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emjayewrites · 4 days

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Fuck A Title (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Reader) (1/5)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis and his former FWB try to navigate the murky waters of being official.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem reader

WARNINGS: cursing, sexual content, angst, racing vroom vroom stuff. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)

SONG REFERENCE: "Title" by Kiana Lede

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1 @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout

A/N: Not back fr, but had this in my drafts for a minute, so..... [Please comment & reblog]

You sucked in a sharp breath as Lewis pulled you flush against his rock-hard body, his intoxicating male musk enveloping her. "Damn, Lew..." you husked out as his full lips trailed searing kisses along your neck.

Lewis rumbled a low chuckle against you skin, the gravelly timbre shooting tingles along her spine. "You know you want to stay." His mouth found yours, kissing you with a slow, hungry intensity.

"I can’t," you mutter as you arched shamelessly against the solid wall of muscle, whimpering into the heated kiss. These intimate nights used to be your steamy little secret - just two badass workaholics blowing off steam as commitment-free FWBs whenever you craved each other's bodies.

"I'll have your breakfast waiting in the morning, baby girl," Lewis purred in that panty-melting accent, charming and rugged all at once. "Let me take care of you like you deserve."

Your thoughts went to last season; it was stress-free, almost reminiscent of an endless vacation with you being flown out to see Lewis at some of his races — Monaco, Japan, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi, to name a few. There was also that two-week getaway to Turkey during summer break with his close guy friends.

But nothing could ever prepare you for how quickly things changed between you and Lewis. Just a few weeks ago, he wanted to make things official.

You blame that Brazilian girl. Jackie, Josie, Julia-something-or-the-other. Lewis's other sidepiece. The one who didn't know how to be discreet.

She's been kicking it with Lewis and his inner circle since 2019, and their off-and-on cycle can put anyone's head in a tailspin.

But, it wasn't your problem to deal with.

As messed up and unusual as it may sound, you knew what you had with Lewis. The conversations were always on par, the sex was bomb, and his friends were nice.

It wasn't until JuJu leaked his whereabouts to a tabloid journalist during his winter getaway to Brazil that Lewis finally put the nail in the coffin for whatever situation they had, and in return, it was you whom he had invited to join him in Paris, testing in Bahrain, and even a race in Saudi Arabia. It was you who he eventually grew close with, closer than what you envisioned, causing him to have an epiphany or midlife crisis moment, but he wanted you for some reason.

You and only you.

Against your shot-caller instincts, you had agreed to try monogamy with your long-time friends-with-benefits partner, yet could you really live up to the ride-or-die girlfriend role?

In the racing world, Lewis was F1 royalty - the kind of megastar talent that sparked a panty parade from groupies with each arrival. At thirty-nine years old, the British race monster had already stacked up multiple championship wins, the insane looks of a cologne model, and a net worth balling enough to buy a private island.

Cradled against his frame, you almost forgot your doubts about your newly-minted relationship status.

Almost.

Lewis was a whole meal with his tattooed body: wide shoulders, chiseled chest and biceps, and a tempting vee that disappeared beneath his form-fitting Tommy Hilfiger briefs. It almost felt criminal for one man to be so incredibly attractive.

"You're doing it again," that baritone washed over you as Lewis smirked knowingly. "Getting thirsty for me. This is why you need to stay." He flexed his pecs in a ludicrous muscle-man pose, making you throw back your head and laugh.

"Bye, Lewis," you shot back, eyes sparkling with mirth as you ran an admiring hand along his sculpted torso. "My mind was on work."

The lie was smooth, but he knew better.

"You think about work more than I do," Lewis chuckled richly, catching your roaming hand to tug you close once more. His skin glowed temptingly in the dim light, and you felt your resistance swiftly melting as his lips crashed into yours again. He tasted like your ultimate indulgence. But soon, much too soon, Lewis drew back with obvious reluctance. "Best not keep tempting me, baby girl. Let me walk you to your car like a good boyfriend."

And there it was - that word reminding you of your new reality. Boyfriend.

Swallowing hard, you began gathering your scattered clothes. "I should really go," she said, aiming for a breezy tone that fell flat even to your own ears. "But raincheck on the morning cuddles and all that, yeah? I've got an early call time."

Lewis watched you with that panty-dropping stare, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "Will you call me when you get to work at least?"

"Of course," you replied, sliding into your dress and avoiding his intense gaze. "I'll see you later," you said with a forced smile before turning and making your way out of the bedroom.

Like a dog to a bone, Lewis followed closely behind in nothing but his briefs and that all-too-obvious aroused bulge that he proudly sported. Bending over to put on your heels, you flinched slightly at the unexpected touch from behind.

His hands flattened against your spine, trailing downwards until it reached your hips before settling on your ass.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turned around to face him, eyes wide with shock and arousal as his fingers squeezed the plump flesh of your backside. "You can’t just grab me like that," you protested weakly, even as your body leaned into his touch.

A devilish grin crossed Lewis’ face. "But you like it," he murmured huskily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. "You sure I can't convince you to stay?"

"Nope."

Lewis pouted playfully, his hands still lingering on your hips as he leaned in for one last kiss. "Fine," he sighed dramatically, before pressing his lips to your forehead and releasing you with a parting slap on your ass. "I'll see you later, then."

You grinned up at him as you straightened your dress and made your way towards the front door. "Bye, Lewis," you called over your shoulder.

As soon as you stepped outside into the cool London air, reality hit hard. Your mind was a cyclone of emotions.

Why were you still craving the easy detachment of your previous arrangement? Surely you were just going through an adjustment period of cold feet. A big part of you felt skittish about going from independent and free to somebody's boo'd up ball-and-chain, especially with someone who equally enjoyed working as you did. Though you weren’t on Lewis' level of fame, you still had clout as a fashion stylist and worked with prominent magazines, such as Vogue and Vanity Fair. You faced plenty of trials and trepidations in your life, yet navigating this new realm of commitment would be your ultimate challenge.

The drive to your hotel was quiet, with your mind filled with thoughts of Lewis and the budding relationship between the two of you. Shaking off those thoughts for now, you focused on reaching the hotel safely and getting some rest before another long day on set tomorrow.

The next morning came far too soon for your liking. Despite having only slept for a few hours due to work calls and texts from Lewis throughout the night (something he did often but never seemed to tire), you dragged yourself out of bed when your alarm blared loudly.

After a quick shower and a strong cup of coffee, you were dressed and ready to head to the set for another long day of styling. As you arrived at the location, you were greeted by familiar faces - the models, photographers, and other crew members whom you had worked with countless times before in the last couple of months. You were currently on a six-month contract for Schön! and even though there was some shoots that required long work days, you appreciated the flexibility of the work.

Everyone was scurrying around, setting up equipment and making last minute adjustments before the shoot began. You made your way over to the fashion rack where designer clothing was carefully organized and ready to be styled on the models.

"Morning, Y/N!" A voice called out from across the room.

You turned to see one of your bosses, Tara, walking towards you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Tara," you replied. "How's it going?"

"It's going good," she said, glancing around at the busy set. "Looks like another long day ahead of us."

You both chuckled, knowing that long days were just part of the job.

"So, what are we working with today?" Tara asked curiously as she looked over at the fashion rack.

"A mix of high-end brands and some vintage pieces," you replied, pulling out a beautiful Dior dress from its garment bag. "I'm excited to see how this looks on one of our models."

Tara nodded in agreement before getting pulled away by one of the photographers who needed her assistance. You went back to organizing and styling the clothes for each look on your mood board.

As the day went on, you couldn't help but feel a little distracted by the constant buzzing of your phone. Every few minutes, another text from Lewis would come through, each one more persistent than the last.

"Come with me to Australia," one read. "I'll book your flights."

"Wasn't it your fantasy to be bent over the railing of a hotel overlooking Hobsons Bay?" another said.

You sighed as you set your phone down on the table next to you, trying to focus on the task at hand. The shoot was going smoothly but with every text from Lewis, it became harder and harder to concentrate.

One thing was for sure: this nigga was extremely persistent.

You couldn't deny that a trip to Australia sounded tempting - it had been on your bucket list for years now. But at the same time, it wasn't practical for you to just drop everything and go away for an undetermined amount of time.

Or could you? an intrusive thought bubbled in your head. The hoe side of yourself was speaking, coming out from the depths of her hoeness cave. It often appeared whenever Lewis was involved, and let's be honest, it was probably the reason why you found yourself in this weird ass situation in the first place.

Think about that tongue of his, girl! ‘Member how he had you walking funny for three days straight after finishing in eighth place?!

You couldn't forget it, as it would always be ingrained in the fiber of your very being. You enjoyed seeing Lewis angry, especially when there was a mistake during race weekend. Not that you blamed him for losing, as the car wasn't up to par, but he had a unique way of channeling his anger through sexual pleasure.

A familiar shiver ran down your spine as you hit send on a three-letter response to him.

Well, there goes the idea of keeping my distance and any modicum of self-respect.

Bitch, you know you can't resist that dick, quipped your inner hoe.

And as usual, she was correct.

The hotel didn't have a direct view of Hobsons Bay, but the Yarra River and Botanical Gardens could still be seen from the balcony. It was nighttime, and as Lewis moved in a steady rhythm, your vision may not have been top-notch, but the sparkling city lights served as a focal point amidst the familiar feeling building up in your pelvic region, signaling an imminent orgasm.

You couldn't help but moan loudly as Lewis hit that spot inside of you that always made you lose control. He had you bent over the railing, one hand gripping your hip while the other played with your aching nodule. Each thrust sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Fuck," he grunted in your ear. "You feel so good."

You couldn't respond, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. As his pace quickened, your moans grew louder and more desperate. The height from the penthouse's balcony was both terrifying and exhilarating, deafening in its intensity. It was a common choice for him whenever he visited Australia, as if being that high up meant less chance of encountering any spiders.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, Lewis stopped to bend down to bury his face in your core, working that sinful mouth of his. Your legs began to tremble as two of his fingers pushed inside you, matching the movements of his tongue.

He had always been a master at eating pussy, and it didn't take long for you to reach your climax. You cried out his name as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you breathless and satisfied. Lewis stood up, a smug grin on his face as he saw the effect he had on you. He turned you around to kiss you deeply, tasting your own essence on his lips.

"You're still the best I've ever had," he whispered against your lips.

After catching your breath, you put a smirk on your face. "That's because I am the best," you teased.

"You’re right 'bout that," he concurred, leading you to the patio couch.

He sat next to you, his hands running up your sides and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his hands on your body.

"You always know how to make me feel good," you murmured.

"I aim to please," he replied with a wicked grin, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Without breaking the kiss, Lewis maneuvered you so you were now straddling his lap. His lips moved down your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine. Your hands roamed his muscular back, feeling every ridge and dip of his body.

His hands traveled to your hips, guiding them as you began to grind against him. The friction between your bodies was building a delicious heat, making it hard for you both to control yourselves.

"God, I need you," he growled against your skin.

You moaned in response, eagerly meeting his lips again. Lewis thrust upwards, filling you to the hilt and causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned back slightly and rocked your hips faster against his. The pressure was building between the two of you and it was becoming harder to keep quiet. Your nails raked across his skin and he hissed in pain.

"Mmm...easy there, baby girl," he rumbled out a low warning, giving your earlobe a gentle nip of reproach. "Can't have you mauling me before the big race this weekend. Need to look pretty for my adoring fans."

You scoffed and ground harder against him in sweet retaliation, making him curse roughly. "Please, I'll mark you up anyway I want," you husked.

Lewis chuckled and tightened his grip on your waist, holding you still as he thrust up into you with more force. Your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chased his own release. He reached between your bodies to stimulate your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with your moans and Lewis' low curses.

"That’s my girl takin' this dick so well," he croons softly. "You’re so fuckin' wet, baby. You like this dick, huh? This yours?"

Lewis' words only spurred you on, as you continued to ride him with reckless abandon. The pleasure was building inside of you, threatening to consume you completely.

"You know it's mine," you gasped out, your nails digging into his shoulders. "No one else's."

"Damn right," Lewis growled, his own release approaching fast. He gripped your hips tighter and slammed into you one last time, pushing you both over the edge.

Your walls clenched around him like a vice as you came undone, screaming his name as he followed suit shortly after.

Panting and sweating, the two of you collapsed onto the couch in a tangled heap. Lewis held you close, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're amazing," Lewis murmured, voice rough with satiated desire. His arms tightened around you, pulling your flushed body flush against his sweat-sheened skin.

You hummed out a breathless laugh, nuzzling your face against the solid warmth of his chest. "So are you."

For a long while, the two of you simply held each other close, basking in the post-coital glow. Lewis traced idle patterns across the exposed skin of your back, his touch reverent and tender.

Finally, with obvious reluctance, Lewis stirred beneath you.

"As much as I hate to move right now, we should probably get cleaned up."

The two of you stood up, still tangled in each other's embrace, and made your way to the bathroom. Lewis turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature before pulling you under the warm spray with him.

You leaned back against his chest, feeling content and blissful as he washed your body with slow, gentle movements. His hands lingered on your curves and crevices, eliciting soft moans from you.

"I could get used to this," Lewis murmured against your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You chuckled and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. "Me too."

And even though you are apprehensive, there is no denying that Lewis was still the best thing in your world, but it all can't be butterflies and rainbows...

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#emjayewrites #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #formula one!black reader #formula one x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfiction #f1 x reader

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ay0nha · 9 months

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An Ode to Ruination | T.S.

SUMMARY: Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callus to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking, drinking, semi-preoccupations with thoughts of death/suicide, mutual pining, meanish tommy because his feelings are hurt, canon-typical things, protective!tommy, rushed ending, etc.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I’m back on my bullshit. This is inspired by @zodiyack‘s request/post (here). HAD to get it out of my system, I mean look how pretty he is. This is a mix of Old writing I had to dust off the cob webs for mixed with new stuff, so be kind. Enjoy.

“You’re leaving.”

Tommy’s tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset.

The cracks behind his exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before him, your decision was the ice-pick that’s pressure had shattered him.

“Ada told you?” You hummed with formality; his presence clearly a response to the question. “London will treat me well.”

Tommy tracked your movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest in your own home. You felt caught, exposed.

The air was thick, causing Tommy’s deep breaths hard to hide behind a crackling record that you had on a continual loop, never able to stand too much silence. Your bags were organized beside the door for the morning, causing your heart to echo against the empty walls.

There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Tommy held for years. That the shared affection wasn’t something fabricated but complex. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his.

“A better life, eh?” Tommy mocked you, cigarette rolling over his lips with habit. “Fucks sake.” The confidence in his demeanor faltered. But he regained it quickly with a bitter laugh, “...I’ve given you everything, and here you are asking for more.”

With an instinct to comfort him, you wanted to reach for him. It spoke of your ability to read him and how exhausting it had become to interpret. He would miss you.

“Tommy—” You began. The calmness in your voice was deceiving. You could see it in his face, how expectant he was for you to tell him you’d stay. “—I’m not safe with you.” You paused, letting your admission sink in just as harshly as his words had, “I’m going to London.”

—

The bliss was idyllic.

Your wrist balanced on the windowsill as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The cool air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human. Your senses were perked. The city outside kept you attentive as your head rested back. The day was long, but hearing the taxis carrying bubbling people made it worth it. You imagined how some were on their way to find warmth in their home while others were dressed for an endless night of laughter.

The living room was empty and quiet. You could no longer hear Ada’s shuffling feet above you, ushering both her and Karl to sleep. It was odd that you found such freedom with them. Protection of sorts that you could rely on as a necessary stepping stone. It caused a headache to form at the back of your head, reminding you of your lack of sleep.

Privilege came with the name associated that made your stomach churn. It was simple to push Tommy into a subconscious level. The task became daunting; an ache emerged from so deep within that it took months to realize from the start he was responsible. It was as though you could feel how his eyes were still on you.

It became a habit to remind yourself of your newfound safety. The distance created life: happiness and tranquility. You traded bloody nights for bedtime stories, sewing razor-filled caps for gin-filled gatherings, and Tommy’s scarcity of communication for peaceful nights like tonight.

A disruption was overdue. You answered the phone after the third ring.

“Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, even if it was whiskey drenched. It took him a beat to realize you were on the other end. “... ’m callin’ for Ada.”

Chewing on your lip, you debated silence and pretended like the call had never begun. But that incessant ache begged to be relieved.

“I can wake her.” Your voice was soft, promising something you were unwilling to do. It was nicety that filled the quietness you were met with.

“I—uh—” Tommy sighed deeply. The words were lost, jumbled behind an always racing mind. You could picture him well; his crisp shirt no longer having life as it was rolled up by anxiety, his tie no longer present, but still suffocating him, and everything around him reflecting how he moved with an intemperate haze. “—I’m drowning—”

“Tommy…” You refused to burst, but his name on your tongue tattered between warning and heartbreak. When he drank, he opened up to you, a foolish cycle. “Let me get Ada…”

The dark chuckle on the other end forced you to press yourself closer to the phone. “Sometimes, I wish I were dead so you'd think of me.”

A frown perked your lips. You were made out to be more heartless than the most heartless man you knew. It was a naive guilt trip that you almost slipped on. “Be fair to me, Tommy.”

There was a crackle on the other end, a cigarette lit purely by regret. The drag was long, trying to pull something thoughtful from a blurred mind. The reports he received from those he paid off weren’t enough. You were thriving with his absence, seen with a mix of people who, even acquaintances, valued you better. It elicited resentful envy. However, out of arms reach, you worried Tommy endlessly. The London associates sought blood, no matter who provided it. The paranoia was ruining him, and no answer could reassure him.

“You a communist yet?” Tommy cleared his throat with a vulnerability that was only reserved for this night. Maybe, you thought, it was an effort on his part.

“Almost…” The teasing comforted a dodged homesickness. “Think my card got lost in the post.”

“Shame.” He tutted with a gentle wit. There was a tender sadness he carried with him. It was almost as volatile as his anger. It was easy to blame it on the war, but it had latched onto him long before, never planning to let go.

You imagined how his exhaustion mapped along his body. His body probably mirrored your own; head back, limbs weakly sprawled, heavy-lidded eyes imagining the other beside each other, and a mutual worry that bounced between you.

“I am happy, Tommy…” Your promise was delayed, hardly believable. “Ada and I do miss everyone.”

I miss you.

Tommy hummed, “...have a funny way of showin’ that.”

“You haven’t seen our smoke signals?”

The laugh you were met with was small, light, and barely there, but it rushed through your limbs and heated your chest. You had a moment to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callous to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.

—

You knew Tommy would be there. For Ada—you reminded yourself. Yet, seeing him so closely caused your heart to lurch, your blood leaving your extremities with such fascination that you became light-headed.

“Drink.” Ada all but scolded you, crystal pushed into your hand. The instruction was welcomed, but it wasn’t enough to settle you. “Otherwise, you’ll clam up if Tommy bothers to find us.”

Tommy worked the crowd well. It was a feigned charm that he played into only for advantage. Although he claimed to be here for family, business always loomed. Ada hadn’t cared either way, the glitz far too intriguing to question his sudden presence in the city.

“Give him time…” Ada spoke openly to the air, her night’s indulgence tracing her words. “...always time with that one—wastes it, and yet, expects you to be there when he hollers. Does your head in, it does…”

The champagne bubbled down your throat. The night was meant to be celebratory, but you’d be lying if you said you knew why. It was a part of your distinction from the Shelby family that you questioned if ignorance truly brought you bliss.

“Surprised he came himself. Thomas Shelby in the flesh,” Ada continued with ease, mocking her brother. “Surprised he even lifted a pinky. Typically one of his goons—” She looked to you, her revelation cutting her off. “You do understand what you do to him, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” Your words were sharp. Your eyes filtered the crowd for the gloved waiter to replace your glass. “There’s nothing that I—I’ve put all that behind me.”

“That?” She pressed with practiced bits of patience. Ada’s smile grew comically. The shy glancing took years to turn into full sentences and Ada knew firsthand how to read her brother, and the way he lingered spoke volumes. He was past smitten.

It was all or nothing; you were it.

You were grateful how her attention shifted to her own relationship. You never tired of hearing how Freddie treated her and loved her since they were children. There was somberness in her eyes, but devotion carried in her words. You saw how she carried him with her; certain mannerisms mirrored not only in her but Karl. Love withstood.

There was a point in your life you believed you’d find something similar. You hadn’t faulted your growing mind; it was natural to romanticism your future at such a young age. Those around you promised there was something fruitful to look forward to. However, life proved difficult; men remained boys, and the only person that you regarded stalked toward you as if you were nothing more than a stranger.

“Ada.” Tommy approached his sister as if she were alone. He’d visited her in the city multiple times but never once shared the air with you. “Enjoying yourself tonight, eh?”

“Mothers can still have fun.” She teased him with a peck on the cheek. Even in her state, she ridiculed her brother’s behavior. With a shoulder pushed against his, Ada encouraged Tommy to acknowledge you. “Have you no manners?”

To others, his expression may have appeared vacant. However, Tommy wrestled with himself, unsure how to maneuver in uncharted territory. Stalling, his eyes danced the crowd as he languidly out his matches and carton. It denoted how natural his icy illusion became, and now he seemed able to practice it on you. Once he landed on you, you realized why he struggled to meet your eyes. It was his only form of self-defense.

“London suits you.” Tommy nodded, his greeting muffled through the newly lit cigarette. The small rush it gave him was enough to stay vigilant.

“It has its moments.” Your chest perked from the attention and chill, but Tommy’s eyes never faltered from your own. You were daring him to take your body in. It was the sole reason you chose a dress that cut low both front and back.

Tommy was never a blind man.

Nor was his sister. Ada excused herself, claiming whatever ‘this’ was, she wanted no part. You are no fun, she said. However, you weren’t sure who it was directed to. You held back from following her, but your shoulders remained open; you wouldn’t fold into yourself.

“I didn’t know communists could have fun…” Tommy mumbled to himself, eyes going to the crowd once more. Ada’s self-imposed isolation rippled through the family, only fracturing the stress of everyone’s well-being.

A scoff bubbled in your throat, “And what do you know about pleasure?”

“Pleasure?” Tommy became focused and pointed with his words. “Pleasure doesn’t exist.”

Eyebrows cinching with frustration, you stepped closer to be heard, “Don’t pretend like your pleasures don’t have names.”

That drunken call all those nights ago was a mistake. It showed you insight into a dream. In that dream, Tommy was free of what haunted him, light and present. Faithful. There his voice wrapped you in warmth with fulfilled promises. You never were as skilled at hiding your emotions. Your heart was broken on your sleeve.

“I’m going to—

There wasn’t a need for a protective air as those around Tommy knew never to challenge him. However, far and few between, there were those men self-entitled with such idiocy; they couldn’t recognize they were prey.

“Thomas Shelby. Birmingham man in London.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking the forming bubble around you. “Thought that was you! This must be the missus…”

“Not quite.” Your tone was bare, your hand extending with trained expertise. You could handle pleasantries. But the man was bold, leaving a damp kiss on your knuckles as if marking you.

Tommy was subtle, moving his body to act as a buffer. Fingertips brushy feather-bare against your lower back. You thought it would end there but held back a flinch when Tommy’s warm palm flattened where your back curved.

“Ah, understood!” The man replied with a boisterous cackle. It reflected years of unfiltered nicotine and a wet and sick penchant for bourbon. “I’ll have one of you warm my bed once all of this shit is over.”

You pinned your breath to the roof of your mouth. Your loss for words wasn’t due to the ill-mannered man. It was from the brush of Tommy’s thumb against your skin. It was a comfort and an apology for how he would have to agree with the man to keep him at bay.

It was all a part of the plan you were slowly catching onto.

“A good lay is a good lay, isn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” The man prompted again, a gauge to know if the future alliance would be worth it.

“Exactly right.”

You could storm off, cause a scene. Your anger steeped deeper than that. It lived in your bones, morphing into something vindictive. You stayed the course and played your part willingly. The morals you lectured Tommy on didn’t matter anymore when all along he had the upper hand.

To the man, you were a plaything, someone who the conversation held no standing. The information would be forgotten, implied confidentiality, as you’d move on to your next client. However, the further you orchestrated the conversation to continue, the more you learned.

The night was a business move, another party dosed in secrets and danger. You took in the man’s features, noting how he was aging, greys just starting to filter through his scalp. Your stomach turned, knowing there would be a bullet between his eyes by the end of the evening. The interaction was a courtesy.

Once alone again, you didn’t hesitate to move from Tommy’s shield. You felt dirtied.

“I can’t believe you.” You spat. “You’re incapable of—

“Enough.” Tommy’s words were low. He pinned you with a look alone, keeping you steady. “You want to run from me, but you can’t.” You battled with him until you lost. His face hardened like you were another associate. “It was him or you.”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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jakescakeislateforourdate · 1 year

Note

Hi! I really like your work and was wondering if you do requests? If yes, I would like to suggest something...like it's more a prompt but idk why I see this with Kaz Brekker, so prolly Kaz Brekker X Reader or anyone you'd like to do

"If you do that again, I'll throw you out of the window you- what are you doing?"

"Checking how high the drop is, see if it's worth it"

^this or like a rendition of it or something and you can put whatever you want in it

BUT I JUST READ "HUSH HUSH" AND THE WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL, ESPECIALLY THE ENDING

Thank you for requesting. I apologize for the wait.

Kaz Brekker x reader

angst, fluff, Kaz having feelings, hurt and comfort

The gloomy sky hung over Ketterdam like a noose. The filth of the streets complimenting the grungy grey with drip-stained rooftops bridging the space between murky sky and muddled ground.

You stepped onto the dock, legs like jelly from being out at sea for so long. Kaz was waiting for you, scowling and growling about the harbor. His disgruntled stare catches first on the scuffed heel of your boot as you lower yourself onto the tattered wooden planks of the dock. Then his eyes drift up to the gleam of the sunlight in your hair and the redness of your sun ravaged cheeks.

He'd think to call you beautiful but he's so angry right now he can hardly stand still. "You imbecile!" He seethes, teeth clenched and lips drawn back in a snarl.

Jesper drops onto the dock behind you, eyes wide with fright and mouth thinned in resignation. Another day, another job gone wrong. You'd been off your game for a few days now but this last heist put Kaz at his wit's end.

"Easy, Kaz," Inej murmurs as she moves out from behind Jesper. "Everyone did bad today."

You think you catch Kaz's eye twitch subtly. His murderous gaze lands on Miss Ghafa and then moves to Jesper.

"You're lucky we're in public." He turns and begins to limp his way down the dock.

A good sum of money had just gone down the drain. Some jewelry had been taken from a merchant's wife and she'd desperately wanted it back. The merchant offered to pay more than the jewelry was worth pawned and had enticed Dirtyhands into accepting the job. It was an easy job. Simple.

So why had it gone so poorly?

Well, for starters it'd been raining. The rooftops were slick and unfit for climbing. Even Inej had been struggling. Visibility was low which made things difficult for Jesper. The location and party was another thing entirely. An island, hard to get on and off of discreetly, was jammed full of gaudy lads and ladies prancing about a wedding venue.

The jewelry, a diamond necklace and matching pair of earrings all of which were worth your weight in kruge, were the last thing. They dangled from the lobes and clung to the fat throat of the bride. Difficult to procure.

You followed the tacky creature around the venue, trying to get in close enough to nab the items but the damn wedding party blocked you at every turn.

They complained noisily about the rain and about how it would ruin the wedding. Kaz hounded you about obtaining the pieces. You caught glimpses of him everywhere: tucked into an alley, ducking into the kitchens, stalking through the gardens.

You became a target of suspicion. None of the other guests knew you and you didn't have a plus one. Not to mention your constant approaching and then backing away from the bride couldn't have gone unnoticed.

It all came to a head when you finally got in close enough and made a grab for the pieces. The bride was in her dressing room after the ceremony, stripping off the necklace and earrings before slipping behind her the ornate dressing screen to step out of the frilly white dress. You hurriedly entered the room, not wanting to try Kaz's patience, and snatched the jewelry off the vanity.

The bride heard you come in and ripped back the folding screen. She saw you stuff the glittering diamonds into your pockets and screamed "THIEF!" for the whole island to hear.

You grimaced and dashed from the room but it was too late. All the guests were made aware of your juvenile failure at stealing and the struggle to get off the island began. In the hysteria that ensued, Kaz had gotten separated from the team so you returned on two separate boats. Hence his impatient prowl of the docks.

The trip back to the Slat was completely silent. You brooded over your failure. What was wrong with you? Why had you been so stupid?

The crew dispersed upon arrival, locking themselves in their rooms to mull over the mission. Kaz tapped your calf with his cane and nodded towards the stairs. The fix of his jaw and his glowering eyes told you all you needed to know.

You stomped up to his office, already angry because he was going to berate you more than you already had. Kaz slams the door behind you. "What is going on with you? You've been like this all week."

"I know."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"What else is there to say?"

Kaz's face goes red with rage. "You cost us the job! How can you not have anything to say? I should knock your teeth out and cut off your fingers for this! It was easy. How could you possibly have messed up this bad!"

"I'm sorry." You feel tears burning.

"That's not going to fix this. I can't have you on this team if you're going to be inconsistent. A mistake like this could cost us much more. Someone could die and that's on you."

You pull the necklace and earrings from your pocket and drop them on Kaz's desk. His eyes flicker to the diamonds and then back to you. He's upset you. He didn't mean to but all he can think about is if you had been caught. He'd have to go through so much trouble to get you back. And he would.

Gladly.

But what if you got hurt. What if they stuck you in the gallows or shipped you off somewhere he could not reach. But that had not happened. It was not physical pain nor the thought of prison sentence that was making you cry. It was him.

You were both aware of Kaz's feelings. Neither of you said anything but you both knew from the tender brushes of palms and long lasting gazes that something was lurking under the surface.

"Just," Kaz swallows when you turn away from him. "If you do that again-- mess up like that-- I'll throw you out of the window you... what are you doing?"

He watches you cross the room to the window, where rain drips from the soaked wooden window frame. "Checking how high the drop is," You glance back at him, fighting tears and trying to bring on a smile. "see if it's worth it."

Kaz sighs. There you are. Trying to make light of the situation. He looks at the heap of jewels on his desk. You did retrieve what he asked. He'd still get his money. And if he played his cards right he could still have you.

"Come're." He waves you over. The leather of his gloves groaning a little.

You arrive in front of him and Kaz raises a palm to your cheek. He doesn't touch, only lingers over the warm skin. He juggles emotions, anxiety and love hashing it out. He settles for a feather light sweep over your temple and a barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"Try not to provoke me."

"You wouldn't kill me."

"I don't even want to think about it."

#six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker imagines #crooked kingdom #yourfellowfandomfiend

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emmitaaa4 · 2 months

Text

“Elriel is too predictable! It’s boring & lazy writing!”

… 🧍‍♂️

My brother in Christ. You call SJM the fated mates author. Through 15+ books and 3 series she hasn’t diverged from that trope. Elain has a “mate”.

If an Elriel outcome is predictable, it’s because the author willed it so and therefore ✨wrote scenes✨ to ✨develop their relationship✨.

and by that i mean…

(long post ahead…. bear with me)

SJM wrote Mr. “I don’t need to resort to poetry” going all Azriel Allan Poe, flustered as he tells Elain “we are born hearing the song of the wind”. She wrote him uncharacteristically open & talkative, while when he 1st met Feyre he deferred all her questions to others.

SJM wrote that despite how different they may look, Elain does not balk from Az. She never has: from their 1st meeting she finds comfort in him, and he in turn notices her—she’s never been afraid of him, he has always seen her.

SJM wrote the 1st coherent thing to come out of Elain’s mouth in WaR to be “beautiful” as she beholds Azriel’s scarred hands. In turn, she wrote our gardener not minding imperfections on hers, for despite her lady-like conditioning, she prefers to get her hands dirty.

SJM wrote Az spending time with her in the sunshine: no forced conversation, no one hEaLinG anyone, just them both doing their own thing as a relaxed Az suns his wings. Just two pals comfortable with one another… which SJM foreshadowed in MaF through Feyre’s “Elain would likely cling to Az for some peace and quiet”.

SJM wrote Az and Cass both stilling at the sight of El & Nes, she wrote Az cutting in to set Elain up in her garden even as Feyre was about to do it, she wrote the mention that Elain was safe after the twin raven’s attack bc Az had stayed with her at the townhouse.

SJM wrote Azriel’s eyes churning as he looks at Elain and her too-thin body, before abruptly winnowing away, and we’re left with Mor looking at the spot where he left. Wonder what that was about (it certainly did not remind me of Rhys in TaR).

You know, Elriels are not just making stuff up and theorizing about the E/ucien bond cause we’re desperately pulling at straws…

SJM had Madja say “a mate would know if something is amiss”, then wrote a scene juxtaposing both Lucien’s and Azriel’s reactions/assessments of what was going on with Elain… and she had Azriel be the one to know nothing was “wrong” with her—no, she just had rare powers and needed to be heard, to be taken seriously. He didn't let her be misunderstood, for he was the ONLY one that listened to her, that took her visions/ramblings seriously right from the get go. And so he gave Elain the understanding she needed to free herself from the dream-like murky realm she was trapped in. Through it all, SJM emphasizes that Azriel also understands what it is like to struggle with rare, strange, prized powers in silence; what it’s like to be othered by them. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: she sees everything and he hears everything.

SJM wrote that “Elain had hoped that love would trump even a mating bond” and had her characters question the Cauldron in relation to Elucien *twice* (years apart!).

…

SJM wrote Az being the only one—in a room full of Made beings speaking of being Made—to notice that Elain was missing. A reassuring but empty statement by Cass that they’d get her back….but then it was Azriel that stated, eyes glowing golden, that HE would be getting her back, despite the girl’s own sister discouraging him & telling him he’d die. Hell, Feyre had this whole deliberation on whether she’d join him only after he’d say he’d go. His initiative.

The Hybern scene is too long to add, but this post and this theory break it all down brilliantly.

Yes, Az has sacrificial tendencies. Yes, he’d risk his life for loved ones in general. But we have never seen him this affected, and it is because SJM purposely used language to emphasize Elain and Azriel’s meaningful reactions to the other… despite it being wholly “unnecessary”

It is all intentional… lazy’s antonym.

SJM wrote the Truthteller scene. She emphasized the exchange, which left Cassian gasping and Rhys flabbergasted; it also left Feyre with a significant painting in her mind. It lead to Elain, aka “my God has answered me,” stepping out of a shadow to save her sister. Azriel, aka “God is my help”, indeed helped armed Elain so she could answer her sisters prayers.

SJM ended WaR with Elain’s smile literally lighting up Az’s shadows.

SJM had Elain’s thoughtful gift to him make his eyes the brightest we’ve seen—and by doing so gave us the most beautiful description of his earthy eyes, “the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.” We have never seen Az so joyful & carefree throughout the entire series.

SJM wrote that Azriel beat Feyre to Elain’s side as she was looking out into the night. She wrote Elain stilling at the sight of a dashing Azriel—her throat bobbing—while Az “just moved towards her”.

SJM wrote the potato scene—“sit i’ll take care of it”—Azriel again being the one to respect Elain’s presence & contribution as he makes a room full of his “superiors” wait until Elain finishes tidying herself up (cause girlie wanted to look put together for a certain shadowsinger). Mor gapes, Amren smirks, Rhys talks of Az’s mom… all because of that surprising, singular behaviour from him.

SJM wrote Az making a joke at Amren’s expense upon noticing Elain’s discomfort; our girl’s shoulders indeed relax in relief. THE LIGHT RETURNS IN HER EYES.

SJM has Azriel staying up past 3am with Elain, listening to her speak of something she is passionate of.

SJM wrote Azriel spending an entire convo with his brothers looking out into the garden from the window (SJM mentioned it 4 times yet some still missed it).

SJM wrote Rhys goading Az for a reaction as he quizzes him on Lucien and Grayson; wrote Rhys realizing that Azriel did not want to know what Elain did with Lucien (in the case she did anything). She wrote Azriel nervously stuttering as he asks risks if they need to get the sisters a present… I wonder why.

And Rosehall… SJM wrote ROSEhall: cracktheory this cracktheory that, to the gwonriels I’d say we both know you wouldn’t say it’s irrelevant had SJM chosen to call his estate Tealhall.

~~~~

Keep in mind: SJM could have written those significant scenes and ultimately kept it PG: she could have chosen language that built up a profound platonic relationship.

Yet… in MaF she has Feyre comment that they would be good together—as in make a good *couple*. WaR roles in and they’re both dealing with the very public rejections they went through—but SJM had them build a quiet companionship in the background, while giving them a wealth of scenes of great significance for both their characters, and while using language like “she DEVOURED the sight of him” “he CRADLED her to his chest”. In FaS they are slowly but surely getting over their last loves, and SJM continues developing their connection.

And in ACOSF, in the book that supposedly “ended” Elriel…

SJM wrote Az following the sound of her laugh (😭). “ It’s just lust” PLEASE BFFR.

SJM chose to remind us—THREE times—of the Hybern rescue scene... then had Az tell Cass that he’d know, in his chest, if something happened to Nesta.

SJM had Az longingly stare at the gift Elain gave him every night for a YEAR—mind plagued by thoughts of her—made him so affected by her that he had reactions to every mention of her name in SF, so affected that it took Nes one look at them to notice his feelings, to reach out in comfort upon noticing the pain that keeping himself apart from to her caused him. As SJM said she would, Nes saw through his secret in ACOSF, still it is “his secret to tell, never hers”. After Solstice we are met with a grumpy Azriel, who lost the snowball fight for the 1st time in centuries (i wonder why…).

SJM chose to link his every secret back to his feelings for Elain, as per the bonus . Why does he stay up so late and wake up so early? He longs for Elain so much he can’t sleep. Why is he staying in the HoW? It is too hard to be close to Elain given their circumstances; he must physically distance himself from her. Why has he moved on from Mor after centuries? Elain. Why is he grumpy post Solstice? The argument with Rhys concerning Elain.

~~~~

Ultimately, SJM wrote for Elriel:

- Complementary imagery (flowers and death? light and dark blending together to form something new… DUSK, anyone?)

- AND plot altering scenes

- AND chose to liken them to one another multiple times

- AND genuine moments of companionship that slowly bloomed into something more…

… Is it so insane to believe that maybe SJM spent so much page time and effort building connections & common ground between them because she intends for elain & az to find peace and quiet within one another?

Or idk, maybe it was all for shits and giggles… and if it was i salute her commitment to the shits and the giggles🫡

Either way, it is the opposite of lazy writing…

It’s SJM’s world & words, and we are just reading them.

P.S: This was all just typed on my cell phone from the top of my head… yes remembering all this is probs concerning, yes I am obsessed. Please correct me if I got anything wrong.

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #pro elriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain #pro azriel #acomaf #acowar #acosf #elain x azriel #elucien-bond #antigwynriel #not even anti; just pro common sense

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tragedy-of-commons · 26 days

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killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car.

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two.

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys.

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on.

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?”

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.”

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm.

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #ajax x reader #genshin impact #zira's lover : event

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thewebcomicsreview · 7 months

Text

A lot of the best writing is just doing simple basic obvious shit and doing it consistently. This page from Clown Corps is a great example.

For those who don't read Clown Corps....read it, it's great. Anyway, Morgan is a Clown (which in this setting is a superhero), who just learned that the mime-themed supervillain Echo, who has the power to mimic clown magic but had her mouth sewn shut against her will, is her long-lost sister Maggie, and now we have a flashback to happier times when the sisters go to a carnival (i.e., a place where clowns are).

This actually started on the previous page, where Maggie is winning stuffed animals and giving them to kids. Superficially, this is just a cute stage-setting scene, but every panel here is ironic. First, Maggie is accused (jokingly, but still) of being a criminal. "Suddenly you can't miss" lets us know that she sucked earlier but then became incredibly skilled at hitting targets. Maggie attributes this to being a "fast learner", a reference to the powers she'll later develop. That she's giving the toys away shows that she's not doing her "hustle" for nefarious reasons, much like as an adult her ethics are murky. And then the "fun's over" when her sister the future superhero shows up.

Then, in the next page, Morgan is mad her sister disappeared, and Maggie is mad she was expected to stand around quietly. This sisterly fight is foreshadowing Maggie's fate.

In the next panel, Maggie does a 4th-wall-breaking joke about how "it's not that kind of flashback". The primary source of jokes like this in Clown Corps is series protagonist Mary McBell

This joke is incredible

And in present day, it's Morgan who's most supportive of McBell. This panel recontextualizes the Morgan/McBell relationship. Morgan likes McBell because McBell reminds her of her long-lost sister. This connection would also serve to shorthand Maggie's personality for us, if it wasn't already coming through clear.

Morgan complains that mom made her bring Maggie along, which kind of establishes the relationship between then, and then Maggie hits Morgan with this savage burn. The out-of-nowhere horoscope reference is great, it's a specific hit on Morgan, not something that would be obvious to a reader from from these two pages. It feels more real than if she'd referenced something that we'd already learned about Morgan. Also "My nail polish doesn't match my horoscope" is just a funny line.

Oh yeah, and also this is the future Echo mimicking a future Clown. Don't forget that part.

And then the final panel is Maggie fully aware of what an annoying little shit she's being, but her expression is that of a girl who expects that Morgan is going to buy her that corn dog, glare be damned.

And, like, none of these panels are super mind-blowing genius moves that you'd need to be a twelfth-level intellect to come up with. Individually it's all really basic. It's impressive that all this referencing stuff feels like a natural conversation, but you - the girl reading this - could do that. What makes Clown Corps great is that it does this nearly every panel. Nothing is wasted, nothing here is doing just one thing. It's a sublime example of asking "Can I get more out of this" every single panel, because the answer is usually "Yes".

#Clown Corps

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ursa-tan · 10 months

Note

Can I have a request for a wally darling x reader where the reader "captures" wally as the villain of the show and has a bit of a dom kink? This is for playfellowxxx and I am 18 years old. Is this ok to request?

You’re mine

Wally Darling x Fem!Villain!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Word count: 3,312 Reading time: ~12 mins

Part 1, Part 2

TW: None

A/N: Honestly this was the first proper request I've gotten and I got really excited to write it! I hope you like it anon! Also, the reader is approximately 6ft tall, just so everyone knows :) Also, I'm really sorry this took so long to put out, have had a lot of stuff going on in my personal life.

Wally awakens, dizzy and almost completely disorientated – just because he can’t sleep doesn’t mean he can’t be knocked out. The world around him seems to spin for a moment as he attempts to orient himself in the darkness. He tries to move his limbs yet finds himself almost unable to move, bar lightly wiggling his body. Soon, Wally comes to realise that his hands are bound behind his back, to the back of a chair. His legs are also bound, rope wrapped around his ankles to hold them together and to hold them to the chair as well.

The room is dark, murky, almost pitch black if it weren’t for the small beam of light piercing through the side of a blind and streaming into the room. It’s just enough to let Wally see what’s happening around him. The room is still around him, not much happening apart from the wind whistling gently through what he can only assume is an open window tucked behind the blind. There are boxes stacked up around the room, pushed to the edges to make way for a desk. The room itself is small, seemingly more of a storage room than anything else.

His concentration on the room is broken when a door opens from somewhere behind him. The sound of the door closing is joined by the clicking of hard bottomed shoes against the wooden floor. He feels fear course through him for a second, jolting him forwards slightly when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Wally, Darling,” a soft, feminine voice rings out from behind him. Wally already knows exactly who it belongs to. Its full of a sickening joy that causes a pit to open itself up in Wally’s stomach.

“(Y/n),” Wally growls, immediately becoming defensive. The presence of this puppet causes his skin to prickle, making him feel as if his hair is standing on end. “What do you want?” His voice is uncharacteristically sharp and cold, holding a malice that he reserves for when it’s just him and (Y/n).

“Oh, nothing much…” She walks round to his front, crouching down to find herself eye level with the significantly smaller puppet. Wally stares into her eyes, its one of the few times he’s able to do so. “Just thought you looked especially adorable the other day, couldn’t help but want to snatch you up.” Her voice is playful and flirtatious, it doesn’t match the situation in the slightest.

“You just like causing problems, (Y/n).” Wally can’t help but say her name again, something about it feels good in his mouth, feels like its supposed to sit on his lips.

“Ah, maybe I do, but you love me for it,” She chuckles lightly, standing back up and patting his thigh as she does so. The sudden contact makes him shudder, causing his body to jump – practically pressing himself into her palm. It causes her to freeze, only for a moment, leaning down to stare into Wally’s eyes again.

“Do you like that, Darling?” His last name drips from her lips just like it did before, yet this time it sounds so different. Its sticky and sweet and causes his head to spin slightly.

Wally goes to speak, to say something, but the hand on his thigh halts his voice entirely. He’s not entirely sure why, but he can’t think clearly. The hand on his thigh squeezes lightly, a pressure that causes him to shudder. He wants to lean into it, his mind fogging with something he isn’t quite sue of.

“I need to hear a yes Wally, or I’m going to take my hand away.” Her voice pulls him out of his seeming trance, his head snapping upwards. He stares at her, eyes meeting with a desperation that he didn’t know he could feel.

“Yes,” Wally whispers, pupils blowing wide as he stares.

“Good boy,” She chuckles, voice dripping with that same sticky sweetness from before. Her hand squeezes again, trailing up his thigh and towards his hip. It rests there for a moment before trailing back down to his thigh. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself there”

Wally can’t find it in himself to answer, only staring into (Y/n)’s eyes, vision slightly unfocused. He doesn’t understand why his head is so foggy, but he does know that he wants more of her touch. As a result, he does his best to push his thigh up into her hand.

“Oh, you really do seem to be enjoying yourself,” The smile in her voice is obvious, “I’m going to untie you now, ok? But you have to promise not to try and run.” She seems to have an idea that he can’t think of at all.

Wally just nods, the prospect of being untied doesn’t properly occur in his mind, the idea of escape a million miles away at this very second. He feels her fingers trail down his leg, the other hand joining to untie the rope binding his ankles together. It takes her a few moments of tugging before the rope comes undone, becoming slack and falling to the floor in loose rings. Wally takes a moment to part his legs, stretching them out before returning them to their previous position.

“Good boy, you’re so good for me,” she hums, both hands returning to his thighs, giving them both a squeeze. Her hands are so big, Wally’s sure that she could wrap her hand entirely around his thigh if she wanted to. He wants her to, at least. The words make Wally feel like he’s melting, becoming absolute putty in (Y/n)’s hands.

He melts more when (Y/n) moves behind him, hands coming to his bound wrists and starting to undo them. She’s much softer this time, fingers brushing the bare skin of his wrists as she undoes the ropes. After a few seconds, Wally feels the rope unravel and drop to the floor, yet he doesn’t move. Not even as (Y/n)’s hands begin to trail up his arms, eventually coming to rest on his shoulders, lightly brushing his neck. She stays there for a moment, gently kneading his shoulders, holding him like he’s made of glass. Then, suddenly, her hands are on his face, forcing it backwards so she can stare into his eyes.

“Hi, sweet thing,” she hums, her hands gripping his face rather harshly, forcing him to stay still. She could’ve let go as soon as she tilted his head back, however, Wally wasn’t going to attempt moving. “You look so pretty like this, pupils blown all wide.” She eases up her grip, now stroking his face.

Wally lets out a short sound, something next to a whimper. He can’t tear his eyes away form (Y/n)’s. Her eyes seem to sparkle with something that only serves to draw him in. Like the lore of an anglerfish, he was walking straight into the jaws of danger, yet he couldn’t look away.

(Y/n) tilts his head forwards again, so that she can lean forwards and place her hands on his thighs. They begin to move, one trailing up and under his jumper, under his shirt, splaying across his stomach. Her finger are so warm as they press against Wally’s bare skin. The warmth from her hands bubbled up through his body until it forces a short, soft moan from his lips.

Wally, unable to look into (Y/n)’s eyes from this angle, decides he doesn’t need to keep his eyes open and so let himself relax into the sensations. Eyes fluttering shut, Wally presses himself against her hands, one of his own reaching up to hold onto her bicep. He continues to let out soft moans as (Y/n)’s hands reach up and towards his chest, dancing her fingers delicately across his skin. He finds himself completely unable to focus on anything but the hand on his chest. Until, that is, (Y/n)’s other hand moves to his inner thigh.

It rests rather high up, nearly brushing against his clothed crotch, snapping him out of his earlier fog. The sensation causes Wally to gasp, attempting to buck his hips into her hand without even thinking – its nothing but an involuntary action. He’s desperate for her touch.

(Y/n) chuckles, it’s a sick, sardonic sound that Wally still loves none the less. In fact, he wants to hear it more. More of her voice, more of her. She pulls her hands from his body at the same time, an action that makes him whimper and squirm; but he doesn’t move, he wouldn’t dare.

Footsteps ring out once again as (Y/n) walks round and stops in front of the smaller puppet, crouching down at an attempt to be eye level with him. It doesn’t work, however, as she ends up about chest height, looking up into his blown-out pupils.

“Hey, pretty thing,” She hums, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You enjoying yourself?” Everything about her feels like a trap, yet Wally can’t help but lean in. If he gets snatched up and captured, its worth it, as long as it’s her.

“Yes,” Wally murmurs, eyes half lidded as he leans into her palm. He reaches up, one hand coming to rest on top of hers while the other holds her wrist. “Yes… So much…”

“My good boy.” She smirks as she speaks, her voice flirty and now dripping with lust. (Y/n) pulls her hand away as she stands up, and Wally can’t help but reach out for her as she moves away. He’s desperate to have her back against his skin.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not leaving,” She bends over, now actually being eye level with him, “get up for me, will you doll?”

Wally nods, scrambling to get himself out of the chair. (Y/n) has to take a step back as he hurries to stand so he doesn’t knock his head against hers. As soon as he’s on his feet, Wally is standing as tall as he can in front of her – something drives him to try and impress her.

“Oh baby, relax,” Her voice is sugar coated as she leans in, beginning to unbutton his cardigan. “There’s no need to be so tense.” She pulls his cardigan off, throwing it somewhere behind him. Part of him hopes it landed on the chair he had been sat on, he didn’t want it to get dirty, yet he also didn’t care.

His shirt came off next, being given the same treatment as his cardigan. Wally ignores the sound of it hitting the floor in favour of reaching up to start undoing his ascot. However, he doesn’t get far before (Y/n)’s hands are on his, pulling them away from his neck.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hums, holding his hands to her chest, cupping them near her collar bones, “that looks so cute on you, I want you to keep it on.”

“Ok…” Wally’s voice comes out as delicate whisper. His hands feel so small in hers, so warm and completely encapsulated.

“Good boy,” She mumbles, dropping his hands and gripping his hips instead and tugging him forwards. Her hands quickly begin work on the button on his trousers, popping it with one hand and using the other to undo the zip. (Y/n) has his trousers on the floor in seconds.

“Actually…” (Y/n) pauses for a second before reaching up, leaving Wally’s painfully hard and still in his boxers. Her hands come back to his ascot and tug at it, pulling it off. The red silk glistens lightly in the soft glow from the sun, laying in her hands.

“Eyes or hands?” She asks, suddenly making eye contact with Wally. He finds himself unable to answer, only able to stare into the perfection that is (Y/n)’s eyes.

“Wally, I’m only going to ask once more. Eyes or hands?” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, brining him back to reality far to fast for his liking.

“Eyes?” Wally mumbles, hesitating a moment before speaking. He’s unsure of what she means, and despite everything that she’d done in the past, he trusts her.

(Y/n) doesn’t answer, only reaching with the ascot in her hands. He isn’t given a chance to react before the red silk is being wrapped round his eyes, obscuring his vision entirely. Wally finds himself deprived of his favourite sense, the one he treasures more than anything else in the world – it should scare him… and yet it doesn’t.

(Y/n)’s hands are back on his hips within seconds of his eyes being covered, this time tugging at the waist band of his boxers. They’re pulled down to around his mid-thigh, freeing his erection and causing him to gasp in both shock and relief. Wally can feel her hands on his thighs, still holding the fabric of his underwear. Although that doesn’t last long, as she tugs them the rest of the way down, leaving them pooled around his ankles much like his trousers.

“Step forwards baby,” She says, holding his hips and guiding him as he takes a step. He’s now completely nude, exposed to her and unable to see anything. His heart is racing yet he wouldn’t change a single thing about what’s going on.

The smaller puppet lets out a yelp as he feels his feet leave the floor. Although he doesn’t flail or worry, as (Y/n)’s hands on his hips hold him steady. He can feel her shifting, but doesn’t know what’s going on until the underneath of his thighs meet her shoulders. He can feel her hair tickling his inner thighs, the wispy strands painting feather soft patterns into the soft, sensitive flesh.

Suddenly, the flat of her tongue is pressing against the underside of his cock. Its warm and wet and has him bucking his hips upwards blindly. He feels (Y/n)’s hands slide up his back, supporting him and holding him against her. Wally leans back into her warm palms for a moment, relaxing just for a second. It is only a second thought, her tongue is back on him, sliding from the base of the shaft to half way up before pulling away and repeating the pattern.

“(Y/n)…” Wally mumbles. This time, its his turn for his voice to drip with lust thick as honey. He reaches down, fingers fumbling to intertwine themself with her hair. Struggling for a moment, Wally finally gets his hands comfortably in her hair, holding the back of her head for support. He defiantly needs it as (Y/n) pulls away, adjusting her head to slip the tip of his cock into her mouth.

Wally bucks his hips forwards, desperate to feel the warmth of her lips around the base of his cock. He partially expects (Y/n) to pull her head away, to scold him for the action – but she doesn’t. Instead, she pushes her head forwards, taking his entire length in one go. It happens so fast that Wally feels himself hit the back of her throat. (Y/n) doesn’t gag.

The warm wetness of her tongue begins to lap at the underside of his cock once more. It’s a sensation that has Wally letting out moans, sounds that bubble up from his chest and spill past his lip. They’re completely uncontrolled sounds, slipping past his lips in the same way foam bubbles out of a soda bottle.

Wally can already feel himself reaching an end. Something about the way she moved, the way she treated him, was driving him towards an edge much faster than he would like to admit. It doesn’t help that he can’t see, that he’s been deprived of his most vital sense.

“(Y/n)-“ he rasps, gripping her hair and tensing his thighs to squish her head slightly. He feels his stomach muscles tense up, causing him to curl forward, around her head.

The taller puppet only hums in response, starting to bob her head. Deliciously slick sounds fill the room. (Y/n)’s hands pressing into Wally’s back to pull him closer, keeping him in place as her tong laves at his shaft. She doesn’t stop her movements or change her pace, continuing to bob her head slightly and swirl her tongue at the pace she had already set.

“I’m- I’m- (Y/n)- I’m-“ Wally can’t splutter out much more than the first word of the sentence that he’s desperately trying to string together. (Y/n)’s pace is driving his towards an edge that he doesn’t want to fall off of – if he does, this ends. Wally is desperate for it not to end.

His hands don’t move from their spot, finding a perfect purchase scrunched up in her hair, holding the back of his head. His hips, however, begin to falter and buck forwards as if they have a mind of their own. Both his body and mind are senselessly chasing pleasure, but only his body wants to reach the finale. And it does.

Wally tenses up fully as he finally reaches his peak, thighs clenching around (Y/n)’s head. His arms pull in tight, hips pushing forwards as he desperately tries to push himself as far down (Y/n)’s throat as possible. He manages to push until he’s hitting the back of her throat, his tip touching the soft warmth in a way that has his whimpering and pleading for more.

The smaller puppet finally spills himself into her mouth, painting her throat white and filling her mouth with a slightly bitter taste. (Y/n) doesn’t recoil though, instead swirling her tongue around his length and continuing to bob her head to the best of her abilities. Wally feels like she’s trying to pull out everything he’s got.

“A-Ah!” he yelps, the sensation suddenly becoming entirely too much. Wally is whimpering, trying to pull away, wordlessly pleading for her to stop.

Eventually, (Y/n) does, pulling away from him and letting him fall from her saliva coated lips. She keeps Wally sat on her shoulders, looking up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes sparkling with mischief in what little light there is in the room.

“Too much baby?~” She purrs, voice still filled with lust.

Wally can only nod, letting out another pathetic sound as he does.

“Oh, you poor thing… Come here,” She mumbles, shifting his position until he’s got his legs wrapped around her waist. Her tone is so much softer now, as is her touch, as she comes to gently cradle his shaking body against hers. She holds him so easily, her much larger hands supporting under his ass and against his back.

“Would you like a bath darling?” (Y/n)’s voice is right next to his ear as she speaks. It’s accompanied by feather light kisses full of love. Her hands are so warm, radiating outwards and into him in a way that almost has him falling asleep where he is. Wally shakes his head. All he wants now is to curl up and sleep.

“Ok then,” she pauses again to kiss the top of his head, something she can do now thanks to his pompadour falling apart, “What about something to eat? Or drink?” Her questions are so gentle, they don’t really need answers.

Wally shakes his head once again, burying his face in (Y/n)’s neck. Her skin is so soft, he can’t help but relax against her. Although that relaxing is interrupted for a moment when (Y/n) pulls the ascot free from his eyes, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Its most likely piles up with the rest of his discarded clothes.

She continues to hold him tight against her body as she walks. Wally is far too drowsy to pay attention to where they’re going. But he takes not of it - a few short steps and a turn to the left.

Suddenly, (Y/n) is shifting the blue haired puppet. He’s sitting in her lap, partially straddling her thighs with his head resting against her chest. (Y/n) in mostly laying down, hands resting on Wally’s back, providing a pleasing weight.

(Y/n) doesn’t say anything as she begins to stroke Wally’s hair, placing many short kisses on top of his head. He can slowly feel his grip on consciousness loosening. He knows he isn’t going to fall asleep, but he’s not going to be awake anymore.

“I’ve got you, baby,” (Y/n) mumbles. It’s the last thing Wally hears before the world slips away from him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #playfellowxxx #request #requested #smut #I was so excited to write this #antagonist x protagonist

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

Note

Howdy! May I request Caine and Jax with a reader that comes back from abstraction but doesn’t remember anything about them or themselves? I think it would make for some good angst material. Have a good day/night!

Back from the 'Dead' (Caine and Jax x Mended!reader)

i dont know if the fandom has made a term for unabstracted people for fic stuff but i like the way mended sounds anyways YES MORE ANGST!! yipee! gonna probably be flip flopping between answering requests and finishing my art wips tonight so!! listened to this song while writing this, feelings were made jack stauber // just take my wallet

You wake up on the floor, not knowing where you are. Everything before you opened your eyes is a quickly fading blur of darkness, far too fleeting for you to grasp and make sense of. Your body hurts, a dull ache seeping down into your core. As your sight clears, you can't make out where you are... you appear to be on a stage of sorts. You can't bring yourself to move, even after the pain becomes bearable. You feel so tired. Eventually, someone approaches you

CAINE:

youre torn back to reality as a loud chattering voice fill your ears, talking almost a mile a minute. looking up you see a short man with a set of teeth for a head. he keeps repeating something that, after a few seconds of processing, sounds like its meant to be your name

hes also throwing in names of endearment, namely "My Dear"

you cut him off mid sentence after he fails to pause between his words, asking who he was and where you were

in an instant he stopped speaking, jaw hanging open and hand paused mid gesture

he doesnt ask if youre joking, i dont think caine would be in that kind of denial

on one hand, i can see him trying to jog your memory, but on the other hand i cant help but feel that he would accept it. maybe its because he doesnt want to stress you out more when youre already in a murky space, fearing that he would accidentally undo your sudden mending

its so weird for him, you were his first love and first partner; and now hes grieving your loss. except youre still here. you still have your mannerisms, but none of your memories. he truly doesnt know how to go forward

gone, blanked, erased, deleted even

he has to stop himself from calling you the nicknames he once called you

he still tries to foster a new relationship with you, but whether or not you would fall in love with him again is up to you

bonus angst, imagine you do fall in love. just not with him. like can you imagine how much that would hurt

the longing looks, the way he would attempt to reach out to you only to stop with his arm half-outstretched, the stumbling of words as he tries to stop himself from spilling how much he loved you

even if you ever abstract again, or you somehow leave the digital world, he would still go on to love you just the same. in fact, i dont think he would ever move on from the heartache

theres a visible change in demeanor in him, too, he seems a little more. fake?

JAX:

he sprints towards you, he doesnt care at all if someone hears his footsteps pounding the ground, just as long as hes there to make sure its really you. and sure enough, it is

similar to caine hes asking you how you managed to come back, not even noticing youre confused and uncomfortable face as he placed his gloved hands on your shoulder firmly and pulled you up

similar to caine as well, you have to cut him off in order to get him to stop talking, having to assert your voice firmly in order to get him to back off

you ask him who he is, where you are, and what he meant by 'coming back'

denial

this man would be in denial i think

like deep down he knows theres something going on with you, but he doesnt want to acknowledge it

hes not really outright romantic with you, since he doesnt want to actually. screw his chance to reconnect with you up, you know. i mean he can kind of see it from your perspective, you just wake up and some guy is already trying to make out with you? yeah no, he would be put off too

i think jax would have more luck trying to rekindle something with you simply because unlike caine, he doesnt carry the same fear of you abstracting again

i think, as an added thing to think about it jax's feelings of hurt and grief coming to a head and he kind of. unintentionally snaps at you, telling you to stop messing around and drop the act

overall sad stuff

constantly trying to get your attention through being a nuisance, kind of like when you guys first met and he started catching feelings

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x you #caine x reader #caine imagine #jax x you #jax x reader #jax imagine

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staarlight-snow · 8 months

Text

Reflections in the Murky Waters

[Short sequel to Murky Waters - Island of the Slaughtered]

TW: panic attacks (??), nightmares, ig horror, mentioned death

"Well, hoping is the only thing we can do right now.. Why not make the most of it? Right Noah?"

Cody jumped up from where he lay in cold sweat, tightly gripping at his shirt. His breathing was heavy and he felt tears run down his cheeks. He softly groaned – covering his ears with both his hands, his surroundings were quiet but his mind was loud. He winced at every memory, every thought and every imagery that stayed in his mind

"Another nightmare again?" A soft voice spoke, shuffling in her side of the cabin. "S-sorry.. Did I wake you?" Cody asked, moving his hands away from where they were. "No.." Gwen whispered, moving closer to the other. "I'm having trouble sleeping.. It's like every time I close my eyes I can hear him call my name." She vented, staring at the rotting wooden floor beneath them.

"Yeah.. I get the feeling. I have this.. recurring dream." He confessed, picking at the seams of his jeans. "Yeah? Want to talk about it?" Gwen offered, tilting her head as she looked at the boy. Cody took a deep breath and closed his eyes, images flashing in his mind. "It starts out with me, I walk out of the cabin holding some stuff. And I look out in the forest and he's there.. He's alive." He dragged out that last part with pain in his voice.

"I make my way towards him but.." He stopped for a moment. He hated this part. "E-every damn time I could even get close to him.. He gets pulled into the forest.. A-and it's quick! I ran after him, as fast as I could. Every night I go to bed, I try to save him.. even if it's only in my dream.." He breathed out, his voice getting weaker by the second. He's never confided these dreams with anyone before. He never thought talking about them could be just as painful as having them.

"But no matter how I try and what I do.. I couldn't save him." Tears were streaming down his face and his voice was broken. It was a pain to hear it. "Heh.. There was this one time, I managed to get to him in time. I had his hand in mine. And I was pulling him out of the water but something was also pulling him down. He told me 'Let go because it'll hurt more if you keep dwelling on it' I-I don't know if that was my brain telling me to get over it or.. if it was actually Noah.." Cody finished, he opened his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

Gwen moved her hand to the others back to console him. "It takes time to heal and right now, everyone in this cabin needs it but I think our main focus right now is to survive.. There's no point in healing if you know you'll get hurt again the next day." She sighed in defeat. It was like every slither of hope they had was slowly drifting away and all they had left was their lives. "Surviving? What's the point! There's nothing to live for anymore." Cody cried. "Don't say that!" Gwen scolded, furrowing her eyebrows.

"We promised we'd get out together.. And that's what I had going for me.. It's not like someone's waiting for me at home anyway." He muttered in between sobs, moving his legs closer to his chest. Gwen looked at the other and sighed. "Can you atleast promise me we'll both get out of here? You and me.." She asked. Cody slumped over and rested his chin on top of his knees.

"It's what they would've wanted.." He answered. "You're right.. They're our friends, they only want what's best for us." Gwen smiled, to which Cody returned. They hadn't smiled in a while – they never found a reason to anyway.

Maybe this time the world will be fair.

i woke up and immediately thought, "man cody's brain chemistry must've been fucked lmao.. lemme write abt that" HUAHAUAHUA I CRAVE ANGST RAGHH 👺👺 *feral gremlin noises*

anyway this isnt me shipping gwen and cody, unless u wanna view it that way ig 🤨 i just think they'll hv a kind of bond and comfort in one another ngl 😔

#total drama #tdi #total drama island #island of the slaughtered #td noah #total drama au #td cody #td gwen #td noco #noco #tdi fanfic #total drama fanfiction #fanfic #angst #haha trauma go brrtt #tw horror #tw death

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thehardy-boys · 8 months

Text

The Platform (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey! Its literally been like forever but I've had some time to myself and actually written something. This was not requested or anything but I just got inspired with all the new content recently. Anyways, pls enjoy. It's a series so there will be more parts to the story.

Warnings: Sadness, negative thoughts, flirting if you squint (In the future -- smut 😏)

Part 1

(y/n) hadn’t planned on ever coming back.

“I’ll put your tea here then mum. Alright?” (y/n) spoke fairly loudly so the elderly woman could hear. She was nearing eighty and she had lost most of her sight and hearing. She was a ghost nearing on a corpse. But there was no one else to look after her. As these kinds of responsibilities usually fall on the women, the daughters, they fell on (y/n) just the same.

“I’m heading to work. Mrs. Iona will check in on you from time to time, alright?” The bedroom door was almost closed when she heard the slight mumble coming from the shriveled woman.

“Not supposed to be here. Don’t want her here. Take her away.”

She paused only for a moment suddenly hit with a wave of the past. The tide so strong it almost pulled her into its murky depths. But with the door closed and the sight of her mother taken away (y/n) turned her back and softly made her way out of her mother’s house.

She waved to Mrs. Iona as she shut the front gate and walked back down the street towards the main road. Her shoes already collecting the terrible coal dust.

She hated it here. The heavy air that the sunlight could never quite penetrate which resulted in the town being in a constant gloom. It made her skin crawl. The unhappiness was crippling. The drunkards already stumbling around the street at eleven o’clock in the morning, the starving children running back and forth, the haggard mothers one step closer to the grave and the dark alleys that were haunted with glistening knives, illegal pistols, and razor-sharp caps.

Get me out of here. Get me out of here. (y/n) screamed internally but she only pushed open the heavy wooden door of the newspaper agency and kindly greeted Mrs. Kelley the receptionist before making her way to the back of the building and sitting down at her desk. Another day. More editing. That was her lot in life: never to be the one writing and creating but only a ghost in the machine, a minion behind the scenes.

By the end of every long day at the newspaper house the words would blur into one huge muddle. She’d pack up her small bag, wish a good night to her boss Mr. Beavers, and head home. Her eyes would be sore and her brain throbbing with a headache. But that was just Small Heath, barely living.

(y/n) felt that she had something missing. She knew she had it when she was younger because of all her memories. The vibrancy of the trees she climbed, the scent of baking in the kitchen, the damp fur of their pet dogs after a rain storm. Everything was so vivid back then and full. Her eyes open and wanting, now she was shuttered, fragile, and tired. Her knees often ached and her neck sore from hunching over papers all day. She was decaying, slowly.

“(y/n)!” Her head popped up from her desk at the sound of her name. Polly Gray was making her way towards her. She was as formidable as (y/n) remembered. She rose up to return Polly’s hug.

“Mrs. Gray, It’s so nice to see you!” Polly squeezed a bit tighter. The warmth of her body rubbing off onto (y/n). She welcomed it. It had been so long since she had received any kind of touch.

“When the hell did you get back?”

“About a year now.”

“A year!? A whole year and you didn’t bother to drop me a line?” Her outrage wore the mask of humor but (y/n) could tell there was genuine worry, genuine hurt lurking behind it.

(y/n) shook her head in apology, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to come back here and then a lot happened and I’ve just been so busy Mrs. Gray. I’m really sorry.”

“No, I know (y/n). I heard what happened. Awful stuff. I had no idea you were here dealing with it all. You should have asked for help.”

(y/n) began to shake her head and ward off Polly’s offer when her boss’s door opened up behind her.

“Ah, Mrs. Gray and Mr. Shelby do come in.” He gestured warmly into his office.

Polly rubbed her arm before stepping inside.

A tall man had been standing behind Polly. (y/n) hadn’t noticed him in the frenzy of the greeting but she didn’t need an introduction. Nobody in Small Heath did. He was just as the ladies described him at the grocers she went to weekly: cold, inscrutable, foreboding, and dangerous.

(y/n) had lived in Small Heath only until she had turned thirteen and then her family had moved away. Her father had been close to Polly and consequently (y/n), over the years, had played with the young Shelby brothers. (y/n)’s older brother had gotten along well with Arthur and if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember playing hide and seek with Thomas and John Shelby. But it was all so long ago, and she realized she hadn’t seen any of them in over fifteen years. And yet she knew it was Thomas. She knew.

She wondered mildly if he remembered her, “(y/n) (l/n).” That was all he said with a quick nod he passed her by not glancing back and nor did she.

Polly left first and, on her way, reminded (y/n) to drop by. An hour or so later Thomas came out, as well. (y/n) was neck deep in the upcoming Sunday issue so she barely registered the figure standing next to her desk.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby! Did Mr. Beavers ask me to get you any forms?” She pushed away her paper hurriedly and stood up.

He shook his head slowly and continued to stare at her, hands deep in his pockets.

She tilted her head as a question, and he only shrugged slightly.

“I was trying to remember why you left, all those years ago.”

(y/n) sat back down. A flicker of fear coursed through her at the reminder of their family’s departure. A broken window, her father’s bruised face, and her mother’s hands constantly trembling.

“It wasn’t my decision; it was my parents.” She didn’t look up at him and instead pulled her papers back towards her. She didn’t want to sift through all those years. She could barely make it through the present.

He must have sensed the finality because he bid her good day and left but his stare stayed with her all day and even into the night. The frostiness of the blue. The condemnation they held for humanity.

Mr. Beavers explained the next morning that they were starting a partnership with Shelby Limited. They would be expanding their sports column to include more articles on the races. Mr. Beavers excitedly described the hope for a few informative articles on the intricacies of horse racing, training, and breeding. But it wasn’t just about horses Mr. Beavers went on, being attached to Shelby Limited allowed them an easy avenue for new stories and information. It was a ready-made news source.

“All this in exchange for what?” (y/n) asked.

“We give Mr. Shelby’s races publicity and well…occasionally we would publish or not publish certain articles for the company.”

(y/n) crossed her arms, “So they can censor us? What stops them from completely taking over the paper? What if next week they decide they don’t want the Theatre column? Evan and Nate would be out of the job.”

Mr. Beavers frantically shook his head, “It’s not like that, not like that at all. I know Mrs. Gray and I trust her. The company is not interested in that kind of control. I mean we’re only a small agency, (y/n).”

And thus, the partnership began and now not just (y/n) felt the steely stare of Mr. Shelby, but the entirety of the agency did.

It started slowly but Thomas began to come by once or twice a week. It was usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (y/n) learned from Mr. Beavers that they were working on a contract. She would here the tell-tale sound of expensive shoes on the marble floor and know even without looking up who it was. Thomas Shelby walked with such authority in his three piece suits all the young ladies at the agency were already gossiping about him during their lunch breaks. But (y/n) kept her distance.

She had always been an outsider in Small Heath. The community never welcomed her family, something to do with their Jewish ties. And now, after returning, people were even more wary. (y/n) could tell there were whispers behind her back. She ignored the fake apologies about the missing invitation when she caught her colleagues out for a bite to eat all together. It didn’t bother her, not really.

“Mr. Shelby, Mr. Beavers will be right out. His previous meeting’s running a bit late. Please sit down if you’d like.” She gestured to the few arm chairs by the window. He only nodded and sat. He lit his cigarette and did what he always seemed to do around her, stare. And she ignored him in favor of the monumental stack of paperwork in front of her.

“How much do they pay you here?” He asked out of the blue. His deep voice easily cutting through her concentration.

She looked over, “Minimum wage.”

“For all that?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

(y/n) shrugged.

“You edit, organize, design, and manage each issue and only get minimum wage?”

“I’m not in a position to be picky, Mr. Shelby.” She bristled a bit.

He took another drag and let the smoke column upwards. He did look beautiful with the sunlight streaming in behind him. It caught the contours of his angular face and she thought yeah, I think I get it now.

He cleared his throat and sat back satisfied her attention was now on him, “Don’t you remember me?”

“Yes. I mean we were just kids.” She shrugged lightly.

“We met on the platform.” He took another inhale of his smoke, “After the war.”

(y/n) blinked.

“Yes, we did.” Her throat had gone dry.

He opened his mouth to continue but “(y/n)! I need the consumer reports.” It was Evelyn from the market section. Her plump red lips perking up at the sight of Thomas. (y/n) had the feeling Evelyn already knew he would be here; the reports weren’t needed until the end of the day.

“Yes. Here they are.” (y/n) sifted through her desk and handed over the packet.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Evelyn asked. She played with a few loose strands of her hair.

“Oh. Uh-Mr. Shelby this is Ms. Lowe. Ms. Lowe, Mr. Shelby from Shelby Limited.”

“Ever so pleased to meet you, sir.” She placed a sneaky hand on her hip and shifted her weight a tad to conform her body into an elegant pose.

And she was attractive (y/n) had to admit. She was young and full of vigor. Her hair always done to perfection and makeup never smudged. She looked like a movie star. She looked like a woman all men would fall head over heels for. (y/n) inwardly cringed. She could only imagine what she must look like next to this creature of beauty.

But when (y/n) looked over to see Thomas’ reaction, he seemingly hadn’t stopped looking at her. Only when their eyes met did Thomas glance over at Evelyn and give a slight nod.

“Mr. Shelby! Please come in, come in! I do apologize about the delay!” Mr. Beavers rushed out and hurriedly greeted the businessman.

After the door closed Evelyn let out a huff. She handed back the packet to (y/n).

“I don’t even need these. I just wanted him to get a look if you know what I mean.”

(y/n) gave a small smile hoping to be rid of the superficial woman but she had one last request.

“Put in a few good words for me, will you? He always comes by your desk. Just drop in a few hints?”

(y/n) sighed and re-organized a few papers, “I’ll try my best Evelyn, but I can’t promise anything.”

A few hours later, Evelyn really did come and collect the consumer reports but lucky for her the office door opened and the two men appeared.

“And wonderful (y/n) here will get the correct form for you to sign Mr. Shelby. Let’s organize a convenient day for her to drop the upcoming issue down at your office weekly.”

Evelyn who was too quick easily swooped in without any hesitation, “I can help, Mr. Beavers. You know that I have a much more open schedule than (y/n). I’d be happy to deliver the issue.” She smiled blindingly.

(y/n) just sat there watching the whole thing unfold. In fact, she was actually grateful Evelyn was sticking her nose into it because she didn’t want to see more of Thomas than she already had these past few weeks.

“That is true, Mr. Beavers. Evelyn has a bit more time on her hands these days.”

The boss was beginning to make the face of agreement before, “I’d like Ms. (l/n) to be the one making the deliveries.”

And there was no room for argument with Mr. Shelby.

“Of course, whatever works best for Mr. Shelby. Let’s say every Thursday?” Mr. Beavers heartily clasped the man’s hand and then beckoned Evelyn into his office for a round up on the recent reports. (y/n) didn’t miss the venomous look the other woman shot her.

(y/n) opened her desk drawer and took out the mentioned form that needed the signature.

“Just here, Mr. Shelby.” She held out a pen for him without bothering to look up. This turned out to be a bad idea because she jumped in surprise as he partially leaned over her to sign the paper. He smelled of oak and whisky. He carried the scent of the past.

She remembered seeing his eyes in the sea of green uniforms on the platform. And she knew. She just knew. After all those years. She had walked towards him. He stood there waiting for her. His beautiful blue eyes. That beautiful face.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He had said her name then with such certainty like it was law. Like it had some kind of divine meaning and not just a jumble of letters.

“Is that all?” He asked setting the pen down.

She cleared her throat, “Yes.”

She expected him to be on his way, but she looked up when she never heard the retreating footsteps. He still stood next to her one hand on the back of her chair. Looking down at her.

“Did you not expect me to remember you?”

She clenched her jaw, “Why would I expect you to remember me?”

He furrowed his brow and walked away.

Part 2

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queenendless · 2 months

Text

COMFY BIRDY

A/n: OVER A MONTH WITH NO FICS ON HERE! MY BAD!

Neurotic, ADHD, depression, finishing other shows, writing other stuff on my other platforms, writers block, etc.

Imma still working on new stuff at snail's place though so there's still hope!

Now period stuff helps even when it's hell.

AU Keigo Takami/Hawks x Fem Adult Reader, already established relationship, period stuff kinda, implied mature stuff.

*PLEASE DON'T REPOST PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY MODIFY AND/OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER REBLOG LIKE COMMENT AND FOLLOW PLS N THNX U.

A rare day for you to be out.

You wanted some fresh air.

That and you were out on a mission.

Drooping into the nearby merch store, your emotionally hormonal self searched for something in particular.

You needed something soft to squeeze on.

In the grand shop, multiple rows of displays featured merch from all walks of media surrounded you.

You spotted your target area in the far back.

Tsums, round pillows, and varying sized plushies.

From the students to even the villains.

Yet as you skimmed through the pro hero plushies, your eyes stopped on the one you wanted.

The one you wished was here in the flesh.

Because right now, you missed your precious birdie.

You were surprised you were unbothered as you sat down on the plush bench seating, lost in murky aching thoughts.

You felt warmth and the mixed scent of the wind and AXE body spray enveloping you from above.

“Eyo. I got your texts.”

Incognito with a hoodie, worn torn jeans and sneakers on, only those familiar folded red wings was the telltale sign aside from that voice.

“Needed my Kei. Plushie form was the backup plan.”

“You're on your period now, right? You shouldn't be pushing yourself too much. You should be relaxing back home and let me pick this up for you on my way back from work.”

The moment you started sniffling and whimpering he stiffened in worry and immediately embraced you. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“I'm a neurotic, emotionally depressed mess, Kei, that's what's wrong!” You weeped in his scarred neck.

He gently rubbed your trembling back and massaged your pulsing scalp, shushing you. “Angel, you're perfect, messy or otherwise.”

“No, I'm not!” You mewled.

“You are to me.”

He jumped as your legs kicked up to rest over his thighs, his chibi pressed between your bellies, as you mewled. “I missed you so much!”

He teared up at that, nuzzling his face into the side of your face showing. “I missed ya too. So, ya want me to buy ya little ol me then?”

You nodded, sniffling, “Yes.”

He pecked your red wet cheek. “How's about some warm chicken soup for dinner?”

You whined. “Ice cream too.”

“M'kay. Anything else?”

“Cuddles, kisses, and binge anime together for the rest of the day.” Your pouting self looked up to him.

“For you, kid, your word is my command~”

The transition from there to your safe haven gets fuzzy because you're as drained as you are affectionately snuggling into your partner's chest as he easily carried you and his plush the rest of the way.

In your shared humble abode, watching him strip out of his clothes was always such a tantalizing turn on for you, leaving him in just his slim boxers. Spotting his scars from his cheek to his neck to even his very back. Everything about him was too mesmerizing not to look away, especially in your current bodily state.

“The scars … the shorter cut hair … even your new twin red steel swords … is it weird I find you hotter now?” You cooed.

Red tinted from his cheeks to his ears as Kei bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Can you say the same for my back scars?”

He trembled as his skin grew warmer at how gentle your fingers brushed the entire bank of his flexing muscles as well as your kisses turning feverish at how much endearing attention you gave the marked planes.

“You're perfect, scars or otherwise.” You smirked against his flexing strong back.

His wings fluttered out as he swerved around, hugging you before pulling in something with one hand, chortling a bit, hanging his chibi twin right in your face. “You do have good taste, after all.” Amiss empty bowls of soup and ice cream tubs, he laid you against him, the plushie nestled in between you two like your own baby birdie.

“Kei?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have our own bird babies?”

He was quite taken back by your words. But, that initial surprise was taken over by smitten devotion. “Sure, when you get better. For now, though,” His wing draped over you to bring more warmth to you and your belly he caressed. “Let's get you through this first.”

“Mother nature, you cruel temptress.” You grumbled.

Keigo Takami kisses you passionately to quell your hormonal desires for as long as this monthly ritual lasts. “A world where a hero like me has too much time on my hands is one where I can start a family with you, the most breathtaking being I've ever known, so I'm willing to wait a little longer.”

“Hmm …” His lovestruck eyes and charming smile made you kiss all over his now warm filled laughing face. “Same.”

Plush Hawks stayed smiling resting between your wombs as you and Keigo Takami, your mate, stayed bundled together, the TV left running on and the couch being your makeshift bed for the night.

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sockcanvas · 5 months

Note

may I request an angsty fluff with gun? <3

𝙨𝙢𝙤𝙠𝙚 .ᐟ

𖡼. Requested by anon [1.1k words]

⟣ ──┈⇢˚⋆ Pairing : Gun Park x G.N.Reader

⟣ ──┈⇢˚⋆ c/w : Established Relationship | Angst+Fluff

⟣ ──┈⇢˚⋆ a/n : I SWEAR I WILL STOP WRITING ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP AFTER THISSS ITS JUST SO SILLYYY ngl i already planned this as fluff but because a anon request smth with Gun to have angst, this boutta be fluff+angst..... i've been writing since 8am. I hope this is okay LOL, first request after three years of inactivity. OH and again!! gif was filtered and cropped by me, but created by @nonden.tx on tiktok. not very proud/don’t like how i ended it 🙁might go back to add stuff but idk

synopsis . ₊˚. If the cigarette between his lips could be you instead.

There was nothing you hated than murky wisps of vapor that infiltrated the air, lingering with their pungency, a tainted atmosphere from its noxious breath. An unwelcome assault on your senses with each inhale. Not only was the smell obnoxious but you were embarrassingly jealous of the cigarette between his lips.

Gun Park’s smoking habits was a knowledge you were already aware of, an understood boundary you came to live with in your relationship with him. The revelation was a thrust of reality when you caught him upon the act one time, an illicit puff of smoke escaped his lips in the dimly lit alley way just after a night out, how his head would throw back slightly to release the narcotic. The cigarette that sat between his lips was like a perfect puzzle.

And from then on, you’ve started to notice his indiscreet smoking locations, from the balcony, the faint glow of the cigarette tip betrayed his presence. Tendrils of smoke snaked through the night air, mirroring the silent tension that had started to weave itself into the fabric of your interactions. The frequency he spends smoking continues throughout the weeks, often from the balcony.

However, the discomfort of his indulgence extended further when you came back to catch him smoking indoors. An act that defied the unspoken boundary that was established of your shared space. The mundane expression on his face, furrowed brows that created an iron wall, one that you remember very clearly of a clouded mind.

It wasn’t just a habit anymore; it was an elusive act of defiance, a rebellion against stress that had slowly transformed Gun Park into a distant figure. The quiet dinner that followed was a testament to the unease that had settled between you two, a silence that was punctuated only by the clinking of utensils against plates.

The weight of his gaze, those blackened eyes burning into yours— stifled any attempts at voicing your concerns. Like an uninvited guest at a table, rendering you mute in the face of tension, the silence became a fortress. Each passing second divided you from the man with a hardened exterior.

The smoke, once a hidden accomplice, now a metaphor for the idling distance between you and Gun. It wrapped itself around an unstated issue, a haze that blurred the lines of communication. The atmosphere was too thick in unresolved pressure— leaving you to tiptoe around the jagged edges of your relationship.

As the night wore on, a suffocating silence settled over the room. Gun Park, his towering presence that commanded attention, was first to rise from the dinner table, a solemn gesture that cited the growing distance between you two. The sizzled crunch of a cigarette being extinguished in his recently purchased smoke tray broke the silence.

In the evolving narrative of your relationship, you had once reached a point where Gun was no longer concealing his eyes behind a shield of dark sunglasses. It was a subtle shift, a sign of newfound intimacy and acceptance. Where the man of a few words occasionally allowed a smile to sneak across his stoic facade. Yet, despite these small actions, an unavoidable void stretched between you too, a evident manifestation of the emotional chasm that gradually exposed itself.

The silence at the table was an audible reminder of his reluctance to speak with you. In the moment, Gun retreated into the night, leaving you alone with the remnants of a dinner that had become a battleground of unexpressed problems. The distance both physical and emotional left you to navigate the shadowy terrain of your relationship.

You joined him shortly in your shared room. His eyes, diverged from yours, refused to acknowledge the growing chasm. Your mouth hesitated, words hanging in the air like a delicate confession, “you’ve been smoking.” a declaration that carried more weight than the simplicity of its content. His attention, slow to shift, finally turned to you. An acknowledgement marked only by a noncommittal hum in response. “Indoors too,” you added, practically holding your breath as you hinted at the issues.

There was a flash of annoyance, you might’ve heard a scoff too, “And what if I have?” The rhetorical response hung there, his stoic demeanor was conned by a flicker of irritation, daring you to confront him. “Why does it suddenly concern you now?” His tone was a bit harsh, nonchalant yet sharp. The way it slipped past his lips like mercury made you shrink.

You stood confidently, Cautious yet resolute when voicing your mind, “I was fine with you smoking before, but when have you smoked this much?” Your words dawdled in the air, “Gun, you’ve been so distant. Is there something you need to tell me?” a part of you felt relieved to ask, another part was anxious about his next response. What if Gun gets offended? What if he snaps at you? What if he leaves you? The once in a lifetime chance where your mouth could be in the heat of his would be missed. There is nobody in this world that could climb to the position you are now, and everything you’ve progressed would be lost in an instant.

Black sclera widening only slightly, he didn’t think you’d confront him so quickly. Gun was caught off guard, something that rarely happens to him when it comes to both fighting and words. It was like an instant reality check, his behavior switching a full one-eighty degrees realizing his choice of words. Gun lets out a defeated sigh, a distinct admission of vulnerability surfaced. The defeat in his exhale was an unsaid recognition that he took your words to account.

“Things have been busy,” he uttered, skimming over the details, the Four Major Crews that he built with Goo have slowly become burdened to him. The aftermath of their inner conflicts that occur without his presence, the expectations for them consistently fell short.

Gun was not one to apologize, instead of a verbal remorse, he presented a silent invitation by patting the space beside him, a signal for you to draw near. Weary, you shuffle closer, unable to meet his gaze. His arms, possessive by nature, coiled around your waist, pulling your stiffness into his embrace. It was an apology that took the form of actions, a physical way for him to atone to his wrongs. He nestled against your back, the strain beginning to dissolve from the closeness.

Your head turned towards his, the gravitational pull of desire took over. Lips colliding with each other, the collision was softened by the anticipation that had built up. It was slow but hungry, taking in the taste of nicotine on his lips, a residue of his earlier habits was overshadowed by the intoxicating allure of Gun Park himself. Each touch of his mouth against yours felt like an addictive narcotic. Temptation that you had waited for so long, and like a cigarette between his mouth, he pulled away.

#lookism #gun park #lookism manhwa #park jonggun #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #lookism x reader #yamazaki yuzuru #yamazaki yuzuru x reader

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pasukiyo · 2 years

Note

Can you do a Steve Harrington smut imagine where it’s the readers first time and she’s a little nervous but he reassures everything’s ok and he’s all sweet during it asking if she’s ok

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬.

— steve harrington x f!reader

warnings; the reader is a virgin, insecurities, reassurances, protected sex, aftercare :)

a/n; omg… i haven’t written in so long 😭 i’m so sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long for another imagine and i’m so sorry to the people who have sent in requests for taking like two months to update 💀 but i finally managed to write something, so i hope to get to my other requests soon! i hope you enjoy!

word count; 3.3k

as her eyelids fluttered closed and she hummed, relishing the feeling of steve’s palms soothing over her elbows, caressing the small of her back, she wondered to herself if finally, today would be the day that steve took her virginity. for the past few months if their relationship, she hadn’t been ready— what if they were moving too fast? what if he’d be disappointed by the sex? what if he’d leave after taking her virginity?

steve was patient— never did he ever want to make her feel rushed or uncomfortable. he’d learned from the mistakes he made in the past, and was determined this time to not screw things up.

which was why he dismissed her every time she insisted that she was ready.

it wasn’t that steve didn’t want to have sex with her— of course he wanted to. but he was afraid. he’d made so many mistakes in the past, lost so many people close to him because of his own selfishness, and he knew all too well he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt her.

he loved her too much.

she wasn’t sure what to feel.

she’d made up her mind long ago about him— she was in it for the long run. and she knew that he was what she wanted, she wanted him, to love him, to have sex with him. she wasn’t afraid anymore, but she wondered why could possibly be going through his head.

why did he reject her every time she said she was ready? why did he insist that they do nothing more than over the clothes stuff, why did he stop her every time her fingers dared venture beyond the waistband of his jeans?

as she moved closer to him, her hips pressing against his, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, today would finally be the day.

his tongue ventured the cave of her mouth, her fingers clutching desperately at the elbows of his long sleeve, her hips discreetly moving back and forth against his lap, seeking out that friction she desired. steve’s palms trailer down to her hips, and for a moment, she believed that this was it— he was giving in.

all up until he hummed against her lips before pulling away, tightening his grip on her hips to halt their movement.

“we should stop.”

she could feel her heart sink in her chest at his words, eyes shaped into upside down crescents as steve untangled his limbs from hers, running his fingers through the hair atop of his head. she leaned back against his headboard, the familiar sting of tears burning the rim of her sockets.

did he really not want her after all?

“why?”

steve didn’t hear it at first, and he turned towards her to read her face, wondering why she had been silent. he blinked when he read her expression, lips swollen from his kiss curved down into a frown, her irises murky with a certain sadness he couldn’t place. his heart thud against his chest at the sight and he reached for her hand where it rested in her lap, locking his fingers with hers.

she didn’t even move a muscle.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he murmured, scooting himself closer until his thigh was pressed up against hers. her teeth gnawed at the inside of her mouth for a moment, desperate to ease the storm swelling inside of her. she was so tired of this— of having to explain herself, of having to constantly insist that this was what she wanted. all she wanted right now was for him to touch her—

—under the clothes.

“why do you always stop?” she questioned, her voice barely above a whisper. steve blinked again, his eyebrows furrowed as though he hadn’t any idea what she meant. “you never want to do anything under the clothes. i’m ready, steve. i want you to touch me.”

steve’s lips pressed themselves together, his expression softening as he caressed the side of her face, the pad of his thumb soothing over the high of her cheekbone. “babe, it’s not that i don’t want to touch you. it’s just you’re— you— i just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. i don’t want to rush you into anything that you don’t want to—“

“i’ve told you time after time that i’m ready,” she interrupted, squeezing the hand he had locked in hers. “i’m not a little girl anymore, steve, i know what i want.”

“i know that, it’s just—“ he trailed off, the lump in his throat visibly bobbing as he swallowed. “—i don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, squeezing her hand back, tighter this time. her own expression softened and she cupped his cheek in her palm, turning his head until she could gaze into his soft brown eyes, pecking the pout on his lips. “you won’t hurt me, steve, you could never hurt me,” she murmured, “but this is what i want. i’m not afraid anymore, and you know you’re what i want. so please, baby, don’t stop.”

her fingertips caressed the underside of his jaw, and she pressed a soft, tender kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck, leading his hand down to the button of her jean shorts. “touch me, steve,” she purred against his throat, nuzzling the top of her head against his ear.

how could he ever say no?

he gently pulled her down the mattress until her head was comfortable against the pillows, his fingers a match against the skin of her belly as he caressed her body, his lips kissing the spot of her neck just below her ear. small whimpers spilled from her open lips as she grasped the curve of his shoulder, bucking her hips forward into his as he worked her shirt up over her head, nothing but her lavender lace bra covering her chest.

“steve,” she mewled when he sucked at the delicate skin at her collarbone, his kiss lingering in the form of a red mark. his breath was hot against her flesh as he made his way further down her body, groping at her breasts, teasing at the straps of her bra. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath taken away by the view below him. “can’t believe i made myself wait so long for this,” he sighed as he let the straps of her bra slip down to her elbows, her back arching up off of the bed to allow him to unclasp it behind her.

she could feel her cheeks flush at the sudden realization that she’d soon be revealed fully to him, that she’d stand nude in front of somebody else for the first time. a sudden wave of insecurity surged through her, and her hands subconsciously covered her erect nipples as steve tugged her bra away from her arms, tossing it towards the ground. he leaned down to her hands, collecting each one in his whilst he pressed soft, tender kisses to either one of them. “you don’t have to hide yourself from me, baby,” he cooed against her flesh. “you’ve nothing to be scared about, i love you. you’re the most gorgeous girl i’ve ever, ever seen. you don’t have to worry about anything,” he reassured her, resting his chin against the valley of her breasts. “i’m ready whenever you are, pretty girl.”

he flashed a cheeky grin, and she tittered, slowly but surely removing her hands from her chest, exposing herself to him. she flushed beneath his gaze as he murmured sweet nothings into her skin, gawking at her breasts, rubbing circles just below them with his palms, carefully making his way up. “so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned closer, his breath hot against one of her nipples. “such perfect tits,” he purred before planting a kiss on the top of each of them, cupping them in his palms and squeezing.

“f..fuck!” she gasped, her back arching up off of the bed and her chest leaning into his touch. his smile was a crescent against her flesh as he kissed it, sucking his mark into her skin, his tongue spoiling her erect nipples. she panted and writhed beneath him, her fingers tugging at the roots of his hair, her opposite clawing at the fabric covering his shoulder blade.

her toes curled as he worshipped her breasts, taking his time with her before slowly pulling away, suddenly annoyed with his own shirt. his fingers tugged at the hem of his long sleeve, and she watched as he pulled it up over his head, her eyes finding their way back to the hair on his heaving chest, venturing downwards towards his soft stomach and the little happy trail leading down towards the waistband of his jeans. she reached forwards to cup her hand behind his neck, pulling him back down to her to swell his lips with her kiss, moaning into his warm mouth.

“you ready?” he asked against her lips, tapping the hem of her jean shorts as he smoothed her hair away from her face, giving her nose a quick peck. “mhmm,” she nodded frantically, and he chuckled, pressing one more kiss to her forehead before he worked at the buttons of her shorts, lifting her hips up and off of the mattress to tug them down her legs. steve’s palms caressed the newly exposed skin of her hips, lowering himself to the waistband of her panties to press a kiss just above it, his kisses trailing down, down, down over her covered cunt, and down to the inside of her thighs, leaving marks there as well. “god, i can feel how wet you are through your panties,” he sighed, his fingers rubbing over her clothed pussy, her lips falling agape, a while tumbling out soon after.

“please,” she gasped, fingernails clawing at the sheets. steve’s fingers curled around the waistband of her panties, “please what?” he teased, his digits at a standstill. she peeled her eyelids open and furrowed her brows down at him, wrinkling her nose at what he wanted her to say. steve smirked, “how am i supposed to know what you want me to do if you won’t tell me?” he pouted, feigning innocence, batting his eyelashes.

“steve!” she whined, her hands covering her face. “just.. just touch me!”

steve tilted his head, “what’s the magic word?”

“touch me right now.”

he suppressed a laugh, instead raising an eyebrow.

she sighed, throwing her hands back down to her sides, “please touch me, stevie,” she murmured, turning her head, shying away from his reaction. steve chuckled, reaching for her hand and planting a kiss down to her knuckles, “so adorable,” he praised before tugging her panties down too, leaving her completely and utterly nude.

she jumped at the feeling of the cold air hitting her sex, her knees subconsciously pressing themselves together to veil herself away. steve was quick to cup either of them, carefully pulling them apart to unblock his view. she didn’t dare look at his face as he admired her pretty, little pussy, glistening and throbbing just for him. “look at you, pretty girl,” he hummed, leaning down between her legs for a closer look. “you’re dripping.”

her heart did somersaults in her chest, his breath fanning over her aching clit driving her wild. “stevie,” she mewled, rutting her hips into nothing. “i know, baby,” he cooed, his palm soothing over the top of her pussy. his lips pressed a kiss there, rocking her body with shivers, her toes curling into the sheets as his lips lowered. he was close, so close to where she wanted him and—

“oh, f..fuuuuckkkk!” she whined when he pressed a kiss to her needy clit, the tip of his tongue teasing her entrance when he licked a stripe up her slit. he hummed at her taste, greedily lowering his head back down for more. “god, you taste so good,” he growled as he lapped at her clit, unable to tear himself away. she was too good, way too good.

she writhed at the sight of her boyfriend feasting on the sex between her legs, her thighs pressed against either side of his head as his hands gripped her hips, his tongue relishing in the fact that it was the first to ever get a taste of her pussy. her nectar coated his tongue, and he tore himself away, pretty pink lips glistening with her slick. “fuck, you’re too good,” he husked, giving her belly a soft tap before his fingers reached for his belt.

she sat herself up on her elbows as she watched him unbuckle his belt, tossing it down towards the mess of clothes on the floor of his bedroom, working the zipper of his jeans before finally tugging them down his legs, and her breath hitched at the base of her throat. she knew steve was big— she could feel it through his pants whenever they had their make out sessions— but god, how was it possible for someone to be that big?

the tip was already glistening with precum, the shaft hard as a rock, and it looked painfully hard. it slapped his stomach when it sprang out of his pants, and it bobbed up and down as he stepped out of his jeans, kicking them across the floor before crawling back over her body on the bed, capturing her lips in his kiss. her fingernails clawed at the breadth of his shoulders as his tongue rolled over hers, and she throbbed between the legs.

“you ready, baby?” he questioned when they finally broke away, and she watched as he fisted his cock, lips falling agape as he pumped himself, teeth pinching his bottom lip. he reached over to his bedside table for a condom, ripping the package alert with his teeth before guiding it down over his cock and she nodded, although apprehensive— was it possible for him to even fit?

steve seemed to have picked up on her nervousness, brown irises softening as he leaned down towards her with an elbow beside her head, his eyes searching through the waters of hers, and she stared back up into the soils of his. his fingers threaded through the tresses atop her head, the pad of his thumb soothing over her bottom lip. “are you okay?” he asked, “we can stop if you want, you know,” he reminded, placing a chaste kiss beside her lips. she shook her head, “no, i want to keep going.” she reached forward to slither a hand behind his head, her thumb caressing the small hairs there. “promise you’ll go slow?” she raised an eyebrow in question, and his lips curved up into a smile, pressing a soft kiss down on hers for reassurance.

“of course, honey. tonight is all about you,” he murmured before taking his cock back into his hand, giving it a few more pumps before leaning back, making sure the tip was lined up with her entrance. she shivered at the sight, and he reached forward for her hand, lacing his fingers together with hers. “you tell me to stop and i’ll stop, okay?” he nodded, making sure they were both on the same page. she nodded back, giving his hand a soft squeeze. “just tell me when to start moving, yeah?”

“yeah.”

with his hand not locked with hers, he gripped her hip, slowly thrusting his hips forward, easing his cock through her entrance, and her mouth fell open at the stretch, a shaky breath emitting before steve gathered her lips with his, distracting her as he pushed all the way in, her hips stuttering as her back arched off of the mattress. “st.. st—oh shit, steve!” she cried against his lips as his body fell flush against hers, his hands caressing her sides, shushing her and murmuring small praises into the shell of her ear. “fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight baby,” he growled, a string of curses following suit. “you’re taking me so well, honey, fuck.”

it was so much but not enough all at once. he was so big, and all she wanted was for him to ruin her. she whimpered behind closed lips as she nodded, tapping his shoulder. “you can.. fuck! you can move,” she gasped, and she needn’t say anymore. he slowly moved back out before pushing himself back in, and she cried, digging her fingernails further into his back, certain to leave marks. steve couldn’t suppress his own moans as she clenched around him, his grip so tight on her hips she was sure to have bruises by tomorrow.

“shit!” he cursed, snapping his hips, her body jolting along with his thrust. she whimpered, beckoning for him to go faster— fuck, she was already so close, he needn’t do much more. “so perfect, such a pretty girl, such a pretty fucking pussy,” he growled as his thrusts picked up their pace, his eyes scanning her face for any indication that he needed to slow down.

she cried again at a particularly hard thrust, and his hips stilled, much to her dismay. “no, please stevie, i can take it. please, fuck me harder, make me come, baby, please!” she begged, reaching for his hand, lacing their fingers together. he only smiled down at his girl before picking the pace back up once again, the sound of skin assaulting skin permeating his bedroom. “yeah? you can take it, pretty girl?” he hummed, leaning down so that they were eye level. “look at me, baby,” he purred, his breath hot against her lips as she slowly peeled her eyelids open, gazing up into his big, beautiful umber irises. “you can take it, yeah?” he mumbled, and she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck, tugging him closer until their foreheads were flush against one another’s.

“you’re taking my cock so fucking well,” he cooed, snapping his hips into hers. “this is your first time but you’re already a slut, huh baby?” she cried, feeling a knot tying itself together at the pit of her stomach as she nodded, toes curling into the sheets. “stevie, i— fuck— i think i’m going to c..come,” she mewled, clenching herself around his cock tighter. “fuck, yeah, baby?” he growled, fucking her faster, faster. “come for me baby. let me see how good i make you feel.”

she panted, letting her body take control, feeling herself clench tighter around his cock, letting herself go. a string of curses tumbled from either of their lips as she came, steve’s thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier until he finally spilled in his condom, his body falling on top of hers, panting right against her ear. sweat beaded down either of their faces as they chased air back into their lungs, and steve rolled over onto his side, reaching for something he could use to clean either of them off, settling on an old t-shirt he had discarded onto his floor who knows how long ago.

“you feeling okay?” he questioned as he cleaned up the mess between her thighs, and she smiled, nodded her head against his pillow sleepily. “more than okay,” she beamed as he tossed the shirt away once again, tying a knot over the opening of his condominium before discarding it into the garbage bin beside his bed. he leaned back against his headboard and tugged her into his lap, his fingers weaving through her tendrils, fingernails massaging her scalp.

“i can’t believe i denied you for so long,” he whined, pressing a kiss down to the crown of her head as she traced patterns between the hairs on his chest. she chuckled, “me neither.” he pouted at this and pulled her closer, his palm soothing over the curve of her shoulder. “you did so well, you know that?” he praised, giving her skin a soft pinch. “you sure it’s your first time?”

she chuckled, “i’m glad it was you,” she admitted, “i wouldn’t have wanted to lose my virginity to anyone else.”

steve smiled, his fingertips prodding against the underside of her jaw to guide her lips up to his for another soft, tender kiss. “i’m honored.”

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