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tommydarlings · 9 months

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Little Love Letters | c.s

pairing: dark!neighbour!mean!dom!carlos x sub!reader

warnings: psychotic behaviour, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, pure manipulation, inappropriate usage of ropes, usage of a knife, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, forced blowjob, gagging, brief mentions of killing somebody, brief mentions of stalking

w/c: 3.1k

summary: After receiving multiple creepy letters by an unknown stranger, you scarily run into the arms of your sweet, spanish neighbour carlos — sadly, you ran into the worst embrace you could have possibly ran into.

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Feeling lonely in your 20's is probably something a lot of people feel. The problem is, that literally all of your friends — who are the same age as you — are most definitely not lonely, they are either in a relationship or already married, one of your old Highschool friends just recently gave birth to her little babygirl.

And you are not even able to remember the last time when you talked to a man that wasn’t your gay best friend or your neighbour carlos.

Carlos, the kind Spaniard next door was very sweet and also quite attractive in your opinion, but you still never really felt the specific spark between the two of you when you crossed paths and talked for a bit.

But even though you had no partner and only a few friends that you barely saw since you’ve moved, you didn’t feel that alone.

Especially not since some unknown stranger — or maybe even 'secret admirer' sent you letters, every. single. day.

At first, you thought that it was a joke and ignored it, but after you’ve received the fourth letter, you knew that this was not a joke, this was serious.

Of course it scared and confused you, since nobody expect for your three friends know your new address, but at the same time, it wasn’t that bad.

Sometimes, this mysterious stranger filled the letter with sentences like,

“Each time i see you, you only get prettier.”

“You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, my love, ever.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now beautiful, wish I could feel your lips on mine.”

But sometimes they brought tears out of pure fear into your eyes,

“One day I will get you into my hands and I will never let you go, I promise you that y/n.”

“You will be mine, if you like it or not my darling, you will be mine.”

“I would kill for you, I would do absolutely anything for you y/n, anything you want me to.”

You gulped as you read those words, sometimes even wiping some tears away since some of his letters were filled with dark and psychotic sentences like that.

And since you were so scared — and also since it got everyday only worse and worse — you ran to the only person that you knew in this new town, your neighbour Carlos.

When you knocked in his door on a cold night at around 9 p.m., Carlos looked at you like you were crazy since you were only in a lose pair of jogger and a thin tanktop, making him quickly step aside and lead you into his cozy and especially warm home.

“Cariño, what are you doing here, don’t you have a jacket or a coat? C'mere,” he told you, placing his hand onto your back and leading you into his house, “It’s so cold outside, you’ll probably catch a cold y/n.”

But you only shook your head before you sat down onto the big couch in his living room, biting your lip before he got on his knees in front of you, being almost at eye level with you now.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Carlos quickly raised his brows before he scanned your body with his eyes, rough palms reaching out to grab your hands, turning your arms around and glancing at your unharmed skin.

You sighed before you pulled your arms away from his touch, briefly making him gulp. And if you haven’t lost your mind already, you could have sworn that you’ve noticed that he looked rather mad at you for a quick second as you basically threw his hands away, but you were probably just seeing things by now.

After letting out a long sigh, you shook your head, “N-No, I’m not hurt, don’t worry Carlos,” you spoke up, making him release a long breath, “I guess I’m just a bit…scared,” you admitted as you felt tears building up in your eyes, quickly trying to blink then away as the Spaniard furrowed his brows,

“Scared? Of what?” He asked you, lightly stroking your legs with his big palms now, listening to your voice explaining everything to him,

“It’s just, there are those extremely weird and scary letters that I’ve been receiving for a while now-”

Carlos immediately interrupted you, “For a while? Cariño, for how long? Why have you never told me,” he asked you in a strong Spanish accent.

“About a month now-”

“A month?” The Spaniard raised his brows, caressing your legs, “You should have told me y/n.”

You gulped before you shook your head and muttered a quick 'it's nothing' before you went on,

“Of course I felt a bit…watched as I got the first letter but the letter was actually filled with…really nice and sweet words, so I just smiled before I threw him away,” you continued your story, swallowing down some tears while you felt Carlos squeezing your knees almost like he was mad about the fact that you threw them away,

“But after some while the letters got…worse.”

Carlos tilted his head to the side, shaking his head before he spoke up with furrowed brows, “What do you mean when you say worse?” He asked you, thumb caressing your cold skin now,

You cleared your throat, “Well, they got creepier, sometimes this unknown stranger wrote things like, 'I would kill for you' or 'I am the only one you’ll need for the rest of your life,” you told him before you sniffled, quickly wiping a single tear away, making Carlos change his almost too serious facial expression in a matter of a second.

“Oh no, cariño,” he immediately spoke up as he noticed your wet eyes. Carlos raised one of his hands and wiped your tear away, cupping your cold cheek with his big, warm hand afterwards.

“Don’t cry, I know that all of this is very scary for you,” he mumbled reassuringly, “If you don’t feel save enough in your house, you can stay at my place tonight,” he suggested as you looked down at him, “I will keep you save, I promise,” Carlos told you with a sweet smile, making you laugh into his palm.

Carlos briefly laughed along before he stood up, towering over your sitting figure now, hand brushing your hair out of your face now,

“I will always keep you save, mi cariño,” he told you with more of a serious tone, only a tiny smile covering his lips now, making you quickly furrow your brows before you smiled up at him,

“Thank you, Carlos.”

“Oh,” he chuckled before he made his way to the kitchen, “No need to thank me.”

You wiped some more tears away before you stood up, Carlos standing in front of you now with two glasses filled with probably very expensive red wine, making you gasp.

“Only one glas, cariño, c'mon,” he smiled at you, basically pressing the glass filled with the alcoholic beverage already in your hand without giving you a chance to say anything.

You chuckled and flashed him a wide smile before you mumbled a quick 'okay', both of you saying a quiet 'cheers' before you emptied your glasses, Carlos closely watching you while you just enjoyed the wine.

“Wow,” you spoke up as you handed him the glass, “That was a really good one, not gonna lie…definitely needed that one,” he laughed at your statement, cleaning the glasses while you just stood in the big kitchen, slowly blinking your eyes.

Carlos turned his head and looked back at your slightly stumbling figure. And if you weren’t hallucinating, you could have sworn that you saw him smirking at you.

You gulped before you released a deep breath, smiling in his direction, or at least you tried to smile in his direction, “That w-was a s-strong one,” you chuckled before you heard Carlos chuckling as well, making you furrow your brows as you felt like the entire room was spinning around you, groaning as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Oh really?” He asked you, honestly, you were very surprised that you were even still able to understand him.

You swallowed before you touched your head, desperately trying to stop the spinning, “Y-Yeah, a very, very s-strong one, c-carlos,” you whined out, gulping a second time.

you blinked another time, and another time — and this time, your helping neighbour stood right in front of you.

“C-Carlos, I don’t feel,” you breathed out as you felt like you were on the brink of fainting, “so g-good,” you finished your sentence, quickly falling straight into the arms of the Spaniard, passing out in his warm embrace.

Carlos sighed after he caught you, “Each time I see you, you really do get prettier mi cariño.”

- - -

Waking up with a headache, with the feeling of a bit of dizziness and ropes around your wrists and ankles, was definitely something new for you.

Desperately, you tried to get free by tugging on the ropes that are attached to the wooden bedposts but no matter how hard you tugged on them, I didn’t work, there was no chance for you to escape any of this.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Carlos suddenly spoke up, making you lift your head and look with wide eyes at your Spanish neighbour. You gulped before you spook up with a trembling voice,

“C-Carlos,” you nervously breathed out, furrowing your brows as he stood next to your tied up figure, fingertips now gently running up and down your bare leg since he only left you in your underwear. “W-What is g-going on?” You asked him as you felt his hand creeping closer to your barely covered pussy.

Carlos only grinned down at you before he answered your question, “Let’s play a little guessing game, alright?” He tilted his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

Suddenly, Carlos pulled a little but sharp pocket knife out of his pocket, opening it, clearly wanting to make sure that you know how serious he is about his 'little guessing game', so you quickly nodded your head.

“Good,” he replied before he went on, “Do you think that… a man, send you those letters?” He asked you curiously, making you slowly nod, “okay,” he nodded along your silence answer, “Do you think that the man that send you those letters, knows you? I mean, like, has seen you before in person?”

You gulped before you nodded again, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as his big fingers started to circle your clit,

“Do you think that you know him?” Carlos asked you, briefly focusing his gaze onto his moving fingers now before he looked back at you.

You nodded again as tears build up in your eyes, hands tightly gripping the ropes as you felt like you were getting close to your release.

He nodded along again, “okay,” he quietly muttered, “Listen, I’ll give one last hint, alright?” Carlos asked you, making you quickly nod again,

“He said that if he gets you in his hands one day, he will never let you go, he promised you that,” he told you with a wicked smile on his lips right before you widened your eyes, tears gliding down your heated cheeks as he made you come through your panties with the tip of his fingers.

You wildly trashed around as you gasped and choked on your cries, sniffling and whining while Carlos slowed his movements down, eyes still looking at your face. He groaned,

“Just like that, mi cariño, that’s my good girl,” he whispered before he asked you, “Who do you think wrote those letters now?”

You gulped with fresh tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, squeezing your eyes shut as the realisation came over you, “Y-You did.”

He nodded, “That’s right, smart girl,” he quietly replied with a smile as his fingers left your pussy, gliding down to you ankles now,

“Since you were so smart and won the little game, I’ll get you out of those ropes now, okay?” He raised his brows as he lowered the little knife towards your ankle.

You barely had enough time to nod before he already removed the ropes around your ankles, quickly freeing your hands as well, giving you the ability to slowly sit up and look at him,

“What do we say? Thought you were so smart, baby.”

You gulped with tears in your eyes, “T-Thank you,” you slowly and softly replied, making him proudly smile down at you,

“No problem,” he replied with a nod of his head.

Then, Carlos stepped away from the bed, taking a few steps backwards until his back almost hit the door, making you furrow your brows before you wiped some of your tears away, focusing your gaze on his movements.

Carlos wiggled his pointer and middle finger in his direction, “C'mere,” he demanded in a quiet but stern tone, making you gulp before you stood up as well and slowly took cautious steps in his direction.

As soon as you were right in front of your fucked up neighbour, Carlos raised his head, clearly showing you that he’s visibly taller than you, making you feel unbelievably small in front of his broad figure.

“Get on your knees.”

You opened your mouth as you raised your head and looked up at the Spaniard, biting your lip as new tears made their way into your already wet eyes, “Oh no, no, no, mi cariño,” Carlos suddenly spoke up in a way softer tone as he cupped your cheeks, wiping some of the tears with the pad of his thumb away, “Está bien, solo ponte de rodillas por mí.” It’s okay, just get on your knees for me.

Without saying or doing anything else, you lowered yourself onto your knees since you were genuinely scared of him at the moment, knowing he could do anything he wants to you.

“Fuck,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, slowly running his finger through your hair, “Such a pretty sight, mi cariño,” he whispered in a deep tone while his other hand slowly unbuckled his belt, quickly freeing his very obvious erection.

You blinked some tears away since it all got so blurry by now, gulping again as he put the tip of his big cock in front of your still closed mouth.

“You know what to do, c'mon.”

Sniffling one last time, you opened your mouth, letting him shove himself into your mouth, hearing him groan and moan as he shoved himself so far into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

“C'mon,” Carlos whined a bit, faking a pathetic pout as you just focused yourself on breathing through your nose, “J-Just like that, f-fuck yes,” he groaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and took him as far as you possibly could, briefly making him smile down at you.

“Buena chica.” Good girl.

You whined around his big, wide dick, fingers squeezing his navy blue slacks as fresh tears blurred your vision again as you looked up at him while he forced himself down your throat.

Your neighbour groaned as he caught your gaze, briefly chuckling under his breath as he noticed your smudged mascara under your eyes. Suddenly, he quickly removed himself from you, having a tight grip on your head by the roots of your hair, “Apologise,” he demanded in a deep tone, making you furrow your brows as you sniffled.

“W-What?” You spoke up in a quite and unsure tone, “For what, c-carlos?”

Carlos threw his head back before he growled, harshly grabbing your head and forcing your face towards his erection again, mercilessly shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag again.

But he only forced himself for a split seconds down your throat, then he pulled out again and forced you to look up at him, “Apologise,” he harshly repeated but you were still confused.

You whined, “F-For wh-” but before you were able to finish your sentence, Carlos forced his cock down your throat again, holding your head in that exact position for a few seconds before he let you go and pulled away again, groaning as he did so while you only whined and sniffled, quickly wiping some of your tears away.

His next move suprised you a bit, Carlos slowly bended down so he was eye level with you and wiped your tears away, pouting a bit and actually looking sad and sorry, “Do you really don't know what I mean?” He asked you in a rather kind tone, quickly making you shake your head as he wiped new tears away, stroking your cheeks afterwards.

He slowly nodded, “okay mi cariño, I’ll give you a hint again, alright?” He tilted his head to the side before you nodded your head, “o-okay.”

“What did you do with the first letters after you’ve read them?” Carlos asked you in a deep but kind tone, making you bit your lip as you through about what you’ve done after you’ve opened them and read them — and then it made click.

“I-I threw them a-away,” you slowly answered as soon as Carlos rose to his feet again, sternly looking down at you now, “exactly,” he nodded.

You gulped before you squeezed your eyes shut and quickly spoke up, smiling a tiny bit to make it seem more believable, “I am s-so sorry, c-carlos,” you wildly claimed, “I regret t-throwing them a-away! I swear t-that as soon as I-I'm home, I’m g-gonna get them o-out of the trash b-bin and f-frame them in my b-bedroom, I promise!”

Carlos only furrowed his brows and confusingly tilted his head to the side, “As soon as you're home? Mi cariño, you are at home! And don’t worry baby, I’m gonna go over to your house then and get them out of the trash bin for you and frame them myself,” he proudly told you, “and then we can hang them up! Either in the living room or the bedroom, wherever you want pretty girl,” carlos stated with a small smile as you gulped before you slowly nodded,

“O-Okay,” you answered before Carlos spoke up again, “Does that sound good for you, baby?”

You quickly nodded, “Y-Yes carlos,” you said, “sounds g-great.”

He stroked your cheek, briefly bending down to kiss the top of your head, “Perfect, I love you,” he claimed with a happy smile.

You looked up at him, briefly furrowing your brows before you replied, “I l-love you t-too.” You mumbled as you leaned into the touch of his palm with salty tears in your eyes.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #f1 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot #Carlos sainz angst

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enthusiasticharry · 1 year

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the one where YN is a rising star in 1940's Hollywood, and Harry sets his eyes on her even though she's married.

author's note: two posts in two weeks? who am i? so thankful for all of the love on Desire i'm so glad you enjoyed it, and i hope you enjoy Glitz and Glamour just as much. posts are probably going to slow down again (very sorry just have a lot on plate going back to work, ugh) but imma promise that i'm not going to be gone for long, and there may even be a new series in the works ;) love ya lots!

word count: 10k of glitz, glamour, smut, fluff, angst and everything in between. (don't forget harry being a sexy rock star)

let me know what you think of Glitz and Glamour here! mwah <3

Hollywood, 1946

“I told you, Marshall, I’m not doing it.”

YN sat in her husband’s office; the pinstripe pencil skirt suit she had on giving her a sense of confidence to say what she really wants to in front of her husband. It wasn’t that she was usually a pushover in front of her husband – but his power scared her.

YN had met Marshall Miller when she was twenty-one, and she had just moved to Hollywood with nothing but a small suitcase full of all her personal belongings and a dream on her shoulders. It was at a scouting audition that she’d first met him, and YN knew that there were two things that were working on her side. The first was that she had a strive and a power to be the best actress that she could ever be, and the other was that she knew how to have men in the palm of her hand.

From being cast in her first film that day (even if it was only a minor role) she had Marshall Miller in the palm of her hand and she was holding on tight. She was in three more Marshall Miller films across the next three months, and in the fourth month of living in Hollywood she was married to one of the most influential directors in the business.

Obviously, YN had never planned for her marriage to be a business move (it was from her opinion, she didn’t know about Marshall), but she had to roll with the punches that this town gave her. She knew she would never love Marshall, but she couldn’t lie and tell herself that she didn’t appreciate the opportunities that he bestowed upon her.

That included this one – the first time that she was going to be a leading lady in a film that wasn’t just the wife of an important male lead. However, things weren’t exactly working to her plan when she received a revised version of the script which included a slightly more sexual scene (fine, whatever) but that also included her being nude.

This was the one thing that she had discussed with Marshall when she was first scouted – that she would do everything that she asked to, but she wouldn’t get nude in any scene she did. That would change the game for her acting – any last hopes for her to be known as an acting force in this life would be out of the window and she would be renamed as a ‘sex-symbol’ which wasn’t the life that she was looking for.

“I’m sorry, YN but you don’t have a choice.”

“I do have a choice, Marshall,” YN stood her ground, leaning forward in her chair and tapping her red-painted nails on top of his desk, “This is my body, Marshall, and I don’t want it recorded for everyone to see.”

“I think you’re forgetting something, YN,” He leans back in his chair and sparks up a cigarette, a look on his face that scares her and angers her all at the same time, “We’re married, you signed a contract to these studios – I own your body and what we want you to do with it.”

YN didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know whether to scream, cry or laugh her way out of the room. Instead, she stood up and spat, “Fuck you, Marshall,” at him and stormed out of the room.

There was no way in fuck that she was going back to work right now, and there was equally no way that she was going home where she may have to deal with the backlash of her actions towards her husband today – so she went to the next best place.

YN had found out about the bar that she had just walked into through some of the girls at the studio. It was a bar that many of the elite in Hollywood came to, mainly because it was underground and normally anything that happened there was kept under wraps by everybody there. It was an amazing bar, and YN loved it so much. She also knows that Marshall knows nothing about the bar, so she was completely safe.

Walking towards her normal seat at the bar, she sees that her favourite bartender in the entire world wiping a glass behind the bar. Once Bruno saw her, he beamed a smile in her direction and motioned for her to sit down. He immediately started making her a Manhattan, her favourite drink, and giving her an extra cherry because he knows she loves them.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, darling,” Bruno leans against the bar with a smile on his face, watching as she probably took a larger-than-ladylike gulp of her drink, “Rough day?”

“You know it,” She smiled at him as she slipped one of cherries off the stick and placed it into her mouth, “Thanks for this, Bruno.”

“Anytime, darling.”

To the watching eye, it would’ve been a sad sight to see YN sat by herself having multiple drinks, but it was what she needed. She didn’t know what she was going to go home to tonight and in the few months that she had been married to Marshall she knew that she could be walking into anything.

The last time that she had dared stand up in front of Marshall was a few weeks into her marriage to him, and it had ended up with him smacking her across the face. She didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t know what he signed up for when marrying her and thought that she was just going to be this perfect little wife that took everything that he said with a smile. That wasn’t the case, and YN really received the brunt of that.

That was the only singular time that Marshall had laid his hands on YN, but that was mainly because YN was strategic the next times that she said anything and made sure that she had an escape route planned so that she wouldn’t have to deal with anything like that again. Knowing that if she hadn’t left that office when she did, she would probably have had to endure something that scares her to death – but these were the games that she had to play.

YN didn’t know how long that she had been sat at the bar, but she knew that she had downed three Manhattan’s and Bruno was just placing down her fourth. She smiled at him, but he seemed to linger.

“What is it, Bruno?”

“You seem to have an admirer, Mrs. Miller.”

YN was confused by his words, but she knew that he obviously meant something. What YN didn’t expect was for probably the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. He was wearing a pinstripe suit, similar to her own but it was white and grey. His hat rested on the table next to him, and he had a drink which she could guess was whiskey in his hands. The second that he lifted up his drink to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her so she had to.

The second she looked away YN felt a heat rising right up her body. She pressed her hand up to the back of her neck, hoping that her hands were cool enough to spread through her body.

YN knew that she could attract men, but the circle that she was now in (especially being married to Marshall) meant that men sort of avoided her at all costs. However, right now Marshall was nowhere to be seen and every though she was in a place where some people she knows would be, there weren’t any here now. Even though that she could have some fun, she still had to remember that she was married.

That was a little bit difficult when she realised that he was no longer across the room from her but actually stood right next to her. Bruno looked at her once with wide eyes before turning to the stranger that had just invited himself to sit next to her.

“Another drink, Mr. Styles?”

“Please,” He nodded his head, placing his now empty glass on the bar in front of them, “And another one for the lady, on me.”

YN hadn’t notice that she had finished her drink, but once she had placed it down and took one fleeting glance in the stranger’s direction, she found herself heating up all over. She had definitely not expected a British accent. Even though she had quite a few drinks, she wasn’t drunk – maybe just a little tipsy.

“That really isn’t necessary, sir,” She placed her glass down, offered him a small smile and shook her head slightly.

“I think it is,” He nodded, “A beautiful girl shouldn’t be sat alone, paying for her own drinks.”

“Well…” YN had no idea what to say, and that wasn’t a state that she found herself in a lot, “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem,” As he leaned on the bar, turning on his side slightly so that he was looking directly at her she couldn’t help but look, even though every rational part of her brain was telling her not to, “It’s the least I can do.”

When both of their drinks were placed down in front of them, YN made it pretty obvious that she was married by picking up her drink that had her rings on it, and they weren’t rings that anyone could miss. It was Marshall’s second marriage, but he wasn’t sparing any expenses on his much younger bride.

YN watched his face as he realised, a light scoff of a laugh escaping his lips as he picked up his own drink.

“That’s a lovely rock you’ve got on your finger there.”

“Oh,” She extended her hand out in front of her, “This old thing?”

He laughed at her attempt at a joke (which seemed to work) and she couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. The way his face lifted when he laughed, and the dimples that he showed, and don’t even get her started on his hair.

“I must say, I am a little surprised to see a married lady in here without her husband to accompany her.”

“What’s to say he isn’t here? Or that I’m not waiting for him to come?”

“If you are waiting for him, he’s an asshole for making you wait forty minutes.”

The stranger had caught her there, but she made sure that her face was set so that he couldn’t see that he had shocked her.

“Oh, so you have been stalking me now, sir?”

“No, I wouldn’t say stalking,” He laughed, running a hand through his bouncy curls, “More so that I can admire beauty when I see it.”

YN couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t enjoying the attention that she was receiving – because she very much was. This were the years that she was supposed to be in her prime, and the second that this handsome stranger took one look at her she should have had him in the palm of her hand. That wasn’t the case, as she always had Marshall lingering in the back of her mind.

Even though she knew that Marshall had been unfaithful to her (He was a director in Hollywood, for Christ’s sake) she didn’t know whether she could stoop to that level. There was also the slight issue of what Marshall would do to her, and the other person that was involved. There were so many moving parts to a marriage that was a business action, YN had quickly noticed.

“Anyway, who is this husband of yours? The one who doesn’t even come out for a drink with his wife?”

YN scoffed, slightly taken aback by audacity of this man to ask such a question when he hadn’t even told her his name, “Why would you like to know?”

“Maybe I know him,” He shrugs, “Know a lot of people around her, and I also wouldn’t be opposed to telling him how he’s supposed to treat a beauty like yourself.”

YN couldn’t believe what she is hearing, “Sir, what makes you think I’m just going to tell you my husband’s name and I don’t even know yours.”

“Harry Styles,” He holds his hand out for her, which she accepts with her ring clad hand.

“YN Miller.”

“Miller, that’s right,” He laughs, “I knew I recognised you. I do know who your husband is, Marshall Miller.”

Well, shit. That didn’t exactly go the way she planned, but at the end of the day everyone knew about her and Marshall. From the first time that they had been spotted outside the studio together, to the day that they made their red-carpet debut as a couple – everyone was reading about them.

There were times that it annoyed YN more than she could explain that every time she read an article about herself, the mentions of her acting came second every time to her marriage to Marshall. The marriage gave her the roles she wanted, but not the attention. The role in the new movie would give her the right attention, but if she followed through with the nudity she would be finished as an actress – that’s for sure.

“Of course, you do,” She smiles, “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Styles, but I think I may be off now.”

She grabs her purse and stand ups. As she turns to walk away, she feels a hand grab her wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but just a soft grip to keep her still.

“Look, I may know who your husband is, but my point still stands,” He offers her a smile, “And if you feel like this in the future, my band’s playing at Ciro next week and I’d love to see you there.”

When YN walked into the house she lived in with Marshall, it was eerily silent. YN knew that he was here, because her car was on the driveway, it was just finding him that would be the main issue. YN knew that she wasn’t up for a fight, and that was why she decided to just kick off her heels and make her way upstairs.

Growing up in a small town, in a flat in New York that was as big as the bathrooms in this house meant that there was a lot for YN to get used to. The fact that sometimes she wasn’t even allowed to make her own food, or just clean if she wanted to really got to her. There were small domestic things that she grew up with that she missed, but it meant that she appreciated the people who did even more and treat them much better than Marshall ever did.

As she made her way upstairs, she beelined through the bedroom and into the closet where she knew that Marshall never went. So, imagine her surprise when he was sat there with his tie a mess and his shirt unbuttoned. To say that her husband was twenty years older than her, she couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t handsome. The problem wasn’t his looks, or even his personality on his good days – but the way he treated people, YN included.

“You’re late,” He muttered into his glass as he lifted it up to his lips, “Where have you been?”

YN didn’t stand and look at him any longer. She started unfastening her necklace and walked over to her dressing table. Unfortunately, the way that the mirror was angled she could still see him staring at her.

“Sorry, I went out,” She placed her jewellery neatly on the side, “I was with Rosie and Sally. You know what it’s like when we get together – the time just runs away with us.”

“Huh,” He scoffs into his glass.

YN felt as though she had been caught, “What?”

“It’s just funny, that’s all,” He leant forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “Because just after you stormed out of my office, I went to find Rosie and Sally to ask where you were, and they hadn’t seen you.”

“I went to the bathroom first, if you really want to know,” She sighed, turning so that she was looking at him, “I went to the bathroom, for a while because I couldn’t believe that my husband was such an asshole and needed to get myself together before I went to find them.”

YN couldn’t believe sometimes that she was such a good bloody actress, on screen and in her daily life. It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell Marshall that she had gone to a bar on her own, but the lingering thought of Harry in the back of her mind and knowing that she didn’t know how well she would have been able to cover that up meant that she had to think on her feet.

Deciding enough was enough, she stood up and started to remove her clothes as she walked into the bathroom ready to take her makeup off.

“Don’t you walk away from me, YN!”

“It wasn’t like you were saying anything, Marshall!”

As she made it into the bathroom, she leant forward on the counter with her hands and sighed. She knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind her, so when he walked in and grabbed her shoulders, tightly and turning her so that she was facing him – she wasn’t that shocked. However, the feeling of his nails pressing into her skin did have her wincing a little bit.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” He says, and she can smell the alcohol so strong on his breath.

“It sounded like we had, Marshall,” She responded, trying to ignore the feeling of her on his skin.

“I’m not talking about that bullshit in there,” He spits, “I’m talking about the conversation in my office earlier.”

YN prided herself on the fact that not much in this life scared her, but Marshall was the one thing that scared her continuously.

“I told you, Marshall,” Her voice came out a little meeker now, “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s not up for discussion, YN,” He lets out a deep breath, “Think of all the money we’ll get. People want to see you, I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“I’m not doing it Marshall,” She shakes him off her and he stumbles back. He runs a hand over his face and starts to walk in a circle, “I told you; I’m not parading myself just because it’ll get your rocks off seeing me naked on the big screen. I don’t care about the money.”

He stalked closer to her, so that they were almost nose to nose and lifted his hand up and placed his thumb and pointer finger together, “You’re this close, YN. This. Close.”

He was pushing her further and further towards the counter, so that her back was painfully pressed against it, and she couldn’t breathe properly. She knew that there was only one way that was going to be fixed if she didn’t think on her feet.

“Look, Marshall, I’m not going to get fully nude – I won’t,” He let out such a deep breath that his nostrils flared, and she was bracing for impact, she even lifted up her hands, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.”

He dropped his hands away from her and took a step back, “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you do what the French are doing, eh?” She shrugged her shoulders, watching as he started to pace, “Why don’t you tease it?” He wasn’t saying anything, so she continued, trying to regulate her breathing as she did so, “The scene, yeah? She’s taking her robe off for him in their bedroom, how about the camera isn’t on her front, but it cuts to her back. And it stops, so it’s teasing her without fully showing everything. It can just be the top of my arse, Marshall.”

When he continues to not say anything, she moves towards him slightly so that he’s stood in front of her.

“Think about Marshall, when everybody knows that may get to see me nude, but they’re teased with it,” She places a light hand on his back, and he turns to look at her, “The money will be even better than if we did show my whole body, because people will be wanting more.”

He nods his head and looks at her with a beaming smile on his face. She squealed slightly as he placed a hand under her thighs and lifted her up, so she was sat on the counter.

“Knew there was a reason I married you,” He smiled, leaning to place a kiss to her neck, “Not just a pretty face, are you?”

Even though she should have been enjoying herself in the company of her husband at this point, the fear that she had felt earlier was still there and for some reason, all she could think about was the curly haired man that she had met earlier.

YN had really debated going to Ciro the following week. There were pros and cons to going, but all she could think of was the shit that her husband had put her through during the week and how she could feel like a young woman if she went and saw the man, she had met the prior week.

It didn’t take long for that decision to be made for her when she had been speaking to Rosie and Sally earlier and it had somehow been brought up in conversation that she had received an invitation by Harry Styles himself to watch him in Ciro and the two of them had almost burst in excitement at that revelation.

That’s what lead YN to be stood outside the queue of Ciro, Sally and Rosie in tow as she finally made it towards the front. The was a man stood outside the door with a clipboard, and the largest man that YN had ever seen in her life.

“Name?”

YN had no idea that she was supposed have her name on a list, and she knew it was probably very unlikely that her name was on the list.

“Uh, YN Miller.”

“Oh,” The man with the clipboard seemed shocked when he looked up to see her stood there, “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Miller. Mr. Styles has reserved a table for you. I’ll show you there now.”

Even though YN was a little shocked and surprised, with one fleeting glance and Sally and Rosie she nodded and followed the man into the club. This wasn’t her first time in Ciro’s, but it was the first time she had been, and it was so packed. YN was convinced that they had even put extra tables in.

“This is for you, Mrs. Miller. The best seats in the house,” He smiled and pulled her chair out for her.

“Thank you,” She smiled politely.

“Please let us know if we can get you anything,” He smiled, “Mr. Styles has left a bottle of champagne for you and your guests.”

“Thank you.”

When the man walked away, and a waiter came over to open the champagne she couldn’t believe what was happening around her. Rosie and Sally looked as though they were going to burst (for the second time that day). Once the glasses were poured and the waiter had moved away, YN turned to her friends with wide eyes.

“I had no idea that this was going to happen,” She laughed, picking up the glass in front of her, “But I’m not complaining.”

“How did you even meet this man?” Rosie asks, picking up her own glass.

“I told you!” YN laughs, “I met him at Bruno’s. I was sat on my own and he joined, that’s it.”

“You must have made a lasting impression to receive a reserved table, and a bottle of champagne, YN.”

YN laughed, “I honestly didn’t. I forgot that it had happened until you mentioned him earlier.”

That was a lie, and a big one at that. YN had spent the last week toying with herself. Every time Marshall was nice, she felt guilty for even considering it, but the second he went back to his own ways she wanted to go even more. Today they had filmed the scene that had caused all those arguments and if that hadn’t made her completely sure that she was going, then the conversation with Sally and Rosie earlier surely did.

What YN hadn’t realised from their conversation was that Harry was just as famous as she was in Hollywood, and probably the world. YN even knew some of his songs (Sally and Rosie were big fans), but she had never seen his face or known his name so she couldn’t correlate the two together.

“I think you forget that we know you, YN,” Sally adds, “And we can tell that something has been on your mind.”

“It was nice, okay?” YN shrugs, “That was it. Nice to feel like I wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old married woman for once, and that someone was interested in me. Now shut up so we can watch the show and enjoy.”

YN knew that Harry was talented just by the few songs that she had heard, but nothing could have prepared her for hearing him live. The way that Harry commanded the stage, and how everyone in the room was just mesmerised by him when he opened his mouth was something that nobody could prepare her for.

YN didn’t know how long that he was singing for, but she didn’t look anywhere but him. It was about halfway through when he noticed her, and even had to do a double take just to make sure that she was actually there. It made her laugh, and he couldn’t hide her smile. He didn’t stop though; it was as though he was born to be on that stage, and everybody was eating it up.

Just before the end of his set, he called one of the waiters over to the bottom of the stage and whispered something in his ear. YN couldn’t help but be intrigued at what he had said, but the ending of his and the standing ovation ended that quickly.

“Thank you everyone, and thank you Crio for being lovely hosts,” He smiles, pushing his hair back of his face, “I’m Harry Styles, and we’ll be here for the next few nights if you’re interested in coming again. Thank you!”

As he and his band left the stage, YN couldn’t help the beaming smile that was on her face. All of the worries that she had in the world didn’t matter at this point, because she had one of the best nights of her life.

“Sorry, Mrs. Miller,” YN nodded and leaned closer to the waiter so that she could hear him over the chatter in the room, “Mr. Styles has invited you and your party backstage.”

“Oh,” YN looked at Rosie and Sally to see their opinion on the matter, and their beaming smiles suggested that it was maybe a good idea, “Thank you, yes.”

The girls picked up their purses and followed the waiter through a side door, and down a long corridor until they were stood in front of a door that said ‘H.Styles’ on it. He knocked twice before opening the door, revealing Harry and his band sat on the sofas with drinks in their hands.

“Mr. Styles, your guests.”

As Harry realised that it was YN walking in, he immediately stood up and made his way over to her.

“Mrs. Miller, a pleasure,” He placed a kiss to her hand, which had her biting her lip. He then turned to the waiter and thanked him before turning back to her, “Thank you for joining me, and I’d like to thank your guests for coming too.”

Once introductions had been made throughout the entire group, Rosie and Sally found them conversing with Harry’s guitarist, Mitch, and drummer, Sarah. YN was sat on a sofa with the man himself, a Manhattan in her hand that Harry had ordered without a blink of his eye. YN had almost known Marshall a year and he still couldn’t get her drink right. He had even remembered the extra cherries.

“So,” He smiled, sipping his own drink, “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did,” She laughed, “Who know there was so much talent hiding behind all that hair?”

He laughed, and YN couldn’t help but joining in. There was an ease about talking to him, as though she didn’t have to worry about anything that she said because she knew that there wouldn’t be a single repercussion.

“But in all seriousness, Mr. Styles,” She smiled, “Thank you. It was an amazing show, and you were ever so generous to us.”

“No need for the Mr. Styles here, Mrs. Miller,” He shook his head, “Please just call me, Harry.”

“Only if you promise to call me, YN,” She smiled, “Mrs. Miller makes me sound so old.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “I don’t think I should comment on that.”

“No, I don’t think you should either.”

The conversation just flowed between them. They discussed their childhoods – when YN realised, she wanted to be an actress, and when Harry realised, he wanted to be singer. There was never a lull in the conversation, and she laughed in a way that she hadn’t for a while. Not only was this man handsome and talented, but he was funny as well? It was as though YN couldn’t catch a break.

“I’m going to go out for a smoke,” He placed his drink down and stood up, “Would you like to join me?”

YN didn’t even hesitate before agreeing. She stood up and followed the man outside, watching as he lit his cigarette and blew it out in such a way that she was almost having to cross her legs. YN wanted to feel guilty, she really did – but she just couldn’t.

“Should you really be doing that?” She asked, accepting the cigarette from him, “Doesn’t it ruin your voice?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” He shrugged, and YN couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach as she wrapped her lips around the cigarette where his own had just been, “But, as they say, it’s easier to start them then stop them.”

YN laughed and passed it back to Harry. She leant against the wall, moving a rock around lightly with her shoe. There was one question that she had wanted to ask Harry since getting her, but she just hadn’t had the nerve to until now, since he was alone with just her.

“Harry?” She asked, looking up at him as he hummed and nodded in her direction, “Why did you invite me here?”

“What do you mean?” He shrugged, moving closer to YN so that he was stood leant on the wall near where she was stood.

“Well, you could’ve invited anyone to come and watch you. It isn’t as though your limited on options,” YN shrugged, “It isn’t as though there’s a romantic element between us, seeing as though I’m married.”

“There isn’t?”

“Excuse me?” YN couldn’t help the furrow in her eyebrows at his words. She truly had no idea what he was getting at by saying what he did.

“I’m just a little confused by you saying that there isn’t a romantic element between us,” He shrugs, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it with his shoe, “I’m just a little confused, married or not, why you would come if you didn’t feel anything.”

“There is such thing as a man and woman being friends, Harry.”

“Is that all this is, YN?” He asks, and YN has to ignore the flips in her stomach as he walks towards her, stopping just inches away from her, “Friends?”

“Harry –”

“If friends are all you see this as, then friends are all we’ll be,” He says, not taking his eyes away from hers, “But I can’t lie and say that I don’t really want to kiss you right now.”

Even though YN should be thinking of Marshall right now, her husband, all she can think about is how it would feel to kiss Harry. More specifically, right at this very second. There had never been any attraction (on her part, anyway) between herself and Marshall, but that wasn’t the case between herself and Harry. In all honesty, she doesn’t think she’s ever been attracted to anyone like she is with Harry. It made it so much easier that there wasn’t just an attraction, but an ease when they talked as well – as though she could say anything to him.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, YN, I promise.”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Harry,” She noted, “Why me? Out of everyone you’re seeking out the one thing that you can’t really have.”

“It may be wrong, but I know what I feel YN, and I think you feel the same way.”

Even though YN hesitated before saying the next words, he was right. YN did feel the same way, and even though it was wrong she couldn’t help it. She felt guilty, but maybe if Marshall was nicer to her, she may not have been able to go through with it.

YN nodded her head lightly, whispering, “I do feel the same way.”

Those words were all it took for Harry to lean forward and place his lips on hers. The feeling of Harry kissing her, and his hands on her skin were unlike anything she’d ever felt before in her life. YN couldn’t remember the last time she kissed someone that wasn’t on-screen or her husband, and it felt nice to kiss someone that she wanted to. His hands on her cheek, and she gripped his shirt to pull him closer to her.

YN was the first to pull away, mainly because she was running out of breath, but she couldn’t help the smile that etched across her lips. Harry had one on his too, a boyish smile that she just wanted to kiss off his lips.

She let out a sigh and dropped her head back against the brick of the wall behind her, “Shit.”

The next time YN saw Harry was a week later. Marshall was out at meal with some of his friends, and she had claimed that she wasn’t up for socialising and was just going to go home to bed. What Marshall didn’t know was that she was going over to Harry’s apartment that he rented whilst he was in town.

For about a week after she and Harry kissed against the wall around the back of Ciro’s she had felt ever so guilty. It was only until around halfway through the week that YN walked into his office and his secretary was just leaving and he not only had his tie askew, but he also had lipstick around his face and the entire room smelt of sex. YN decided that the best thing she could do was to ignore it, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t noticed it.

It meant that she was more excited to see Harry and have an intellectual conversation with him and just enjoy herself. It was nice to feel wanting, and that’s what Harry made her feel.

That’s why she was enjoying herself more than she was going to admit, sitting at his dining table as she watched him flounce around the kitchen making sure that everything was made for their dinner to perfection. It wouldn’t have been the best decision for them to go out, seeing as though anyone could have spotted them so Harry had offered to cook, and YN wasn’t going to say no.

“Just you wait,” He smiled at her as he drained out the water from the pasta, “This is going to blow your mind – the best pasta you’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?” She grinned, “Well, we’ll just have to see. I’ve had my fair share of amazing meals if I do say so myself.”

“Nothing like this, darling,” He grinned, shaking the pasta out, “I promise.”

There was something about watching him in the kitchen that YN could get used to. The little apron he had one, and the slightly flustered state that he was in. She was smiling throughout the entire time he was in the kitchen, and also afterwards when they were eating.

In all honesty, it was one of the best meals that YN had every had. He had made pasta in a tomato sauce with chicken and peppers, and she was enjoying every mouthful. She would never tell Harry that was the case, but by the way she finished her entire plate he maybe had a slight suspicion that was the case.

Throughout the entire meal, the tension that was brewing between the two of them was becoming slightly unbearable. It also didn’t help that she had a glass of red wine (which she doesn’t normally drink) and her cheeks were burning throughout the entire thing.

YN had offered to clean up the plates, but Harry shook his head and took them from her. She thought she was going to have to sit and watch him clean up the plates, but he just placed them in the sink and made his way over to her. It didn’t take long for him to be stood right in front of her and lean down to peck her on the lips.

YN lifted her hands up to wrap around his neck and that was all he needed to place his hands under her thighs and scoop her up, ignoring everything around them as he placed her upon his dining room table. As they pulled away, YN couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. He raised one of his eyebrows at her.

“You laughing at me?” Harry speaks, leaning down to pressed kisses along her exposed neck, “Sure you want to be doing that?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs, “What are you going to do if I do?”

He tugged her closer to him by her ankles, so that her legs were spread around his waist, “Just you wait and see.”

YN lifts her bum up slightly so that he can pull her trousers and panties down in one swoop. It felt strange to YN to be this bare in front of someone who wasn’t her husband, but the way that Harry was looking at her stopped all of the worries within her head.

Harry knelt down on the floor, so he was exactly face height with her. He placed kisses along her thighs as he made his way towards the part of her that she really needed him at. YN’s chest was rising and falling so quickly that she felt as though she may combust at any moment, but she knew that she had to keep it together. Once he had made it to that delicious spot between her legs, he couldn’t help but lean forward and place a kiss right on her wetness. Even the slightest of touch had YN withering – she honestly couldn’t believe how sensitive she was.

“Please, Harry,” Her back was beginning to arch off the table at how he was teasing her, “Please.”

“Please, what?” He asked, looking up at her with a grin on his face, “What do you want, love?”

“I want you to touch me, please.”

“Your wish is my command,” Without even a single hesitation, Harry leant forward and crashed his mouth right into her.

The feeling of his tongue against her, and his legs pushing her thighs apart, so she was completely exposed to him had her head dropping back in ecstasy. YN felt as though she was flooded down there, and he seemed to lap ever drop up with no complaints. It wasn’t until he started to swirl his tongue around her clit that she truly felt shock-waves throughout her body.

YN physically couldn’t arch her back off the table any further, and her head drops back with quite a heavy thump but all she could think about was the feeling of him along her sensitive nerve. He continues to flick her clit over and over, making sure that no matter how much she wanted to close her legs that she couldn’t. Not knowing what to grab, she reached forward and thread her fingers through his hair. Her mouth parted, and her breathing started to become more and more heavy, and her heart was beating faster than it ever had before.

YN had never felt anything like this before in her life. Obviously, her and Marshall have had sex in the past, but it was all about him and never about her. YN had never had somebody lick her there before, and in all honestly, she could get used to it more often.

“Oh, God, Harry!” He continued to attack her clit, and as he quickened the pace of his tongue, she knew that she wasn’t going to last much longer. YN had never felt so turned on in her life, and this wonderful man in between her legs was who she had to thank for that.

Harry is indicated that YN is close by the way her thighs started to tremble, and he tried his hardest to keep them still with pressure on them. Knowing that she’s so close, he works harder to make sure that she gets there. He switches between licking to sucking to then even flicking her clit quickly with his tongue. YN is fully pushed over the edge when he sneakily pushes one of his fingers into her, not stopping his attack of her clit.

“Harry!”

The sound of his name tumbling from her mouth only spurs him on further. YN’s orgasm ripples through her body, and her back arches so far off the table until she’s fully sat up. Even though she would want nothing more than to be looking at Harry, she physically can’t, and her eyes are firmly clamped shut. YN was gripping his hair so tight that it must have been painful for him, but she was so out of it that she had no idea.

YN’s body jerks as he pulls his mouth off of her, and slowly removes his fingers. Almost automatically, her weak knees buckle, and she’s propelled forward into his chest. He happily catches her and moves some of her damp hair off her face. When she finally opens her eyes, he’s beaming down at her with a smile on his face.

“Hi,” She smiles, trying to push herself deeper into Harry’s chest if that was even possible.

“Hi, darling,” He laughs, placing a kiss to the top of her head, “That good?”

“So good,” She lifts her head up to look at him and accepts a kiss to her lips, “Never felt like that before, Harry.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

The very idea of going home right now was the last thing on YN’s mind. In fact, she would rather do anything else that have to go back to Marshall in all of his glory. There was no chance that YN would ever be as comfortable with Marshall as she is with Harry.

The conversation just flowed so easily between them, and YN felt happy. It was such a shame that she couldn’t just stay and that she did have to go home. That didn’t stop Harry from giving her the hardest kiss she’d ever received before she left, so hard that she could feel her lips tingling from it when she stepped through the front door of her house.

A few weeks later when YN was called into Marshall’s office she couldn’t lie and say that there wasn’t a spring in her step.

The night after her first time at Harry’s, YN had been giggling at the memory at the most random times throughout the day. YN had been fast asleep in bed when Marshall had come home, and he had left when she woke up meaning that she hadn’t had to see him. His side of the bed had been obviously slept on last night, meaning that he had at least come home but she had no idea in what state.

Due to the fact that she had been teased by Harry at the experience of being with him, she wanted to be with him at any chance she got. That meant that whenever YN got any chance to sneak away from her real life and go see Harry, she did. YN was enjoying being with Harry so much, that it started to become so difficult to go home to Marshall who she knew would never make her feel the way that Harry did.

YN had no idea why she was being called into Marshall’s office, but when she saw the set look on his face the smile immediately dropped off her face.

“Take a seat, YN,” This certainly didn’t feel as though this was a husband talking to his wife.

“Everything okay?”

The second she sat down; Marshall slapped a newspaper down in front of her. YN reached forward to grab it and her heart immediately dropped to the put of her stomach at the headline across the main page of the newspaper.

Hollywood’s married sweetheart seen leaving rock-star Harry Styles’ apartment multiple times over the last few weeks.

They had been caught. YN couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t even as though they had been caught by Marshall, they had been caught by the media. YN didn’t know at this point if she would have rather been caught by Marshall and not have the whole world find out about it before she was ready for anyone else to.

YN was terrified to look up at Marshall. She didn’t know what to expect when she looked up at him from behind the paper. The second she did feel the confidence to place it down, YN felt as though anything could happen with the look on Marshall’s face.

“Is it true?”

“Marshall I –”

“Is it true?” The next time he asks he shouts at her, and the loud bang of his fist on his table had her jumping in her seat.

There was no way that she could lie. If she did, he was going to see right through her, and she had no idea how he would react to it. So, she decided to just tell the truth, no matter how difficult it may be.

“Yes,” Her voice came out as a whisper, but the look on Marshall’s face saw that he had heard her. She was so thankful that there was a desk between them because she had no idea what would happen if that wasn’t the case.

“Do you know what this means for us, YN?” He spits at her, “Do you know?”

“I’m so sorry, Marshall,” The tears were starting to collect in her eyes, “I really am.”

“You don’t get to be sorry, YN,” He dropped his hand on the table again, “You’re the one that’s been fucking everything you see.”

“It was one time, Marshall!” YN exclaimed and even though she was crying, there was an anger to her words as well, “Not like you. You’re the one who fucks everything you see, Marshall!”

“This isn’t about me, YN!” He stands up, both of his hands upon the desk, “This is about you, and what you’ve been doing.”

“So, you can fuck anybody that you want to for the entire time that we’ve been married, but the second that I find someone who cares about me and wants to be with me, I’m the worse one in this relationship?”

“You belong to me YN!” He exclaims, “Me! Not the fucking rockstar that you’ve been getting your rocks off with.”

“I belong to you?” She asks, unable to believe what she was hearing, “And do you not belong to me, Marshall?”

“We all known that isn’t the case, YN,” He shrugs, “I’m a director in Hollywood. I’m the best of the best. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Okay, Marshall,” That was all that it takes for YN to stand up, trying not to let him stop her from what she was about to do. Without any hesitation, YN pulls her wedding and engagement ring off of her hand and places it on the table in front of them. YN could see Marshall’s nostril’s flaring and she tried to ignore it but there was no way that she was going to get out of this unharmed, “We’re done.”

“That’s not your decision to make, YN.”

“It is, Marshall,” She shook her head at him, “I’m not putting up with this anymore, and you’re not going to stop me.”

“I think you’re forgetting that you have a contract with this studio.”

“For five films, Marshall,” YN spits, “And what film did we just finish – number five or did you forget?”

The look on his face that he knew she was right was all that YN needed to make her way towards the door. Just as she threw the door open, she was stopped right in her tracks by a glass breaking just by her head. Even though YN knew that the glass had cut her, and she could feel the sting over her body – she couldn’t stop now.

YN only hesitated for a second and she was out of that door and slamming it behind her.

“Get back here, YN!” Marshall shouted so loudly that the entire studio probably heard them, “We’re not done.”

They were, and YN knew that her life now had changed but she was ready for anything that it flew at her. She knew that even though she was now on her own, she wasn’t.

It didn’t take her long to fly home in her car, probably running every red light as she did. Hopefully she wouldn’t get pulled over by anyone but there was the possibility that she could be. The second she got to the house, she rushed up to her closet and grabbed everything that she could. Everything that could fit in her bag that she cared about, including her jewellery from her mother and all of her personal belongings.

The feeling of fleeing with her bag down the steps and out of her house reminded her of when she left home to come to Hollywood in the first place. It was almost a year ago that she moved, and here she was praying that the next year of her life wasn’t like this one.

It didn’t take her long to leave the house and make her way towards Harry’s house. The entire time she cried. It felt as though a part of her life was over, and not only that but she didn’t know how she was going to continue in her career. Her marriage and possibly her career was over in the space of one decision. She was going to have to work in the future, but all she needed now was to find Harry and make everything right.

The second she was outside Harry’s door, knocking on it and he saw her tattered and upset state, with a bag clutched in her hand he didn’t even hesitate before pulling her into his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ve got you.”

The second that Harry had seen her, tears streaming down her face and cuts on her arms and legs he was absolutely fuming. He immediately pulled her into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom where he placed her on the counter with such ease so he could start tending to her.

As he was cleaning up the cuts, he kept looking at her with a nervousness, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

There was a gap between his question and her response, but when he noticed that there were tears rolling down her face, he decided not to question her further until she was ready to answer all of his questions.

“I left him,” She muttered quietly after a while. Harry had anticipated it, but he didn’t want to pry.

“And he did this?” YN didn’t say anything, but the timid nod of her head gave him everything that he needed.

In all of the time that Harry had known YN, he had never known her so timid in all of his life. It was as though the events that had transpired had really knocked her, and she had no idea how to bring herself back from it.

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry shook his head, surprised by how angry he was at the news that she had just told him.

“No,” She shook her head and clawed at his shirt until he was facing her again, “I just need you with me, please don’t leave me.”

“I’m never going to leave you,” He leant down and placed a kiss to her forehead, “I never will.”

Regaining the popularity that YN had before when she worked at Marshall’s wasn’t as difficult as she thought it may have been. It had turned out that even though she was now divorced and had left the studio that the majority of the people in Hollywood saw as failure in this town, she found a studio just around the corner that was happy to take her.

The difference that YN found was that there was that due to the relationships being completely professional, they actually listened to what she had to say. She even had a clause in her contract that stated no nudity, and it was the best thing that YN had ever seen in black and white in front of her.

Every premiere that she had been to before this was, she had been cast in Marshall’s shadow, but this one was all about her and she was going to make sure that it was known. The dress that she had chosen was a beautiful baby pink with a skirt laced with feathers that had so much movement all she wanted to do was twirl around it.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry had said to her when he had seen her come out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and looking like the most beautiful person on this earth, “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“How did you get so lucky with me? I think that it’s I got lucky with you.”

Ever since she divorced Marshall in the previous year, Harry had been by her side. He hadn’t actually left it. For the first few months they had lived in his apartment before deciding that it was time that they actually bought a house. There had been a few moments where Harry had to leave to go to another state for a show, but he always came back to her.

This premiere for her latest film was the first time that the two of them had been seen out in public together, as a proper couple. It was a little nerve-wracking for YN, and for Harry as this was the first red carpet that he had ever walked but he wanted to be there for her and support her.

This was the last time that they were going to be together for a while, as the next day he was going on tour. YN originally had planned to go with him, but she had been given the script for a new film and there was no way that she was missing out on it. It was going to be the film of the century she believed, that was if she had anything to do with it.

It was strange being with someone who had such a real love for watching her succeed. YN was so nervous when she went home after receiving the script but the second, she had showed him the script and explained to him how excited she was about it, he had grabbed her face and kissed all of the worry out of her.

“You ready?” He smiled at her, lifting her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to her hand.

She laughed and smiled at his antics, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” He leaned forward and placed a small kiss to her lips, wanting to not mess up her lipstick, “Let’s get this done then.”

He climbed out of the car first and YN could hear the screaming from the second that he opened the car. Even though this was a movie premiere, it was obvious that there were some of his fans in the crowd. Her door was the next to open and she stepped out, waving to the people as she did so. Everybody seemed so happy to see her, and she couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t slightly nervous about the entire thing. The nerves disappeared the second Harry came to stand next to her, and she placed her arm through his and they started to walk together. It just felt so right, and so natural to be doing this with Harry.

“YN!” A reporter called from across the carpet at her, and with Harry in tow she made her way over to him. YN recognised him (probably from a previous red carpet), “How are you tonight?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking,” She smiled, really trying to remember all of her media training that she had been given.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, and we’re all so excited to see the movie.”

“Thank you so much, I’m very excited for you all to see it. It’s amazing if I do say so myself.”

“It’s your movie, of course you can say that!” The reporter laughed with her, “But I do just have to mention, in the last year you really found yourself in the backend of the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, are you afraid that’s going to shine over the film?”

YN couldn’t believe how cutthroat the reporter was straight away, but she tried to ignore it to the best that she could and answered the question the best way she knew how.

“It has certainly been a difficult past year for me, but I’m so excited to be working and have this beautiful film for you all to see,” She smiled, basically ignoring everything that he said, “I’m happy, and I hope this film makes some other people happy. Thank you.”

“Thank you, YN.”

YN immediately grabbed Harry’s arm again, and they beelined for the entrance. It was the first time that she had ever spoken of the events of last year, and she was praying that she had done okay.

“How was that? Did I answer it? Should I have said anything else?”

The second that they were in the safety of the building, she really let go of all of the questions that were swirling around in her head. Harry laughed and leaned forward to place a kiss on her lips.

“You were amazing darling, don’t even worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so, I was so nervous.”

“I know you were,” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her, “Now how about we get some popcorn and go see this fantastic film that you’re in?”

“That sounds perfect.”

And perfect it really was.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles

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loulouwrites · 6 months

Text

Secrets . Tommy Shelby

summary: tommy shelby is dead, and his life has just begun

warnings: angst, talk of death, grief, post season 6, abuse, discussions of domestic violence, unedited,tommy shelby having a normal job? lmk if i missed any!

word count: 5k

Death was no stranger to Thomas Shelby.

He had killed more men than he could count, he had lost more friends than he cared to remember, and he had died six months ago - at least, that's what everybody thought.

He wondered if he should have felt more guilty. He was sure his family had grieved him - he hoped they had, anyway - but he would not blame them if they hadn't.

He imagined, as they grieved them, relief also passed through them, he imagined them feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. He knew Ada would feel terrible, shake the thought out of her head, but it would be there.

Thomas Shelby was dead, and that meant his terrible legacy died with him.

He didn't feel anything when he thought about his family's reaction, because his was the same. He grieved the loss of himself, he grieved those he loved that were still living, knowing he would never see them again. He grieved the dead, his dead wife, his precious daughter that was taken before her life truly began, and he grieved that he was not going to see them for a long time. But, admist his grief, that wave of relief washed over him, he felt his stomach untwist, he felt the weight on his shoulders disappear, and for the first time in a long time, he felt free.

For the first time in his life, he was exactly where he needed to be.

Alone.

Nobody here knew his real name, nobody knew what he had done, and most importantly, nobody cared.

The first month he had has been dead, he had met a group of travellers, they had welcomed him into their camp with open arms and open bottles of cheap whiskey. He had been lucky they didn't recognise him, the community being so small, but by some miracle, they didn't.

He didn't stay long, the group was too insular, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they ran into a group who did know who he was, and who would tell anybody who would listen that the dead Thomas Shelby OBE, was not actually dead.

The second month, he had travelled north and had worked on the shipyards in the North East. They were used to all kinds of people travelling there for work and leaving after a few months to move on to bigger and better things - he had lasted two weeks.

Thomas Shelby was no fool. He had no need to work jobs on shipyards or factories. He had given his businesses away, he had buried his titles with him, but there was always Shelby money somewhere, hidden in different parts of Birmingham, money that was meant to stay hidden.

Enough to allow him live comfortably for the rest of his life.

The third and fourth months were spent collecting that money and trying to find something to do with it.

He was not a man that was made to relax. He didn't enjoy sitting, or reading, or any leisurely activities, he was born to work. He had always been like that, always working towards something, always reaching towards a goal, but he had done everything a man could do, and now, it was time to rest.

He liked living in the countryside. He had thought it might be too dangerous, too many nosy neighbours and friendly questions, but not too many people passed through, and those that did didn't care about where he came from, they tended to just ask him for directions to the nearest town.

He lived a lonely life, and he liked it that way.

He did have one friend. When solitude became too much, even for him, he would venture the two miles to the nearest house, where a charming elderly widow named Pearl lived.

Pearl was nearing seventy-five. She had lived for two centuries, she had seen a queen die, a king crowned, she had seen her sons shipped off to war and never return, and she had seen many liars in her time. And yet, she did not suspect the nice man who lived close by to be anything but an honourable, young man.

Pearl's husband had died almost twenty years ago, and she had seen the look of a bereft spouse on Tommy Shelby's face the moment she had seen him - but she never asked him about it. They didn't talk much over the dinners Pearl would prepare, they didn't really need to, they had both talked enough in their time.

It was a chilly night when Tommy approached Pearl's little cottage. He always came to dinner on the last Sunday of the month, how that habit had formed, he had no idea.

The old woman had greeted him with a smile at the door, waving him inside where it was warm and inviting, the smell of her cooking a warm welcome.

He had barely sat down on the wooden chair at the foot of the table when a crash came from the adjacent kitchen, and he had shot the woman fussing over him a questioning look, to which he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Pearl," a woman's voice called from the kitchen, the door swinging open "I broke two of your plates." The woman stopped in the doorway when she noticed Tommy sat at the table, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Pearl waved a dismissive hand at the woman, patting Tommy on the shoulder and waving her over to the table, encouraging her to take a seat.

"It's only a couple of plates," Pearl said, "I have too many, anyways." She pointed to the woman that had gingerly sat down to the right of Tommy, introducing her before disappearing into the kitchen to plate up their dinner, "she's a family friend and will be staying with me for a while."

"Pearl has spoke of you very fondly, Tom." The woman smiled, leaning forward in her chair.

Tommy hadn't bothered to change his forename.

"I'm glad to hear it," Tommy grabbed the glass of water that Pearl had placed on the table before he had arrived, "she hasn't mentioned you before, though."

Tommy was good at reading people, always had been, and he didn't miss the way the woman's red painted lips tightened, her smile slightly straining at his words.

"I should be offended." She let out a huff of laughter, "I always thought Pearl and I were close."

"Not as close as I am with Pearl." Tommy joked, noticing the woman's posture relax as she leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, well, Pearl makes friends very easily. I don't think she has ever met stranger."

Tommy smiled at the woman's words, his eyes flickering across her face. She was pretty, her makeup was perfectly applied to her face and her hair was immaculately styled, even the red varnish on her nails was perfect.

She shifted under his gaze, and Tommy realised he hadn't spoken in at least a minute, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed at what he was sure she thought was him leering.

The awkward atmosphere was thankfully broken by Pearl reentering the room, her hands full as she balanced three plates in her arms. Tommy was quick to jump out, taking the plates from the older woman and setting them on the table.

The dinner conversation was more lively than it usually was when Tommy visited, Pearl seemingly thrilled at having another presence at the table, so much so, the two younger people in the room could barely get a word in for the entire meal.

Pearl had excused herself after dinner, claiming it was too late for a woman her age, and insisting her two friends make themselves a cup of tea before Tom headed home.

The clattering of cups on saucers were all that could be heard in the living room, the awkward tension returning as they sat on the sofa.

She reached over to the side table, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering one to Tommy, which he declined with a shake of his head, though he did inhale extra hard when the smoke drifted his way.

"You and Pearl have become quite close." She said eventually, flicking the ashes of her cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the coffee table.

"Oh, we're the best of friends." Tommy nodded, his voice flat, but his eyes carrying a glimmer of humour that she clearly picked up on, her lips curling into a smile.

"I'm almost jealous."

"Of me?" Tommy raised his eyebrows, "or of Pearl?"

Her laugh was one of the best things he had heard in a long time.

"I suppose it must be nice having a friend, it's so rural here, it must get lonely."

"Loneliness isn't always a bad thing." Tommy muttered, and she didn't miss the bitterness in his tone.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, taking a drag of her cigarette, "as long as you choose it."

Tommy hummed in response, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "Why are you here?" He didn't mean for the question to sound so abrupt, he meant to ask it in a friendly manner, instead it came out like an interrogation, and her eyebrows raised in surprised.

"Pearl is an old family friend, she offered me somewhere to stay for a while."

"For a while?" Tommy asked, "won't your husband miss you?"

He flinched at his words. Subtle.

"I'm not married," she offered him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "what about you? Pearl told me you live alone."

"Widowed." Tommy shrugged, and she nodded in response, but she didn't say anything, she didn't offer him her condolences, or ask what happened, and he would be eternally grateful for that.

He saw himself out a few moments later, thanking her for the tea, and telling her to thank Pearl for the lovely meal.

"It was very nice to meet you...Tom..."

"Smith." Tommy answered from the front door.

He had never had a very good imagination.

◇─◇──◇─◇

He saw her again three days later. It was Wednesday when she arrived at his door, holding a basket of rock cakes in her hand, pushing past him into his house before he had time to protest.

The house was unbearably plain. He hadn't bothered to decorate the place, keeping the furniture that was there when he had purchased it. He watched as she took in the living room, her head moving around, taking in the bare walls and dated carpet.

He imagined it looked strange, there was not one personal touch in the entire house, no paintings, no photographs, just the daily newspaper thrown on the table in the corner.

"I love what you've done with the place." Her tone was so serious, Tommy almost thought she was being genuine, and his eyes widened until she turned her head to meet his gaze, a smirk on her perfectly painted list.

"I've been known to have an eye for interior design." He smirked back, and she snorted at his words.

"Pearl sent me." She held up the basket in her hand, "she made too many."

"You'd think she would no portion control by now." He said, taking the basket from her and setting it on the table, next to the unread newspaper.

"I think she made the specially for you." She smiled, "it's nice."

"It is." Tommy agreed and she began walking around the living room, a frown on her face.

"What do you do?" She asked eventually, her tone incredulous. He frowned at her words, his face questioning. "I mean...there are no books, no writing materials...what do you do all day?"

Tommy considered his response, but what could he say? 'I spend all my time pondering every mistake I have ever made?' 'All I do is wonder what my family are doing at this very moment?' 'I wish I was actually dead?'

He just shrugged.

"Do you not get bored?" She sounded truly concerned about him.

"Only boring people get bored." He told her, his mother had told him that when he was young.

"Now I see why you're so fond of Pearl. She's the only entertainment you have."

"She's more than enough." Tommy joked dryly, and she smirked at him, a knowing look on her face.

"Well...have a good day." She made her way to his front door, "God knows how."

The door had closed behind her before he could respond.

He didn't go and see Pearl that night, instead choosing to walk through the empty fields surrounding his property. He enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere at night here. The sky was clear, there was no city fog or grime that hid the stars in the sky, the air was crisp and fresh, not assaulting his lungs as he walked. It allowed him time to think, but he didn't think about the bad things outside, those were reserved for the confines of his house.

When he was out in the calm of nature, he allowed himself to think about the good things, few as they were.

When he returned to his house, he almost missed the object that had been placed on his front step, he would have if he hadn't tripped over it when he went to unlock his front door.

He picked up the object as if it were a bomb, rather than the leather-bound book it was, holding it between his thumb and forefinger with a frown on his face.

Jane Eyre.

He couldn't help but huff out a laugh.

◇─◇──◇─◇

"Did you like it?" She asked him two weeks later. Tommy didn't know they had ended up walking together every lunchtime on a Saturday, but he couldn't find a reason to complain.

"No." He huffed, "I didn't like Jane Eyre either, by the way."

She rolled her eyes at his words, not phased by his clear displeasure. She had started leaving books on his doorstep every week. The first had been Jane Eyre, which Tommy had read in only three days, not pleased by the story one bit. The second had been a Charles Dickens novel that he had already read years ago, and he didn't like it the first time either.

"I'm starting to think you don't like much." She grumbled, nudging his shoulder with hers as they walked down the country road.

"That's not true, at all." He said, placing a hand on her lower back, rubbing circles there. They both stopped walking, heads turned to face each other, he leaned his head in, their foreheads almost touching. He noted the nervous look in her eyes, how her body stiffened under his touch, "I like Pearl." He removed his hand from her back, continuing his stroll, smirking when he heard her modest heels clicking against the pavement as she tried to catch up with him.

"You have a terrible sense of humour." She huffed, a smile on her lips.

◇─◇──◇─◇

She became a regular fixture in Tommy's life. He saw her more often than he saw Pearl, for she would venture to his house whenever she felt like it, asking him his opinions on the books she had given him, sometimes she would turn up with flowers and plants to 'brighten the room'.

He didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. She wasn't an imposition in his life, she didn't ask him questions about his life, she didn't pry when his mind seemed to be elsewhere, she kept their conversations to the books they had read and their upcoming meals at Pearl's house.

If he were still a suspicious man, he would have found it strange.

Why was she so disinterested in his past?

Was it because she didn't want him to be interested in hers?

But, he wasn't that man anymore, and he learned to be grateful for their encounters, no matter how shallow they were.

She eyed him suspiciously from across his kitchen table, the china cup hiding the bottom half of her face. She had become quite good at reading him over the months, she could tell when he wanted to say something, and when he didn't.

"What's on your mind?" She placed the cup down, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Where are you from?" He asked her, his expression blank, not suspicious, but not completely uninterested, either.

"South."

"South." Tommy repeated, nodding his head.

"Where are you from?"

"North."

"North." She replicated his nod.

"Why did you move here?"

"I got sick of the city, Pearl offered me a place to stay at hers."

"You didn't work?"

"No." She sighed, bringing her cup of tea to her lips again.

"You've never been married and you didn't work. Family money?"

"Something like that." She shrugged and Tommy could see the irritation growing on her face.

"Must have been a lonely life."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" She stood up from her seat them, brushing out the small creases in her green dress, her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she shook her head, grabbing her handbag and leaving the kitchen.

Tommy felt guilty, but he didn't try to stop her.

◇─◇──◇─◇

He didn't see her for another few days. He knew she was avoiding him, it didn't surprise him when she didn't show up for their afternoon walk the next day, or when Pearl informed him she hadn't been feeling well so she wouldn't be joining them for dinner.

Pearl didn't miss the way his shoulder's deflated when she informed him.

Tommy didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on Pearl's face.

He saw her again exactly one week after she had stormed out of his kitchen. He had ventured into the nearest town to buy the essentials he had run out of over the past month, when he saw her, she was exiting the bakery.

She stood out like a sore thumb in the rural town. Her blue button up dress was cinched at the waist, the hat she wore was perfectly placed on top of the fashionable waves of her hair.

She didn't look like she belonged in the countryside, better suited for the nicer streets of London, or even, New York.

Tommy supposed he didn't particularly fit in either.

He approached her as she was about to enter the post office, offering to take the string shopping bag from her arms, which she declined with a polite smile.

He followed her into the post office, lagging behind due to the multiple women exiting, thanking him for holding the door.

He stood by the entrance, watching as passed along letters to the man at the desk, reaching to her purse to pay for the postage, plus a pack of cigarettes and some cherry drops.

He held the door open for her when she left, struggling to keep up with her quick steps.

"I thought you had no family." Tommy said, her pace slowing, making it easier for him to walk by her side.

"I didn't say that." She muttered, her gaze fixed ahead of her, "I said I had no husband. We all have family, Mr Smith."

"No all of us."

"Aren't you a widow?" She frowned, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze, "you had no children?"

The word got stuck in Tommy's mouth, "no." He flinched at how small his voice sounded.

"No brothers, sisters, parents?"

"No."

She didn't pry, she just nodded, letting a comfortable silence take over as they walked home.

She invited him in when they got to Pearl's cottage, informing him the elderly woman was in Brighton for the weekend, visiting her sister who had recently fallen ill.

He had gracefully accepted, helping her unpack the numerous shopping bags in the kitchen, and offering to help her cook dinner, but she shook him off, telling him she cooked better alone.

She wasn't as good of a chef as Pearl, Tommy noted as he struggled to cut his lamb, the meat slipping along the plate with the force.

She grimaced when the glasses shook on the table, a clear indication she had cooked the meat half an hour too long.

"I'm sorry." She sighed, "I've never been a good cook, or good hostess."

He waved a dismissive hand at her, finally gathering a cut of lamb on his fork, trying not to chew too aggressively under her watchful gaze.

"You don't have to eat it." She told him, setting her knife and fork down, "God knows I'm not going to."

"It's...good." Tommy said, trying to discreetly pick out the tough meat from his teeth with his tongue, she shot him an unimpressed look, and he huffed a laugh. "I've had worse."

"Hopefully Pearl will be home soon, I'm going to starve if she isn't."

"I could do with some starvation, I've had to get my trousers let out since I moved here."

"I lied." She said suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, and Tommy's eyes squinted in confusion.

"I'd say you were truthful...you really aren't a good cook."

"No." She groaned, sipping the red wine she had poured for herself, "I lied to you...about my life."

"I'm not trying to be funny, love, but you haven't told me anything about your life."

Her expression relaxed somewhat as she looked at him, but he could still see the worry in her eyes.

"I did. I said I've never been married."

She rose up from the table, pacing the small dining area with a sheepish expression on her face. Tommy breathed out heavily, gently placing his knife and fork on his plate as he watched her.

"You have been married?" He asked, not enjoying the way his stomach faintly twisted. He barely knew this woman, he had no right to feel betrayed because she had lied to him.

"I have been." She muttered, and his eyes narrowed further, but he didn't respond. "I mean...I am? Still...I think?"

"You think?" Tommy finally spoke, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and concern. He stood up from the table, mirroring her pacing movements as he tried to make sense of it all. "What do you mean you think you're still married? You either are or you aren't."

"I am." She spoke with conviction, halting her pacing to face him from the opposite side of the table. "I am still married."

"Why did you lie?" Tommy's words came out harsh, though he truly didn't mean them to. He had no right to judge her, he was just as bad, but he couldn't help but feel offended by her deception.

She looked down, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her wine glass. "I didn't mean to lie, it was just easier than the truth."

Tommy knew exactly what she meant.

"My husband wasn't kind," she continued, "he didn't physically harm me, but it would only have been a matter of time. He would find me if I stayed with my family, so I came here."

She didn't owe him an explanation, and Tommy was rather floored she had given him one.

He knew what the old him would do.

He could feel the primal, violent desires he thought had died rise up inside of him.

But, he wasn't that man anymore.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked her finally, moving to stand directly in front of her.

She shrugged at his words, "I don't know. I just don't like secrets."

Tommy felt a pang in his stomach.

"Everybody has secrets, love."

"Even you?"

"Even me."

◇─◇──◇─◇

Something changed following their conversation over dinner. Whilst Tommy assumed she would pull away from him, they seemed to get closer over the weeks.

Tommy wasn't sure whether he wanted to spend so much time with her, but he didn't put up much of a fight. He should have felt guilty about it, she had told him her secret, and he was still clinging on to his.

There were many times he thought about telling her, like on the walk they took where it started to rain and they had to run back to his, or when she brought him extra scones Pearl had made, or when she was lying with her head against his bare chest on a Sunday morning, but he never did.

They were just passing time.

That's what she had said before she left his house one morning. They were both lonely, neither of them had anything better to do, they were doing each other a favour.

"How did you get your money?" She asked him as she buttoned up her blue dress.

He choked on his cigarette smoke.

"What do you mean?" He asked, once his wheezing had subsided, standing from the bed to get dressed.

"You bought a cute little home in the countryside, but you don't work...I'm curious."

There was nothing hidden behind her smile. She wasn't asking for any reason other than wanting to know more about him.

The guilt returned to his gut.

"Gambling." He shrugged, buttoning up his shirt, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Gambling?"

"Horses...got lucky."

It wasn't exactly a lie.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Tommy enjoyed his mornings with her. He enjoyed the simplicity of waking up slowly, lighting a cigarette as he looked down at her sleeping form. He always woke up before her - he didn't sleep well, she was a master at it - and he liked it that way.

"I feel like we're abandoning Pearl." He told her, watching as she rubbed sleep from her eyes at the kitchen table, accepting the cup of tea he placed down in front of her, raising an eyebrow when she declined the toast and marmalade, reaching for a biscuit off the plate in the middle of the table instead.

"Tea and biscuits is the best breakfast you can have." She had told him.

"You're abandoning Pearl." She said, "I live with her."

"You haven't been home in days."

"That's your fault." She told him, "you're the one that trapped me here."

"I trapped you here, did I?"

"You make such good cups of tea, it makes it hard to go home."

Tommy hummed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Pearl does use too much milk."

"Exactly. You've spoiled me." She smirked, standing from her seat. "But you're right...I should go home." She brushed his shoulder when she passed him, "I'll see you around, Mr Smith."

He made sure to kiss her before she left.

◇─◇──◇─◇

The three days without her allowed Tommy time to think.

He enjoyed his time with her, but he could never seem to think clearly when he was in her presence. Her charm and wit would cloud any thought he had until he was utterly consumed by her.

It wasn't much different when she was gone, either.

His thoughts were still entirely made up of her - he wondered if it was because her floral perfume still lingered on his pillow - but he was able to properly assess the past few months.

He remembered how hollow he had been. How there was nothing to think about but the ghosts of his past, how he would tremble when he remembered the things he had seen, and the things he had done.

He remembered how she had changed that.

Now the haunting memories only came back in hushed whispers, whispers he could easily ignore when her laugh was so much louder, her presence much more dominating.

He wondered if he could love somebody he barely knew. Somebody who didn't know him at all.

Of course she knew small things.

She knew he preferred jam on his toast, she knew he didn't like sugar in his tea - a fact she had been horrified to learn - and she knew he was haunted.

She never asked him about it, but she knew. She couldn't ignore the way the nightmares made him shake, she couldn't ignore his body feeling like a furnace under her perfectly manicured fingers.

She didn't ask him, but he offered her an answer anyways.

He paced the floor of his bedroom, his breathing finally returning to normal, his eyes meeting hers from where she was sat up on the bed, her eyes concerned.

"France." He had muttered, returning to his spot in bed beside her.

She said nothing, instead, laying her head back on the pillow, her hand resting on his chest, above his rapidly beating heart.

It wasn't exactly a lie.

He pondered the timeline of their relationship as he walked to Pearl's house on a chilly Sunday evening.

They didn't know each other, not really, that was the beauty of it. She didn't know who Tommy really was, but she knew enough to feel safe with him. He didn't know much about her past, but he knew enough to know she could be trusted.

He didn't know much about her.

Yet, Tommy loved her anyway.

It was a strange feeling. He felt lighter, he felt happier, but there was still the guilt.

She had not offered him more information than was needed.

He had outright lied to her.

And so, as he approached the neighbouring house, Tommy decided he would tell her. He would tell her his real name, he would tell her what he had done, and he would tell her loved her.

There was no anxiety when he got to the front door, knocking lightly, even though Pearl had told him there was no need to. There was no need to feel anxious, because he was sure she felt the same - and he was certain, no matter what, she would not betray him.

Pearl greeted him with a smile, ushering him in as she always did. His eyes darted around the living room as he shrugged off his coat, the room looked the same as it always did, but something felt different.

He offered to help Pearl, knowing she would decline as always, pushing him towards the dining area.

He frowned when he got to the table, his eyes lingering on it for a moment too long.

It was set for two.

He glanced at the older woman in a silent questioning, and she sighed heavily under his gaze.

"She went home, son." She said, reaching over to rub his arm, a maternal comfort.

He knew she could see the confusion on his face, whether she could see the devastation and betrayal, he did not know.

"When?" He managed to ask, his throat dry.

"Two days ago." Pearl said, gently pushing Tommy into his seat at the head of the table. "Husband came up to get her, took her back."

He wished the woman had punched him in the stomach.

"And you let her go?" His voice held no venom, he was simply deflated in the chair.

"You can't force a woman to stay somewhere she doesn't want to, my love. No matter how much you want to."

She didn't wait for him to respond, leaving the room to plate up their dinner. Tommy's eyes stayed fixed on the place she would be sitting if she were here, his eyes not wavering from the empty chair.

It would have been easy to be sad.

It would have even easier to be angry.

But, he felt nothing.

She was just another ghost that would haunt him in his nightmares, and if that were the only way he would see her again, he looked forward to them.

He could not feel betrayed by her.

He was the liar, after all.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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witchcraftandgeekness · 1 year

Text

In defense of Kol Mikaelson

Personally for me, the most unbelievable thing that ever happened in TVD, is that Elena survived Kol's death. Maybe Kol had not very nice relationships with his family, but he was their brother and they claimed to care about him.

Kol was there for Rebekah ("You need to kill some guy to take revenge on the bitch who stabbed you, and we can end up in trouble for that? I'm in." "I need to return to the town just to help you to torture people and find the Cure you wanted? Say no more, I am on my way"), he defended her from Klaus few times even after she betrayed him, what resulted in him being daggered in 1914.

Klaus clearly was in pain after Kol's death, it was written all over his face. He was trapped in the room near his little brother's dead body, he did not want Kol to die and the loss was harsh. They had really complicated relationship, but Klaus cared for him.

Elijah said that family is his first priority and, I quote, "No one hurts my family and lives. No one."

Apparently, no one hurts his family and lives, except Elena and MF gang. After Kol's death he had quite civil and polite conversation with Elena, exactly the same person who, maybe did not kill Kol herself, but at least arranged his death, participated in the kill and the whole need of killing him was for her to have the Cure she did not even needed so much. That is a little bit hypocritical, Elijah, don't you think so?

Rebekah even pitied Elena for the loss of Jeremy (what in my opinion says a lot about "good" Elena and "bad" Rebekah). Open your eyes, Bekah, she, in fact, killed your brother and Jeremy was the one whose hand ended his life.

Klaus, who seemingly was deeply affected by this tragedy, helped the gang with aramaic translation, decided to save Caroline's life (you can say Caroline did not participate in the deed, but she at least was aware of the plan, and Klaus killed for lesser) AND did not do anything to avenge Kol.

For the family like Mikaelsons, revenge upon everyone who was envolved in their brother's murder is the least they can do. But instead, they did no harm to Elena, and some of them even helped her, pitied her.

It is just unlogical. This is the most unreasonable thing in the entire series and I am so mad for that.

And I can absolutely understand Kol for his rage later on. He felt like his family did not care for him, that he was wronged and was robbed of the revenge he deserved. My darling certainly deserved so much better.

Rewatching the fourth season made me very angry so excuse me

#kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #tvd #the originals #tvd thoughts #justice for kol mikaelson #my poor baby #mikaelson family #i really love klaus elijah and rebekah but i cant forgive this neglect #anti elena gilbert #kol deserved better #i got a little carried away #just my opinion

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yuliasolsystem · 7 months

Text

Behold my craziest theory about the Plants in manga.

Everything below is not my take on the actual canon, but rather just a fun theory I came up with based on some plot holes.

Okay, so listen: people in Trigan didn't just become incapable of obtaining food and energy naturally, without the Plants. They're probably genetically altered in such a way that they are unable to use food and energy that doesn't come from the Plants.

That's why they don't use solar panels on the No Man Land, even though it would seem like an obvious solution. And that's why the townsfolk in Chapter 47 all died out in a few days.

Soldiers speculated that it could have been up to two months after the city was cut off from the world.

But in such a period of time, the Ark would have time to fly over the horizon and it was seen on the fifth day of the soldiers' stay in this area. And the day before, that is on the fourth day, there were still people alive in the town and they still had the strength to make riots.

But on the 7th day, when soldiers reached the town, there was no one alive (except for one man).

"Exposure" in the original was "burns" ( implying sunburns). That is, people not only managed to die of hunger and thirst before the Ark had time to disappear beyond the horizon, but sunburns also were mentioned among the causes of death. So, the Plants not only provided food and water, but also somehow protected against solar radiation, which is probably why there are so few suntanned people on the NML.

This means that the bodies of the humans in Trigan are completely changed and die in a matter of days without a Plant presence anywhere near them and without consuming food containing Plant biomass (since even the cannibals in that town didn't survive). They are literally completely dependent on the Plants, just as the Plants are dependent on the life support terminals they are connected to.

And we also have mutated humans and humans with Plant-like abilities, like Elendira, who can create matter from nothing (her nails literally appear in her suitcase out of nowhere, they are neither stored in it nor teleported from somewhere else by some device)

and Legato, who can manipulate electricity and take control of other people's bodies, which is reminiscent of Knives' ability to control the merged being. When Knives "connected" to Domina with a thin feeler, it looked very similar to Legato's technique.

(It's not impossible, however, that Knives intentionally copied Legato's trick. )

What's my point? You know, there's this trope in horror stories: an alien ship/meteorite falls from the sky and infects the land and living things all around so that people, who lived there, become unable to live outside the ship/meteorite radiation zone or eat normal food. And they, these people, gradually turning into aliens or mutants. So, what if the same thing happens in Trigan, it's just that in this universe humans, unlike in all these movies and stories, didn't avoid the " impact zone", but rather took the alien DNA and spread it all over the Earth. So Trigun humans are no longer 100% humans, but part of the Plants' biosystem, which is why dependent Plants forgave them so easily and don't really mind to be "used".

This could also be related to the presence of ghosts, which can be both human's (like Conrad and Wolfwood) and independent's (like Tessla). The existence of ghosts is not revealed to public, most likely so that people won't find out that after death they will spend eternity in a gloomy black void.

What are independent plants for then? Most likely they are some sort of walking weapons. From the conversations of the Earthlings we can conclude that Knives is not the only aggressive independent (he was just the strongest of the known ones) and that independents on Earth have their abilities blocked for humans' safety ( so most likely all independents have weapons built into their bodies).

What's the need for weapons against humans if the dependent plants don't mind their position and "humans" are in some sense part of them? Maybe to regulate their numbers, or to stimulate their reproduction and further mutation, maybe the Plants need not humans but their souls (ghosts), or maybe independents are something like immune cells that get rid of improperly developing body cells.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun plants #my headcanons #manga spoilers #trigun spoilers #manga theory #my analysis #spoilers #millions knives #legato bluesummers #elendira the crimsonnail

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hh0320 · 2 years

Text

𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 “𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭?”

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭.

PART TWO.

pairing: bad boy!beomgyu x fem reader x yeonjun.

genre: polyamory, runaways, smut, strict parents, hurt/comfort, set in mid 00’s.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: profanity, mature themes, abuse, violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy, kiss between underage characters.

a/n: hi guys! this story will have two parts, a before and an after. originally, this was going to be something else, but when i started writing it, this whole other thing came out, and i mean who am i to stop it lol but pls give it a chance, i promise the wait for the second part will be well worth it! ty 🤍

You always knew your life wouldn’t be a small life.

In your little town, with the waterless river, and the train station with no trains—time didn’t exist there. You seemed to always remain that ten year old girl, that had run away from home. The one that got lost in the forest for three days, and came out someone else.

Summer would always be for them. The ones that found you—your boys. Filthy, bruised, scrawny boys with scratched up knees, and wide smiles. The brothers that shared no name. When the police saw you emerging from the woods close to the highway, they immediately took them away, and wrapped you in pastel blankets.

You had screamed then, cried and begged. Your mother was devastated, taking in your shocking state, unable to shake the feeling that her daughter had died. The you that stood there was a different beast.

And it belonged to them. The ones being led into the police vehicle, the ones that had been staring at you the whole time with serious eyes—eyes that spoke of your time in the trees, eyes that had promised to take you away one day.

No one ever spoke a word about those three days. Your mother had tried psychiatrist, after psychiatrist, but to no avail. Your mouth was zipped. Middle school passed by in a blur, your mind occupied completely with the thoughts of bright greens, and blackberry bushes.

You didn’t see them again until your first day of high school. They had been older than you, already in their fourth year. Rumors about them being in a cult ran rampage—others said they were drug dealers for the local gang. So many stories, told like fairytales; your boys were infamous characters, with many adventures.

Adventures—you knew of one. A girl, lying in mud, scared and teary eyed, saved by two knights that fed her berries, and played castle with her. There had been kisses, soft and stolen, but you’d rather not think of those. You understood none of it—not how you felt, or what you did.

You had been alone before. Never again after meeting them.

You learn their names through whispers of girls with nothing better to do than giggle about teenage boys. You’ve never giggled in your life. Your father was made of the blackest nightmares, you carried your mothers stinging hand with you everywhere.

Being lost hadn’t been nearly as bad as living in your house. Sometimes you wonder what is the point of any of it—the roof over your head, the dinner time. The pretending, and the beaten into silence.

You always knew your life wouldn’t be a small life.

Beomgyu, you write on your window sill one night. Yeonjun.

Your echoes.

They had noticed you, of course.

You looked the exact same, but taller. Hair always covering your face, walking along corners, careful not to alert anyone of your existence. Quiet as still water, sky with no wind.

Yeonjun had wanted to go to you, an utmost force pulling him towards you. He had wanted to apologize, to explain their disappearance, words ready to spill out, eyes to meet yours, see the softness, the clearness of them. No judgement, no bashing.

A clean slate—his second chance. He’d never stopped thinking about you once. His mind was already running—Beomgyu halted him, hand on shoulder.

“She’ll come to us.” A look between brothers.

An understanding deeper than shared blood—a pact.

For the next weeks, both boys had become your shadow, though you had no idea. You’d tried to carry on with living life as it was, dark and desolate. As far as you knew, the knights had forgotten you, or did not care anymore, and that realization had hit you like a ton of bricks. Your castle in the forest had crumbled.

You had to find your own escape now. Beomgyu had felt the change in you—he’d followed you to your house every night, had seen the deep sigh, the shut of your eyes, before you turned the key, opened the door.

He had pictured, since that day your mother had hugged you, muddy and fighting against her, that you had loving parents, a big house with a white fence, and a dog that had been in the family since before you were born. Perhaps a sibling. He had held onto that make believe fantasy throughout the years, behind walls, convincing Yeonjun along with himself.

He had wanted to believe that, because he brought you back. He had taken your hand, leading you out, believing that was the right thing, because you had been so kind to them. A girl as kind as you had to come from a good family, a family that loved you very much.

If that had not been true, the guilt would be unbearable. He had only given you up, because your words were a warmth he’d never felt. Because those three days had meant everything to him and his brother; they had been boys that knew nothing but blood, and misery. Boys that had travelled a long road, nothing to their name, exhausted and starved.

In a way, you had guided them out of that forest, too.

Beomgyu spent entire nights in his car, parked across from your place, watching, observing. Your bedroom was the one on the far left, and the light turned off around two am—what he assumed to be the other bedroom, your parents’, went dark earlier, the entire neighborhood under a thick blanket of silence.

That’s how, one night, he came to see your father slapping you across the face. It happened downstairs, by the big window, shadows moving fervently behind the curtains, and then suddenly—the smack. He recognized it clear as day, recalled it in all his memories.

He had left you to the wolves. Yeonjun had been right all along—no girl willingly stays gone, no girl begs stranger boys to play with her, bruises covering her body, dried tears staining her cheeks.

You disappeared from view, and the two figures went after you. Beomgyu was on the edge of his seat, hand on the door handle, ready, phone speed dialing Yeonjun.

“What happened?”

“That son of a bitch—her fucking father. He abuses her.”

Pregnant pause, static. “Fuck—fuck! I’m on my way, go. Fuck, Beom, I fucking told you, goddamnit—I’m on my way.”

Beomgyu went. He knew he could get arrested for trespassing, thrown back into juvie for what he was about to do, but this was you. This was about you; the kind, pretty girl that’s bled through his entire life. The one he played knight for—the one that showed him there’s love somewhere in him, despite the holes, and rot—despite the weeds, and storms.

The one that held you when you cried yourself dry, begging for them to take you with them, wherever they went, whatever they were.

“I’m done, I’m done—” You came rushing out, hands flailing about you, face contorted in hurt, a big red mark on your cheek.

Oh, hell no.

“Hey!” He called out, running towards you.

You turned to his voice, eyes widening, recognizing. Your father appeared after you, arm extended, grabbing you by the hair, forcing you back. You screamed, and almost tripped, trying to get away.

“Let her go!”

Beomgyu was not proud of who he was; he had a very erratic personality, always did did did without thinking, which nine times out of ten cost him big time. He blamed it on his childhood, and possibly his genes— his father had been a raging alcoholic, abusive to his mother, angry at the world, and his mom—his mom was an airhead, a good for nothing whore. Together, they made him—years of abuse, and neglect, until finally he found Yeonjun, and even then that gaping hole he had been born with, never filled, never closed.

Sometimes Beomgyu made bad decisions. This was one of them.

“Who the fuck are you, boy?” Your father dragged you in the house, eyes red, an animal waiting to pounce.

He knew this person well. This was his dad, and Yeonjun’s dad, and every other good for nothing piece of shit, that abused their children. They all had the same face, and they all deserved to die most painful deaths.

“None of your fucking business, old man.” His fist flew, no second thought, landing on your father’s jaw.

The man groaned and almost fell back, but quickly regained his balance, and grabbed Beomgyu by his shirt. The young boy knew what came after that, had lived it a thousand times, so he smiled a bright smile. A manic smile.

“Who the fuck,” punch “do you think,” kick “you are, you little punk?!”

Blood shot in his mouth, back raw against the pebbled driveway; he took all your dad had to give, all his anger, all the filth, so you didn’t have to. So you’d be safe, at least for tonight.

“Dad, no, get off him!” A flicker of your hair from his peripheral vision.

He wanted to call out to you, wanted to tell you it’s okay, he’s here now, he’ll be there from now on, always—but his head got smashed against the concrete, and it was getting hard to focus.

Police sirens went off in the distance, and tires screeched. Yeonjun couldn’t run fast enough. It was all happening in slow motion it seemed—your mom trying to take your dad off Beomgyu but getting pushed away, you, sobbing, grabbing on the old man’s shirt, pulling, ripping—neighbors coming out of their houses, curious, shocked to see the scene playing out—after all you had been such a quiet household—Beomgyu refusing to fight back, in fear of hurting you.

A fuming Yeonjun, tearing your dad off his brother, throwing him across the lawn, panting, seeing red.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her again, you fucking prick. Be glad your daughter is in front of you. If we ever see you again, you’re fucking dead, you hear me? Mark my words, old man.”

He picked up his brother from the ground, bloody and half unconscious, and supported his weight, walking him to the car, sprawling him across the back seat. The sirens appeared closer then.

They had to leave.

You never moved from your place, too shocked, too drained to react to any of it. It had gone so wrong—the one time you managed to retaliate, to run, and even then, unsuccessful, fucked beyond imagination.

And your knights—back, ready to defend. Real, and coming to the rescue. They didn’t forget about you, they came. Nothing had ever mattered as much as this. This was everything.

“We’ll come for you,” Yeonjun promised you, that night, a hand stretched out to you, pulling you up and on him.

A cool kiss against your forehead, your mother’s mouth hanging open, a sizzling anger taking over her features.

“I swear to you, we’ll take you from here.”

“I knew it was you!” Your mother yelled, as one of the neighbors held her back. “Bring me back my daughter! Take this monster with you! She is not my flesh and blood…”

A panic attack wrapped around the woman, squeezing out tears and hysteria. Yeonjun watched as every word coming out stabbed you in the chest, hit you in the gut.

He knew they’d made the wrong choice taking you back, all those years ago. He felt it, like he felt that gravitational pull the day he saw you again. They were important, because they would be the ones to take you away from all this.

But you were too young, and they were about to get arrested again. Yeonjun eased the death grip he had on your hand—your haunted look was killing him, but he would be no help behind bars.

“I’d rather cut my hand off than leave you behind again.”

He was gone, as the police cars circled around your house.

For the next two years, everyone would talk about the incident. It had spread like wildfire, and soon your parents boarded themselves up in that house, forcing you to do the same thing.

You were only to go to school, and come straight back. And school had been Hell on earth—the teachers looked at you with such pity, the secret finally out—poor (Y/N), who could’ve known—but the reality is, they could’ve. They could’ve stopped it, if they had cared a little more. Your classmates avoided you like the plague, but that had always been fine with you. No questions to deal with, no mocking, no false pretenses.

They’d vanished overnight, it’d seemed. Seasons came and went, birthdays with no candles, one endless stream of black and white; you thought you’d lost your mind. Everything appeared to you dull, lifeless. You cared for nothing—even the fighting stopped. No more bruises to blame everything to, no more of anything. Nothing.

It was as if you had buried yourself alive. Your parents acted as if you weren’t there, and day by day, you started believing it—your body had turned into a ghost body. Words never bubbled inside you anymore, you had no desire to speak to anyone.

You counted down the days until they’d come. Sophomore, junior year. You were doing the haunting, you were playing into the horror of semi existing, because one day none of it would matter. You’d be far away from there, with your knights, and the world would regain its color, the sun would shine again.

You’d be aloud to break the muteness, veil lifted, lungs properly used.

But summer of your last year rolled around, and there had still been no word, no sight of them anywhere. You understood—they were already nineteen, and you were still a minor. You’d seen the fear in Yeonjun’s eyes, when the sirens neared.

Any day now, you wrote on that same window sill.

That day didn’t come until after graduation.

Late in the evening of your eighteenth birthday, a black car was parked in front of your school. It was a vintage model, something from an 80’s murder mystery movie.

Standing in front of it, in your gown, you saw them. Both there, real, smiling at you through the windshield.

They had come. They had come. Finally—finally you’d be free.

Running wasn’t fast enough. You stopped next to the passenger window, Beomgyu watching your every move. His hair was longer, darker. Real.

“How was the party?” Yeonjun asked from the drivers seat, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

Your cheeks were wet, heart elated. You entered the car with no hesitation, jumping in the front, limbs awkward, skinning your knee on the way. Your arms wrapped around Beomgyu, his own squeezing you tight against him.

“Boring,” you replied, voice muffled, pressed against his neck. “What took you so long?”

“We’re here now,” Yeonjun said, starting the car. “You’re with us now.”

They helped you through the back of your house, and you sneaked into your room, packing a small bag with a couple things. You didn’t need much, if anything at all. You just needed to get the hell away from there, that small life, that torture house. Going down the window, you noticed the way Yeonjun stared at you—with those serious eyes, like all those years ago, in the forest.

This would be it. You’d follow them anywhere now. You didn’t look back once.

Your parents never searched for you. It would be useless, anyway—you weren’t theirs anymore, not since the woods.

You belonged to them, now. And they’d take care of you with their lives, knights sworn to no one but you.

#yeonjun scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #txt scenarios #txt #ficscafe #tomorrow by together #tomorrow by together scenarios #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #txt smut #kpop scenarios #mine.

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magicallittlet · 4 months

Text

Magical Diary - Fred Weasley

18+

Warnings: mention of alcohol, consuming alcohol, smut, smoking, smoking w33d, strong language, heavy kissing.

Flasbacks are written in cursive

One - The dream

I've had the same dream every night since my fourth school year at Hogwarts. It always started out as a peace full, yet odd dream. Then suddenly everything turned dark. And the last thing I remember from the dream is a green sharp light. The dream was a memory, a memory that was not easily erased. I soon discovered that the remembrance was about my mother's sudden death.

The events over the summer had been hard on me, so to tell you my story, I'm not going to start from the beginning. I'm going to remember them step by step. It's not that my memory had been Obliviated or anything. It's just easier for me to start right here. But just to get to know me a little, here is just a bit of my childhood.

I had grown up in a town outside London, with my guardian Lydia and her muggle fiancé Henry. Lydia took me in when I was almost two years old. She had been told that she could not have children of her own, so when my dad asked her to take care of me, even though she had major disagreement with my father's decision, she couldn't turn it down. We lived in Epping just outside of London. A little old town filled with charming streets. Henry came into our lives when I was around 7 years old. Lydia told him right away, when things got serious between them, that she was a witch, and that she was raising a little girl with the same condition as her. Henry fell even more in love with her and accepted the adventures and challenges that come with living among two witches. As for my dad. I never saw him again. That was until my fourth school year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I had always been aware that he was still alive. But with the fact that he gave me up, I had never in my life thought that he would turn up as the new defense against the dark arts teacher. It took me some time to figure it out. But it was a chair swung to my face. And it made my school year much more difficult than I had ever imagined. And as I was on my way downstairs some of the events from the recent school year flicked before my eyes.

When the period ended, I walked up to Mr. Lupin to give him the homework assignment from the last DADA class. "That was fast, '' Professor Lupin said, like he was confused. "Is that a bad thing?" I asked, a little worried. What if I had screwed up. I really wanted to impress him. He was such a good teacher. "Not necessarily," Professor Lupin said, with a big smile. "Sorry Professor '' I started, and he looked up "You are not by any chance from London sir" I asked, "No, no I'm not" he said with a comfortable voice, while he shook his head. "Oh, okay. I could just swear that I've seen you before" I said curries. "Take some chocolate... it's okay" he said while he was pointing at a pack of chocolate at his table. "Thanks Professor" I said while I took the chocolate and walked out of the classroom.

As I walked out of the classroom, I heard two voices from each side of the doorway. Fred and George were standing leaned up against the wall, just outside the classroom. "Uh she got the chocolate, '' Fred and George said, while they walked on each side of me. "Jealous," I asked confidently. "Not really," George said. "We got some fun to do, Clark," Fred said playfully, while he played with my blond curly hair. "Guys we have Quidditch soon" I said while I tried to stop Fred ruining my hair. "There is just no fun in you, Clark" George said "Coming Fred" he added. Fred smiled at me and went the other way.

I wonder if he knew back then. If I was his daughter. I don't know what's worse. Not realizing that your daughter had attempted Hogwarts, or knowing that she was sitting right there, right in front of you, not being willing to say or do anything about it.

Henry and Lydia gave me some days to rest when I came home from one om the most traumatizing years at Hogwarts I've ever had. I know it sounds selfish, because since I've started Hogwarts a lot of dangerous and traumatizing stuff had happed. Like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named living in the back of our defense agents the dark arts teacher's head. Then the chamber of secrets opened, and a giant basilisk was trying to kill all muggles at the castle, and luckily it didn't have any lock killing any. But these times I've never been in real danger.

After all Hogwarts is a school for little witches and wizards. But also, a school there had been there for centuries and hides a lot of secrets. Something like that is maybe not expected, but everything is possible.

After some days of resting, the day finally came. Professor Dumbledor and Professor McGonagall even paid a visit. We all sat down in the living room, with tea and scones. Lydia had made her homemade clotted cream and raspberry jam– with the berries she was growing in our little green house. Lydia loved her plants. She gave me real Hufflepuff vibes. But she was sorted into Ravenclaw back then.

"Take a seat, Ill fix you some tea" Lydia said to Dumbledor and McGonagall. They each picked the armchairs we had placed on each side of the coffee table, facing the sofa. Witch put me between Lydia and Henry on the sofa. Now I felt pressure.

McGonagall looked concerned, but Dumbledore just looked hungry at the scones.

"Maybe we should just get started for Rebecca's sake" McGonagall said concerned, looking at Professor Dumbledore to get his attention. Dumbledore slowly looked away from the scones and started focusing on looking at me. It was a soft glance as Dumbledore usually gave. "Very well miss Clark, or would you now prefer Lupin" Professor Dumbledor asked kindly. I smiled back at him. Dumbledor was such an odd man. And I admired him for that. "I still prefer Clark Professor. I don't identify with Lupin. Thank you for asking" I said polite. Both professor Dumbledor and Professor McGonagall smiled at me. "Very well miss Clark. Due to the events of the end of last school year, I have been informed and willingly wants to talk to you about the happenings and help you how to get by with the things you have witnessed. Rebecca Clark has been up against the mass murderer Sirius Black" As Dumbledor finished, he smiled and winked to me. I winked back. We both knew that Sirius was incident, but Dumbledore, Harry, Hermine, Ron, Mr. Lupin and I had decided not to tell our families about Sirius just yet. "Due to that event, miss Clark is required at my office once a month to have a meeting at my office with her house Teacher Professor McGonagall" Dumbledore ended. "But can we talk about what happened. We have given Rebecca some time to heal, before, I mean. I don't want to pressure her. But we need to know what has been going on to help her. Right professor" Lydia asked while pouring McGonagall a cup of tea. "Rebecca will speak when she is ready, it is for the best" Professor McGonagall said carefully. It was for the best. She was absolutely right, but I really wanted to get it off my chest sooner than later, so I could carry on with my life. Everyone around me agreed. "Professor I am ready to tell my story" I said convincing and started to tell Lydia, Henry, Dumbledore and McGonagall what had happened.

Lydia and Henry listened closely and carefully to what I had to tell about the events of that night. "I was on my way down to Hagrid, he had some ingredients I needed for a potion I was making with Fred, Lee and George" I explained as McGonagall and Lydia gave me a strict look, but I had promised Dumbledor to tell the truth. "When I saw...". A knot suddenly tired up my stomach. I hadn't expected it to happen this soon. This was where I learned that I had never been in any danger. The only person who had put me in a dangerous situation that night, was Remus. "When I saw Harry and Hermione ran after a black dog, the grim I presumed. I had to get help. I remembered that I had just passed processor Lupin just before I went over the wooden bridge, so I ran back to find him. Luckily, he hadn't gotten that far. So, as I reached him, I let him know what I had witnessed" I paused. "And did professor Lupin tell you to follow him" McGonagall asked surely. I had hoped that she hadn't asked that question, because I didn't really want to answer it. "No, professor, he asked me to get back to my dorm immediately. But I followed Professor Lupin anyway" I answered with a heavy breath. This was not the point of it, I was there no matter what Remus had told me to do.

Dumbledor was smearing some clotted crème onto a scone, topping it with a teaspoon full of jam. "So, you followed him anyway" McGonagall asked wondering. I scratched my cheek, trying to find a good explanation. But nothing came to me. Why did I even run after him? Like I was going to safe the whole day. Maybe that was the reason I made it into Gryffindor. "I don't know Professor, I wanted to help. Ever since I Remus, sorry, Professor Lupin started teaching, I had felt some kind of urge to... I don't even know what it was. First, I thought it was a crush, like the innocent crush you have on a teacher. But it was something ells. Like a feeling that he needed me to come with him. I don't know, it's silly and I'm sorry for putting myself in danger" I ended. "So, what happed when you and Professor Lupin entered the shrinking shack" Dumbledore asked like it was the juicy part now. "I walked behind Remus the whole time. I wasn't in any danger. I had my wand, and I'm good with spells. The first person I saw was Sirius and then I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione. Then it got to me. Remus and Sirius were old friends. And I was going to die. All of us was going to die. But somehow Snape and Remus helped us out of there, and we got out safe. Then the light of the full moon hit Remus and he attacked me. After that I woke up in the hospital wing and apparently, I have Veela blood in my veins, luckily for that otherwise I would be a werewolf by now" I ended with a fake smile. "And then there was your dream" Dumbledor asked politely. "The one you came you came to my office to discuss" he added. This was the part I wasn't ready to talk about. The knot in my stomach tightened even more. I let out a small grunt to let Dumbledore know that he could continue. "It is an unlocked memory. One that I cannot tell you more about. One you must figure out yourself. I hope you can understand" Dumbledore ended.

The the room was left heavy and quiet.

"Rebecca Just a simple question. Would you like to remain living with your guardians or would you like to contact Lupin to find a way and live with him" Dumbledor asked and then reached for a scone. "I would like to continue living here Professor, if that's ok. This is my home" I said with confidence, even though I really wanted to get to know Remus. "Good, just as we expected. Now I just need to inform the tree of you about something really serious and you cannot speak of this afterwards. This is going to be between the five of us, and when the time comes, we do as we discussed today" Dumbledor started. The atmospheria in the living room chanced immediately to something dark and could. Even though I thought that my story was dark, this was something ells. "We have a hint that Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is planning his return" Professor McGonagall said rather serious. I looked at Lydia and her face turned bright white. She looked like she was about to cry, scream and through up at the same time. Lydia then ran her fingers through her hair. Henry was looking at her, but suddenly he jumped up. "Wait, he is supposed to be dead. How can he plan his return, if he is dead" Henry yelled. McGonagall got up of her chair too and placed a calming hand on Henrys shoulder. Henry always seemed so stupid when it came to the magic world, but now it just seemed like he knew everything about it. He was even more upset than I have thought he would be. "There is no easy way to inform you this, so it's best if you just listen to what we have to offer" McGonagall said calmly. "Lydia and Rebecca would be in grave danger; I cannot protect them here alone" Henry said shockingly. Lydia said nothing, she just took Henrys hand to calm him down. He then sat back down on the sofa again. "If this is going to happen, I want Rebecca to move in with Remus, for her own protection. And for the two of you, we have a hide out for you in Scotland. But Rebecca can't come. She will attract danger. Understood" Dumbledor said firmly and all of us knotted. "And you are not to speak of this again, before the time comes. Agree" Dumbledor continued. Lydia got up and cleared the table. "Thank you for the lovely scones, Lydia, it was a pleasure to see you again Henry, and I'll see you soon miss Clark".

As I walked back upstairs to my room, started to remember the good things about my fourth school year. It was also awesome to be a witch, after all. But what now, what was I supposed to do now? All the fun always came with Fred, Geroge and Lee. The gossiping with Katie. The sneaking to the kitchen for a late-night snack with Comac. And the butterflies whenever Cedric Diggory brushed his hand threw his hair and smiled at me.

I smiled with the thought of that. I sat down on my bed to daydream even more. But that was soon interrupted by some noise coming from the street, so I went by the window to see what was going on. Some family was moving in on the other side of the street. But I couldn't care less. I was impatient to get back to Hogwarts and the first week of summer wasn't even over. But then someone caught my eye. It was the soon to be 6th year student, a Slytherin stud. Adrian Pucey. He was one of the chasers on the Slytherins quidditch team. He knocked me off my broom last year at my first match. Asshole. He reminded me of someone. Not really but there was something about his dimwitted smirk and somehow misunderstood person.

The first person I saw in the room at the Shrieking Shack, was... Sirius Black. I wanted to cry. He was a wanted murderer, and we were just four kids trying to survive. In a heroic but stupid decision, I pointed my wand at him, while I slowly and carefully followed Professor Lupin into the room. "Leave Harry alone" I said with a shaky voice. I really wanted not to sound scared, but I couldn't help it. He just laughed. Something was wrong with Rons leg. I hurried over to him, to take a look, maybe it was something I could heal. "If you are going to kill Harry, you have to kill us too" Hermione said. Her voice broke. We all thought that we were going to die. "No. only one will die tonight," Sirius Black said with a sore throat. I looked back over my shoulder, to see that Sirius was pointing a wand towards Ron and me. I was too scared to scream.

Read the next parts on my Wattpad

https://www.wattpad.com/1389489880-magical-diary-please-read

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diejager · 1 year

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Run, Rabbit Run!

Ghostface x gn!reader

cw: dark themes, blood and gore, murder spree, attempted murder, serial killer, stalking, break in, fantasising about murder, torture. Tell me if I missed any warnings.

(A/N) : should I make a pt2? Or a separate story from this timeline?

Wc: 1946

Run, rabbit run!

His sing-song voice remained in your mind, glued to your memory like a ghost cursed to haunt its grave until it received salvation. It terrorized you wherever you went, from your small town in Utah, a quaint and lovely place, somewhat boring at times but everyone knew everyone. Family friends and neighbors alike were friends, left their doors unlocked whenever one of the other's kids wanted to come by, a little place filled with thrusting people; to Pennsylvania. Until he struck, like his moniker: a ghost, stalking the night for his victims and striking whenever he saw fit.

First, the old, cat lady's son, an annoying jock but friendly nonetheless; then an uncle's mother, her old, rickety bones falling prey to the ripper's stabs; the third and fourth were friends, childhood friends having grown up as neighbors, their throat viscously slashed and painting their carpet in deep crimson and dried maroon; the last one, failing almost twice, was you, boring and quiet little (Name) from the neighborhood. A small town in Utah, turned upside down by a man's hunger for blood, deep-seated gluttony for pain, and morbid pleasure.

You survived his attack and clung to life until the police arrived, ambulance in tow, spooking him and making him flee. You watched him with dazed eyes as he left through the backdoor, open as you followed his back disappear under the cloak of darkness. Ghostface jumped at the mere sound of police sirens nearing your house, leaving you bleeding and dying on your wooden floor. It didn't feel the same afterward, the house didn't feel as safe as it was, prints left behind by the killer: wood planks soaking up your blood and turning it into a dreary shade of muted red, knife marks marring the flat surface and the destruction of your household objects.

The paranoia that he'd come back made you skip town, you were branded the only surviving victim of the Ghostface after you were discharged added to the fear. You packed up and left for Colorado, another small townhouse near downtown. More traffic and risks for the killer if he ever decided to follow you.

He seethed at your survival, yet the thrill from being found traced back to the place he first started made his blood pump. A mistake had been made, one that he would make sure that it'd never happen a second time. He had you, the skittish and calm kid that lived on his road, on the floor and grasping to the last string of life - he was so close to fulfilling his fantasy. He dreamt of staining his hands with your warm blood - not his gloves, he wanted to feel your blood drip from his flesh - cradling you after he stabbed you, feeling the heat leave your body as you took your last breath. His little obsession over you turned deadly, and surviving only furthered it, it urged him to follow you through the states, changed name (Jed Olsen, a curious alias he chose for the face he wore when he started his work as a freelancer, jumping from state to state with his golden boy charisma and optimistic manners that swooned his employer. Playing the character of Jed Olsen as he watched you with dyed hair and glasses, sweet smile, and dimpled cheeks, he crooned at the thought of having you.) and enacted the stories he wrote, brought them to life only to write about it for the news.

Half a dozen kills per state, the numbers varied depending on your nervousness, you packed up and drove east. 7 Ghostface attacks in Kansas, another small town that you decided to settle with for the moment; 4 deaths from stabbing in Missouri, you kept to your standard of small towns, preferring close-knit places; 3 stabbings and 2 deaths by choking on their blood in Illinois, he could see you panic from his car, a regular and unnoticeable jeep that didn't stand out; 6 and 3 kill in Indiana and Ohio respectively, all brutally stabbed, left to bleed like you were; 3 in Pennsylvania, with more following the last ones if you decided to stop running.

Fortunately, he loved the chase;run, rabbit run!

You moved so often that you never had the luxury of building a lasting relationship, spending the past years jumping states to escape the ripper that stalked you in your living and your dreams - nightmares. The one constant you had were small-town generosity, receiving welcoming stares from others. For Danny, good old Danny, the blood painting his clothes and you were the continuous aspects of his life. He tasted your fear, the tangible terror you exhumed after the first kill in the place you thought you'd feel safe. He remembers the places his knife kissed you, the scars glinting under the moon when he stared at your sleeping form through the window. He wanted to climb through the window, hear your gasps for air as he plunged his knife into your supple skin, see red bubble from your wounds and roll down your sides. To stain the satin drapes on your bed with blood and fill the house with your muffled screams; to perform the last dance with you before he carved you up. An honest man's dream.

This time, this time was the right one! He knew it- felt it in his bones. Pennsylvania would be your deathbed. You'd be the sixth victim from the Chronicle of Roseville's murders, the one that first slipped away between his fingers. The beautiful town of Roseville, a lost, little nowhere-important-place-in-Keystone-State, reminded him of your shared town in Utah. Nothing seemed out of order or too different and everyone got along, too well sometimes, he hated it (there were some exceptions like that asshole in the Gazette's building who used to write for the front pages until Jed came along, giving the asshole the crumbs for side columns.).

He decided to meet you this time, he played it as a coincidence, bumping into you and helping you up, hoping you'd recognize him from the papers. He knew you followed the news, it helped you track whenever you had to move; so you knew him, complimented his works even. You sat down and talked, more so him than you, your skittish nature increased by his perpetual stalking. You nodded and shared words, he internally keened when you mumbled how he brought his words to life and made gruesome stories turn into magic, something people could read and become fascinated by. It's no wonder you keep staying on front pages, he remembered you saying that, and he felt giddy about having his work appraised by you. You had good taste.

You bumped into him a few times following that day, once or twice every day, sharing greetings until you worked up the courage to ask him to meet you during a Sunday at the cafe down from the Gazette; to get coffee and talk, you stressed as if trying to convince yourself that the warm feeling in your chest was normal, that you weren't catching anything for the cute journalist that you'd been seeing a lot for the past month. It was slow, but you'd end up in his grasp either way, deciding to finally meet you as Jed Olsen and not Danny Johnson was the right step.

He loved the chase, but he wanted to finish the job. Whoever it was, did a shit job of finishing them- oh wait, that was me-.

Throughout your relationship of 3 months and counting, Danny found the time to kill 2 others with passionate caresses of his knife, imagining you were in their place whenever his urges got too strong. He wanted to draw out the sensation you gave, wanting to feel it a bit longer before it stopped completely; he wasn't a masochist, he was a sadist through and through, but he wanted to revel in it a while longer, years of work coming into fruition. He got to hold you, comfort you as Jed for something he - Danny - did in cold blood, premeditated murder with the signs of a passion-inducing kill. He acted as the caring boyfriend Jed was and prepared for his final act, scene finished and tape saved, he wrote his last piece with the tape.

You would die that night.

He left his jeep and climbed through the window in your kitchen with his tactical knife hidden in his coat. You were asleep, all lights closed and entries locked - not that it'd stop him from coming in - it was vacant from any noise, there weren't any breathing, sighs, snores, or whimpers from your nightmares. It was too quiet, something was wrong. Weapon brandished, he made his way upstairs, making sure to skip over the creaking panels from the times he came over and stalked straight to your room. The door was open, the bed empty, and the closet door was thrown open with force, Danny's eyes scanned the room, yet you weren't anywhere. He scoured the house, and he still couldn't find you. It hadn't made any sense, your car was parked in the front, keys, and necessities were still at home. Everything you'd need to survive was left here and you, gone, missing, vanished in the wind.

"Fuck-"

He delayed it for far too long and missed his chance. Back at the motel, he stared at his masterpiece of a wallpaper, pictures, and acts placed in order from Utah to Pennsylvania with yours in the center, the sole act stuck to the wall without a picture to admire. The stories he brought to life, the plays he prepared, out of everyone, yours was the one he anticipated the most. The last piece was a grand play before he disappeared when everything started pointing towards him.

His blood boiled, rage filled his mind, and the desperation to find you, straddle and stab you, strangling the life out of your pretty, little head. He wanted to see the betrayal in your eyes, the heartbreak of his actions when he showed you who was killing you: your sweet boyfriend Jed Olsen. He had no reason to really want to kill you other than for the thought and thrill of it, a reason was so overrated; whys were too bothersome other than just I wanted to, so I did it.

In his haze, he missed the fog that worked its way into his room, covering the bottom as it rose higher and higher. A chill racked his body, then a woman's scream filled the air followed by a familiar one - yours. He smirked and turned his back to the wallpaper, stepping forward gleefully with his favorite weapon and costume. Leaves crunched under his boots, listening to the loud gasps and pants echoing around him. A sickening grin full of teeth and bloodthirsty eyes gleamed beneath his mask, back hunched to stay hidden as he followed the voice he came here for.

"Run, rabbit run."

Run, rabbit run! the screamed wheezing around the forest, carying his voice to the people he was hunting.

The thrum of adrenaline and the thought grip on his knife, the familiar figure crouched down as someone helped them with their wounds, your whimpers and the tears pricking your eyes. This was what he wanted, what Danny wanted so much, and the Entity would gladly give in to his wishes. He couldn't be any more thankful, he could relive every kill with you, encores upon encores, an endless loop of hunting and running.

Ghostface loved the chase; run, rabbit run, the hunter is on your trail.

*****

Taglist:

@hex-touchstarved

#x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd ghostface x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #gn!reader #dbd ghostface #dbd x reader #dead by daylight ghostface

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atla-suki · 5 months

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sokka’s treatment in lok was astonishing tbh but i’m actually glad he was dead by the time the series started bc toph being a cop??? aang being an awful dad???? they would’ve ruined him and suki’s characters lbr.

as far as any possible kids go idk we didn’t meet suyin till book 4 we barely saw izumi i think they just didn’t want to make the new series be a atla reunion plus lok was only meant to be one season so they were making that shit up as they went along lmao. and back in 2012-14?? they didn’t know themselves what happened to sukka lmao.

sokka and suki are definitely the type to break up bc of long distance but then find their way back to each other a few years later especially as they settle into their roles in life.

while bryke definitely neglect suki and sokka to some capacity also they do have a soft spot for suki after bringing her back. many don’t consider her to be team avatar but they’ve stated they do so idk ! she shows up a lot in the comics which have obv been created post-lok and it’s been said that they’ll utilise it’s plots and characters in shall see in future projects (crane fish town becoming republic city maybe??? where suki currently is working?? and sokka later lives!!)

i’m p sure suki will be in it at some capacity anyway and that there’ll stick with jennie as she’s one of the few asian og va’s. she’s doing a lot of work atm for avatar studios.

also random but i literally found out today that it’s not bryke-confirmed that mai and zuko end up together. it was a comment on a panel by the old comic writer. it’s not technically canon. izumi is the spit of mai anyway but hmm! interesting!!

btw btw suyin’s father was def a sandbending outlaw who toph had a secret relationship with that couldn’t be public bc of her role as police chief x

oo big ask ok let me break this up into different paragraphs …

fist point - one thing i will admit about lok is that it fell short in incorporating the original characters into the new series in an interesting way with enough verisimilitude (realistic-ness) that it didn’t feel like they were just throwing a popular character into an episode for the sake of it. such as the whole ‘aang is a bad dad’ thing because they under-utilised him as a mentor figure to korra and instead focused on his supposed favourite son (i have thoughts on this re. aang NOT being a ‘Bad’ dad but i will make another post on it if u are interested (or have i alr made one? i’ll make another one.))

i have to agree that they would’ve probably done something shitty to sokka or suki if they were included. especially with the entire first season of lok being about bender/non-bender equality… i can just imagine they’d make sokka say something dumb about the equalist movement being 100% Bad instead of him actually supporting some of their completely valid arguments. idk. i’m sad there’s no sukka but at the same time…. quit while ur ahead yk.

second point - sukka long distance relationship is so real ESPECIALLY during their first few years together. i can see them just kinda calling it off because of commitment issues due to their work, etc. but not ever really losing feelings. they’d be endgame tho🥰

i can absolutely see suki being in upcoming projects! especially since she and the other kyoshi warriors expanded their reach across the nations - it would be hard to ignore them completely if we’re assuming they’re including comic canon into the universe. i hope jenny returns!!

third point - yeah! how crazy that maiko as izumi’s parents isn’t canon confirmed… though she’s so clearly mai’s daughter. i wonder if mai’s role will be expanded in upcoming projects / if she’ll be featured more. hmmm.

fourth - would honestly prefer this to the theory sokka is her father lol. it kinda baffles me that TOPH became a cop.. not bc she opposes authority - there’s something different about enforcing it than there is having to follow it. i can see toph in authoritative positions, and she fits them well. but i think it baffles me moreso because why would toph even work as a COP? isn’t that boring as hell for her?? go do something awesome like probending or professional underground fighting (adult blind bandit anyone?? this would make a good fic) or literally just construction idk i feel like toph isn’t a Hard Worker type that would want to be stuck in such a rigid career.

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plasticfangtastic · 7 months

Text

Cozy Corner Kintober Day 8 (Day 2 for me)

Prompts: 12. Nursing/lactation, 4. Overstimulation, 11. Double penetration, Alt. prompt: Switch (dunno if bdsm switch or vers, so I went with vers)

No codiciarás los bienes ajenos

A Homelander x Ashley Barret x Butcher fanfic.

A/N: told myself this would be a short thing but no... hope y'all like it!

R18: Homelander ‘nuff said, threesome, smut, porn logic, R18, Bottom Homelander, Bottom Butcher, Pegging, dudcon, love triangle, everybody is Bi, slow burn, angst, not proofread sorry.

Word Count: 8K approx.

God had funny ways to speak directly to his favorites, it hadn’t registered at first and frankly he hadn’t care– but the larger she got the more and more difficult it became to ignore, building a slow burning anger spreading inside America’s favoritein return– it was a cheap knockoff of what he had endure with Madelyn but instead of bitter jealousy and rage, he was upset and mad that she would dare to act without his authorization..

Ashley was his property… She was not her own, she was not Vought’s, she was not of her family… she was Homelander’s– she should have asked him permission before spreading her legs like the town’s wench, he thought grinding on his teeth.

As her stomach engorged, the defiance of her actions brought him closer to a boiling point.

Ashley had simply opted to play stupid, acting as if her actions hadn’t threatened to cause a riff in their relationship, as if she wasn’t actively being hostile against him after all the good that he had done for her– how could she dare hurt him like this?

Homelander was the first to informed her, smelling the cocktail of hormonal changes taking place within, peeking under her skin to catch the despicable clumps of cells forming, she had been stunted, running towards her assistant to get her a test for something Homelander had already confirmed with more accuracy than any piss soaked stick… she had been a nervous mess for the remaining week, even more than what Homelander was accustomed to.

He had approached her after a meeting, cornering her with a stiff look on his features.

“You getting rid of it?” He would’ve made a demand but at the time, he didn't think the idiot would’ve jeopardized her career to play with dolls– the labs downstairs can do it discreetly and free– just so you know.”

She stared at him with her big round exhausted green eyes, and for a moment Homelander was left speechless for she held back a sob, just shaking her head lightly and thanking him for his concern.

Leaving him behind as her kitten heels clicked on the polished floors.

But with every passing week the thing continued to grow, and grow, and so did Ashley… their relationship hadn’t changed, he was still behaving the same around her but as she got closer and closer to the end of the race, he was forced to held back in public– he couldn't be seen as the bastard yelling at a pregnant woman, he had to watch his tone, never raising his voice if people were around, and Ashley knew just how dangerous this was becoming, worried that one day she wouldn’t make it to her apartment in one piece, feeling she would be in a freak accident that her own people would cover up.

Ashley had stared at her fourth pregnancy test in the comfort of her own bathroom…

Thinking heavily on Homelander’s words she stumbled into her bedroom, her mother’s picture taken at 16th birthday watching over her– her mother would get diagnosed a few weeks after that party. But there she was smiling, her hair a light brown and her eyes just like hers, still so happy and loving as she held her daughter.

Why was she alive?

She was a ghoul clinging to her unlife, as she stroked her stomach thinking of what was germinating within, Ashley thought of her life… What was she living for? Work? What else…? Everyday felt like her last when Homelander was around, everyday was just another day she was allowed to continue existing, always caught in his grasps, surrounded by wicked souls that had taken almost all of her humanity, she had to become like them in order to survive… but why was she surviving, for? She had no boyfriend or girlfriend, she could barely maintain friends, her father had remarried some bitch twenty years younger than himself and now had kids he liked more, she had no siblings, and her cousins lived on the other side of the country, she dedicated her life to the grind, her best days behind it seemed– she was climbing the ladder just like her mother had always hoped for, for she thought of her as brilliant… Now she mingled with people of importance as a member of their flock… but above all she was in Homelander’s very small social circle, which was amazing!

But why did she live for? To be afraid of Homelander? That’s all? She thought.

Looking around at the house, at the empty rooms, and the lack of life– it was just an expensive oversized shoebox holding nothing, nothing to come back home to… she could sleep on a park bench and it wouldn’t be that different from her current state of being– maybe I could live for this? She mumbled wondering if it could hear her.

The money and her career were good but now she had something that she could dedicate her life for… something other than Homelander.

It was stupid and selfish to bring a child into this poisonous paradise, but she could be her anchor, to keep her from steering into the iceberg, to keep her holding on to life.

She only had a single name in her head, only one man responsible for this conundrum.

William Butcher had tracked her, appeased to her decaying humanity for assitance with the Homelander dilema, she wanted to run away from him but the bastard was just as bad as Homelander when it came to taking no for an answer, in this brief exchanged Ashley was finally able to speak her mind, years of torture flooded out of her chest and this man the devil’s priest sitting in its mold infested confessionary box listening to her, absolving her in the process– she was so afraid of him, so scared of Homelander’s heart, and for the first time there was somebody she could speak to, who understood her pain and had been doing things against him, in a sense this was the closest she would get to personal retribution against her demon.

Somehow during those brief moments (possibly do to the whiskey) both had woke up with their entire bodies sore, William turned on her sheets glad to have a soft mattress under his back, feeling the sharp pain of raw flesh where she had bitten and clawed, letting a soft chuckle thinking about how hard and frantic she had fucked the brit, she was so demanding William couldn’t believe she wouldn’t dare give the caped cunt some lippy, after spouting all her exigencies to Billy eagerly without care.

They didn’t see each other much after that, the Brit had found the hard way that Ashley for all her hatred and fear… was loyal to Homelander, terrified of ever leaving his side, of knowing what lay on the other side of the river.

William had to give it to Homelander, he had completely brainwashed her into pure misplaced devotion.

So as she let the city fall asleep around her, she dared not contact Butcher.

The more it felt real, the more she gave herself something to wake up tomorrow for, even if now she had to deal with Homelander, but it would be alright… it would be alright, she kept praying that it would work out.

“You taking maternity leave?” Homelander had entered her office slouching on her couch while pretending to read some marketing reports for an upcoming hair product line with his name on it–I need to know how long– have to find your replacement.” he said with sharp snark.

“Only one month. I already have been interviewing nannies.” She said meekly, fidgeting with her pen as she stopped work to give him undivided attention– "can't afford too many setbacks– especially those I caused.”

“Why?” He looked so confused.

“You’re also my priority.” She hadn’t meant for it to sound so personal, but she was so exhausted, pregnancy insomnia had devoured her brain and these piles of paperwork didn’t shrink any further– I’ll be back before you know it.”

Her sheepish smile didn’t even register on her own brain, Homelander fixed his posture, pursing his lips back and forth between a wobbly smile and anxiety, as he looked at Ashley and her glowing skin.

As he stood in the Seven’s boardroom looking down at his kingdom, Homelander thought of Ashley’s words, like a knife in his back… how could she? How could she dare toy with him?

As he looked at the bipedal ants beneath… Homelander could only wonder who was the ill-born shithead that had dipped; Ashley didn’t smell of anybody other than herself and her perfume– all hypoallergenic goat soap and sea-salt shampoo mixed with adrenaline and hopelessness, he had heard the tinder notifications go off from time to time tho… was it perhaps a one night stand? Of course ‘His Ashley’ would be so irresponsible– he recoiled at his own thoughts… His… was she his? Of course she fucking was! She was his property! The louder voice in his head reminded him of what he was and what she ultimately was… a lackey, his servant, no different from a dog… He had been a good owner so why did she stabbed him? He mused on the thought.

The whole month her replacement had been tempted to quit five times, cried fourteen times, writen a 2-week notice three time, almost attempted suicide once and considered twice.

Homelander had let out months of frustration on the poor man, he was no Ashley… so fucking weak and pathetic, never dressed properly and stinking of axe and hugo boss, no amount of telling him that the smell was irritating got thru his thick skull, never speaking the way Homelander could bare to listen to, never fast enough or efficient enough in his eyes… he quit the same day Ashley showed up back in the office, baby in hand… and that’s when the nightmare truly began… payback for his mistreatment of her substitute.

God must’ve been laughing.

God must’ve been inviting the devil to the watch party.

Homelander hadn’t had a second to admire the bodily changes before, so angry to notice… It wasn't like Madelyn whose every inch and line he had registered… every inch made to hurt him as she abandoned him for somebody he could never hope to replace.

Ashley wasn’t ugly, just a step above average, but plain compared to every other woman in his life, and her eyes were just so big and weird to him.

But as he caught her breastfeeding in her office… he noticed just how much her breast had grown… maybe 2 ½ sizes bigger, they were so swollen, so heavy and that tiny little girl didn’t want anything to do with them. She much rather the bottle much to the first-time mother’s frustration, who assumed she would just latch immediately, it was the most natural thing for a newborn after all, but there she was getting frustrated– she really couldn’t do one thing right, she cried.

Homelander just closed the door behind himself trying to look away, Ashley jumped slightly covering her baby and herself with a cloth.

He licked his lips, swallowing sand, as he tried to distract himself from the smell of fresh milk waltzing towards his nose… he looked at his boots, trying not to beg for the forbidden.

“Try tickling her mouth with your finger… give her a breather then try again… don’t force it” Homelander said gently, putting the flowers down the table, his ears a dark shade of pink– I’ll come later…”

“Oh” She looked at the arrangement shocked that he had brought her a present to congratulate her on her delivery, albeit a bit late but...god this was somethign remarkable– is okay… just give me 1 minute to get the bottle.”

“Is not good to give up so easily, Ashley.” His voice had an odd firmness to it.

The impromptu meeting went smoothly Homelander doing everything in his power to look away, to hide his face as the smell of milk and the sounds of that baby drinking mocking him– god it smelled so fucking delicious, his mouth filling with spit in between words.

This was punishment.

If watching it wasn’t an adrenaline rush… his ears were plagued by the sounds of her breast pumps, of the sloshing of her milk as she shook the plastic bottles before packing them, every other time she was in the building, coop in her office.

Homelander would find himself planted firmly on the spot as he caught the sound of the machine sucking… of her little whines and moans of relief as the pressure on her tits loosen.

God must’ve been pissing himself laughing when he watched him grow unbearably hard to the sounds of Ashley tasting a little drop of milk off her wrist that had spilled… her tongue’s quick flick provoking him.

Ashley was his property… she had no right to tease him like this.

That night Homelander waited ‘til Ashley left the building before heading in the dead of night to wander into her office, and here he could almost hear the angels giggling as he looked into her fridge and found himself in a very familiar scene.

He tucked his arms behind his back hiding the bottle with his cape, as he hurried upwards– in the solace of his penthouse, undressed one hand pumping his cock, caressing the lenght of his shalf as his pre-cum slicked the tip of his cock, he moaned with every short sip, letting it pool in his mouth and mingle with his spit– Ashley cradling him in her arms and her breast in his mouth, fantasizing of his hollowed cheeks sucking on those swollen breast, who gave a shit if it was Ashley of all people!? Not him… not when she tasted so freaking sweet. Not when she was all he could smell, all he wanted to smell, all he wanted to cover himself with, just to fill his stomach with… he laid in bed with his twitching cock, cum all over his abdomen and a light head.

He had come so hard his eyes had grown unbearably heavy, he dared not wash the taste of milk off his lips, he looked at the chewed up nipple and the light puddle of milk at the base of the bottle before just passing off with a full stomach.

He would have hated Melody had he actually given two shits about her, but with her arrival he at least had an excuse to satisfy a craving, glad that the baby would latch but still prefer plastic… not knowing how lucky she was.

On the occasion Ashley brought the child, he gave her deadstares which the child seemed to find amusing, squealing in approval.

Melody Barrett didn’t bother him until now.

Curiosity got the best of him, and maybe Ashley hadn’t been as clever as he had given her credit because there she was arguing with him… with HIM!!! in her apartment, this traitor, this wench, this bitch had never been loyal! He wanted to burn her down, and shower himself on her ashes.

All it had taken was her coming to work one day with something more than unusual clinging to her dress… cigarette smoke, he had smelled this flavor before, he had smelled it on Maeve, but above all he had smelled it on William Butcher.

Cheap cigarettes.

So he flew to her apartment just past 10 pm, in all their years Homelander had never once actually seen the 2 bedroom loft, it was big with high ceiling most likely an upgrade from her previous residency, not that it mattered… the building could come down and he wouldn’t care about all the broken kitsch or its residents… What mattered was that his property was interacting with his mortal enemy… and killing them both right now the only thing in his mind.

William had calmed down, demanding to know if the parasite was his or not which Ashley was so hesitant to answer, squirming in her skin trying to deliver the news without the other man snapping, as she spoke Butcher dropped to the nearest chair, pressing his hands into his face trying to wash away his disbelief, he let a light chuckle out murmuring to himself before ignoring her completely as he headed to the baby’s bedroom– all pink and girly, within laid a sleeping baby, her hair just a light shade of brown and her eyes now that Homelander thought about were… hazel green. He signed and gave up on the spot slouching on the bar not daring to touch her.

How sweet, Homelander thought.

Butcher emerged telling the woman that he wouldn’t be around for the kid if Ashley continued to be bound to Homelander, he didn’t want a new wife or a sex friend but he was fine with being there if she returned to the living.

Ashley just stood there twisting a strand of hair, nervous, her skin covered with goosebumps at the thought of running away– Melody was that bridge to freedom, but in all the time she’d known of Butcher he hadn’t succeeded at harming Homelander… who was he fooling? He was a failure just as much as she was! But he still believed he could win… he still refused to give up… that’s all she needed to believe.

“I… I wish I could.”

Homelander saw red.

How dare she think she could leave?

No… she couldn’t… no… not to him… don’t run to him… he thought, as Butcher's whole demeanor changed, the woman he could barely stand now looked so frail, he dared comfort her, trying to poison her mind with hopes.

When had Homelander enter the home? When did he break the handle off the balcony door that he still had scrunched in his hand? All he knew was that Ashley was cowering behind her arm chair and Butcher was standing in the way.

“why…?” Homelander’s lips shivered– why…w-hy wou-would y-you leave?”

He pushed Butcher out the way, flinging the man right into the other end of the living room, dragging his feet towards Ashley, she dropped backwards crawling away from him as his hand reached after her.

He lifted her effortlessly feeling how thin her neck was around his gloved hand.

“Why would you leave, Ashley?”

Ashley sobbed lightly, not putting any resistance just clinging to his wrist without any force.

“I will never let you go.” he let go of her neck, his arm took her shoulder pushing her right against his chest, the faint glow of his eyes looking at her face– you’re mine… there’s no world out there for you if you leave me.”

Her heart was so obnoxiously loud, but he liked the sound.

His nose touched her own, their lips so close she could almost feel his smile kissing her.

“Is that clear?”

She nodded, holding back with every ounce of will she had left her tears, he cradled her in his arms, cooing and stroking her back, forcing her into a tender embrace, watching Butcher as he emerged bloodied.

“Was he a good fuck? Did you have fun?”

She could’ve tried escaping his grip but the thought of putting any resistance terrified her, the thought of dying and not knowing what would happened to Melody was enough to keep her still– yet the man wanted an answer as her shoulder began to ache, as she winced and cringed from the agony.

He let her go, throwing her into the ground just to meet Billy head on.

“Was Maeve not enough? Did taking her from me wasn’t enough for you, William?”

“Seems to me she was never yours, cunt.” he spat into the carpet– can’t blame you for being attached… She could bend a pipe with that pussy.”

He couldn’t say that of the mess trying to collect itself behind the boy scout.

“You want a list? Do you want a list of all the women I’ve fucked just so you can rub it on my face, you cretin!”

“Man I really missed out on fucking Madelyn, I bet you would’ve thrown a bigger tamtrum.” Butcher tried to get a step towards the door, but Homelander took him by the arm– keep the bitch I don’t want your sloppy seconds.” He growled.

Homelander was silent, ignoring Butcher’s complaints as he tried to free his arm, Ashley barely regaining her composure as she watched Homelander lost in thought.

Punishing Ashley would be easy, she was easy to scare back in line but Butcher… this was the second time… if he let him go there would be a third time and then he would be nothing but a fool for the rest of his life.

Butcher who had promised him so much, who devoted his life to him, who molded his whole being to him… Homelander scoff at the perversion… much like Ashley… William was his… he was HIS enemy… the closest thing to an equal… his equal if he crossed the line and took the V.

Butcher struggled putting his whole weight trying to free himself, knowing his bones would break if he pulled any harder– Homelander turned his head around just to dare look him straight in the eyes..

Butcher was a dog… all dogs needed an owner… just like Ashley was his dog… He had the space for another dog, the voice susurrated.

Homelander tugged at the arm bringing them so close, now it was Butcher in a strange embrace.

“You’re a stray mutt that needs to be fixed… you got my cute widdle Ashley pregnant… leaving me a half-mutt to take care of… so William what should I do with you? Should I take you to the shelter or take care of you myself?”

Butcher growled, punching him and bruising his hand instead.

“Don’t you dare touch the kid, you sick fuck!”

“I won’t touch the kid. I’m not an animal– you two on the other hand…”

Homelander took the man’s chin pushing his thumb in between his teeth, chuckling as he tried to bite the gloved finger teasing a broken tooth in return.

“If you wont leave my Ashley alone… I guess I have to take care of you too… I know you… I know your weaknesses… you won’t leave that kid alone, you’re not heartless… you are soft.” He said with genuine mockery and malice in his tone.

Homelander stroke Billy’s temple, gentle fingers trace his face returning to those lips, so soft looking, he could see the charms that tried to steal his Ashley away, that seduced Maeve into the dark side and that kept Becca so devoted, behind the gruff and scars the man was cute, handsome even– but ultimately soft looking, those eyes so dear and pretty.

“I’ll take care of you both.” He smiled leaning closer until his lip brushed Butcher’s lips– you’re mine too.”

Butcher tried resisting but Homelander was too much, no pulling on his suit could get him to move as he intensified their kiss, his tongue forcing his open, his lips bruising his, leaving them tender and sore, Homelander moaned and shuddered as he felt the resistance, tasting him to the core, rejoicing as the man slowly lost his footing and will– Butcher tried to pull him by the hair but all he gained from the man was a loud moan, the more he ran out of breathe the more he realized Homelander reaction were abnormal. He let him lead rubbing his nail behind the blond’s ear catching the moment Homelander shivered and let out a whispy moan, how much he liked it when Butcher pulled at his hair and tickled his bare skin... whatever was happening here– Butcher had a plan on how to make it out alive, make it out unharmed, to make sure that Ashley and the baby could get out in one piece, he would find a way to get Mallory to help them but first… first he had to sink low.

He had to play along and sign him praises, he would be a martyr if he had to for the child he should’ve never had– why did he do this to himself? He should have drank those questions instead of confronting the chihuahua, why did he need to know? Now he was here about to degrade himself, as punishment for his curiosity.

Homelander was shocked awake from this maladaptive dreams by Butcher wild kisses, he moaned, panting into the supe’s steel silky lips, one hand had left the scalp and found himself digging into the supe’s tights already a couple fingers touching bare back.

Homelander whined separating them finally, his toes squirming as he felt Butcher’s calloused fingers try to reach his ass.

“Ticklish aren’t we?”

Homelander dare not humor him, but as the man managed to find treasure Homelander gasped… his fingers were so rough, it was like sandpaper, no wonder Ashley fell for his trap, his hand was so masculine and rough… it was domineering… he squeezed him– Butcher wouldn’t admit it outloud but Homelander had a perfect ass, it was so big and squeezy, so heavy yet malleable… why hide all these cheesecake behind the cape, idiot? He thought.

“You want to own me don’tcha?” He growled into Homelander’s lips– "you want to be my owner then play with me, young master.”

Homelander nose flare-up, feeling small in the arms of the taller englishman.

“I got a lot of pent-up energy,” he purred.

“I guess… I guess… I guess we can p-play” He mumbled.

“Please not in the living room…” Ashley muttered, now collected and looking annoyed as she picked a large piece of a broken trinket, and admired the broken door swinging lightly– William… Homelander, sir.”

“Of course… my bad” Homelander freed himself from Butcher, dragging him by the hand as he complained, picking Ashley and heading towards her bedroom on the way – let’s have fun!”

The personality switch obnoxious.

Okay he had not anticipated this, Butcher thought, blaming a possible concussion for his lapse of judgment and poor planning.

The moment that door closed behind Homelander, he jumped Butcher once more, throwing him in the plush bed, surprised to see just how soft and bouncy it was, Homelander examined the older man beneath him, and the scowl in his face.

“Ashley you pick”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at them both perplexed, biting on her thumb as she caressed her wrist.

“Pick who fucks who, silly.” His smile creeps her out– you want to see him pinning me down and fucking me like the wild dog he is, or you want to see him bouncing on my cock like a good bitch?”

It must’ve been a trick question, but something in her brain must’ve been broken by Homelander ages ago, so she fixed her composure and gave it a real thought. Either picture was good… in her bed were two beautiful older men, two men who clearly hated each other whoul whould be sinking into a violent and heavy dirty hate fuck session… looking at Butcher she had an inkling that the man would rejoice at the thought of making Homelander into a sow and she herself would like to see that man begging for mercy and his enemy’s cock, but on the other hand… did she want to risk pissing Homelander off if she didn’t let him top first? The way he worded things made it seem there wasn’t any real choice… and Butcher had the look that he would turn to putty if that happened… After all, the man had been more than willing to make her happy during their exchange.

“Give her a minute you can almost hear the porno playing in her head” Homelander whispered with a shit eating grin.

Butcher rolled his eyes.

“You top first, sir.”

He smiled in approval, it was a trick question after all.

“Prep him… like you did the last time.” He dismounted resting on the bed by his side– don’t look at me like that William– is her making the decisions… don't worry it’ll be your turn next!” he winked– bring the toys I wanna see them!” he said playfully.

Ashley was almost robotic as she took to the night stand and took her toys and lube out, Homelander counted with both hands at the amount of stuff she kept, running out of fingers by the time she was done.

Butcher had nothing to say as Homelander picked the silicon anal beads, watching him with mild disgust as the man licked one of the beads.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Ashley?”

“What?” she said weakly.

“The ones in the closet… Jesus did you go during a closing down sale?” he looked at the toys on the bed, all the vibrators and dildos.

“I think this enough, mate.”

“Ashley get the ones in the closet.” His voice is sweet but firm.

The woman obeyed heading to grab the box in the walk-in closet, she took it to the bed blushing hard as Homelander waited to see the contents.

A double sided dildo and a themed strap-on.

“You are freaky” Butcher chuckled unable to look at the spread and believed it belonged to her… no wonder she was eager to eat his ass that time– so if you’re fucking me… what is she doing?”

“Me or you…”

He hopped out the bed smoothly and began to undress, letting the suit thud by his foot.

Something about it registered poorly for Butcher, it was abnormal to see, but he gave it little thought as she caught the sounds Ashley was making on the other side of the bed.

Ashley's mouth watered slightly as she took the double sided dildo in her hand then looked at Homelander as he turned around to take his thighs off, then back at the Brit mouthing an apology that he didn’t want.

She should’ve picked the secret third option which was herself.

Ashley took her silk nightgown off with ease, and that confident arrogant prick jaw shook as he saw those swollen breasts, as he looked at her curves and the little drop of milk falling off her nipple.

His gaze fixated as she moved to the bed pushing some of her toys aside to take the lube bottle, Butcher took to removing his shirt, kicking his shoes off towards the Supe, Homelander dare not budge from his spot content to just watch for the time being.

Billy pulled on Ashley letting her naked frame fall on him, and as if Butcher pressed the wrong button the woman was quick to let her plastic dick take over her brain… Butcher was a manly man, much better than her usual cheap cock, he was rough, his muscles firm even if his stomach was getting soft by age, his chest so hairy-- a thrill to squeeze and pull. His sight focused on the other man in the room, watching Homelander irritation and then sudden amusement as Ashley started to pull down on Butcher’s pants.

She wanted to fuck this man and make him call her ‘daddy’-- mostly ‘cuz Homelander would probably like that, and not for devious reasons, she negotiated with herself there.

Homelander let himself sit on the edge of the bed watching with detachment as William 's arms were pinned over his head as Ashley grinded herself gleefully, biting on his lips, and Butcher’s plan was simple make the bastard happy and find a moment to get the baby and run, Ashley would survive, she was always resourceful otherwise how else had she made it this far under his thumb, and he would get her help, Homelander wouldn’t care for the baby, afterall.

“You've done this before, haven’t you?”

She turned to him a thread of spit still connecting her with Butcher, she nodded lightly following Homelander as he moved behind her.

“Get him nice and wet for me while I take care of you.”

Ashley mewled as his hand pulled her hips upwards and towards himself, Butcher hated himself as his cock throbbed at the sight, her face was elated she was starting to let go, getting drunk on their kiss and the manly musk of William– Butcher shimmied upwards as Homelander pulled them away, knowing the man was secretly envious from the look on his face.

She was still plump from the baby, her body had more meat to hang on and squeeze, he gave her cunt a light slap, watching her shudder and jump from luscious pain, Homelander chuckled pulling her silk panties aside, spitting on his fingers before teasing her cunt, Ashley had never expected his fingers to be so freaking smooth yet so fucking warm, as he slid a finger into her folds, it was as if he had boiled his hand before touching her, it was so hot it made her writhle in pleasure, her juices coating his fingers instastenously, as he increased the speed of his strokes.

Butcher took his pants off finally regaining her attention, he adjusted himself in the bed as he threw the pants to the side and spread his legs unsure if this was the right position or not.

And just as Homelander teased the entrance, Ashley hopped forward looking back at Homelander for permission which he quietly gave as he teased her further.

“Lay on your back some more” She said to Butcher.

He followed instruction glad that she owned a king size bed, laying down with just a couple pillows and his arm for support, the other giving his cock a few tugs just to start building friction, His cock blocking half her face, her hands reached out after him caressing his thighs as Homelander fingers entered her, spreading her inside, rejoicing at the sound of her pussy drenching his fingers, sloshing sweet juices around– she was reacting better than he expected… that he had ever wanted… just for him… it made him happy that Ashley continued to be so good for him, pulling at his fingers as he drew them back, moaning under her breath with pure neediness, he looked up watching the back of her head bob up and down as she took Butcher thick rod into her mouth, it was salty, the smell drowning her, she let go letting Butcher jerk himself as her hands forced his hips upwards, forcing himself to take one of his legs, pulling his knees closer to his chest as her mouth kissed his cunt.

She slobbered all over, licking every inch of his mancunt as if it was a delicacy, the taste was strong but addictive, licking and teasing the entrance and his folds with her tongue all while Homelander did the same to her, his fingers going faster and faster, her pussy weak to his relentless abuse as he pumped another finger into her opening, his other hand caressing her ass after “mellow” tap after tap, her whole body electrocuted with each slap, feeling a hand-print burnt on her skin.

Homelander couldn’t believe just how good this was, hearing Butcher grunts and hisses as Ashley reduced him into a slave to his sexual desires, bucking his hips lightly to get her to reach further, she lifted herself spit down her chin reaching after the bottle of lube and a bullet from the spread.

Taking the tip of the bottle towards his entrance, she smiled as she squeezed the cool gel around his ass, Homelander begrudgingly let go of her to let her work.

Fingers and toys digging into Butcher, the Brit trying to contain his enjoyment but his body was betraying him, he hated having to admit that Ashley was making him feel good, his cock leaking heavily into his happy trail, as he chocked as the toy teased the tip of his cock.

“That’s enough.”

Butcher almost brays as she lets go, wanting to feel her massage his prostate even further.

It was Homelander’s turn, picking her up just enough to put her on the man’s chest, she looked back after being put down shocked about how easy it was for him to lift her, Butcher had a hard time breathing for a second until she perched above him, before Butcher could say something Homelander pulled him slapping his hips against Butcher’s lifting him long enough to place a cushion under hips, placing Butcher’s face mere inches from Ashley's pussy.

Butcher had no time to protest before he felt the heat.

His whole being writhe, pulsating as the man let a sharp wet hiss… Homelander filled him, resting his forehead against Ashley’s back as he felt the soft insides. Butcher was divine so warm and soft, so forbidden, so perfect.

Here he was fucking him as he gasped and croon into Ashley, his body assaulted from both ends, glad he couldn’t see the man fucking him so roughly and deeply, glad he couldn’t see the man making him feel so good.

It must be some divine joke that this bastard would have no issue turning him into a woman, if he had wanted him from the get go.

He sped up, knowing his cock had gotten thicker, he was about to finish.

Ashley was screaming behind her hands, not wanting to wake up her kid, but Butcher was eating her better than any of those Spaniards ever did.

“Turn around Ashley!” Homelander growled, his voice hiding the desperation in his heart.

She didn’t hesitate, and before she could say a word there he was– her personal demon kissing her fiercely, pumping his hips and handling Butcher like a pocket pussy, lifting his legs into his shoulder to hit his prostate spot on with every rough trust, as he kissed her he melted into her. Fuck he loved kissing, his whole body twitching as her tongue made a home in his lips, somehow she had gained the confidence to pull at him, to demand him to kiss her harshly moaning as Butcher had his fill with her pussy, sucking her lips, and pulling on the folds, as Homelander squeezed at her breast and twisted her nipples just hard enought to make her squeal and squeeze at Butcher’s tongue.

Dangling by Homelander’s shoulders as he kissed her, drowning in his taste, leaving Butcher further and further behind, pulsing lips taking a breather, sore and raw, but William doesn’t want to stop… so his hand chases after her, fucking her selfishy.

Homelander had slowed down giving his lover slow and deep trust, making sure to fill him to the brim as the two sudden lovers turned selfish too, above him.

She looked down seeing the bouncing twitching cock leaking all over his stomach.

“I have an idea…” she whispers, leaning into the blond’s ear away from Butcher.

He lowers the leg, manhandling Butcher with a glint in his eyes as he helps Ashley, taking the older man into the edge of the bed, he grins making sure to never let Butcher free, her sopping pussy kisses the tip of Butcher’s cock, the man whines biting his lip squeezing at the sheets as she drops and takes him effortlessly, sheathing him with her wet warmth that he had worked so hard to give her, she’s gasping into Homelander’s ear as the man pulls her by the neck.

Biting into the flesh sucking at her pale skin, leaving a trail of hickeys to mark her with, letting Butcher know this was also his.

Butcher saw white as both ends of him were tormented with pleasure, sweating profusely and ready to cum.

He let out a loud grunt as his body lost the battle.

Crying as his cock was squeezed and Homelander's thick cock kept pumping, Homelander wrapped his arms around Ashley as he cummed feeling Butcher tightening around him so suddenly, breathless as he rolled his hips deeper wanting to mark Butcher the same way he had marked his loyal plaything.

Curving her hips as she rode her orgasm, a dazed smile crossed her lips as Homelander kissed her so lovingly, as his hands eager to explore her curves, giggling as Butcher lifted himself to kiss her body the moment Homelander pulled out.

Feeling the warmth enveloping from inside and out.

“My turn…” He mumbles into her chest and Homelander catches it, unable to control his amusement– get in the bed you cunt.”

Homelander jumped into the bed, his knees a little weak at first.

Ashley almost falling into the ground as Butcher gets her off of him, he was eager to fuck Homelander, staring with her mouth dropped as Butcher took one look at the younger man and took a dildo from the spread, giving it a few licks.

He took the head of the pink toy towards the Supe’s mouth.

“Make it nice and wet for daddy because that’s all you’re gonna get from me.” His voice so low and guttural.

Homelander doesn’t hesitate taking the toy into his mouth, spooking the older man by his eagerness.

Watching him as he hollows his cheeks, watching him attentively as his tongue brushes his fingers, licking every nook with such technique Butcher almost threw the toy aside and shoved his cock into those thin lips, his free hand pulling at Homelander’s nipple, delighted to hear the man moan loudly as he pulled at the sensitive nub.

Homelander took the toy out with a wet pop, his hand already looking for the real thing.

“I rather have this” he stroked him– let me see what made my Ashley betray me.”

“Oh you’ll see.” That was more threat than flirt she noted.

Butcher wanted to record this for prosterity, the sight of his blue eyes rolling back into his skull as he fucked his mouth thoroughly, pre cum and spit bubbling in the corners of his lips, old cum spilling from his nose, and lose pubes stuck to his face, but Butcher didn’t allow him to stop sucking him, always reaching the throat, glad to feel it tightened around him, glad to see his hands wanting freedom but those glazed eyes were too good to watch.

Wanting to always have this image of Homelander playing with his nipples, pulling on them until they were pink and puffy, and crying as Ashley gave him a lazy blow-job, glad to see the twitching cock begging for more friction and kisses.

The sight of the most loved man in America, covered in cum, all flushed and needy, his hair just a complete mess– that made this whole ordeal worth it for Butcher and Ashley.

Homelander was pinned to the bed, his body shuddering, he whimpered as the two bastards teamed up against him, it had been an experiment, dragging his nails on his back as he fucked him with the vibrating toy, Homelander flounder, biting on the sheets as Butcher teased his sensitive skin.

He had been foolish to undress, to expose himself, Butcher had thought it was a powerplay, to make himself appear harmless and approachable, to make Butcher comfortable with the idea of fucking him… and it probably was but now Homelander wished he would stop, that they both would stop, the moment she touched his sides he was begging her to stop, but Butcher wouldn’t let her, licking his chest, and sucking on his nipple rolling her tongue on the swollen nub.

His skin prickly and hot and the light in his eyes blinking back and forth as Butcher pressed another toy into his entrance as his chapped hand massaged his member, he clung to Ashley as she came up to kiss him, as Butcher teased him more and more, as he grazed his skin with those jagged nails.

“Just fuck me please!!” He begged.

His skin had betrayed him, punishing him for taking the suit off, for being so bold.

Butcher grinned licking his lips, watching the tears building in the corners of his eyes, the unbelievable sight of Homelander fucking himself on those toys but wanting more, Ashley looked back at Butcher feeling sorry for the blond, and eager to see this play out.

“I guess I am soft.”

He took the toys out, watching it gape and beg for him, Butcher gave himself a couple strokes.

And the man almost cried when he finally felt Butcher inside him.

Butcher was rough. squeezing at him, slapping his ass, pushing him down and lifting him.

If he slowed down Homelander would roll his hips back at him, biting down on his arm, staining the sheets with his blood as Butcher marked him.

The sound filled the room as Butcher pounded him.

The two had been so consumed with each other that Butcher had ignored the other person in the room, surprised when Ashley came behind him, teasing the wet entrance with her perfectly manicured fingers.

“Let me help you out, baby.”

Butcher felt the tip of something big pressing against him.

A nervous smile crossed his lips, and all he could do was adjust the position.

Guess he couldn’t complain about being too spoiled.

Homelander grinding himself in the front, kissing Butcher, his hand pulling on the older man drowning on his tongue, it didn’t matter if it was Butcher or anyone else, he wanted to feel loved no matter how twisted it was, no matter if Ashley helped the gentleman keep up.

Butcher gave up.

Relenting to the pair.

Never did he imagine he would be so drunk on Homelander, unable to stop himself from biting and licking at the man’s neck, letting him crook his neck in every angle he could to get a taste of the older man, he tasted so clean– only now had he began to sweat, even the rare salt tasted sweet, looking at his enemy reduced to nothing but a man controlled by nothing but hunger, his hair messy and stuck to his forehead, his eyes glowing back and forth but so loving and sweet, this was somebody else’s wearing an enemy’s face, now there was some meek man looking at him with pure adoration.

This must've been a taste of heaven, Homelander thought.

Feeling Ashley, tug and pull at Butcher's hair, squeezing his sides and biting whenever, she was mad with power as she fucked him harder than her hips would prefer, but she wouldnt slow down no matter how much pain it caused, not when she was so close to the edge, when her pussy was squeezing so hard.

Billy cursed falling into the crook of John's neck.

“Please cum inside me” Homelander cried into Butcher’s ear.

Butcher let the pleasure take the lead, let Ashley fuck him into her orgasm and let Homelander wrung him dry.

William melted into the blond’s arms, melted into their kiss as his cock charged into him– filling him with his thick hot seed, Homelander could feel his cum travel inside, coating him, feeling his feeble attempts to breed him, glad it was Butcher doing this so boldly.

Ashley cursed behind his back, dropping behind him satiated and exhausted, enjoying the heat coming from Butcher’s, listening to his heartbeat, swayed by his breathing.

The woman took it out, falling to his side looking genuinely happy with her life.

Shifting closer wanting to stay warm, Homelander stretched his arm offering her space, as Butcher took to one side.

She took her place by his side, the man was a hot water bottle in winter, perfect for any cold night, at this moment with his messy hair and his tired eyes this wasn’t her terrifying boss… this was just a hot guy she worked for.

“Give me a minute before it’s your turn,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m too old for this, you two have fun.” Butcher spoke too exhausted to move from the spot, his hips painfully sore.

Homelander could only offer a placid smile.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry about your hips… daddy.” he said with a short laugh.

Butcher would’ve loved to rest, to fall asleep and begin his plan but those two had too much pent-up bullshit to deal with.

Ashley seemed over the moon as the supe showed her what it was like to fuck the world’s strongest and fastest man, drooling as he fucked her and stuffed her spare empty hole with one of her toys, pulling on the toy as he trusted inside her with his actual being, being stuffed so compeltely by his cum and her toys she wanted to be left empty... Homelander wanted one thing and that was for this woman to understand that she was owned.

Fighting the exhaustion drifting in and out of consciousness, Butcher would wake to his penis being kissed and licked, Homelander sucking with gentle force, wafting in the flavor, savoring his precum and his own leftover taste, his hand pulled harshly on the scalp letting himself be lost in the feeling, enjoying the long wet tongue exploring William as the redhead joining him seconds later.

There wouldn’t be an inch the two weren’t enjoying.

In a lost second Homelander would mount him, fucking himself as Ashley squeezed at his chest and grazed her teeth on his shoulders.

He could only smirk at the sight of Homelander… at the drool on his chin, and his lost stare.

He could only smirk as the man felt forward covering them both with holy milk, as Butcher’s seed was cleaned out of him by her tongue.

The night became too heavy for the trio.

Butcher had only one thought in his mind but as Homelander nuzzled his side, wanting to feel him as he slept, as Ashley wrapped herself from behind him, Butcher postponed his plans… just for a night.

One night wouldn’t hurt.

By morning they all would realize the enormity of what they had done… the magnanimity of their actions, he thought.

Instead…

There she was cooing, looking refreshed and delighted, she shushed at Butcher as he woke up groggy and sore, the man looked down gaining awareness, remembering what had transpired.

One look and he was more than just awake and sober.

Homelander latched on her breast, sucking shamelessly, suthering as she caressed his ear, his other hand softly massaging his free breast, well aware of the milk spilling as he gave light squeezes.

Bliss.

That’s all he could feel, the taste all consuming, all divine, his body reborn as he enjoyed the taste of her, Ashley had only done so by accident, joking as he stared at the milk he had accidentally managed to squeeze out from her moments before while titty fucking, he had come and almost passed out to the sight of his cock covered in milk, coming so hard he had cringed and cried for how good he felt-- instead of runnign away Ashley hadn’t hesitated to showered him with affections as she moved upwards... offering him what he had dreamed off...as his tongue took the soft pink nipple into his mouth, he smiled.

Quivering as he took those first few gulps, as he squeezed her nipple with his tongue and found gold.

Wanting more and Ashley was glad to provide.

This was all he had ever hoped for… feeling the swollen bud on his lips… savoring every drop as the woman cooed and caressed him with all the loving tenderness she reserved for her child just now lended to him, seeing him like this brought an euphoria unlike anything before, seeing him so small and needy, whining as she adjusted herself to help him feed, seeing his nose nuzzle and press on her chest as he seeked her out… to know she could exert so much power over him with just a simple action, was a rush.

Homelander was in heaven squeezed between the two lovers, Butcher smirking to himself as he squeezed the man’s side, knowing he could use this ammo for the rest of his life.

Then the baby woke up.

Somehow it had slept peacefully the entire night, and Homelander could smell the reason for her interruption, he cried as she parted promising to come back, Butcher took to homelander mockingly offering his chest as a pacifier, staring at him with lost blue eyes before taking on the offer afraid that Butcher would change his mind.

He squeezed at those big beefy pecs seeking nourishment but finding nothing, Butcher drowning in the wanton of Homelander’s, how much the man wanted his mouth to be filled, sucking on fingers that dare try to part him from his comfort, it was strange but refreshingly good sensation for William.

Butcher would think about escaping another day… This was something he could use against him.

A trap designed by its victim, so he smiled and copied Ashley.

Homelander rested… happy, content, eager to wake up later, knowing that he had done a good job teaching them that they belonged to him.

#personal #cozy corner kinktober #homelander #billy butcher #ashley barrett #butchlander #homeash #AshButch?#ESL so sorry for grammar #this was longer than I expected but am really proud of how it turned out #homelander fanfiction #butchlander fanfiction

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 years

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tips on subtle manipulation? I want it to be clear (or at least somewhat noticeable) by a reader, but not to be noticed by my main character.

Subtle Portrayal of Manipulation

Here's the problem: not everyone has the same understanding, knowledge, or experience when it comes to manipulation. So, for the same reasons your character doesn't realize they're being manipulated, some of your readers won't realize it, either. That said, you can't rely on the reader to pick up on subtle clues. You have to be clear about what's going on, but that doesn't mean the character has to realize it.

The key is to have a character who does realize what's happening and use them to clue the reader in. This can be the manipulative character themselves or a third character who witnesses these interactions. So, your portrayal is made up of three parts: -- the manipulative act -- the clueless reaction by the one being manipulated -- the knowing response by the character who realizes what's up

----------------------------------------------------

Let's say Character A is clueless that they're being manipulated by Character B, and Character C has witnessed some of these manipulative interactions:

The Manipulative Act

"Oh! A, can you give me a ride to my show tomorrow night," B asked as he stood and put on his coat.

A frowned. "Sorry, I can't tomorrow night. I promised to watch my little sister so my parents could go to dinner, and they live on the other side of town. C? Can you take him?"

"No can do. I'm leaving for Boston tomorrow morning and won't be back until next Tuesday." I tried to sound sorry, but I was glad that neither one of us could bail B out this time.

"Oh. Well, no big deal," B replied, waving it off with his charming smile--the one that always made A's insides melt. "I wouldn't want you to have to drive a few minutes out of your way to save me a 30-minute walk. I'm sure the cold air will do me some good--if I don't catch a cold." He added a lilting laugh to the end that made him sound upbeat but forlorn. It made me cringe, but I could see A's wheels turning.

The Clueless Reaction

"You know what? I can just leave early and show up a little late to my parents'. They'll just have to deal with it."

"Thanks, A!" B grinned and strode out of the cafe with all the confidence of a successful conquest. A gazed wistfully after him, blissfully unaware of how she'd been played.

The Knowing Response

"Why do you let him manipulate you like that, A?"

"B? He's not manipulating me--what are you even talking about? Are we villainizing people for asking for rides now?"

I ignored her and focused on finishing my cherry cobbler. It irked me that she couldn't see what he was doing to her--what he had been doing to her for weeks now.

---------------------------------------------------------

Alternatively, you could have C just think about what they'd witnessed (rather than confronting A about it), have them confront B about what they're doing to A, or have them discuss the situation and their frustration with a fourth character. You may even choose a combination, or have multiple different characters in A's life who is aware of what's going on.

And, another alternative would be to have B be the one who tips off the reader through their own thoughts about A and behavior behind A's back. All that matters is that someone is cluing the reader in even while the character being manipulated remains oblivious.

I hope that helps!

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samueldeckerthompson · 6 months

Text

My mother, Cassandra Decker, died yesterday, and I'm not sad about it.

Mom wasn't an evil person, she wasn't even a bad person, in fact, she was extraordinarily sweet, kind, and giving, and she always did her best to be the best mother that she could be to her three children.

Unfortunately, she also inflicted untold trauma on me for the vast majority of my life.

These statements would seem to be in opposition of each other, but they are both true, she did indeed try her best, I have no doubts about that, but her severe mental illness almost always stood in the way of those efforts.

When I was still in elementary school my Mom began to do a lot of strange things;

She randomly dressed up as a clown at a soccer game, ran out onto the field and stole the ball from the ref.

At my baseball game when I made all-stars she stood in the crowd yelling vile insults and taunts as I tried to pitch, causing me to walk three batters in a row and hit the fourth.

One Christmas I received the most amazing toy car from an Uncle who lived in France, she forced me to destroy it with a hammer, saying my Uncle was a warlock and the car was possessed with an evil spirit.

One evening she picked up our heavy solid oak kitchen table and flipped it over on myself and my little sister, the cops were called, and they wrestled her out of the house as she screamed and wailed with rage in just one of many instances where I'd witness her being arrested for bizarre and sometimes violent behavior.

At that point she was diagnosed as being paranoid-schizophrenic and bipolar-manic depressive. She spent a couple months in an institution and although her meds would help intermittently, she was never the same again.

From that point forward, she'd generally have at least one major mental break each year of her life and spend a month or two in the looney bin.

Visiting her there as a child and young adult was just horrific, sometimes she'd be strapped down, other times doped up and almost comatose, another time I remember her holding a big ole palo verde beetle and absentmindedly petting it as if it was her favorite cat.

The last straw for visits there was the time she suddenly decided to cover herself and the visiting area in her own feces.

The tragedy was she'd always try to get her life back together after these episodes, but each time she was starting from scratch, during the time she was away she'd have lost a job or been evicted, all her stuff would get ransacked by roomates or stolen by neighbors if the cops didn't lock the doors when they took her away.

At one point she even went to beauty school, obtained her license, and opened her own salon. I was so proud of her, she was doing well, but it was in a rough part of town, hard to make a profit, and eventually the stress there caused another episode and she lost that too.

My sister and I each tried having her live with us at different times, but I couldn't make it work as I just wasn't willing to subject my kids to the same trauma I experienced.

The final time my mother lived on her own I showed up to check on her after not hearing from her and found her completely naked, sitting in her kitchen shivering and starving, babbling about how an imaginary government agency she called AARDVARK was monitoring her and she couldn't move from the floor or she'd show up on their radar and they'd know she was there.

The last thing she'd eaten was a rotisserie chicken that had apparently been on the counter for many days as it was rotting with bugs and maggots all over it. I vomited in the sink, and then helped her get dressed, she was so frail and feeble. An ambulance came and from there she mostly became a ward of the state, living in group homes for people with mental health issues, which was horrible for her during the months when she was sane, but surrounded by the lunacy of the other patients.

I tried to keep in touch, take her out to lunch, let her see her grandkids, had her over for Thanksgiving, birthday parties, and stuff like that, but as she was aging she started to become abusive, saying all sorts of awful things, and I began to withdraw and detach myself from her so I could protect myself and just focus on my children.

The last time I really interacted with her was not too long after my big brother died, which affected me profoundly, and she kept feeling the need to tell me that my brother was an evil person and would definitely spend eternity in fire.

I'm an atheist, but her insistence on repeating this led to me just cutting her off.

From there she developed dementia/Alzheimers and really seemed to go downhill quickly, and this ultimately led to her death.

Last night my eldest daughter was asking me if I had any happy memories of her grandma, and I just couldn't think of one in that moment, every memory that came to mind throughout the entirety of my life with my mother was bad, 100% trauma, dark thoughts just overshadowed everything,

but today I can remember that way back in the beginning she was a realllly good mom. She was an incredible cook, like world class, and I remember her teaching me things in the kitchen. I remember her helping with my homework, doing arts and crafts projects, and she'd sew clothes for us, and even make incredible pro-level costumes for Halloween and school plays. One day I came home and said I needed a bull costume with really big horns for a school play, she went out and bought fur and sewed me a full length costume with a long tail and somehow used paper mache to make this super realistic bull head with horns and everything. When I showed up for the play all the other kids just had horns cut out of paper that were clipped to their hair, and I was moved to the center of the stage to become the focal point of the whole play. It was incredible.

Also, she is the one who taught me to love to read, we used to all just lay on couches for hours and read, so much so that in 4th grade I was testing at post-college Ievels in reading comprehension and grammar.

My mom also taught me the beauty in writing poetry, and how cathartic it could be. Her poetry was actually the first I read as an adult. Unlike my pithy poems, hers flowed gorgeously and was dripping with flowery language in the old style of centuries past.

So, in the end, that's how I'll try to remember her, as a loving, caring, and talented mother who just got sick and never recovered. Hopefully in time I'll learn to let go of the bad memories and more good ones will come to me, but at the very least I'll always owe her a debt for giving me the gift of poetry.

I'm glad you finally have peace, Mom.

Cassandra Estella Decker

2/2/50 - 11/1/23

PS: I'll never get over how strange it is that such vivacious young people eventually become this decrepit older version of themselves as you see my mom devolve into in this last photo. Life is such a tragedy.

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specialbrewbutterbeer · 2 years

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hangman x f!reader😩

Heirlooms (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader)

Word Count: 5355

TW: Slightly NSFW content but no gory details 😂, mentions death of a parent and single parentage, alcohol mentioned

AN: So- I combined this with an idea I had that I couldn't help but write, but I don't want to put in the title yet because it ruins the suspense and gives it all away (but equally you might guess it really quick, I have no idea!) I'm still working on Recall pt2 also, and the other requests (still open btw) but I'm VERY open to suggestions for it going forward so please do give them if you have them.

Feedback and suggestions in general are needed and very welcome! (Plus it's the feedback and knowing what you love about my writing that keeps me going and means I can write more of what you really enjoy!)

REQUESTS (OPEN)

MASTERLIST

Growing up a young girl on the coast of California was an interesting life, even if you didn't have much to your name there was always the beach, the sun and sea to keep you glad that you lived there instead of anywhere else.

In the summer the whole place felt like it was bathed in constant dusk light, the air was hot and grained with dust; and when the wind blew it was salty and it could all sting your eyes and make it hard to see how pretty it all was. The sea was a sort of hot sweaty blue, glittering and dancing.

In the town there were five major things- as it was only fairly small; The first was the store, which was not branded, and had an aisle for everything from cereal to nuts and washers, the second was the local highschool, which was relatively small and the auditorium of which doubled as the town councilors meeting hall, the third: the motel, which was the only reason any tourists ever bothered turning off of the road to stop there, the fourth: the single bar that sat on the beach and lastly, the fifth: the road that ran along the seafront- littered with signs directing to the airbase.

There were very few residents that didn't have associations with the base, most of them worked there or were the spouses or children of pilots and those who otherwise did. People came and went often, it was a military town really. There were just as few permanent residents.

(Y/n) was one of those few. She always had been. She grew up there, she grew up around those pilots, their kids were her friends, for as long as they were around. When she was older, she befriended the young wives of pilots, and eventually, like everyone else, ended up working at the base.

Growing up there, watching fighter jets scream over her head at recess and hearing all the stories from her friend's parents about the jets they flew or looked after- she was fascinated by them. She never believed she could be a pilot though, so she just never tried- not for the military anyway. She did have a private pilots license however, and dreamed of one day being able to buy something to fly as a hobby.

(She did also once steal a plane, just a small Cessna, as a teenager, but managed to play dumb and sweet and avoid charges because the owner dropped the charges when she apologized and said 'I just love them so much and girls never get the same opportunities as boys to do stuff like that 🥺')

Her job was just basic admin, it was boring and pretty dull most of the time, but she liked it enough. It was nothing particularly important, just making sure deliveries came and went as planned- this did mean that occasionally she had to supervise and confirm the delivery of parts and spares for the planes, which she enjoyed, but that didn't always go through her.

She had lived in the same apartment, in the same town all her life. She had lived there with her mother, and was starting to move out when her mother died when she was 20. It was a bit of an awful shock- she had to admit that, an unexpected stroke in the night and she was gone.

And that was it, from there on out she was on her own.

She didn't know her father, she never had really wanted to- and only realised that of course she must have one, when she was about 6, and realised she and her mother had different surnames.

When she asked why, she was told she had her father's surname, and that was the end of the conversation. She had never felt any need to ask for more information, she didn't need a dad as far as she was concerned.

That was until her mom died, then she wondered, because suddenly she couldn't just ask.

She knew her parents had never really been together. Her mother had grown up there just as she did, met her father when she was young, had a bit of an on going fling with him and had (y/n). That's about all she knew though- her mother had told her that her father wasn't from California, and that he didn't live there for long- so she could only assume he was involved in the military somehow.

But still, she wasn't bothered. Why push it now?

She never thought about who he was, she never felt incomplete without knowing who he was.

And that was her life. Simple, content, pretty typical. She worked, saw friends and dated when she could be bothered to.

Tonight she was going out.

She wore some comfy jeans and boots, an old t-shirt with a Rolling Stones logo on and a jacket which she had found at the back of her Mom's wardrobe. It was pretty dull clothing, nothing flashy or fashionable, just comfy.

She walked along the shore road to the bar, it only took about twenty minutes, and pushed open the door. Inside smelled a little sweaty, a little of vanilla perfume and a little bit of wood polish, it was homey. The lights were all a warm yellow and the orangey light of the sunset was coming off of the horizon as the sun sank slowly and steadily below it- heat haze wavering on the surface of the water as the temperature sank slower and kept everyone in a glaze of summer sweat.

She had already slipped the jacket off, she'd need it for walking home but for now it was just too hot, and kept it on her arm. She smiled and walked up to the bar, it wasn't busy yet, so quickly she was greeted by the familiar face of the owner.

"Hi hun-" The older woman, with her kind smile and calming, humming voice, spoke.

"Hiya-" She returned the cheery expression and ordered her drink, which was quickly put in her hand- cool and welcoming.

This was nice- sat at the bar, a warm summer's evening, it was quiet, and relaxing. (Y/n) let her thoughts drift as she stared at the stains and knots in the wood bar.

She felt pretty lucky to be living as content of a life as she was, it'd had ups and downs but she was pretty happy.

"You got a pretty smile- What you thinking about? Your boyfriend?" She heard a voice beside her and snapped out of it. She looked up and saw a muscular man, maybe a couple years older than her, stood beside her at the bar with a sly smile.

Immediately she recognized him as a pilot.

"Huh?" She was initially startled. "No-" She let herself fall into the trap. He was good looking, she couldn't help herself. "What makes you think I've got a boyfriend?" She raised an eyebrow.

"What? A goodlooking thing like you? Not getting snatched up? That's a damn shame." He leant on the bar as she turned and batted her eyelashed at him.

"You think so?" She smiled sweetly.

"Well- it'd be a damn shame for your boyfriend, considering I'm taking you home tonight." He smirked and spoke with such confidence she nearly believed him. She had always taken her mother's situation as a cautionary tale, having a kid at 19 with a dude who didn't stick around- but toying with these guys was so easy.

"That's a bold statement-" She switched off her sweet side and decided to play around a bit more.

"Bold is a strange way to say true-" He shot right back at her with a wink. She thought for a moment, but before she could retort- he spoke again. "Can I buy you a drink at least?" He raised an eyebrow and questioned.

She sighed and gave an exaggerated show of thinking about her answer. She looked down at her bottle, there was less in it that she had thought there was- so she nodded.

"Alright- fine." She rolled her eyes as if she were giving in.

Soon she had another drink in front of her and had easily drank the last drabs of what had been in the first.

"So- you're a pilot?" She questioned, once again defaulting to her sweetness and peaches act.

"Mhmm" He nodded as he took a drink.

"Are you a good one?" She asked, leaning her cheek in her palm and looking up at him.

"One of the best-" He spoke with a puffed out chest and smug smirk. She couldn't help but have to stop herself giggling. He was good looking but equally over confident. Didn't mean she didn't still fancy her chances.

Her pushed her hair out of her face.

"Ohh- Don't I feel special." She tilted her head a little so that the few strands of hair she'd moved away fell right back over her face.

"Oh I'd say- You're sure something special to look at-" He spoke and looked her up and down.

"It's not just me, Sir-" She smirked, the cocky ones always liked that.

She was right, there was a visible change in the man, almost like a tiny twitch in his smile or a flicker in his eyes.

"You know, I'd say we saw pretty much eye to eye in that department." She laughed a little.

"Hey- Hangman!" Someone called across from the pool table and the guy turned sharply, his smirk turning quickly into a much more stern expression.

"I'll be over later-" He called back.

"We're about to start a new game- We're each putting ten bucks down-" The person, clearly another pilot, called again.

"Hey- Hangman?" She spoke, and took a swig from her drink. He turned when he heard it, his expression softer for her than for his friends.

"Yeah?" He asked, his tone a little gruff, unhappy that his flirting had been interrupted.

"How bout we cut this short? So we can have our fun and you can go win a few bucks? Then maybe you can buy me one last drink?" She leant forward and placed a hand softly on his chest, running her fingers under the lapel of his shirt collar.

Immediately, as he looked down at her, with that pretty little smirk on her face, he knew what she meant. He liked the chase, but he liked a forward woman even more.

"Give me ten, guys-" He spoke over his shoulder, before watching her take a swig from her bottle- a drop spilling from her lips and dribbling messily down her chin.

She laughed. It was so easy.

She looked to the bartender who was faced away from them and pulled her new toy away and toward the bathroom- and he dutifully followed.

It was quick, a little frenzied, a little rough but very good. They both enjoyed themselves, despite the threat of someone walking in and the self imposed time limit.

When they were done, (y/n) stood in front of the mirror- fixing her hair and lipstick.

He was one of the better ones- clean, tidy, not super courteous but he knew what he was doing and none of it was wrong. She knew there would be some bruises on her shoulder blades the next morning, but being pushed up against a tiled wall would do that to ya.

"Hey-" She heard and looked in the mirror to see the pilot she knew only as Hangman - though she had read the name on his shirt- smoothing his short down and with a satisfied look on his face.

"You gonna be here all night?" He asked.

"Not all night- but I'll be around." She went back to combing her dark hair back into place with her fingers.

"Right- I'll buy you that drink when I win this game then, alright sweets?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever you say- Sir." She smiled and made eye contact with him through the mirror.

A smirk crept onto his face. He liked the measure of her- if he could help himself he wouldn't be back for more, but he liked her too much not to go at least one more round, sometime.

He walked out of the bathroom, a pride in his step as he did, and (y/n) once again returned to the mirror.

She used to do this a lot more often, it was less awkward than a one night stand, and with the right man it was much better too- more fun. She wasn't still 22, she had slowed down a little but it was much more her style and pace to do this than have a long term partner- she'd tried that and it never worked out very well.

After a couple minutes she also emerged from the bathroom- the place had a few more people in it now than it had, but not so many that her jacket being slung over the back of her bar stood hadn't prevented someone from sitting there.

She sat, and as she did, the noticed the lady behind the bar reach for the bell- and ring it. She followed the womans gaze to an older man, though who had clearly aged quite well, with dark hair and dark jacket. Something about him seemed familiar- but she shook it off. She'd probably seen him around work one time or something.

"Thanks for that, Pops!" She grinned and laughed- knowing that tonight really was gonna be a cheap one.

The dude gave a reluctant smile and put his hand up with an air of defeat. She shook her head and laughed again.

Suddenly she had another drink in front of her, courteousy of Hangman, who was once again leant on the bar beside her.

"I did win- but this one's on that idiot." He grinned as he placed it down.

"Well- thank you Sir." She gave him her bedroom eyes and batted her eyelashes at him once again. "I've gotta be heading out after this one though- I've got work in the morning." She spoke a little more seriously.

"Alright- I'll see you around then, sweets?" He asked, knowing the boundaries and that it wasn't an invitation. He was arrogant, not stupid. She nodded and hummed a yes sweetly.

"I never caught your name, sweets?" He asked before turning away.

"Oh- it's (Y/n)." She smiled and drank.

"Alright." He smirked. "I'll see you around then, (y/n)." Hangman stated, before returning to his gaggle of pilots.

She did as she had said and headed home after that drink. It had been a pretty good night, she'd got her rocks off and got more than one free drink- that was a good turn out in her books.

She laughed to herself as she pulled her jacket on over her shoulders and stepped out into the cool night air.

It was about noon the next day, as she stood on the tarmac directing a truck delivering a large load of parts into one of the hangars, that she noticed Hangman again.

She looked up from her clipboard, red pen between her teeth and highvis on- and spotted him as she looked over her shoulder to check she wasn't about to direct the truck into the path of any other vehicle. She was far enough away from the taxi ways and actual aircraft that it caused no worry. It was a quickly finished task, which meant she soon had turned on the threshold of the hangar to see him.

(Y/n) saw him in his flight suit, sweaty and disgruntled. She lifted her sunglasses and pushed them up to rest on top of her dark hair and gave a spritely grin. He was a way aways, but he glanced and made eye contact with her, stopping for a moment, a slightly surprised smile gracing his lips.

She winked before sliding her glasses back down and turning on her heels, heading back to her desk in the office.

"Now's not the time for flirting- Lieutenant." She heard behind her, and couldn't help but glance back, a cheeky smirk on her face. She immediately recognised the speaker as the older man she had seen in the bar, he must have been the instructor. She couldn't help but laugh a little.

She kept a wicked smile on her face as she sorted through paperwork at her desk, and glanced through the slats of the blinds every so often, watching planes take off and land.

The day went quickly, and soon she found herself stood in the parking lot, leant on the hood of her car and waiting, her sunglasses over her eyes and her jacket over her arm.

She could have gone home about a half hour before but she knew that Hangman hadn't, his car was still in the lot and none of the pilots had left yet.

She knew that they wouldn't be long though, and waited.

Indeed, slowly one or two emerged from the building, and finally so did he. He spotted her almost immediately.

"Hey-" She spoke in her slickest, silkiest voice- she had enjoyed him, she wanted more.

"You never told me you worked here." He raised an eyebrow as he turned and walked to her.

"Don't ya think that'd ruin all the fun?" She laughed and called to him. He broke his serious character for a moment and shook his head with a smile.

"So, what? You missed me, sweets?" He spoke as he approached, his voice as confident and loud as ever- almost asking his classmates to look over and see what a woman he had chasing him.

"You like the big bold words, don't you?" She gave a breathy laugh.

"What? You don't think they suit me? Cos I'm never wrong with em' missy-" (Y/n) almost hated that he was both arrogant and witty enough to match her- and yet it worked so well and drove her just about crazy.

As Hangman spoke he smirked his usual, knowing smirk, and moved right into her personal space- He hoped that this could be a sustained relationship, nothing serious, just happy, casual rendezvous whilst he was here. He guessed that was the kind of thing she was after. He would have been right.

"Oh- they suit you fine, Sir." She returned as she let him tower over her, looked up and let the corners of her lips turn upward at him.

"You wanna do something I've always wanted to try?" He asked in a hushed tone, deciding that now was his moment and if anyone was gonna agree to it with him, it'd be this beautiful, absolute devil of a woman that'd he'd come across. He raised an eyebrow as he asked and she was immediately intrigued. He really didn't have any shame asking that- no hesitation- he knew what he wanted and he was do his best to get it. And she knew what it was he wanted.

"Well now I'm curious" She replied with a smile. His lips parted slightly but stopped, he needed more confirmation than that."What? Are you gonna leave me hangin here?" She nodded up at him and his eyes lit up all fiery and keen.

They quietly headed back to the building, both with a knowing, keen smile on their faces.

They were both smart enough to make sure no one was around, and that the security cameras didn't cover the area they were heading to. It was working out exceedingly well.

Before they knew it, they were steaming up the cockpit of his jet, fulfilling the dream of every horny pilot. I mean- everyone had to have at least considered it once, right?

It was a pretty tight space, but they made it work, and work pretty well. There was no room for being rough, the way he liked to- and she had to be on top. He liked it, she did it well.

He loved his work, he wouldn't usually mix pleasure in there with it, risk so much- but there was a thrill about it. He wouldn't be a pilot if he didn't believe that adrenaline pumping through your veins was the best feeling in the world.

Plus, she was up for it and he wasn't gonna pass up a chance to not just fulfill the fantasy, but to do it with a woman who he thought was an absolute smoke stack.

He knew he wasn't gonna be able to think about anything but this when he got back here in the morning. He'd just see her face and hear every pretty sound she made in his ear and feel every confident movement she made on him.

He didn't usually go for the assertive woman, but he'd now learnt that lesson- he'd met his match.

They didn't rush, but they were both done surprisingly quick- something about this did it for both of them.

Less than a quarter of an hour later they were going for round two on the floor of the locker room. That wasn't planned, but it allowed him to take charge again; and both of them wanted it.

It was good sex, hot and sweaty and really good.

Once again, the element of exhibitionism was at play. He was gonna love knowing what he'd done in this locker room as he zipped on his flight suit in the morning, surrounded by his colleagues who'd know fuck all about it. He was gonna remember the cold tiles on his back, her nails scraping down his chest and stomach and the way strands of her dark hair fell over her face.

This was heaven, for the both of them.

The only problem though, with the thrill of potentially getting caught, is that you could potentially get caught.

When the latch on the door sounded and Bob walked in, he got the fright of his life.

He only wanted to grab something he'd left behind and instead he was presented with his colleague and a woman he'd never seen before, going at it on the floor in front of him.

He let out a yell of surprise- though he didn't mean to.

"Shit-" Hangman looked up and saw him. "Bob!" He half yelled but didn't want to bring any attention to them. "Get out!"

"Sorry!" He looked away awkwardly and sort of went to close the door- but the action was stopped by Warlock- who out out his hand and held it open.

He'd heard the squeak from Bob down the hall and now he saw the same thing.

He was frankly unphased, he'd been putting up with shit from young pilots for a long time now. Though, this was new.

"Clean yourselves up and be in my office in five minutes." He spoke calmly and shut the door.

The pair seperated and looked at eachother and then couldn't help but laugh.

"Fuck-" Hangman breathed, he was kinda angry at himself, and would be especially if this came off badly for his career, but his arrogant persona told him he might get away with it. Plus, as arrogant, stuck up and aggressive as he could be- and annoyed as he was to have been interrupted- he wasn't gonna let her know that if she thought it was funny. He did have a sense of humour.

They hurriedly got dressed and headed for Warlock's office, (y/n) spoke a hasty but giggly sorry to Bob, whom she felt sorry for with the sheepish look on his face as they passed by him on their way out. He still needed whatever it was that he'd left behind and looked apprehensive to enter the room.

Hangman turned however, and gave him a glare.

"You tell anyone about this- you're dead." He said it with such conviction that anyone would have believed he was serious about that threat.

They stood in the office, Warlock across from them at his desk in silence. He'd already taken her name and written it down. He was just waiting.

The door opened and the instructor (y/n) had seen earlier that day walked in.

"Capitain Mitchell." Finally Bates spoke, looking past the two offenders he had stood before him.

That was the last piece of the puzzle required for Bates to rip into the pair whilst the Top Gun instructor stood present.

It was over quite swiftly, just a telling off and a strict warning. They'd done no harm, so no discipline was necessary- and thankfully Bates didn't know about what they'd done inside a multimillion dollar aircraft. Then things might have gotten serious.

They were dismissed with a shake of the head and strict instructions never to even think about doing anything like that again.

(Y/n) left the room first, followed by Seresin, who's first name she now knew was Jake, and then Capitain Mitchell, who let an amused, but almost confused smile grace his face as he left the room.

They all three walked down the hall, the pair told to go home and the Capitain having intended to do so before he was called to be present to see his student get ripped a new one.

He walked a little behind them, told to make sure they did leave.

"Hey, Miss?" He'd not caught her name.

(Y/n) stopped, turned and looked at him.

"Yes?" She replied, not knowing at all what he might want.

"Can I ask, where did you get that jacket?" Maverick asked, a gentle expression on his face as he looked at it draped over her arm.

"Oh- My Mom had it in her closet when she died, I don't know where she got it from..." She replied looking down at it. "Why?"

"Just- I think that used to belong to me, well to my dad and then to me..." He spoke with an air of nostalgia. He held out his hand. "May I?"

It was just an old brownish jacket, it was like an old flight jacket she had always guessed, very practical. That's why she always wore it. She never guessed it would have been at all a real flight jacket or anything even like that rather than a reproduction, because she'd always known those to have quite obvious insignia or a name tacked on the front.

She nodded and gave it to him. He opened it and looked inside- and found an old faded tag in the lining.

He smiled and gave a small laugh.

"Yeah- look" He pointed to it and held it to the light for her to see. "D. Mitchell. That's my dad." He shook his head as he ran his thumb over the writing. He handed it back to her.

"Oh- Don't you want it back?" She spoke, slightly bemused as she thought on what she'd just been shown.

"No, you keep it. You've had it long enough, it's yours... I thought I'd lost that jacket in, what? 1986? Last time I was here. I guess somehow your Mom got a hold of it. Nice to see it again though." He smiled and shook his head.

"86?" (Y/n) asked, as Maverick went to walk away.

"Yeah- back when I was the hot shot at Top Gun." He sort of shrugged.

"Right... Thanks." She spoke slowly, and Mav nodded, began to walk away again.

She stood there for a moment.

"Um- Sir!" She called after him and took a few steps in his direction, her hands now shaking as she came to a strange realisation. She clutched the jacket close to her.

He turned to her and nodded.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry- this is gonna sound insane-" She felt uncharacteristically unsure. "I think you might be my father." (Y/n) blurted out.

Maverick just raised an eyebrow and stepped toward her.

"My name is (Y/n) Mitchell." She suddenly felt the desperate need to explain herself. "I was born in early 1987 and my Mom gave me my father's surname, but she never told me his full name- I don't think she even knew it. She said he wasn't around, they'd only had a fling. If you were here in 86', you were a Top Gun pilot, then she'd have known your name from your uniform- then it'd make sense that you weren't around for long. You probably left this jacket at her apartment at some point." She spoke quickly and with an air of desperation that made him listen to her, though she stuttered a little.

"Hey- kid..." He tried to process that information.

Suddenly (y/n) scrambled at the jacket, she went in the pocket and grabbed her wallet, she took it out and frantically went through it- she pulled out a photograph.

"Look- this is her. She was 19 when she had me, but..." She held it out to him. "I never cared about who my father was, I didn't ever ask about him so she never told me much but... This adds up?" She spoke as he took the photo and looked at it.

"Yeah. I knew your Mom... I met her and I went out a couple times with her, I slept with her- It wasn't anything serious, I got a girlfriend not long after and I didn't stick around here as an instructor..." He thought it through. "You're sure there's no one else it could be?"

"No. She wasn't with anyone else around then, that's why she was confident enough to give me your last name." (Y/n) spoke, almost stunned with her own revelation.

"Wow..." Mav spoke. "She never told me- If she tried to I never got any message about it." He told her, still holding the photograph, looking between it and the young woman claiming to be his daughter. Now he looked at her, studied her face- he saw a spooky resemblance. I mean, it could have been the shock of the moment, or the fact that he almost wanted the resemblance to be there but- the shape of her eyes, the darkness of her hair, her smile, her expressions- they were his.

"I don't know what to say..." Mav spoke. He wasn't upset. She almost expected him to be angry or something. "You've been here all this time?" He asked, his expression soft and stunned.

"Yeah." She nodded.

He almost couldn't believe it, but it made sense. He didn't know what he'd have done if he had known, he thought he probably would have been a horrible father at the time- but he couldn't do anything about that now. He probably wouldn't have been. Before she was even born he'd stepped into a fatherly role for Goose's son, he didn't know if he could have done that with his own kid. He never would know. But it was almost exciting- to find out he had a kid. Equally so heartbreaking, to have missed out on so much. Christ, he didn't even know for sure yet that she was his daughter- but to have a daughter- that was amazing, surely?

"(Y/n)?" He spoke her name. He liked it. He just smiled and then nodded. She still looked apprehensive. "You're right. It all adds up."

Finally (Y/n) breathed. She didn't know what to say or do. She never had cared about this man, but now he was very likely right in front of her and she realised that it might be nice to have some family- she'd had none for so long. This was just so sudden.

"I think you can call that jacket a family heirloom now." Maverick joked- and she understood then where she got her humour from. She smiled and stared at him, unsure of if she was going to cry or if she wanted to hug him. She didn't know what a daughter should do when she finds her probable father for the first time. She didn't expect the wave of emotions to come from this. She had never expected to care so much.

Meanwhile, Hangman watched. This was strange- but his main thought, which he simply couldn't help himself but to think, with a satisfied smirk plastered across his lips, was:

"I think I just fucked the Capitain's daughter."

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TAGLIST:

@thespeeder @fangirlinc @inglourious-imagines @gh0strr

(These are the only ones I'm pretty sure wanted tagged in everything TG so I hope that's ok!)

I currently have a Rooster taglist, so I'm not gonna use that for this fic (because it's obviously not for 🐔) but if you wanna be added to a general TG/TGM taglist if you could let me know under the TG masterlist that'd be great! :)

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