say I took it off for something and forgot to put it back on all while trying to hold back tears.

When I was finally in the confines off my office I couldn't hold back the tears anymore my whole world has been turned upside down and here I am trying to act like everything is normal which is so much harder than I thought. Even my office still portrays my perfect life my pc background is of me and my ex fiancé and I have so many pictures of us throughout my office. In my desk draw I even have an ultrasound picture from my first ultrasound which made me think about the fact that my baby has to grow up without a dad which I was so against for my own kids as I know the struggle.

As I was sobbing I thought I heard a knock at my office door but no one said anything so I just kept crying until I felt a hand on my shoulder which scared the living daylights out of me. Part of me wanted to punch whoever or whatever was behind me but instead I just jumped back and turned around at the speed of light. My soul came back into my body when I realised that it was just Jude although I still kind of wanted to punch him for scaring me so badly. That's when it hit me that Jude had just seen me crying my eyes out and I have to explain why I was so upset which only made me cry again thinking about it. Jude knelt down in front of me and tried to wipe my tears as they fell but he couldn't keep up so instead he tried comforting me to stop the tears altogether.

It took a while but eventually I had no more tears left to cry and I was forced to try and regulate my breathing again. As I tried calming myself down my morning sickness kicked in at full force and my options were throw up all over Jude or try and make to to the bathroom so I picked the second option and ran towards the bathroom. I made it just in time and apparently so did Jude as I felt him gather my hair and hold it back while rubbing my back. He must think I'm insane as I've just cried in front of him for 20 minutes now I'm throwing up but his opinion of me is the least of my worries right now.

"Are you ok?" Jude asked once I had stopped throwing up

"Yeah I'm fine" I lied

"Whats wrong and before you tell me there's nothing wrong I know there is no one cries that much for no reason" Jude said

"I'm just going through a hard time" I said

"Look you don't have to tell me but it might help to get things off your chest plus I promise I won't tell anyone" he said

"Ok but be prepared it's a lot" I said

"Friday night when I got home my fiancé left me a note saying he was leaving me for another woman that he'd been cheating on my with for nearly a year and to top it all off I'm 10 weeks pregnant with our baby" I explained

"Oh wow that is a lot" he commented

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry" I said suddenly feeling insecure

"No no I don't mean it like that I just wasn't expecting you to be holding onto so much I don't know how you are even here right now I'd be wallowing in bed" Jude said which made me smile

"Look I know we aren't extremely close but you confided in me and as long as you'll let me I want to be there to support you with anything you need and I mean anything if you need a shoulder to cry on I'll be there and if you want someone to beat up your ex I'm on it" he said completely seriously

"Thank you your support would mean a lot just don't tell anyone at least not right now" I said

"You got it I won't utter a word to anyone else until you are ready" he said miming zipping his mouth

~~~~~~~~~~

3 months later

The last few months have been difficult but Jude has made my life so much easier. Every day after training he comes to my office usually with a snack of some form and just sits and talks with me as I work. He also gave me his number so anytime I need to talk I can call him or text him and he'll be right over no matter the time. He's been more caring and supportive in the last few months than my ex ever was throughout our whole relationship. I've come to realise that maybe this situation isn't all bad as if none of this had happened I'd still be with my ex settling for what I know now was a shitty relationship at best. He never cared for me he was just there and did what was necessary to stop me leaving but Jude has taught me that I deserve better as even though we are just friends I've enjoyed his company way more than my ex's.

Not only has Jude been there for me emotionally he has been physically present when I need him. He has come to some baby appointments with me he is too busy to make them all but he tries to be there as often as he can. The first time he came he didn't come in with me he just waited outside for me but the second time I let him come in and since then if he can make it he always comes in with me. It has been nice having someone else with me to keep me calm as they check that the baby is developing as they should be and having someone else there when I found out the gender was nice too. I think Jude was more excited than I was to find out I was having a girl I went sure if I wanted to find out but Jude convinced me as he wanted to plan an on theme baby shower for me so that I had some good memories of this pregnancy.

Today is the day of the baby shower and I haven't had to lift a finger Jude and some of the other boys have planned it all and are setting up. The party isn't even being hosted at my place Jude said he'd set everything up at his and he promised to pick me up so I'm literally doing nothing other than turning up. My morning was so relaxing I was able to spend as much time as I wanted getting ready doing my hair and makeup all nice and putting on my dress which I got when out with some friends as they insisted that I looked too good not to buy it. For the first time in a while I actually felt really good, pregnancy has been really hard on my self confidence but I must admit that I look good all done up.

Jude arrived right on time to pick me up and he even brought me a cupcake in case I was hungry which at this point in my pregnancy I pretty much always am. When we arrived Jude made me close my eyes and led me all the way through his house back outside to the garden where I opened my eyes to see everyone already there and everything decorated perfectly. I nearly cried seeing everyone there for me I've felt so alone and like no one cares about me at times but knowing that they all took time out of their days to come here means so much to me. I made my way round and talked to everyone thanking them all for coming before Jude dragged me away and got me to sit next to a table which was stacked with gifts. Everyone had gotten me such lovely things and some essentials some of which I hadn't even thought about myself yet. Once I had opened everything from everyone Jude invited it was time to open the things he had gotten for me. He went completely overboard getting all sorts of really expensive items such as cribs, car seat, stroller he thought of it all.

"Thank you so much Jude you don't need to get me all this in fact you shouldn't have it's all so expensive" I said

"I wanted to you've had a hard time and you deserve nice things for the baby which I knew you wouldn't get for yourself" he said

"Well thank you I don't know what else I can say or do to show you how much I appreciate all this" I said

"You don't need to do or say anything I can tell by the tears in your eyes that you appreciate it and knowing you are happy is all I need" he said

~~~~~~~~~~

4 months later

So many people have told me to stop working and start my maternity leave but I just hit 38 weeks so I have a bit more time left and I don't want to waste my time off if the baby could not arrive for up to 3 weeks. I need as much maternity leave available for after the baby is here as possible as I'm the only one who will be looking after her and I can't bring myself to put her in daycare until she's closer to one which is when I'd come back to work. Working while this pregnant is difficult as I can't move as quickly as I used to and I have to pee what feels like every few minutes but I push through and get everything done with a bit of help from coworkers and Jude when he's around.

This morning I woke up with pain in my lower back which isn't completely unusual but for some reason it felt different to the back pain I normally have. Despite the pain I got myself ready for work and drove to the training centre as that's where my office is. I made it to my office and started turned on my pc and started gathering the things I need for the day when I felt liquid tricking down my leg then it happened a big gush of what looked like water hit the floor. It felt like time stopped for a few minutes as I just stood there looking at the floor panicking slightly because as much as I tried to prepare for this moment now it's actually happening it's quite scary. Past me was prepared for this situation though as she brought spare clothes to the office a few weeks ago and I put my hospital bag in the car just incase.

After a few minutes of panicking my rational brain kicked in and I got myself changed and found my phone so I could start timing my contractions. I waddled my way from my office down to the physios area of the training centre as I knew Jude would be there as he picked up an injury a few weeks ago so he's still getting treatment. My idea was to just deal with the contractions on my own for a while until I felt like I needed to go to the hospital but they were slightly more painful than I expected and I just didn't want to be alone. Jude had told me if I needed him he'd make himself available so I’m definitely going to take him up on that at least for a little while.

He was exactly where I expected him to be but he definitely wasn't expecting to see me because as soon as he spotted me he told the physio to stop what he was doing and leapt off the bed towards me. There was a moment where he was clearly processing what must be going on as I never come and find him during the day and definitely not wearing comfy clothes like I am right now. It took him a second but it eventually he worked out why I was there and he looked just as panicked as I felt.

"Oh my god are you ok do we need to go to the hospital?" He asked

"First off I'm as good as I can be and two we can't go yet my waters have just broken I just didn't want to be alone" I said

"Ok let me talk to Carlo and then we can go back to your office until it's time" he said

"Wait do you need anything?" He asked before running off

"Just some water please I didn't get chance to fill up my bottle" I said

"Got it go back to your office and I'll be there before you know it" he said

He wasn't wrong he got there just after I did although he did have the advantage of being able to run and not having to stop for contractions. As soon as he arrived he took over the timing of my contractions and let me squeeze his hand when I needed to although I didn't want to hurt him so I didn't squeeze too hard. Things started progressing a lot quicker than I expected and my contractions really started to hurt as they got closer and closer together which made it harder to stop myself from making too much noise like I had been.

"Thats 5 minutes apart now" Jude said

"It fucking feels like it" I groaned

"Do you have everything in your car?" Jude asked

"Yeah my hospital bag and car seat are all in there" I replied

"How about I drive your car to the hospital then so you can have everything you need" he suggested

"That sounds like a good idea but when we get there please don't leave I don't think I can do this on my own" I said

"I won't leave you don't worry as long as you want me there I'll be there but if you want me gone at any point just tell me it's all up to you but first let's get to the hospital" he said

From the second we arrived at the hospital things went by so quickly I'm not sure that I remember everything that happened. What I do know is that I was already 6cm dilated when we arrived and things only progressed from there. I did a lot of walking around trying to let gravity do some of the work but when a contraction hit I couldn't keep going I had to grab onto whatever was nearest which sometimes was the bed and other times was Jude as he followed me around.

When it got to the point that I was nearly ready to start pushing I considered whether I wanted Jude to stay because I really value the bond we've built over the last few months and I don't know if I want to ruin that by making him watch me give birth. My feelings for him go past that of just friends but of course he doesn't feel the same way as why would he want someone who's just about to birth another man's baby. Maybe having him stay would mean he doesn't want to see me again which would help me get over my feelings but then again I don't know if a harsh break in our friendship is what I need right now. In the end my fear of doing this alone won so I asked Jude if he was comfortable staying and to my surprise he said yes and promised he wouldn't look while laughing which definitely lifted the tense atmosphere in the room.

All the doctors and nurses filed into the room and put my bed in the right position and put my legs in the foot holds on the bottom of the bed. Jude was stood right by my side as the nurses instructed me on how to breathe and when to push. It was definitely painful but the nurses and Jude kept encouraging me which kept me going even when I wanted to give up. All it took was a few minutes until I heard the most amazing sound of my daughter crying for the first time. There was no energy left in me to use to stop the tears so I just let myself cry and the tears only intensified when my baby girl was placed on my chest for the first time. She was just so perfect I don't think I've ever felt more love for anyone or anything in my life. Jude tried wiping the tears from my face but they were only replaced by more in just a few seconds.

The nurses had to take my baby girl to do all of the necessary tests to make sure she is healthy which pained me as I just wanted to hold her but I know it's important. It was only then that I realised that I was still holding Jude's hand so I went to let go but he just held my hand tighter. I looked into his eyes and he too had tears in his eyes which made me even more emotional. His free hand pushed my hair back as it had become a mess over the many hours of labour I had been through. As he moved my hair out the way he leant down and completely unexpectedly his lips met mine in what was the best kiss I've ever had in my life. It was unexpected but I kissed him back pretty much straight away but he pulled away after a few more seconds.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that I crossed a line I'm sorry" he said

"Don't be sorry I enjoyed it I've had feelings for you for a while I just didn't think you'd want me" I said

"How could I not want the most beautiful girl in the world" he smiled

"I hope you know I come with my mini me now" I laughed

"I wouldn't have it any other way" he said

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham #football imagine

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sorceresski · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter | Neymar Jr

Inspired by another fic I read by @

This gif is so hot…😵‍💫

Reblogs help push my fics out, thank you!☺️

“Do you want this?”

Pairing: Neymar x young!fem reader (reader in their early to mid 20s)

Summary: Weeks of teasing between Neymar and Davi’s babysitter reach a crescendo as Neymar comes home tipsy after a loss seeking comfort and an outlet.

Tags: sexual contact, teasing, babysitter reader, oral! fem receiving, age gap, there will be sexual intercourse, slow burn, a long read I guess

Minors dni

You expected him to walk in any moment now, already anticipating his sour mood which you had come to observe first hand over the past few weeks working as his babysitter. You had watched PSG’s match curled up with Davi in front of the tv in Neymar’s Parisienne penthouse and calling the team’s performance underwhelming would be an understatement. The match ended 2 nil against psg and Neymar had been given a red and sent off the field.

That was 2 hours ago anyway. Now, Davi had dosed off on the couch, resting his head on your shoulder. You began to plan your course of action for when Neymar returned, wanting to keep as much distance between you and him as much as possible.

These days you didn’t trust yourself around him. Neymar was an attractive man and if you didn’t know better you would say he was flirting with you. It began a week after you started babysitting Davi. You were sitting on the floor of Davi’s room, watching him “paint". The top you wore wasn’t particularly revealing but as you hunched over the low table, the girls were very visible(you didn’t know this at the time). You didn’t notice Neymar at the door till Davi looked up and shouted

“Daddy!" Abandoning his paint brushes.

You looked up in surprise, just in time to catch his eyes leave your chest as he looked at Davi. You decided not to dwell on how long he had been standing there watching you two. But in the weeks that followed, you began to feel his gaze as you walked past, stolen glances, “accidentally” walking in on him in a towel fresh after a shower and winks when he said goodbye to you and Davi.

You realised your mind had wandered when you heard shuffling outside the door. It was a few minutes to 12am when Neymar walked in, eyes slightly glazed over, tossing his duffle to the side. The apartment was dimly lit so you couldn’t read his expression as he stopped in his tracks after noticing you on the couch.

"Welcome!” You said, standing up hurriedly. He blinked at you, swaying slightly. He was tipsy. “I’ll take him in," you gestured to Davi. You heaved the boy up and made a beeline to his bedroom, not waiting for a response from Neymar.

You took your time tucking him in and when you came back, Neymar was by the kitchen sink gulping down a glass of water, his jacket tossed on the couch.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here." His gaze was piercing. "You should’ve gone, I’ll pay you for the extra time"

You looked everywhere but at him.

“It’s fine. I stayed because Davi wanted to stay up to watch the match, so he slept later than usual. I’ll just grab my things and go.”

Neymar nodded, turning to head for his room.

"Let me know when you’re about to leave.”

Five minutes later, you were stood outside his bedroom, with your purse and jacket hanging on your arm. You took a shaky breath and knocked.

“Come in”

The room was dark illuminated only by the city lights flooding in though the big windows facing the street. You froze at the entrance when you saw him. He was in front of a full length mirror in sweatpants, a very defined V disappearing below the band.

“Close the door,” he spoke, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You gulped and stepped in, wondering why you were suddenly so obedient.

He stalked towards you. You didn’t know you had unconsciously stepped back until you felt the door knob dig into your back. You felt the heat radiating off him as he came impossibly close. Neymar touched your chin, dragging your eyes from your feet to his. Your breath hitched in your throat.

He leaned in and slumped on your shoulder with a sigh, wrapping his hands around your waist pulling you even closer. As if programmed, you dropped your purse and jacket and wrapped your hands around his shoulders breathing in his scent.

In the mirror behind him, you saw how defeated he looked and you instantly knew he needed comforting. You caressed his back, not sure what was expected of you.

Luckily, he pulled away but before you could recover, he crashed his lips into yours. You closed your eyes, kissing him back, your mind already racing. Neymar jr was kissing you or was it the other way around. Eventually, he pulled back, you both needed to breath.

This time, you looked into his lust filled eyes unabashed. You reached up pulling him down to your level and kissed him. Slow, deliberate but desperate. His hands fell below you waist, groping your ass through your pants, you felt wetness pool at your core. You bit his lip and he groaned into your mouth picking you up. Your legs latched to him as he walked to the bed, beginning to leave sloppy kisses against your neck.

Neymar gently placed you on the bed, positioned himself between your legs and tugged on your shirt. You rested on your elbows, giving him room to lift the shirt off you. He kissed his way from your mouth down to your chest, stopping just above your lacy bra.

He looked up at you, brows furrowed. "Do you want this?” You nodded desperately, not finding your voice in that moment. That was all he needed. Moments later, your bra was off, tossed somewhere as he sucked on your breasts, giving each nipple equal attention. You moaned, fingers caressing his head and back.

He tugged off your trousers and you watched as he stood to remove his, his bulge very visible through his briefs. You bit your lip as you watched him crawl up to you, a sly smile on his face. Neymar kissed you and ground his hips against yours, the only obstruction being both your undergarments.

His hands explored, as if trying to commit your body to memory.

“I’ve wanted this since the first day I saw you,” he said.

He loved how you responded when he sucked on that spot on your neck which didn’t take him long to find. Neymar kissed his way down to your core and you trembled in anticipation as he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs. Neymar kissed your inner thigh, his beard tickling you.

You sucked your breath in anticipation as you watched him finally dip where you wanted him desperately. You moaned as he ran his tongue along your slit, hands automatically reaching down to grab his head.

“You’re so wet," he rasped against your thigh. He flicked his tongue on your bud and you gasped, grabbing the sheets. He continued his ministrations, loving your moans, glancing up occasionally to see the effect he had on you. You thrashed in his sheets as he introduced a finger, then another into you.

“Oh fuck, daddy,” you cursed beginning to feel that familiar tingling in your stomach, he knew you were close. You came with a loud moan, grinding against his face, chest heaving.

“Daddy?” He asked, teasing you as he came back up with a satisfied smile on his face. You smiled back as he kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips.

He had taken off his briefs somehow and began to line himself at your entrance. You looked down and gasped at his size, just as he began to push into you.

Neymar groaned as he bottomed out in one thrust. “You’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck giving you time to adjust before he began thrust into you. The pain you felt quickly gave way to pleasure, raising your hips to meet his thrusts. He took one nipple in his mouth, his hands giving attention to the other breast and alternating between the two.

He placed your legs on his shoulders, the new angle giving him access to that spot deep within you. You moaned and scratched at his back, the beginnings of another climax creeping on you. He quickened his movements when he felt you begin to clench around him, your moans driving him crazy. His thrusts became irregular and strained as he chased his pleasure and yours.

You came all over him with a deep moan, rising to wrap your arms around his neck. He pushed into you a few times before pulling out, his seed splashing on your belly as he came with a groan.

“Fuck,” he said as he kissed you again. Neymar rose to go to the bathroom, returning with a wet towel which he used to wipe you down. He laid beside you and pulled you closer. You rested your head on his damp chest, and sighed deeply feeling sated.

You had just fucked your boss, you thought for a brief moment as his hands rubbing your back lulled you to sleep.

A/n: this is my first fic on here, my first time writing again after about 4 years. And it’s my first time writing smut😵‍💫 Please be nice lol.

#neymar x reader #neymar jr x reader #neymar smut #neymar imagines #neymar fics #neymar

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heartthrobin · 6 months

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lovers, to bed: tis almost fairy time (4)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.0k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), angst, subby sam winchester (?), some smoking, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: i'm so sorry that this took so long, uni has put me in a really tough mental space at the moment and being creative has been so difficult. but i hope it was worth the wait! love you all endlessly

summary: yes, Sam Winchester was an idiot: but he would be damned if he was going to let his little fairy get away.

part one part two part three

The trunk clicked open, swinging up against the back window of the Impala.

Dean rummaged between the shotguns and the silver blades and the jugs of gasoline. His hand emerged with a wide set machete, holding it up to Sam.

"I've been dying to use this bad boy since Idaho." He grinned at his reflection in the steel blade.

Sam rolled his eyes, hair fluttering over his forehead where the evening wind was tugging on it. The Impala was parked up against the grass at the edge of the forest, the sun disappearing over the treetops in a way that sunk the town in a purple glow.

He reached in to grab a shotgun, a silver blade too: slipping it into his jacket pocket. "Right. Let's just get this over with."

His brother grinned, "So you can go see your little princess, hm?"

Sam didn't dignify him with a response. Mostly because he was right.

The weight of the truth draped over his shoulders like a truck. Stifling and making it hard to breath, let alone think.

Dean laughed at his lack of response, bumping his shoulder to his:

"Sammy's getting laid tonight." He sing-songed.

"Yeah, right. That's a great idea." He huffed, "Then she can see all my scars and realise I've been lying to her. Sounds fun."

Nudging the trunk closed, Dean groaned. "She's gonna find out either way."

"Not unless I don't tell her."

At that Dean paused. His eyes ran over Sam's figure where he was loading the shotgun.

"So when were done, we're just gonna leave town?"

Sam slammed the trunk shut with maybe a little too much force. "Can we drop it?"

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. It's your problem, but I think she should know."

But Sam was already pacing towards the line of trees, huffing and trying to suffocate the guilt building in his chest.

The forest wasn't making it any easier. Dean was trailing behind him, every footstep crackling over the dry leaves and soft grass reminding him of your laugh. The dark bark of the black of your eyes, those eyes so wide and wet--

"Hey," Dean's voice cut through his thoughts. He motioned over between the trees. "Look."

There was the tree again. Glowing just like it had been the last time they'd ventured into the belly of the woods.

A crunch echoed around the space. Sam's head whipped over his shoulder, Dean reaching with a quickness that only came from experience for the gun in his holster:

"What was that?"

There was a teenager behind the counter when you plonked down a packet of sour worms and a tray of eggs in front of her.

She was usually the one who helped you when you'd stop in after work some days. She's cute in a sprightly way: piercings sticking out from every piece of skin she could get her hands on and she was one of the only people left in town who didn't scowl at you when you came in.

But she was looking at you funny just then, her hands still where they'd usually just reach to start scanning your things with a bored look on her young features.

"You've ... uh, got a ..." she'd motioned up to her own face, brushing a finger over her cheek.

Your hand came to pet your own face, drawing back with a palmful of blood. Shoulders sagging, you sigh. "Oh."

She leaned down under the counter, emerging with a handful of napkins and offering them to you. You smiled at her, "Thank you. It's, uhm, it's not mine."

The girl nodded like she already figured. She started to scan your eggs while you wiped down your cheek, napkins dissolving into a crimson lump. You wondered, for the millionth time, what your soulmate had gotten themselves into today.

There was a glass case enclosing some rotating hot dogs that you used to check your reflection: to probe gently at the thin cut you suspected was the work of a sharp blade, and when she handed you your bag, your face was mostly clean over where it was flush with embarrassment. Poor girl was already working late on a week night and you'd waltzed in looking like a scene from a horror movie.

You thanked her and she offered one last uninterested nod.

It was dark out already and you didn't feel as safe walking home as you once had but there was little option, and the corner store was less than a couple blocks from home.

The bag shuffled and your neck-full of crystals clinked as you walked. You hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all afternoon, some playful tune you'd heard on the radio in the shop.

In the distance there was a crowd. The road overthrown with a flickering blue and red light from cop cars parked just further down and voices overlapped in loud chatter.

You frowned. "What ..."

As you neared your eyes find uniformed officers pushing back other curious onlookers. There was a news van parked there too: a man dressed in a smart suit speaking into a microphone at his chest and he's grinning-- "Yes, Arthur, I am here in Fernglade Washington with some amazing news for our viewers. Tonight, the town can rest a little easier--"

There was a loud sob that carries over heads and a woman was on her knees, jeans pressing into the concrete where she was clutching a child. She's shaking violently ... and she wasn't alone.

Behind her was another set of parents with a child ... and another, and another.

Your heart floated into your throat. There brewed a bubbling feeling in your chest, it's ... it's the children. The missing children.

You recognised Rachel and Georgia ... and Manny. Sure, they were a little dirty: with pale soil-ridden faces and torn Barbie t-shirts.

One, two, three -- you counted them with your eyes -- seven. They were all there.

The police had set up a barricade and you didn't even realise you'd dropped and crushed your eggs when you pressed against it. There's eyes on you, guilty eyes, and you could tell nearby officers were pretending not to look at you out the corner of their eyes.

But you couldn't be bothered with them, with the whispering crowd either, because you'd made out the outline of the Winchester brothers' backs talking down at a short police woman who was avidly writing against a tiny notebook.

You were grinning so hard it was hurting your cheeks and your eyes welled with the joy of the scene. They were all there. They were all okay, alive!

"Sam!' you leaned over the wooden barricade. It had to have been them, there was nobody else who believed you. Believed that the kids weren't locked up in the depths of a dungeon you didn't own.

A laugh was gurgling up from the depths of your throat and you felt where a tear slipped over the healing cut on your cheek. "Sam!"

Sam's head perked up, pausing mid-sentence when he turned those wide shoulders to the crowd, to you. His face lit up with shadows under the spectacle of coloured lights when his eyes found yours.

Your heart sunk from where it was sitting in your throat, slipping all the way to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Even under the harsh light and the cover of night it was impossible to miss the drying blood painting his face. Running down from a cut over his cheek. Your hand came to find your own jaw, eyes never leaving his, when you pressed up into the matching scar. It didn't hurt and even if it had, you wouldn't have felt it just then.

Sam's face was twisting with realisation. "Y/n--"

You tripped back over the edges of your skirt, knocking into the onlookers behind you-- "hey, watch it!"

Concrete reached up, scraping at your heels wedged into dainty sandals, but the hammering of your heart kept them moving. You broke out the crowd, oxygen leaning further and further out your grasp when you broke into a run.

"Y/n, wait!"

But you didn't stop.

Sam watched your silhouette shrink down the road, streetlights illuminating your escape. He gulped for breath, guilt choking him out: clogging his airways with thick sludgy shame.

"Sammy," a hand closed over his arm. "Come on--"

"Agent, we need to finish getting your statement."

Dean was leaning over his shoulder when he looked down. His eyes were sticky with sympathy.

The officer was lingering just a foot from him. She looked confused, gaze flickering between him and the now empty street.

"Dean ..." he turned to his only comfort. "She-- my face ..."

His brother nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know, Sammy."

He patted him. "Just give her some time to breath, okay? Let's finish here."

Every nerve-ending in his body was screaming at him to chase you down the street. To break through the nosy locals and crawl his way up your porch steps: beg on his knees for forgiveness.

Just give her some time. He didn't know if his mind was ringing or if Dean had said it again, but Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

The officer pressed her pen back to her little notebook. She nodded, "Okay so you guys followed the perpetrator into the forest. Male, blonde hair, you said?"

Dean made a grunt of agreement.

The night was so cold, Sam remembered.

A thin sheet of drizzle was patching up the sidewalk when his heavy footsteps crept up along it. Barely enough to dampen his hair, but his jacket felt impossibly heavy over his shoulders.

It was past midnight. The police had held them down: a trip to the station, a tower of signed documents and a sketch artist later there he finally was, standing feeling small for the first time in his life at the edge of your property.

Wind was twirling a thin line of smoke off your porch. He could see you through the darkness.

You said nothing. Eyes connected with his across your impeccably maintained grass.

It egged him forward.

His footsteps were loud clambering up the three wooden steps onto your porch.

You were leaned back into the arms of an ornate wooden rocking chair he'd noticed on his first trip up those same stairs. You weren't looking at him anymore: eyes drifting over the quiet street.

Sam was at least glad to find you bundled up in a blanket.

In your lap sat was the strangest-looking pipe he'd ever seen. An obnoxiously long chamber with a bulbous bowl at the end.

A string of purple smoke was curling out from between your lips. "You're here."

He couldn't tell if it was a question or not. Your face was as passionless as he'd ever seen it: offering him nothing.

"I promised I would be."

You nodded slowly, bringing the pipe up to your mouth and sucking on it steadily, still not looking at him. "How are the kids?"

Sam's hands bunched at his side. A dreadful burning viper was slithering between his organs. In this light he could see the smooth cut against your face, a misaimed throw of a blade from Dean when a tiny grotesque goblin had leapt up at him.

"They're ... they're fine. T-They're good."

"Did you know?"

You're looking at him now. It's the question he knew was coming but it knocks him breathless all the same.

He draws breath, mind spinning between the truth and an easier lie. "I--"

"Don't lie, Sam."

Your eyes are piercing him, like an arrow to the chest. He swallows hard. "Yes ... I did."

The pipe draws up to your mouth again, you let out a soft humourless laugh. It's followed out by another cloud of glittering smoke. The laugh so empty that it dries Sam's mouth.

"I ... the life I lead," he starts again, the snippets of a speech that he'd been stewing on his whole life for this exact moment coming out sounding more pathetic than he ever thought they could. "It's no life for you. For anyone, and I couldn't do that to someone I... I-I love. To tie you to me, I've done terrible things you don't know--"

"And you think I haven't?" You're rising from the chair now, pipe thudding to the floor. Your voice is prickled in a rising anger. "That I'm some jewel who could never imagine what life is like on the run? To kill and hurt for survival?"

The rain was coming down harder. Trees and bushes leaning against the push of the wind. Sam was so lost in the heat of your eyes that he didn't notice the creep of a thick-set branch crawling up the edge of the porch, down over the lip of the roof.

"Were you just gonna leave?" Your voice never rose but he flinched like you'd screamed it at him. The flush of fury setting your cheeks alight, illuminating the scar that put you both there. "You were, weren't you?"

The touch was wet and solid when it wrapped around his ankle, the branch wrenching him by both ankles back against the bannister of the porch. He gasped when the wood struck his back: another thick brown limb winding around his neck, not enough to hurt but enough to fix his head in your direction and stop him from toppling over.

It took a couple gulps of breath to realise that it was the tree. The one wrapped around your cottage, that it was you.

"This is a two way street, Sam." you pressed up against his chest, eyes alight with a power you'd never let show before. "You bang me up for years and years, and I sit and wait for you. And you were just gonna leave? Leave me to patch up all your bullet holes and your wolf bites?"

Shame drains his cheeks of warmth. He doesn't fight the tree's grip, purposefully ignores the sharpened blade that's still well within his reach. Sam shakes his head as well as he can: he doesn't know what to say. His whole pathetic speech meant nothing anymore and he didn't think this could hurt any harder until he realises that tears are streaming quietly down your perfect perfect face.

You're pressed up against him, your warmth seeping into his bones.

Forehead meeting his pectoral, you shake your head too. Tears wetting his shirt.

"I was scared." He finally lets out, it's pitiful. "I didn't know this is what it felt like. I didn't know love could feel like this."

"I'm scared too, you know." You whisper into him.

In a surge of bravery, or maybe just stupidity - he couldn't tell anymore, his hand finds your jaw: tipping it up to face him.

God, he never thought you could be more beautiful but you were blinking up at him with wet lashes and a trembling lip and he was ready to give up his whole fucking life for you. Lay down the gun and never pick it up again, let Dean drive alone out and far away from Fernglade.

It was all made more real when you leaned up onto your toes, nose brushing his and hands finding his neck.

You moved no closer, warm breath caressing the bow of his lip, but Sam would be damned if being hog-tied by some oak tree was gonna stop him from the taste of you so he wrapped a strong arm over your waist and tugged you just that little distance further.

The feeling of your lips crashing on his couldn't be any sweeter. He imagined that this is what a firework felt like when it leapt into the sky and burst.

Your mouth was desperate, like his, and your hands wrapped around the base of his shivering neck.

You tasted like sweet tea and tangy like whatever was in your magical pipe and if the tree wasn't holding him upright he'd have crashed to his knees. You whined lowly and it stoked the fire pit in Sam's stomach.

His tongue slipped past your lips, struggling against the hold of the oak tree to let his hands roam your back. Your mouth was wet hot and he knew he could kiss you forever, until his oxygen depleted and he was dead for the world.

But you stepped back, eyes wide like you'd been doused over with ice water. A hand wiped at your mouth, at the mix of his and your's saliva coating your lips.

"You ..." your voice trembled. "You should go."

You stumbled back down the porch, door creaking as it opened and banging as it shut.

The grip of the tree loosened and Sam watched it's branches creep back under the porch. It became still again, rain calming to a measly patter and bushes watching quietly.

"Fuck." he whispered.

Sam shut the car door obnoxiously loud after him. The leather of the Impala creaked loudly when Dean followed in suit, hands reaching up to the slick black wheel.

"You're sure?"

Without answering, Sam shifted to take one last look at the Pinecone Motel and it's chipping copper paint.

"Fine." Dean turned the key into the ignition, car rumbling to life beneath them.

In the backseat is his and Sam's rucksacks and duffle-bags jam-packed with their few worldly possesions. The same bags haphazardly zipped shut that same morning when Sam eventually busted through the door demanding that they left Fernglade right fucking now.

The sun was just barely creeping over the town and morning chill frosted the view through the windscreen. It's busy despite the time: open signs are flickering on and men in aprons are heaving crates of apples onto stands under fairylight-lit doorways.

Bad Moon Rising hummed through the crumbly speakers and Sam slammed the switch on the dash so it shut off.

"Hey!" Dean calls, "take it easy man. She's gentle."

He pat the dash softly where Sam has just knocked it. Still, his brother says nothing.

"Okay." He huffed, pulling the car into a spot near the sidewalk in front of a lifeless diner. Dean twists in his seat to face Sam: "you've barely said a word all morning."

Sam tugged his jacket closer over his frame. "I said I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah, yeah. You've been saying that all damn week." Dean's arm lifted to rest against the back of the seat. "But you're gonna talk now. This isn't some passing girl that you can just pack your bags and run away from. You're gonna have to go there and apologise."

Sam's expression curls in anger. "Yeah, Dean, I did that! And she tied me up with tree branches and kicked me off her porch--"

"Well, boo hoo!" Dean tightened his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Do it again! Do it until she forgives you."

"I don't need your advice, Dean. I've made up my mind, we're leaving."

A cat was scratching on a growing weed at the edge of the sidewalk, Sam focused on it to avoid his brother's eyes. They were hot and he could feel them burning a hole into the side of his face.

"Can we just go."

"What is it?" Dean spoke again, this time quieter. Cool fog followed the words out his mouth. "What are you scared of?"

Sam ran both hands through the tendrils of hair over his scalp. He sighed. "I'm ... she's not gonna be able to forgive me."

"Are you gonna be able to forgive yourself?"

There was a long quiet.

It was broken by a car passing noisily. It draws Dean's attention and he nodded quietly to himself. "Fine. Wisconsin?"

"Yeah." Sam agrees quietly.

The car started again, Dean went to turn to radio back up. "Will you grab my jacket, I left it in the trunk. It's fucking freezing in here."

Sam sighed again. "Fine."

"Thanks."

The door clicked open again. He's barely both feet out the car when it grumbles and swerves off the sidewalk, Sam tripped over the edge nearly onto the concrete, and by the time he's stabled himself: the Impala was racing down the main road.

"You'll thank me for this!" His brother's voice faded with the car's black silhouette.

Sam's hands returned to his hair again, "son of a bitch!"

An old lady across the street turned to him with an affronted look. He waves her off, kicking at the same weed the cat had abandoned in the flurry of commotion.

Above him, the diner sign flickers on: The Frothy Mug. He stopped.

It felt like years between when he was last standing under the same light of the sign. In front of the same three steps that he watched your eyes sparkle at him: your hand tucked warmly against his.

"Fucking ..." the expletives died on his tongue. He's right, that asshole.

"I'm a fucking idiot."

Sam's legs began moving before he even knew they were, chasing down the same route he'd meandered along with you three nights previous. He's sprinting, breathing a purposeless afterthought as the diner disappeared behind him.

Past the pharmacy, the laundromat, The Bloom Box. All the way to the end of town where your cottage and your trees and your flowers and you waited for him.

Sam panted clouded breaths as the sight came into view at the end of the road. The morning sunlight lit your garden a bright orangey eden. His steps were just as heavy as they were in the early hours of that same morning when he trudged up the same stone pathway.

He didn't let himself hesitate, bringing red, bruised knuckles up against the hardwood door. The knock rumbled through the house and shakes every bone in his body.

There was a long pause. Then a scuffle, a sniff and a "Goose, get back".

The door creaked and you stood in the doorway like you had the first day his feet found this porch.

While expected, Sam was taken aback by the sight of you. You're in a matching set of pajamas, green - unsurprisingly - and covered in little ladybugs. Your face was swollen with sleep, eyelashes kissing in the corner and lips puffy.

"Sam--" you sighed, but Sam's hands find your shoulders gently.

"I know it's early, but please listen. I'm an idiot." He sounded desperate, but couldn't find a way to help it.

"Yes." You nodded.

"And I'm sorry." He nodded along with you. "And it took Dean kicking me out the car to get me here because - like I said - huge idiot, but I'm sorry. I'm a sorry, sorry idiot who's so in love with you that he doesn't know what to do with himself."

Your eyebrow curls, "Dean kicked you out the car?"

Sam's eyes rolled. "Yes. I was going to leave, because I'm a coward too. A cowardly idiot who doesn't deserve forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyways."

You shrugged, head dipping to almost rest against your shoulder. Your face almost, almost laced in amusement. "Begging always looks a little more convincing on your knees, Sam."

His knees knock loudly when they hit the wooden porch. Sam's hands slide down to find yours.

"I'm sorry." He said again, the only words his brain could formulate under the shine of you in your morning glory - the sight of a woman he wanted to see every morning until forever. "Please let me make it up to you?"

Your hands released his slowly, rising to run through his chestnut hair and settling at the base of his neck. You smile.

He thought he might be dreaming but you lean down and kiss him gently. A tinkle of bells rang through the air and Sam smiled against your mouth.

You brushed your nose against his: "I forgive you, Sam."

Sam's hands grip against your hips before floating back and brushing against the edge of the silken wings at your back.

"Really?"

"Yes. Now come in here and show me how sorry you are."

remember to comment and repost please!

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

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planefood · 12 days

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Thinking about the Birdie stuff brings up some really nasty feelings the art community is a shit show and in no way safe for kids, speaking as someone who was really screwed up in animation meme spaces after getting in close contact with an idol of mine when I was 12. I won't bring up who, It happened almost a decade ago and I have no evidence for it and that person doesn't seem to be actively posting anywhere now anyway. They made like one or two massively popular flipaclip animations and fucked off. Plus I feel like it wouldn't be good for me and I'll also not allude to what took place specifically for that reason That being said when it all came to a breaking point I was blamed for everything that had happened by the people around me, the 12 year old in the situation in a group of 20 something year olds.

I have a lot of people around me who were in similar art spaces in their early pre-teen to teen years suffer the same fate. I either have to grapple with the fact those events changed me in such a way that I simply gravitate towards people who had similar things happen to them for comfort or that this is happens so frequently that a majority of people I know have been screwed up by something like that. I'm not really sure I can handle either of those explanations but I think we all know its probably the latter.

But it did change me in a way that it probably effects my life in small and subtle ways that build up that I can't pick up on and it scares me, this shit really messes kids up. I'm one of the lucky ones because my experience wasn't used as fodder by adults in the community to make videos about mocking the victims in these situations for acting like unemotionally regulated children (which children often act that way for the record) or just retraumatise the victims by making think pieces about the predators for money. I've seen grown ass adults call obviously groomed children irredeemable monsters with no thought and no guilt for something I know they can't control because they're just kids. How does that help anyone? When I was a kid I already blamed myself for everything that happened and it took a lot of self reflection to realise it wasn't my fault. Also now that I'm the same age as the people were when they did that stuff to me as a kid I know it's not normal for adults to be interacting with random 12 year olds online anyway.

I still have people to this day bring up what has happened to me and try blame me for it. So just a reminder for anyone reading this that has gone through shit like this that it wasn't your fault that it happened no matter what anyone says if someone victim blames you about it I will kill them badly

#tw grooming #tw trauma #sorry this stuff is heavy this topic really rattles me

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star-quill · 11 months

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nsfw where the reader is slightly younger than quill (as in late 20s early 30s) and they're neighbors who fuck VERY OFTEN, but there's no title so often at neighborhood events she flirts with neighbors and acts as if her and quill don't fuck and they're neighbors, but she gets extremely jealous when he talks to another female.

just v into jealous!peter smut hehee

oh😖😵‍💫

you don't even know how you and him started sleeping together. it just kinda, happened. you first met him at someone's birthday party, flirting a little when you went inside to refill your water. he came in to grab a towel, having spilled his beer down himself.

the spill dried up quickly but his t-shirt still reeked of beer. he hadn't turned to face you yet, not really noticing you were there and so he peeled his shirt off. patting his stomach dry, he turned around to find the washing machine and saw you standing there, glass in hand.

"hi.. i uhm.. need in the washing machine.." you looked down realising you were standing in front of it.

"oh.. sorry, here let me put it in.." you took the towel from him and shoved it in. he just nodded at you before heading back outside. you saw him say something to some guy outside before he left. you didn't even look at anything else but his fave but images of him were flashing in your head—images of his body, how built and large he was, images of his body pressed up against yours, images of him pulling down his—

"hey.. can u hear me?" you blinked a few times, looking at one of your friends standing in front of you.

"sorry.. must've zoned out.."

"c'mon.. they're serving up food now.."

the party lasted for a while and peter came back a while after the food was being served—he told you his name after he apologised for kinda freaking you out in the kitchen. you spoke to him for most of the night, before he walked you home. perhaps you shouldn't have invited him in but then he had you lying on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist as he filled you up. that one time became many times, him coming over just to fuck. he craved you, craved the feeling of you around him. very often he would turn up unannounced.

your complaint of "peter.. the plumber's fixing my kitchen sink, can you come back later?" was met with "you don't think you can be quiet?". your complaint of "peter.. my parents are visiting soon.." was met with "don't worry, i'll be quick..".

but to both of you, it was just sex. nothing more, just neighbours, maybe friends, who slept together occasionally. so why is it you got jealous when he flirted with someone else at the barbecue he was hosting. he was manning the grill and she was fawning all over him, giggling at everything he said and feeling up his arms. and that fucker was drinking it all in, loving the attention he was getting. you couldn't be jealous, you weren't together, but you were absolutely seething with rage. but you knew what he'd be like if you went over there too.

"hey peter.. so uhm, how long will the sausages be, hm?" you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes a few times.

"'bout.. 3 minutes or so.. so get yourself ready, yeah?" he didn't even look at you, just focused on turning the meat round. the other woman had long gone and you just smiled at peter and walked off, sneaking inside and waiting on the sofa. he came in five minutes later, standing beside the couch.

"didn't you see i was talking to someone out there?"

"i did.. but she was annoying me.."

"christ.. we're not together, you can't go getting pissed off when i flirt with someone else.."

"but.." you knelt up on the couch, hands on the arm as you pouted at him. he just grabbed your chin, thumb rubbing over your lips.

"my baby gettin' jealous hm?"

"mmhm.."

"in my room, now.. go. i gotta head outside but i'll be back for you in a minute.. be ready."

you went to wait for him on his bed, but he took well more than a minute. you just lay down, hugging one of his pillows and waited for 10 minutes before you gave up and left. didn't even say goodbye as you went out the front door, walking back home. you knew you couldn't get so hung up on him when it was nothing more than casual sex. but he was occupying every waking thought you had.

you stuck an old movie on and lay down on your sofa, hoping it would make you fall asleep faster. after around an hour, your doorbell went. you opened the door to find peter there, a plate covered in aluminium foil in his hands.

"you uhm.. i didn't see you leave, and you missed the food.."

"i'm not in the mood, thanks for the offer though.."

"hey wait, i want to apologise.."

"i waited for you, you never came.."

"no.. but i can make you come now though.."

you just rolled your eyes.

"no?"

"maybe.." you stood back and let him in, shutting the door as he went to your kitchen and set the food down. you followed in after, standing next to him as he rested against the kitchen countertop.

"did you actually get jealous today?"

"well.. yeah.. she was all over you, peter.. don't you get jealous when i flirt with other guys?"

"damn right i do, you're telling me these other guys are gonna be able to make you feel as good as i make you feel? no way.."

then his hand was around your waist and he stepped in front of you, lifting you onto the counter.

"nobody can make you come, except me.. understand?"

"mmhm.." you just smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him. he pulled away after a few seconds, dropping his head to kiss your neck, leaving little bites here and there.

"gotta make sure everyone knows you're my girl.."

"your girl?"

"yeah.. my girl.."

after that, you and him were still never technically exclusive but he still called you "my girl" or "my baby"—and every time he said it, it made your heart flutter. he'd always say it after he fucked you on your sofa, and then you'd drape yourself over his thigh, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him lazily until his hand went to grab your waist and rub you against his bare thigh, getting you off once more. then it became "my pretty baby" or "my pretty lil' girl" as you came all over his leg, sighing into his neck as your orgasm washed over you. maybe one day you'd discuss the full extent of your relationship but right now, you were content with what you had with him.

#feeling so😖😖😖#peter quill #peter quill headcanons #peter quill angst #peter quill x reader #peter quill smut #peter quill drabble #peter quill fluff #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #✎ peter quill #answered #anon

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 1 month

Note

5 and 20 prompt Paul x reader x marco

5. " I can predict the future."

20. "You weren't joking?"

I hope you'll like this!💜

------------------------------

For a Friday night, the bar was rather quiet. Normally, it would be buzzing with people. Students drinking into the early hours of the morning, people celebrating the fact they'd made it to the end of the week - but not tonight.

No, even though it was already nearing eleven, the bar was still empty, except for the career drinkers. The only new guest - new in the sense that they weren't a regular - was me. Or at least, that's what the barkeep told me.

"So what's a pretty thing like you doing here alone?" He'd asked when he poured me a gin. I smiled as I took it, swirling the liquid around in the glass.

"I'm meeting some new people tonight."

"Blind date?"

I shrugged, giving him a small smirk. "Something like that."

I hadn't met the two boys I was about to meet before, but I knew I had to. I had seen them many a time before in my visions, and I was dying to know who they were. They were handsome, that much I knew. And based on what I'd seen, they could be rather dangerous. And yet - there must have been a reason why they'd shown up in my visions. Why I kept on seeing them. So, after figuring out where they lived, I had decided to just try and meet them.

It was about twenty minutes after my conversation with the barkeep that the bell above the door rang. Two guys, both blond bikers, walked in. They were talking, laughing - telling the barkeep to get them their regular drinks. And I just sat there, looking at them. These were the guys.

I felt my face heat up when I noticed that one of them - Marko, I realised his name was - looked at me. Quickly, he came towards me, grinning a Cheshire grin.

"Like what you see?"

"I didn't mean to stare," I said, quickly taking a much needed sip from my drink.

"Nah, that's alright, babe. Paul and I were wondering if you'd join us."

I thought for a second before nodding. This had been what I wanted, right?

"Sure." I followed him to where Paul was sitting, greeting him as well. As I sat down on the bench, I gasped silently -

A bedroom. Laughter. Candles. Marko chasing me, at the beach. Blood. Kisses. Paul flying. Me flying with him. Marko's voice, "I've never been happier than with you two."

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I only opened them when I heard Paul say my name.

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You seemed completely lost for a moment."

"Yeah, it- it happens sometimes."

"So, why did you want to meet us?" Marko sat across from me, handing me a new glass.

"How did you know I wanted to meet you two?"

"We just know things." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, I just see things. Sometimes I act upon those things."

"You see things?" Paul asked, laughing before sarcastically adding. "That makes you so special!"

I sighed, smiling. Even without my ability, his response had been predictable. "What I mean is that I can predict the future."

"Why would we believe you?" Marko asked. I grinned - telling them exactly what would happen the next five minutes.

The barkeep would accidentally spill a beer on the lap of one of the regulars. Said regular would get up, throw a punch - missing the barkeep and hitting another guest. The guest would hit back, causing the regular to fall back on top of a table, breaking it in two. He'd then lose consciousness.

I hadn't finished speaking, or what I'd just told them began to happen. I didn't bother looking at the scene, instead looking at the two boys. Their sceptic look changed to slight disbelief to acceptance - which was all I could ask for.

"So, the future, hm?" Paul asked, looking at me. "What made you decide to come to us?"

"In most of my visions, I see the three of us together. I wanted to know why."

"Most people would call those sex fantasies. Ever heard of those?" Marko asked, standing up.

Paul followed, and I quickly walked up after them. "I know, I know it's weird and hard to believe. I know - but you're vampires. Is it really so hard to believe that I just have visions?"

The boys froze, their eyes turning a dark shade of yellow. "How do you know?"

"I'm a psychic! I can see the future!"

"Bullshit! That scene in there, you'd planned it. You're faking this whole thing to get our attention." Marko hissed, causing me to flinch.

"I didn't."

"Can you believe that shit?" Marko had walked off, stepping on his bike. Paul sat beside him, fumbling with his keys.

"The whole predicting the future thing?" Paul shrugged. "It's probably a party trick, based on statistics or something."

"Yeah, probably. Little asshole. Let's go home, alright. We can hunt tomorrow."

I froze as I saw them drive off. Grabbing my bike, I raced after them, moving the pedals as quickly as I could. There would be an accident - and Marko would be staked. I was out of breath, sweat dripping down my face, when I realised it was impossible to catch up. So I did the one thing I could think of. I could make it to the site of the accident before them, going through the park and taking a shortcut. By doing so, I could stop them from getting hurt - and hopefully, I'd be fine as well. Picking up speed, I raced past the trees, slipping as I turned to hit the mainroad again.

The bike fell away under me, sliding over the asphalt. I hissed as I was flung a couple of feet away - my eyes widening as I saw two headlights nearing me. I screamed. I closed my eyes, readying myself for impact and -

"I got you." Two arms pulled me away, right on time for me to get away unhurt, the car hitting the tree and a large branch being launched to the place I had just been seconds ago. If I had stayed there, not only would I be crushed beneath a car - I would have been staked as well.

"Paul?" I asked, shaken, still trying to catch my breath.

"What were you thinking? For someone who claims to see the future, you've got shit vision."

"If I hadn't moved when I did, Marko would have been the one hit. And staked."

Paul froze, realising that I had been right. If they hadn't slowed done because of me, they would have been-

"You weren't joking?"

I shook my head, getting up.

"You really see the future?" Marko asked, and I nodded once again. "You see the three of us?"

"Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, then he stepped towards me. "I'm still sceptical, but you did save me. How about you join us at the cave, and we'll see where it goes from there?"

I smiled shyly, looking at him and then at Paul - who looked rather enthusiastically. "I'd like that, very much."

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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