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cherubispunk · 5 months

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BARK! BITE! BLEED! (PART I) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: being without is always easier when you don't know what it is to be 'with'.

a note from Lucy: heyyyy! hows it going? yes...im back with another series. Those of you waiting for cherub, its coming. I promise. hand over my heart and the other on the bible. but words have a funny habit of not wording so...tale please take the humble peace offering of slutty fwb!frankie and please dont bite my fingers off.

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wc: 5742 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, slight noncon voyeurism, thin appartment walls, mentions of cheating, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, heavy religious imagry (come on, is this even a surpise when it comes to my writing?), age gap but not bombastic sorry chloe (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, could be considered dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (do i need to spell it out to you not to do this?), creampie, biting, its not vore!!!! but there is something inherrently sexual in the themes of metaphorical consumption, softdom!frankie, scratching, gore imagry in the sense of a hunter prey type of thing? More of lu being dell, batshit insane, blurting words onto a google doc and praying ot makes ense when being blasted out into the void.

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“At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is merely a bitch. True power lies in those who don't just bare their teeth, but make you bleed when they sink in.”

Frankie was a quiet man. He would always keep to himself. Never usually stuck his nose in anyone's business unless it was for their own good. Stayed in the four walls of his own apartment he rented close to the barracks. He’d made one friend in the entire complex. You. His next-door neighbour. The only thing he knew before prying was your last name on the buzzer out front. From there it was waiting. And watching. Frankie had an obsession with observing you from his kitchen window every time you came home from work at the bar. Stood in the shroud of shadow and sheer curtain. He dug his claws in and clung to each passing conversation in the hallway, or the laundromat down the street whenever coincidence let you pop up there too. Stored each part of you that you trusted him with in his mind for safekeeping. Often caught himself staring at a particular pair of red lace panties whenever you did your laundry.

There was one small, tiny little problem in all of this, however. Lisa. He supposed he should thank her really, because without her, he would have never moved out of the barracks in the hope of starting a life for them. He would have never met you. It was convenient, reasonably priced and he could excuse poor plumbing and heating for the fact it was close enough to his work that he didn't have to wake up any earlier than 5:30. But Lisa…oh, Lisa was Machiavelian. A conniving woman, with her heart set in thick ice, and a cold, unforgiving grip over what was hers. It made him wonder what he saw in her in the first place. Maybe he was blinded to everything but the curve of her face, or the pout of her mouth and the pant of his name as it passed her parted lips. Or there was some morbid fascination he had with her teeth as they bared to his skin and bit down. Tearing him to shreds. Either way, there was something to live for when being ripped apart by her. Something to distract from the sounds of pleasure that seeped through paper thin walls at night. Your pleasure. At the hands of a man he felt nothing compared to and knew nothing about. So he’d roll over and fuck out his frustration on the woman he hated but chose to stay with until she left him for another.

Another day, another ache. Another pain cramping in his lower back as Frankie inched closer to thirty and still no happier. Twenty-seven, a stable-ish job…and what else in life to show for it? He was bitter. In no place to want the company of another unless only for the night. Except tonight he was alone again, pressing his key into the lock, twisting it open, closing the door behind him. And then waiting…listening. Anticipating the drag of his hand south over the plane of his abdomen to under his boxers where he’d tease himself to the sound of you with another man. The pretty whimpers you’d let slip under the weight of another man's skin and bone, and the pleasure flooding the gaps of your synapses.

Only this time there were no cries for more. No whimpers, or moans. No. These sounds were shouts. And anger ignited you as you rampaged through your apartment on the other side of the wall, getting dressed as Mark, the man you’d wasted months on, chased after you in pursuit of your forgiveness.

“Who do you think I am?’ Frankie heard through the wall, pressing his ear to cold plaster with bated breath. Your voice was shrill, seething with the intent to carve into Mark’s skin with an onslaught of verbal mutilation. Have the words mark him with bleeding, weeping shame. “No, really? You think I’d never figure it out, Mark? Am I naïve to you?”

He slipped out of bed with careful stealth: Followed the sound of your voice through the wall, walking with his ear pressed to it before the sound of your front door opening made him jump, stepping back for a second. He blinked, once, twice…then raised his hands to plaster again and leaned closer, ears straining to hear what was now distance shrieking from the hallway outside. Which he followed to his front door. Listening intently behind the wood.

As he held his breath until his lungs burned in his chest, something flared up in Frankie. A desperate, wanting, starving need to swoop in. Be your knight in shining armour. The words were stuck in his throat, and if he wasn’t careful, they would choke him blue. But if he knew even a shred about you, it was that you’d hate that just as much as whatever it was Mark had done to you to have you tossing him out in the early evening. You were a private person. A woman who never appreciated prying ears or eyes. You avoided all his questions about your past whenever he asked. Swerved him off topic and into the hedgerow before he had a chance to blink and realise he had the backhand of whiplash. And if he let it slip once that the walls were thin, there was no telling where your quick mind would jump to next. Frankie never knew why or what made you so guarded. But he imagined one day you bit the hand of god and he stopped feeding you.

Frankie’s heart was thumping to the beat of his anxiety in his throat, making it harder to swallow the lump it formed, clammy palms pressed to the cool wood with the rest of him.

“You’re a sick man!” He heard, followed by a thumping of something being thrown, then a yelp out of Mark as Frankie guessed he was dodging whatever it was you threw his way. Shoes, maybe? Something else? “A coward! So get out. Don't call. Don’t come knocking. And tell your fucking wife!”

A shuffling of ashamed feet. A slam of your front door. Clattering around behind shared walls. Then silence.

It was five minutes of silence. But it felt like the seconds within those intervals were put on the rack and stretched in torture. Five minutes that he should have used to step back from his door but didn't. He just prayed there was more of you to have to himself for a second.

Then the descent of knuckles came beating down on his door. Causing his heart to jolt out in his chest then plummet into his stomach. Twisting his insides into knots that made him sick with intrigue. He took a step back. And a breath. Then waited a second before opening the door to find you stood there in a silly little lace hemmed tank top and sleep shorts. Your hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words stuck to the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth like soggy, claggy toffee. So he shut up, grateful you cut him off first.

“We’re having a bonfire. So whatever shit Lisa left here, bring it with you. My door will be open. I’ll be on my balcony.” And you left him with nothing but that. Stomping back down the hall in a flurry of your anger.

Frankie stood there, feet practically glued to the floor, fingers curling in on his palms as his blunt nails pressed into already calloused flesh. And an image of you, teeth bared to him like Lisa’s once were, appeared in his mind. An apparition of hurt, torment and his own vulnerability. But it was too late. His feet moved before his mind could and he was already collecting the things of his ex-girlfriend who had wronged him time and time again, stuffing them into his arms in a bundle of broken memory, anguish and lingering hurt.

He found you standing by a metal bin of a man's belongings. The odd t-shirt, pictures of your face next to his, smiles happy and bright with the joy of a relationship you never expected to cave in. In your hand was a packet of cigarettes you'd told him in the passing of a hallway’s conversation that you’d quit, but evidently not. And a crumpled, misshapen box of matches. In the other was a bottle of Whiskey. The brand Mark insisted on liking and you’d bought him for a birthday present. A present he’d never receive because he was as dead to you as the day was long.

“I thought you quit.” He said, trying to start a conversation that hit a dead end pitifully quickly.

“Toss it on.” You mumbled dismissively with a jerk of your head to the pile, eyes glued to Mark’s belongings, washing down your bitter words with an even more bitter swig of drink.

Frankie complied wordlessly from there, dumping the contents of his arms on top of the photos and clothes, stepping back while you poured a generous amount of the liquor on top. A seasoning of fuck you not farewell to the people you’d shared your life with and would thankfully never cross paths with again. He took the bottle from you when you pressed it into his chest, taking a drink and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't smooth. It was almost sour, with a kickback that burned too much to be pleasurable as it passed down the column of his throat in a thick swallow. His thoughts trickled in from there as he read the label and glanced at you. He wanted to get you drunk. Get you to slip up. Let yourself be taken for once.

You both watched, deadfaced, as you struck a match, used it to light a cigarette and then tossed it in the bin as memories curled up under heat. The alcohol setting the blaze up in a satisfying roar of good riddance.

He thought it was a little strange. How you’d come to him. Yes, you were friends. But the type of friend that only ever conversed between life events. In the empty limbo of hallways and laundromats. Not burning things on your balcony in the hope the heat will melt your heart back together, It was a little late for that. Stone doesn’t melt. And the two of you had hearts of set concrete from the turn of events you’d experienced. Encased in the cage of bone that would no longer open to another unless broken in two and forced apart. So you slid down the brick wall, knees bent to your chest while you smoked. The flame flickering a violent xanthous, ochre and scarlet.

He joined you on the floor, passing back the bottle. The two of you side by side, and it only just occurred to Frankie how lonely he was now. But how terrified of intimacy he was. Intimacy of a level deeper than skin/ The both of you wordless, silent as the decaying dead of night. Only the crackle of fire between you and a sniff for your nose as the evening air nipped it and made it run. So to distract yourself, you condemned your tongue to bad liquor, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette and a grimace,

“God, this is shit.” You scoffed.

“Not a hard liquor gal?” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you out the corner of his eyes before the flame had his eyes attention again.

“More of a wine person, really. But even I can tell this is shit.” And you gestured to the bottle in your hand, reading over the label and sighing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, inflicting another taste upon himself when he took it out of your grasp. “It is.”

Silence again. Not awkward for you who preferred your own company to others, but for him, who had been watching you begging for an in, it was clawing at his insides like a starved animal would at the walls of its enclosure.

“So…” He drew out, and you had to bite back an amused smile.

“What?”

Frankie found himself staring in trance at your side profile, with the same fascination you honed in on the flickering flame. He thought in silence for a second. Asking himself the same question.

"How long did you date Mark for?" He asked. The name made him grimace as if it tasted sour in his mouth. Like he had to spit it out with disgust in every syllable for fear of it burning.

"Six months." Another awkward, off beat pause followed as he nodded. Then asked again.

“Did you love him?”

"No." You said flat out. But your words were honest and brutal to the man you let in then kicked out.

Frankie found himself suffocating a sigh of relief in his own ribs. They pinched slightly with an attempt of something profound to be felt. Like a child who had stumbled upon a strangely twisted shell at the beach. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

You turned to him, tilting your head. But Frankie couldn't tell if it was annoyance or respect for the bravery he had on asking you such personal questions. "What is this? Keeping Up With The Kardashians?"He held up his hands in quick defence, backing down.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

"There isn't anything to know except for the fact I'm pissed off." You muttered. “And I figured you would be too, considering the argument I heard a couple nights ago through the wall of my kitchen."

Frankie felt his face go pale, then heat up in the apples of his cheeks. "Oh. So you heard that?" The way your cigarette smouldered as you spoke was the only movement on the narrow balcony. So you did know the walls were thin. It made him wonder what else you knew. If you knew how he strained to listen through plaster and drywall each night.

"Oh, I heard it alright.” You smirked, finding sick pleasure in the way he seemed to squirm. “Something about Lisa finding you...'dull behind the eyes'." Frankie watched as you rolled your eyes and doubled back on your standing in the argument, "If you're going to insult someone, at least be creative about it. ``Give them a good reason to cut it loose." You were like a pendulum to him. But one that spun in clockwise, then anticlockwise circles, instead of oscillating back and forth. Unpredictable in a way that both horrified and intrigued him.

"Dull?" He had to laugh in disbelief, "I am not dull."

You smiled to yourself at that, leaning your head back against the brickwork. Ready to shatter his lie with a flick of your sharp tongue. "You are dull, Frankie. You get up. Go to work. Come back. You do your laundry every Sunday— and I know that because so do I. Your car is always in the exact same spot next to mine. Without fail. Now, you can put all down to ‘strict military regime’, but the bitter truth is," You looked him in the eye, your cig hanging from your lips as you showed him the satisfied grin pulling at your mouth, "you are dull. We all are. We work, we grind, we cry because we work. You ache to the marrow and you get stabbed in the back. And you're begging on your damn knees to bite the hand that feeds you. But if you do, then you starve.”

Frankie had never had his own fear served to him by such a beautiful devil before. And he wished, with all he had left in him that Lisa hadn’t taken or ruined, that you were wrong. It made him want to cave into himself to protect what little he had left. Snarl like a wounded bitch as he held back from others to lick his wounds. Maybe offer it to you and beg you to take it off his hands. But how could he argue when you were practically holding up a mirror to his own eyes? "I hate that you're right." He said in solemn downcast bereavement. And watched the cloud of smoke float silently in front of your face to obscure the very mouth that let him have it in such careful, exact slicing words. The blade of your knife was sharpened to a paper thin point. Now stained with his body’s red.

"There are very few things I'm wrong about. Regardless of that, it's a simple formula and easy to understand.”

“And what is it?” He asked, but regretted it for he knew his heart might not be able to take much more. Not that he showed it. This whole exchange his brow hadn’t folded into a single crease.

“Two things in life are certain: Death. And taxes. You work to pay your taxes, and you die from working."

"That's a pretty pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Life is pessimistic." You shot back with amusement, intently staring in a fixed trance at the pile of burning memories. The last warmth it offered was metaphorically and literally its own destruction. Irony, as Frankie pointed out to himself in his crawling mind. "It crucifies you, and burns you...until you curl in on yourself at the corners and turn to ash."

The conversation had reached a level of solemnity he hadn’t expected, but he’d be a liar if he didn't admit to sinking his claws in yet again. His teeth might come next if you gave him the sweet chance.

You were quiet after that. Both of you were. The remnants of a fire that symbolised how Mark was no longer relevant in your life, and neither Lisa in his. If he thought Lisa was machiavellian, the word had new meaning now. But like with her, it drew him in and snared him into blissful trance. It was the type of blind faith you pin to a deity in the sky. The type that you never see but are forced and gaslit into believing because it's shoved down your throat from a young age. You were not his savour. He knew that in the pit of his very existence, the eye of the storm in his gut.

He would be crucified by you.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

"Aw." You pouted in mock appreciation, pressing a hand to your chest. "Thank you."

Frankie afforded himself the pleasure of laughing at that. As cynical as it all was, it was real. You had just dared to say the quiet hushed parts out loud for him to digest. Though he felt like he was choking on it more than swallowing it. Regardless, he pushed it down to find confidence in himself and prod further.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?” “That.” Frankie pointed to all of you with a gesture absent of any direction, as if it was obvious. He watched as you tilted your head and scrunched your face a little. That crease in your brow…how it would haunt him in future. He felt like the prey. He was torn between wanting you to hunt him slowly so he could feel something at your hand, agony or not. Or asking you to do it quickly so he doesn't have to pursue through the bitter aftertaste.

“I’m not following.”

“You do this thing…where you turn conversations on their head. I feel like I'm getting whiplash.” He forced out a chuckle to make it seem like he was playing through with humour. But his words were genuine under the lace disguise of jest. You really did confuse him. You had his string of thought in knots. Complicated ones. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed at the question. “You’re trying to figure me out.”

“Why shouldn’t i?”

"Because I'm not the distraction you need." You bit, almost like a warning. And Frankie would have listened if he wasn't so hellbent on breaking in. No matter how hostile, how feral, he'd take the time to tame the caged, battered, abused animal.

“Maybe not.” He agreed, twisting his upper body to face you. It’s important to understand that what Frankie felt wasn’t love. At least, not how he’d experienced it in the past. This was an infatuation birthed by the fruit of lust forbidden to act upon until now. “But you’re the one I want.” With those words came a darkness in his eyes. The kind that reminded you of floods and tempests in biblical art. You were that tempest, with swollen grey clouds and a hammering of thunder ringing in his ears. Laughing as you crashed him onto rocks while he swam helplessly with little energy to the shore. Only to be shoved back with another crushing wave that cut through flesh and met bone with a chill like ice. “Just because we’re sad and miserable, doesn’t mean we have to give up a good time.” His instincts were buried before. Rolling in their grave at the chance to touch you. So he pressed his palms to the lid of the coffin and pushed. Reaching out to trace a delicate line along the angle of your jaw. His eyes were drawn to the soft plush of your lips and how they parted ever so slightly. “I want a distraction, baby.”

He had you where he wanted you. And the liquor mixing thick with your blood had inhibition slipping through your fingers. His breath was hot on your lips. Needy to be paid attention to.

“Would it be worth my while?” You challenged, ignoring eye contact for now. Instead looking to his lips for the lies.

“You don’t think I could satisfy you?” He smirked, lifting your chin with a single thick finger curled underneath and the pad of his thumb swiping slowly over your bottom lip. “I’ll do better than anyone else could.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of confidence you have there. At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is just a bitch.”

Frankie chuckled at that. A deep rumble that rattled the bones that protect the hollow hole in his chest. “Come on…let me have a taste.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He took the silence and the glimmer of ‘i dare you’ in your eyes, pressing his lips to yours to consume you. Devour you whole. They took their time in sinking together and suctioning your lower lip into his mouth. Then his tongue dared to venture forward past parted lips to lick into your mouth and taste the backs of your teeth.

First, you let go of trepidation to take a hold of him. The roots of his hair and the back of his neck, fingers curled like talons. After, you let go of all else. The thoughts scratching the back of your skull, the headache that blistered before by the inferno calmed down and you were forced to focus on him alone as he took a handful of your hips and lifted you up to his lap to roll into him like a steady tide.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt to your room, clothes left in a scattered flurry along the way. Breadcrumbs to pick up later and either regret or laugh at. He unhinged your jaw to let slip your airy moan as his hands travelled south to meet the seam of your cunt. All else fell into place when he circled your clit with two fingers to start the first loop of the knot in your belly. A warmup for the act of sin, and need, and wanting. Whatever god there was should have never been prayed to in the first place. And Frankie knew it now that he was damned to hell from the first parting of your thighs for his wandering hand. His teeth were ready for sinking as he gathered your legs and hooked them over his shoulders to walk open mouthed, spit decorated kisses down the trunk of your navel. Pressing his nose into your mound. The must of your cunt making his eyes light up as he stared at the bob of your throat when you swallowed sharply. Head rolled back to the pillow. His tongue glided into your folds for the first lick. Making a hot wet stripe of a path from your asshole to your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to circle it and glide lover to curl into your quivering hole. Drawing out the taste. The beckoning gesture of his tongue gathering your taste in his senses. A thumb following suit to roll the bud of your clit under it, his nose clumsy as it bumped into it too. Obsessing over the tang of your arousal, thick in shine over his lips the scruff of his chin.

Your thighs clamped over his ears that were red. The heat made your own skin burn. Dark curls of his hair whispering against their insides as he continued to devour you from the seam. And your orgasm– it burned bright after the first fizzle. Made your eyes scrunch closed as he pulled it from you with hand and tongue. What was used for his words had yours spilling from parted lips like a puppet. A vessel for him to carry pleasure through. It had you toppling over into oblivion. The abyss.

With bones brittle and hollowed like a bird you were fine to be dead weight as he ascended your body again. Folding you in half with your legs still bent over his shoulders. He traced the jut of your collarbone with the blunt edges of his teeth. How he wished they’d be sharp to sink deeper. But you were grateful as it would be easier for him to not draw blood and see the inside of you ran red like all the others. It was easy to not be human. It was easy to not show emotion and weakness.

“Feel that?’ he panted against your goosebump pebbled skin, and you nodded. You did. It was the promise to feel desired and not broken. And not maimed beyond repair by another person you let in. Another person you built yourself up to prepare to love, to only have the rug pulled from under your feet and the brickwork clatter to the ground. It was the same promise to him. And the desire that ran thick in his blood made his pulse thrum heavy under its weight. Its intrusion hot under his lust scorched skin.

“Yeah.”

“Imma make it go away for you, baby.” he promised with a kiss to the hollow of your throat below its column, between your clavicle. And it was anything but empty. It was full. And round, and swollen with something deeper in his ribs that ached to be let loose. Breathed to fill you too. “I’ll make it all go away.”

His hips pressed flush to yours and the drag of neatly groomed hair sent a shockwave through your clit and up your rattling spine. Vertebrae by vertebrae. Setting off blazing fireworks in your mind for just a second before he started a slow drag. It was a stretch that stung. But pain was comfort if it had pleasure hot on its heels like an obedient dog. Ironic how you feared men like him, who seemed so eager to please and let themselves in uninvited. But you took it willingly this time because you needed to forget for a single second about the heart that bled under flesh and bone in the cage of your ribs.

His cock was thick, full and curved up into the part of you that you couldn't have reached even if you tried. He slotted into your heat like he was meant to stay there. And that alone made you want to scream for him to give in and not relent so you could be ignorant to the way it seemed divine. The roll of his hips kicked up in pace and soon he was hunched over you. Strong arms rippled with muscle from brutal training since the age of eighteen bracing himself on either side of your head. The feeling of him curling his hips into you made you burn. It sent a tumble of a moan from your lips through the breathless pant of his name. A name he never thought you'd call in the tangle of your sheets. But the burning need to give you what he had wanted all this time ate at him. It ripped the flesh fresh off his bone and left him bleeding into you.

Frankie’s eyes misted over when the chain that hung from his neck slipped over your chin and you bought the metal of his dog tags between your teeth. Biting down. It feels better biting down anyway. And the cool of the metal on your hot tongue made your head swim. Looking him in his eyes and daring him deeper. So his lips pressed into a firm line, and your nails raked down his back to leave raised red lines in their wake. Tracing new paths over the old map of scar tissue. Marking new land and territory. The air between you hung heavy with the heat of exhales. And blew with the shared moan you indulged in when it coiled in your belly. The cradle of your hips accommodated his cock as it stretched the tightness of your walls. Your slick arousal giving way to fluidity of otherwise rabid motion. Starving.

When on his tongue, you were alive. Inside you he breathed again with the clutch of your cunt around him. Warm and beating, and thrumming quickly like a hummingbird's wings. A squatter temporarily camped up in the crack between two ribs. Where thick muscle shuddered with breath. You believed something in you was worth loving. But you also knew for it to be found you'd have to be flayed alive.

The crash of his hips into yours aided in the symphony of sex, and filled the four walls painted but void of personal belongings. If he were on the other side of them he'd be jealous. But now he was here, he was alive. Beating hearted and thriving. And any god, saint, angel or divinity could watch and weep as he finally had what he wanted. What he might have needed in order to restore his humanity that lay dormant for so long. He was trying to crack you open so he could lick up what lay inside you. Gather it up in his arms like the greedy wolf, lambs gore, blood and flesh, between fangs of his lower jaw. Have the muscle pulsing between his teeth. But he wouldn't. So for now he'd settle for the flesh on show. The mound of your panting breast that he pressed into his open mouth. The flat of his tongue pressing greedily to your nipple. Before his lips pinched together and pulled the left pert. Switching to do the same for the right. Not leaving an inch of you untouched. Because he had his chance now. And who knew when he'd get another. So he relished in what he was spared and he would take it with him to the grave. Dream of it on his deathbed if this killed him. Or if something else did. Regardless. This would run through his mind until his last heavy and troubled breath.

“That's it.” he murmured into your breast. “Take it. Take it, baby. Take me..”

Your back arched, strung tight like a bow ready to fire. Spine curled up into the heat of his mouth and he bit down again on the swell of your breast. Wanting to take its entire weight into his mouth and have it rot and smear into his tongue. The fizzle of nerve endings reached the tips of your curling toes. The heels of your feet digging into the planes of his scapula to press him closer in the burning of your young orgasm.

“Come on. Let me see you come.” Frankie demanded in a breathless growl as he stared you down with his eyes. The hue of his irises almost devoured by black of pupil. Your jaw unhinged to let rip a silent scream. Feeling that sharp coil snap, and a numbness fill your aching core before your toes curl in pleasure. He helped you ride it out with his cock fucking into your tight weeping cunt while you sang out his name in a chorus of moans, whimpers and cries. Letting go utterly as a rush filled you, lighting you up like dry kindling under your skin. The pulsating of your walls around his length had his hips faltering for just a moment, twitching within your sopping cunt. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he let out a deep guttural groan, closing in on skin with teeth again. Spilling inside you, the mix of your slick with his cum painting you white like the searing heat of pleasure between you. He leaves the last of his load with you by fucking it deeper. Three, sharp, punctuated thrusts.

He lay flat above you while he awaited the comedown from his catharsis. The tingle down his spine sputtered out in a haze of slowburn afterglow. Eyes closed and face buried into the crook of your perspiring neck. Panting together. Hit tongue forgot for a second to shape your name the way it sounded, but with a sharp inhale, the air surged his mind.

“I suppose this is the part where I leave?” He mumbled, pulling back from your skin. His time had come and ended. The two of you now sat back to the world of hallway and laundromat limbo. He sighed through his nose when you nodded. And he did the same, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Frankie gathered his clothes up, putting them on slowly one by one. Drawing out the ache of being alone again by lingering in your presence.

“Come back tomorrow.” You said. Not asked. He nodded, still facing the door. Then twisted the handle and left an empty space in your apartment where he had once been.

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 1 year

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I know you by heart (Amnesia AU)

Ok y’all remember the chaotic blorbo thought? My brain suddenly expanded and I found a way to make it even more heart-wrenching.

Imagine if Quaritch, after trying to get away on his ikran at the end of the movie, passed out and ended up on some island million miles away from the Metkayina with amnesia? All of his (human and recom) memories are gone so now he is, by all means, a clean slate.

He is found by a different tribe, they see that he is frankly confused as well as terrified, and let him in out of pity. They teach him their ways and slowly, Miles creates something of a new life amongst the Na’vi.

One word and image that keeps popping up in his head almost every day though, is that of a spider. Arachnids do not exist on Pandora, but he presumed it was a memory he had when he was an avatar. He feels like it’s important and weaves the animal into his jewellery as well as engraves it on his weapons.

But the rest of the memories do not come back, and it wrecks him to his core because he can feel that there was something, someone important. So important that his heart feels like it’s bleeding without them, like a big chunk of it was ripped away and no matter how much Miles tries to just live on, he can’t let go but feel this agonising emptiness.

Until, a couple months later, Metkayina reach the Island where Quartich’s tribe resides because its leader Tonowari and his right hand Jake are uniting the reef clans against the sky people. The Olo’teykan of Miles’s tribe filess them in on their tribe and mentions the mysterious dream walker who had their memories erased and began their life anew here. The leader notes that this avatar is a warrior like no other, despite the fact that they cannot remember where they’ve learned to fight the way they did and at the end of said introduction, Quaritch is introduced, with a new look and name.

Jake is bamboozled, Tonowari is bamboozled and so is the strange sky boy who stands beside them.

Miles’s heart lurched violently at the sight of him, and the man doesn’t even notice how tears begin falling down his cheeks. Seeing his face alone is akin to finding a beautiful oasis in the middle of a scorching, dead desert. The Na’vi feels like this boy is the piece he’s been missing, the piece he desperately needs back in his arms, but he freezes as he watches him take a step back with an alarmed expression.

Jake is arguing with the Olo’teykan as he doesn’t believe that Quaritch could have amnesia all while Tonowari, while believing the claims, is still trying hard to dissuade himself from closing his hands around the recom’s throat. Miles payes them no mind however, as he, almost instinctively gets on one knee to be on eye level with the boy and smiles warmly at him.

“ Hey there, kid” he addressed him in na’vi, the words feeling just right on his tongue for some reason, but the stranger’s eyes widened at his sentence.

“…y-you can speak Na’vi?”

“It’s the only way I can speak” he shrugged.

“…What was your name again?” He asked timidly.

“ Iam. What is yours?” Recom’s ears leaned forward, afraid he’d miss it if he didn’t strain his hearing.

“… my name is Spider…”

Iam’s eyes widened as something deep in his soul shifted and he gasped. There was no doubt about it, he was that missing piece, a piece the man couldn’t afford to loose. It didn’t matter that he now had a new life. He’ll split himself appart if it means staying with this human.

He needed him.

“…I know you, don’t I?”

A tiny nod followed.

“…Would you like to remind me?”

The kid shook his head.

…

“…Would you maybe like to start over then?” He didn’t mean to, but the question came out as a desperate plea as he tilted his head. “Please?”

Spider’s eyes finally met Iam’s, and he could feel the bits and pieces of the memories he had lost slowly coming back. The blonde’s distant laughter echoed in his ears and couldn’t wait to hear it again.

“…sure. Let’s start over.”

Yeah, this is the idea. I may expand on it with headcannons soon who knows 🤔

#avatar spider #avatar 2 #avatar #spider socorro #avatar headcanons #avatar way of water #miles quaritch #avatar quaritch #miles spider soccoro #recom quaritch #spider avatar #miles spider socorro #miles socorro #avatar miles quaritch #quaritch avatar #na’vi quaritch

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henchy5824 · 9 days

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19 for ask game meme?

Ohoho! *rubs grubby paws*

This might be a little bit of an odd one, but bear with me.

So my background is in IT, and during my schooling we unsurprisingly had to write essays about various topics. Those topics were, unsurprisingly, sometimes only loosely connected to what would count as "IT". Among which was telecommunications. The essays I had to write on that were long, contrived, technical in ways I don't even want to think about anymore (or maybe I do but that's because I'm a masochistic degnereate, lol) and most of all: I was in absolute agony researching them. It were those kinds of essays that had to meet a certain word count and hit certain key points.... you know... The most unimaginable shit any teacher could possibly come up with.

But ob boy, did it make me AWARE of what radio waves are and how much shit actually works via those... which is 100%... the answer is 100% of all our modern technology runs off of that shit.

I think you can guess where I'm going with this...

Did you know that the most modern types of frequency bands we have managed to harness for our convenience are ALSO very short? At least for home applications.. So if you buy a router that boasts 60 GHz tech, it's going to work within about 10ft (3m) of unobstructed space and then the signal just farts out of existence because the wavelenght is SO SHORT. This is also the reason why 5G technology is such a big fucking deal and it has been one of the biggest innovations in that field since at least the early 2000s (if not earlier) because it is true fast broadband that is affordable for the average consumer.

The nature of how all of this stuff works is inherently fascinating.

And even though when I had to write those essays back in the day, my partner had to actively stop me from trying to chew my fingers into bloody nubs, I nevertheless had some fun recently revisiting those previously written words for reasons I will elaborate upon shortly:

Which brings me neatly to our favourite strawberry pimp! Alastor.

Seriously, NOBODY is talking about how this guy should be frequency manipulation GOD. Probably because this is kinda very niche and technical and I wouldn't expect anyone to actually sink that much though into a fictional OC character back in 2005-2010 (I only thought about that stuff because I was forced to, after all, lol).

Injecting this very real and technical mumbo jumbo with some hellish magic and you have the perfect vehicle for a whole range of cool things that could be achieved.

Including, but not limited to:

-Control computers and any device that allows inputs via radio waves. Imitating yourself as a human interface device (bluetooth/2.4GHz/5GHz wifi/etc.) so you could type and use the mouse cursor with your mind? Yes. Flipping channels on a tv without a remote like that one kid in the X-Men movie? Yes, that. Sending and recieving text and/or voice messages on your phone without having to hold it in your hands? VERY Yes. Also: VERY on brand for this magnificent bastard.

-Attack people with the various ways our squishy and inadequate nervous system runs off of electrical impulses. For example: You can make people's hearts beat unevenly if you attack the (roughly) 10 Hz range. You can also give people something akin to barotrauma using something similar only attacking certain parts of the lungs...

So when people on social media go: Oh Alastor is sooo evil and Charlie is being manipulated because she doesn't see it.... Nononono, bitches. YOU don't understand. The man is actively shying away from all the really hideous and sadistic shit. Almost all of which would be 100% invisible to Charlie. Imagine the loan sharks instead of getting ripped appart by eldritch tentacles and a giant monster man, they just....dropped because their hearts had stopped beating. Or they lost all sense of self and wandered off because they forgot what they came here for. Charlie would go: "Huh. Weird, but ok. Conflict avoided."

Of course, Alastor could probably also do something like liquify someone's eyeballs by spiking a high frequency pulse towards that and then laugh at them until they grow new ones... but that would be telling.

So whenever someone tries to pull bullshit on you like that: you pull out the frequency manipulation and how Alastor is decidedly not doing all that.

You can basically win stupid prizes by playing stupid games. Hooray!

#ask #ask meme #ask meme game #anon ask #anonymous #hazbin hotel #fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfiction #meta #seriously i'm kinda proud of those essays because they did get good marks #they also did make me want to chew my hands off at the wrist though #very much a dead dove kind of situation

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cryopathiic-a · 10 months

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60 + 61. It was one thing to come home to terror and mischief and interrogations— it was another entirely to come home and find Douma and her mother in the same room. With.. whatever they had together, it only meant that Ezra would be doing her best to drive a wedge between them, and now that she knew Douma were there Ezra would make it her mission to separate them.

She was lucky Atreus were there to send their mother away. She was lucky to get there as early as she did because she knew once her mother realized who they were to her— what would happen. Her only option was to try to rip the bandaid off as quickly as possible.

Astra was terrified. For the first time, they were seeing.. or hearing… the terrified beats of her heart, one after the other.

There was no smile, or emotion on her face— it would have been a very long time since they saw this expression in truth . And they would know that something was incredibly wrong.

Until the tears rolled down her face and she was clinging to him with everything she was. Because Astra had an intense fear of abandonment. And Ezra very much caused people to abandon her.

The cup of tea had been left to grow cold atop the table. Intricate patterns of vines climbing its handle, with the faintest little rose tinted blossoms; magnolia flowers painted by hand on its porcelain. The other one, across the table, had been used, but only slightly; just enough to be left tainted by the imprint of human lips, but not because the drink within had brought any real enjoyment. A sip; to mark? To possess. This cup I own, as I do everything in this appartment, even though it was not furnished by my own efforts, I still claim the spoils of another; because I own them too. To threaten, subtly; I barge into your space and touch your things, even if you would not like me to, there is nothing you can do, for I do not need your permission. His own slender fingers had poured that honeyed gold within, offering its warmth to what he had thought was a friendly intruder.

Of course, Astra had set some rules in place about opening the front door. No running, no yanking the humans inside without permission, no pranks; and most importantly, no baring his fangs at strangers. They were not supposed to know that she had allowed a creature like them this much freedom. It was a mutual deal, Dōma gets to breathe something other than the musty air of the boxes and cells they'd stuff him in before, Astra gets to supervise him at her own comfort. And perhaps he would do good for protection. It wasn't as if her appointed task could not possibly draw unwarranted attention. Though... he had always expected his time to be deployed as a weapon, would come when that door opened and a familiar face stood behind it. Not... her own mother.

Pale lips had showered a rain of relentless questioning upon the woman in question. What was Astra like as a child? Did she have long hair? What were her favorite toys? Did she like to dance and sing? All of those things, a mother would know about her child, he thought. Perhaps his own parents were not the best example. But he had thought back to that woman, the one with emerald eyes... Had Ezra held her little daughter like that back then? Bundled up and cozy, looking into her eyes as if she witnessed the ocean's expanse within? Hm.

Someone who looks at their child like that, would probably be more consistent with their narration, huh? A demon is not inherently perceptive; most of them are born in a haze, the rabid hunger taking over their minds when they first transform. But even Upper Two's first kill had not come like that; no, they had been very deliberate about the follower they called into their audience chamber and the way they approached, stripping her shoulders bare tenderly and allowing her to marvel before their beauty, until the very first bite. In many ways, Dōma held the disposition of a predator; and he would not be dragged into mundane tales, weaved by a tongue that did not glisten silver; but was laden with bile. She was filled with hate, that woman. After so many years solidified upon that plush flowerbed, he knew how to tell them apart.

Still, they had parted with a smile, even as her own progeny hovered at the doorway like some statue, paralyzed before the sight. No, he had never seen Astra that upset before. Normally, he would be the one rushing to the door to open, hopefully to coax her into allowing him a droplet of life, but the conversation had been too distracting. Especially after certain things begun to unravel.

❝ —! ❞ Arms found his waist with a thud. The sheer force would have had a human step back, surely, but for a demon that was optional. He would feel rigid, at first, naught more than an ice pillar in the middle of the main room. Standing idly, without much of an expression save for those prismatic hues fixing atop her head, somberly. For a moment, there would be no telltale sign heralding whether the demon was about to shove her across the room. She had stepped so close, without a warning; without heeding the hoarfrost falling from his breath. And then—

❝ There there. It's alright. ❞ It was mellow. Palms came to rest between her shoulders; atop her head. Words fell with practiced ease. It grew softer, but still cold against his chest; a completely still chest, without a heave and fall. His faint heartbeat encased in ice would not be perceived by human ears, unlike her own, that filled his head; as if she was cowering away from... something. From what? From that woman? How sad; how sad that her own mother's presence would provoke such a reaction.

❝ Hey— ❞ The bubbly smile lingered, albeit a little reserved, for once. Though he did not mirror her pensiveness; which was odd, even for him, as he would usually tune into her sentiment mechanically. But this too was a familiar situation, he supposed. Though normally he wouldn't be... grappled like this. Touch slipped to her waist, smoothing over messy hair as they concealed her features. Would her face fluster? Her eyes redden and sting with tears? Oh, she sounded devastated!

❝ — Master Astra? ❞ There was a comical tinge to it, and normally he'd expect to be scolded; was it to push a boundary, or to offer the reassurance of an inside joke between them, as the former Kizuki never called her by title, unless it was to provoke something. Should she look up in that moment, she would be offered a warm smile, as slender fingers pat the top of her head, ruffling the ornaments holding her hair in place. ❝ You're squeezing me a bit, and it's getting harder to hold my breath, you know. Want to... lie down on the pillows with me for a while? There's still more tea, and you could tell me about what set you off so badly. ❞ There was a hint of contempt. But old habits are hard to shake off. His one arm wrapped completely around her neck, squishing her to his frame as he pressed it over his cold, dead heart.

❝ I make a very good listener, as you know. ❞

#(( writes a whole ass novel back and i aint even started yet- ))#(( angst !! ANGST!! ))#astra stellaris #♛ ¦ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇꜱ༺ answered #𝚅 𝟶𝟹. ⟅ is not all creation a transgression? ⟆

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klorophile · 1 month

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🎀 list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your moots or followers <3 (I know you already got one, but even if you don't share them, you can think of 5 other things that make you happy :) )

Pomeranian dogs. They're not actually my number 1 favorite dog breed (though they are up in that ranking) but, for Reasons That Escalated, I have now put into my own head the belief that spotting one even from afar is a sign of good luck for the remainder of the day. Don't doubt, it is.

Maxwell the cat memes. The music is wholesome, the cat is so cute and looks like mine, and it spins.

Pollen. I know a lot of people are allergic and struggle because of it, and I am very very sorry, but I happen to not be allergic, and I find it pretty pretty pretty!!

What I call the "dead hearts" in my mind (it's actually the very first time I mention this to anyone). A dead heart is when you find something, whatever wherever, that just so happens to be shaped like a heart <3. It can be one unexpectedly heart-shaped object, it can be an accumulation of several objects forming a heart together, it can be a half of a torn appart thing that got ripped into a heart by chance. It can be a sticker that's fallen to the ground, it can be a tag on a wall. It can be bird poop or a flower petal. I take it as a sign to remember that the world "has heart" or something. Or I don't, I just find it cute. I try to take a picture when I spot one. To be honest, it all comes from the clip for the song "Dead hearts" by Stars (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuaWQIbCLJE) which is one of my favorite songs. It made me notice heart-shaped things more.

The 1st of April. I find the concept of sneaking paper fishes onto people very funny and entertaining. And, not to brag, but I have managed to stick some to people who remained unaware for quite a long time... 🐱‍👤🐳

How thoughtfull of you, thank you!! 😊

#ninj ask #smiles all over the place yay #slice of life

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

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hii i wanted to request a draco/reader fic w the dynamic that 1 day they meet at a bar and have a 1 night stand, and then » 2 months later draco is at mungo's and runs into y/n who has just found out she is pregnant w his kid but she's scared to tell him. and he feels a connection to her that tells him she's carrying his child and he asks her out bc they kinda like each other. Pl do if your comfortable only tyia

Hi my nonnie! Thanks for requesting.🖤

This was so much fun to write. Especially the bar part. This is a long one so brace yourself. I hope you like it.

A very special shoutout to @mellifluousart for giving me helpful pointers for this fic. You are the best!

Terrible at Small Talk (D.Malfoy x Reader) 18+

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: some fluff smut, mature Language and themes, nsfw, drinking, penetrative sex, breeding kink, pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 2396

~~~~~~~~~~

You swirled what remained of your drink in your glass making the amber liquid spin round and round and round.

Even after two whole hours waiting on a tall bar stool in a dead little muggle bar, and your date was still nowhere to be seen.

The previous hour had gone by pretty quickly in comparison to the first hour though. You'd been drinking whisky on the rocks and your insides were warming up little by little making the waiting game a tad bit more bearable.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol but you chuckled to yourself thinking about what you had done in life to lead you there, in a strange little pub waiting for a boy you weren’t even sure was coming.

“One more of these please.” You called out to the bartender, smiling politely and shaking your empty glass.

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

An all too familiar voice made all the hairs on your back stand up straight. Your goosebumps were probably highly visible from the back of your backless red dress.

“Well, well, if it isn’t y/l/n in the flesh.” He muttered, sitting down on the bar stool next to you and you didn’t dare to turn to your side to look at him.

You didn’t even need to.

You knew who this voice belonged to and it sure as hell wasn’t your date.

“Well, Hello to you too, Malfoy.” You said, finally turning your head towards him. “I didn’t know you liked to frequent muggle bars on the weekends.”

You hadn’t seen him after the wizarding war. He had gone off the grid.

He still looked the same and yet, completely different.

His suit was still all black but his jaw had gotten more chiseled, his hair remained the same but he now donned glasses. He still wore his silver rings and you could see what looked like a tattoo peeking out of his suit sleeves.

“Nice glasses.” You blurted.

“Nice hair.” He muttered, as the bartender handed you your drinks. He eyed you intently before taking a prolonged swig of his drink. “Although, I preferred it the way it was in school.”

“So did I.” You smiled weakly at him, running your hands through your hair, suddenly feeling very conscious.

“Why did you change it though?—I used to love your hair.” He cleared his throat and tried to backtrack from his sudden confession. “Not that you don’t look good now.”

You needed a fresh start after Hogwarts, the war and life in general but you didn’t think he needed to hear all that.

“Wanted something new I guess.” You said in a very composed tone as you gulped down your beverage and asked the bartender to keep the drinks coming.

He hummed and downed his drink matching your own speed.

Soon enough, you had created a row of empty glasses at the counter.

Both of you terrible at small talk.

“It’s so strange seeing you of all people at a muggle bar.” You said, your voice slowly getting slurry with a hint of inebriation and a tinge of madness.

He didn’t say a word, he simply blinked at you with a blankness in his stormy grey eyes, now hidden behind thick frames.

“Well, I don’t think I am welcomed at most pubs around Diagon alley—not after the war anyway.” He muttered. “Besides, I could have asked you the same question.”

“Well, if you must know, I got stood up.” You laughed. “Not that I wanted to come—my friends have been pushing me to go out there and meet people.”

He kept glaring at you as you kept babbling. His eyes secretly trailing to your bare back as he tried his hardest to ignore his blood rushing and his heart thumping.

A few more glasses of whisky later, you found yourself walking to the nearest apparition point with him.

And just as you tried to quicken your strides, you missed your footing but he caught firmly by the shoulder before you could hit the ground, face first.

“Merlin! That was a close one.” You whispered softly as you wondered why his hands were still grasping your shoulders.

Even after all these years, the smell of mint, and his expensive cologne remained the same; his eyes still conflicted.

The warmth and the confidence from the alcohol made you lean in and capture his lips in yours.

A slow, speculative kind of kiss. Like you were testing the waters; taking a small sip of tea to see if the temperature was alright.

After you leaned away, he opened his eyes.

The conflict inside his eyes was now replaced by a full fledged hurricane of emotions.

“C’mhere.” He said hoarsely as he grasped the hair on the back of your neck and pulled your face flush against his.

His left hand held one of your legs and wrapped it around his torso—your clothed cunt making contact with the hardened bulge in his pants.

By the time your eyes opened, Draco had already apparted you to the Malfoy manor.

As soon as he laid you down on his bed, he hastily began working on his shirt buttons.

With each button, you could see more and more of his ivory skin, his toned abdomen, the veins protruding along his forearm, his faded dark mark now covered with tattoos.

You propped yourself up on your elbows on the bed while he leaned in for another kiss and you took this opportunity to remove the glasses that hid the vehemence in his eyes.

His lips soon made their way towards your earlobes and he began nipping and tugging with his teeth while his hands roamed underneath your dress.

“The things I want to do to you…….”

“Draco….” You sighed as his fingers started to move up and down your clothed slit before pushing the fabric of your panty aside .

“Gods, y/n…” he groaned as he slowly pushed a finger inside. “The things I want to do to this pretty little cunt….”

“Then do it..” You whined bucking your hips at him. “Please just do it…”

“This dress...” He growled into your ear as he added a second finger inside of you. “I've wanted to rip it off your body since the moment I laid my eyes on you…”

His fingers kept moving in and out while his thumb kept rubbing circles into your clit. “You are so fucking wet darling.”

“Mmmhmm..” you whimpered, barely managing to nod your head.

“Tell me y/n…” he murmured against your slit; his tongue circling your swollen bud. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did Draco..” you whimpered. “You did.”

You were so close.

So fucking close.

Just when you felt like you were going to come all over his fingers he stopped and took his fingers out.

“No please..don’t stop..” You whined, suddenly feeling empty without his fingers.

“Take your clothes off.” He commanded, backing away and you instantly found yourself complying to his request in a matter of seconds.

No one had ever talked to you that way.

This was dark, this was seductive, this had your cunt dripping with anticipation.

“Fuck y/n. You are a sight for sore eyes.” He murmured while he pulled your hips towards the edge of the bed.

A small smirk played at his lips as his hands quickly undid the buckle of his belt to let himself out and you gasped at the sight of him.

Rumors always traveled fast at Hogwarts. You’d heard stories about him—his length, the way he made girls scream.

Only, they weren’t just rumors.

Everything you’d heard about him was true.

All the fucking rumors about his length, his size they were all true.

He moved his fist up and down his shaft and lined himself up against your entrance. Your eyes met for a second. “Are you okay with this?” He asked and you caressed his cheeks and nodded.

“I am more than okay Draco….”

And just like that, he pushed himself inside of you, cursing under his breath.

“Oh god….Draco…”

“The way you say my name y/n…” He grunted into the crook of your neck while your fingers entangled themselves into this hair. “It makes me want to fuck you harder…makes me want to fill you up with my come…”

“Draco Please…”

“Fuck y/n….don’t.. don’t say my name like that.. I won’t be able to control myself...

“Then don’t…” You pleaded with your head snapped back and your back arched when his thumb found your clit. “I want to feel you cum Draco..I need to..”

It was like these words were automatically slipping out of your lips as you reached closer and closer to your climax.

“What are you doing to me….y/n…” he groaned as he fucked you harder and harder. “Why do you feel so fucking good…”

“Draco..don’t stop..don’t stop till you are cumming for me..” you wrapped your legs around his torso allowing him a deeper angle.

“Won’t stop…I won’t fucking stop till I fill you up..”

Draco stayed true to his words.

He didn’t stop till you were sore and leaking with his release.

The both of you even woke up in the middle of the night for another round of rigorous sex and he silently thanked your date for pulling a no show that night.

Now he could have you all to himself. Well, until the sun came up that is.

When Draco woke up the next morning he tried to reach for you but you were long gone.

The only thing that remained was the smell of your perfume on his sheets and your stray earring on the floor.

He slowly reached for the forgotten earring and held it in the palm of his hands.

Sure, it was a one night stand but he sure as hell wanted another night with you.

~~~~~~~

Two months had gone by and Draco found himself staring at your earrings on his nightstand every day.

He was never the one to overthink about one night stands and yet, here he was, clasping onto your earring for dear life.

After reminding himself to get a grip on himself, Draco buttoned up his shirt and made his way towards St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

He’d been a regular donor for the hospital since the end of the wizarding war and visited the hospital every other month.

Just like every other month, the hospital was terribly busy that day too.

But somewhere in between the hustle and bustle, somewhere in between the dissonance of sounds, the wind, the atmosphere he felt something different that particular day—Something familiar.

He brushed the feeling off and finished up the paperwork in less than an hour before making a swift exit from the hospital.

But every step he took away from St Mungos added to the inexplicable restlessness that crushed his insides. The feeling mimicked the feeling of missing a train he was supposed to catch.

“Oh For fuck’s sake.” He muttered to himself before turning back around and sprinting his way back into the hospital, crashing into annoyed people that cursed at him along the way.

He finally stopped running when he made it to a quiet corridor in the hospital. With his hand flat on his chest, Draco tried to catch his breath.

Everything was silent for a minuscule second until he heard a voice coming from a room a few steps ahead of him.

Draco knew he could recognise that voice anywhere in this whole entire planet.

It was the same voice that had been haunting his mind and infiltrating his existence since that night at the bar.

You had a worried expression on your pretty features as the healer kept talking to you.

“Everything looks good y/n, your vitals, the baby.” Said the healer and you placed your hand lightly on your stomach.

Draco didn’t even hear what the healer said next. The accelerating sound of his heart was too loud.

Could it be?

Why didn’t you tell him?

Maybe the baby wasn’t his.

But why was he suddenly wishing it was—

“Draco?” You asked when you saw him standing outside the door.

The way you uttered his name, softly with your voice slightly cracking, felt like the break of dawn after a long cold night—You were his daylight.

“Sorry—I was just um passing by..” He said, hesitantly prying the door open.

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, but you cannot be here unless you are family.” The healer said coldly, giving him a nod of disapproval.

“I guess I’ll be on my way then.” Draco mumbled with his eyes never leaving yours. “It was good seeing you—”

“Wait.” You called out before he could walk away and he eyed you quizzically. “Draco, there’s something you need to know.”

He held his breath and patiently waited for what you were doing to say next.

You looked even more beautiful than you did the last time he saw you. Your cheeks were dewy, your eyes a bit glassy and his most basic instincts were telling him that he needed to protect you no matter what. He didn’t even hear what the healer said as she excused herself from the room.

“Draco I’m—”

“I know.” He said softly as he let his finger tips trail the side of your face. “I heard everything.”

“Not everything.” You said as you held his other hand and gently placed it on your stomach.

Draco let out a sharp breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding back.

It was like he’d caught the train that he was so desperately trying to catch.

It was like he was finally headed home.

“Merlin! Y/n.” He gasped as he instantly cupped your face in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know what to tell you. I didn’t know how you’d react and I was terrified.”

If only you knew just how happy he was.

If only he knew just how much he wanted to care for you and the baby.

If only you knew how he felt about you.

“I’m here now.” He whispered and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” You murmured against his lips.

“Let me take you out y/n.” He murmured. “Let me take you to dinner tonight and we will figure the rest together.”

~~~~

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#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco smut #draco x reader smut #draco x yn #draco x you #draco lucius malfoy #Draco

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erensproudsimp · 3 years

Text

Experiment

Hange Zoe x fem! reader Oneshot

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : Hange and you have been dating each other for quite some time. One day due to rain, you went over to Hange's and hehe hot stuff happens.

I've used they/them pronouns for Hange due to them being non-binary, hope y'all don't mind. :)

"HANGEEEE!" screaming down the hallway near the university laboratory, you entered said place joltily.

By this time all the science students were used you to coming by everyday while causing a ruckus to meet your significant other. You couldn't help yourself being always excited to see the only person who could make your day a million times better and today as usual you had something interesting to show them. Well, by interesting you meant something random you saw that day and just picked it up to give it to Hange. Never were they ever weird out by this as they were as eccentric as you.

"Look what I found today!" proudly bringing your hand close to their face to show them the red rock you saw in your yard.

"Heh, as usual my dear y/n, you never fail to fascinate me," they chuckled eyeing the objet closely.

"I shall add this wonderful rock to my series of collection of stuff you keep bringing to me everyday!" smilingly Hange took it.

This brought a faint blush on your cheeks as just the thought of Hange keeping the random stuff you bringing daily made you feel somewhat special.

" Sooo, what are you working on today?" you questioned them while looking at the equipment on the table.

"Ohohoho you don't know what I've just made!" they excitedly said dexterously arranging the mess to show you.

While they were enthusiastically explaining to you her recent invention, you couldn't help but stare at their jolliness. The way they made absolutely anything sound captivating just spellbound you. To describe it, it was like a meteor shower falling enlightening the night sky which you could gaze for hours, yeah, that's how Hange was.

"Hihi, that's awesome! I'm so proud of you!" you praised her happily.

"Hehe, I'm glad you appreciated my invention, after all I am your better half," haughtily they said which made you subconsciously smile.

Right at that moment a loud thunder was heard making you jump. Since morning it's been cloudy and you really hoped that it wouldn't rain in the evening as it would pose a problem for you to travel home by bus. The droplets were hitting hard against the window panes indicating it was a heavy shower. Disappointment filled your being.

"Noo, now how would I reach the bus stop on time with this weather," you complained utterly dejected and tensed.

"You know y/n, you can always ask me for a ride in my car right?" Hange said while pouring a clear liquid in a testing tube.

"I know but I don't wanna bother you."

"Oh come-on y/n, how can you ever bother me?" they reassured, "and if you really don't want to sound like a trouble then come over to my appartment. It's win-win situation, you reach home and I would get more time to spend with you."

"W-what, Hange please, ugh okay then I'll come with you," sighing you responded.

Waiting for Hange to finish up whatever they were doing but it wasn't as though you as a finance student would understand it to be able to help her out. Instead you were scrolling on Tiktok when they came up to you without warning making you jerk, "GOSH HANGE! YOU COULD HAVE CALLED FOR ME."

Chuckling, Hange grabbed your hand to make you stand up. Losing your footing, you fell in their arms which they gladly grabbed you. Giving you a brief forehead kiss, they proceeded to drag you to the parking lot. At first you didn't process the action making you scream but when you got the hang of it, you ran alongside with them hand in hand laughing.

Hange unlocked the car and you got into the front passenger seat. Both of you were laughing while still catching your breaths.

"Now off to my house we gooo!" Hange yelled as you were wearing your seatbelt.

Throughout the whole ride both of you conversed about each of your days and the daily news.

"Can you believe that Sasha and Nicollo are finally going out with each other? I always knew that they were a match made in heaven," you rambled as Hange listened to you intently while also focusing on the road.

"I mean I could see it happening seeing their compatibility and the way they complete each other, just like you complete me," Hange added.

Her last words made your face heat up which you hid by looking outside. Luckily for you, you finally reached your destination. It wasn't the first you came over to her appartement so you took her keys and ran inside. Normally her place would be messy like a dumpster because that human barely had time in her hands to take care of their house but for once it was spotless clean.

"Did Levi come over?" you asked them, hand on your hip.

"I-yeah. Yesterday he did. But I swear I'll try to be more responsible from now on!" Hange affirmed.

You took a deep breath and asked, "so what are we eating tonight?"

"I don't know y/n, you choose," they replied kicking their boots off to enter the residence.

"How about we order Pizza?"

"Sure thing love," grabbing her phone to order said food, Hange said.

"How about you go take a bath while I take out plates?" you suggested.

"I mean only if you're willing to join me," they smirked while leaning on the door.

Out of embarrassment you threw a pillow laying on the couch at her, "NO!"

"Sad, I was really hoping for some fun in there," they replied before running into the bathroom as you were about to hit them with another pillow.

While you waited for her to come out so that you in your turn could go freshen up, you arranged everything to be able to eat. Having such nights with Hange is always something you've dreamt of doing but you never had the courage to ask.

A few moments later, Hange came out with hair dripping wet which they were trying to dry with a towel. Damn they looked hot in that condition. Before you could start simp over them, you excused yourself to go bathe.

Feeling the warm water touch your skin evaporated all your stress from you as you relaxed. Coming out of the bathroom wearing Hange's clothes, you went to sit next to them on the couch. You noticed that the pizza had already arrived so you took a piece of it to eat. You two watched this popular series called 'Attack on titan' together until the pizza was finished.

Throwing the pizza cardboard in the bin, you went to see Hange already laying on the bed. Scooting to them, you placed your head on their shoulder as they held you tight with one arm and the other holding their phone. You were watching memes with her laughing when suddenly there was a video of two girls kissing came up which made your heart beat faster. You could tell Hange felt so as well as she swiped quickly to prevent awkwardness.

A little bit of tension remained in both of you yet no one made the first move. It kept growing as you felt their hot breath on your face because you were leaning on them.

Feeling bothered and assuming that Hange wasn't going to initiate it, you snatched their phone from their hand and kept it on the table next to the bed for you to straddle on them.

Shifting yourself to be more comfortable, you leaned down to smack your lips against theirs. Still processing whatever just happened, Hange went with the flow. For this moment at least. Hands on your ass, they squeezed them as you laid your body on theirs.

Lips still crashed against each others and tongues still fighting over control, Hange's minds began to fill with sexual fantasies that they could enact on you in this precise moment.

Pulling back from you, they settled your body on the bed to go search for something in the wardrobe. They came back with a blindfold facing you.

"Do you mind if I take your vision away for a while? I don't want to ruin the surprise of what I'm going to do to you."

Gulping hardly you took the black cloth and blinded yourself.

"Good girl," Hange praised giving you a headpat to continue their rummage.

With no warnings, you were pushed on the bed lightly. At first you didn't understand what was going on but that was before you felt a rope on your wrists which was being wrapped around them individually then pulled upwards signaling it was being tied down to the bed. The same thing was done for both of your legs.

Anticipation mounted in you as you felt hands running from your chest to your stomach.

"I hope that the ropes are not too tight, are they?" they concernedly asked.

You shaked your head to say no still having the blindfold on.

"No? Well, then I think you would love this being in your mouth," they said coming closer to you. You were expecting her to stuff her fingers in but it ended up being something you certainly didn't anticipate at all.

Holding your head up, they made you wear it. Initially it was uncomfortable but you managed to deal with it as it only turned you on more. It was a gag ball.

You laid your head on a pillow desperately craving Hange's touch but of course they were still searching for something.

"Don't worry y/n, I'll come to you as soon as I find that one thing I bought last week I wanted to test out," Hange spoke from the other side of the room.

Trying to keep your growing lust in control, you fidgeted with the device in your mouth.

" Ah-ha! found it, now wait for me y/n, I'll fuck you into oblivion soon," their voice coming out breathless.

Feelings the sides of the bed sink and a presence hoving above you, you became more excited to what Hange was going to do this time.

Their soft lips colliding again against yours as their hands ran down to unbutton your shirt leaving your bare chest naked as you weren't wearing any undergarments. For a few seconds Hange didn't do anything. As you were ripped from your eyesight, you couldn't see that Hange was in fact staring at the prefect roundness of your boobs displayed to them .

Unable to contain themselves, they ran their tongue on one of your breasts while the other was being fondled with their hands. Your breathing was quickening at their doings. Out of nowhere they bit your nipple softly making you bit the gagball stifling a moan.

Going lower on you they pulled down your pants while they kissed you on your bellybutton. Without warning again you felt a pain on your hip and teeth leaving your skin. Biting you again on the other side of your hip, Hange caressed your inner thighs. This time you couldn't contain the moan as it escaped your mouth through the gag ball.

Looking at your entrance, Hange saw that though they didn't yet completely lay hands on you, you were soaking wet. Then they assumed that it was probably from the long amount of time you had to wait for them.

You heard the opening of the cap of a tube. Your mind raced through all the possibilities of what it could be.

But of course it was the least thing you could expect as you felt something touching your cunt.

It was a lukewarm rubbery thing that was being ran through your swollen folds.

"Wanna guess what it is? Y/n," Hange said as you felt the object or whatever it was penetrate you. An 'hmm' came out of you as your back arched graciously making Hange widen their eyes.

"Ahaha, y/n you beautiful creature! You never cease to amaze me the more I explore you,"Hange complimented pushing the thing deeper into you.

" Lemme reward you for blessing me with his gorgeous sight and return you back your vision, "they continued.

Your insides felt empty as Hange had to remove the item to open the blindfold. You must say you had quite of the shocker to see them. Straddling you was a Hange that you didn't recognize.

They were wearing a black lingerie delicately complimented with black thigh highs and on their pelvis area was a strap-on-dildo.

"I wanted to experiment this on you," they gave you a light smirk before positioning themselves in front of your pussy. Taking the small bottle thrown on the bed nearby, Hange opened it. It was lube. Dropping quite some on the dildo, Hange jerked it to spread the lubricant.

Placing their hand on your hips for support, Hange inserted it again.

They couldn't describe how much they ravished to look at you in this state. As they were thrusting their hips in and out, the room became filled with your moans and Hange's name.

"Yes y/n scream my name louder. Make the neighbours hear how good I'm making you feel," Hange panted.

'Hmmm Hange I'm getting close, go faster please, "you begged them.

Taking your wishes into consideration, Hange did not double up the speed but rather trippled it. You were practically shaking on the bed as your screams got louder and louder.

Not late enough, you released yourself on them. The pleasure was so unbearable it almost hurted. Panting on the bed, you looked at the ceiling to regain control of yourself. Then looking back at Hange, only to see that they were already staring at you lovingly.

"Can you untie me now? I need to pee," you coughed.

"Ahaha, no piss on the bed," Hange declared as you were startled by their statement.

"Just kidding lemme help you refresh yourself," Hange joked making you feel relieved.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)

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migilini · 3 years

Note

Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!

Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner

A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

--------‐--------------

The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.

"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.

He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.

"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.

"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.

You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.

"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Mornin" he mumbled back.

"You were right it's much quieter in your room."

You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.

You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.

"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.

You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.

You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

"What?" he stared at you intensely.

"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"

"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.

"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.

"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.

"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."

"Then that's our plan for today."

"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."

With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"

"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.

Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.

Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.

Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.

His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.

Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.

"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.

"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.

"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."

You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.

The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.

"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.

"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.

"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.

"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.

"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.

'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it'

“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.

Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.

He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”

#jatp fanfic #alex mercer #jatp x reader #owen joyner imagine #owen joyner fanfiction #owen joyner #owen joyner x reader #owen patrick joyner gif #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner x y/n #owen joyner fluff #owen joyner fic #owen patrick joyner x reader #owen patrick joyner fluff #owen patrick joyner imagine #julie and the phantoms

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marvelwritings · 3 years

Text

Can't tell me there's no point in trying

Summary: Peter travels back in time, get's a concussion and Tony takes care of him, even though in his mind, Peter has been blipped for three years.

In hindsight, the exact memory of when they started researching how to travel back to the past is lost on him. It’s just that he had been so devastated, after Tony’s death, that his emotions had reached through to the only person that somewhat knew what he was going through. Peter didn’t want to compare Wanda’s situation with his, after all, Wanda was the one that was forced to choose between the love of her life and saving the universe, but the weight of their grief was the same none the less.

Wanda had approached him while he was out on patrol, and though there was not set plan, Peter was willing to try anything to get Tony back. They started of their plan by seeking help from Doctor Strange, and when that hadn’t worked, Peter had snuck in and stole -borrowed as he preferred to call it- a few books that might have been helpful for their goal. Between going to school, patrolling, putting up a front for his friends and aunt -and as of late Happy-, and searching endlessly for a scrape of hope, Peter had worked himself to the bone. It would all be worth it though, if their plan came to fruition.

It hadn’t worked the first time, nor the second time, and neither did the third. Failed enough times that Peter’s heart sunk into his stomach, and that he carefully tried to convince Wanda to try something else. The spell was eerily straightforward with very little need for ingredients, nothing more then saying two sentences and having a personal item of the person they strived to reach, and if they hadn’t managed to work it out in three attempts, Peter assumed, though the idea rendered him dejected, it would never work.

Until he went out on patrol again that night. One moment he was excitedly talking to Karen, animatedly retelling the story of how he managed to stop a bank robbery, as it the AI hadn’t witnessed it, and the next he tried to shoot out a spiderweb to building so he could swing over, only for the web to hit nothing but air.

‘Ow, wow’, Peter floundered, trying his best to reach something and prevent himself from slamming on the ground -again-, but he failed. He banged into a tree at full speed, colliding head first and tumbling down while hitting every branch possible. That was the first sign that should have tipped Peter off. There were no trees in the middle of Queens. Under normal circumstances, he would have considered that, but the heavy impact is not working well in his favor.

Landing on the ground on his stomach with a hard thud, his body, and specifically his ribs, screamed in agony, and he rips the mask off without considering his predicament. Anyone could walk by and see the face beneath the mask. Still, Peter can’t breath with the way his ribs object, but at least without the mask it’s fresh air he inhales.

He turns around and struggles to get on his back. His hand instinctively slide over his stomach, protecting the hurting area. Come to think of it, every area on his body hurts. Peter knows the logistics of cracked ribs, and savvies that even with the aid of super healing, it’s not going to repair in a few minutes times.

He inhales as a small as he possibly can, despite knowing he shouldn’t, and braces himself for running back to May’s and his appartement. He can’t stay here, where anyone could walk up to him and attack him while he’s down. He laughs incredible, at least aunt May, and Tony of he was still here, would be proud of him for calling it a day.

When he blinks his eyes open though, he’s met with nothing but grass and green for miles, and a blurry vision that tells him he has a concussion. While trying to sit up, his visions spins like he’s a part of a rollercoaster, and his stomach turns uncomfortably.

‘Oh no,’ Peter moans, ‘aunt May is gonna kill me.’ It’s the only thing he can say before he has to swallow back bile and decides it’s best to be quiet from now on. He struggles to his feet, stumbling a few times before successfully finding his footing in the grass.

His vision does not clear, but he forces himself to take a few steps in any direction anyway. Wondering if seeing all these trees are because of his concussion, Peter freezes when he hears tiny footsteps approaching the opening his still currently residing in. It’s accompanied by children’s crying, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound. Perhaps it’s a trap, but Peter has never done well ignoring a child ever since meeting his baby sister.

‘Hello?’ he calls out tentatively, squeezing his eyes shut firmly to clear it, but it doesn’t help.

‘Hi’, an adorable voice answers back to him, a head peeks out from behind a bunch, as if the child is equally as curious about Peter as Peter is about her. He can only notice she does this because blurring colors that inch closer little by little. The girl sniffles, ‘I hurt my foot.’

Peter is out of his depth here. He’s only ever impressed children by swinging them around in the sky, but his body will not allow that right now. Instead he tries to focus on what he would do if Morgan was the one that was hurt. Adopting a tone only Morgan has ever heard from him, Peter crouches down on his knees. His ribs creak in dismay, but he ignores it firmly. Someone needs him right now.

‘Oh that’s not good. Does it hurt a lot?’ Peter himself cannot assess the damage.

‘No I guess not’, the girls splutters, pulling up her foot to show Peter.

‘Okay, that’s great. Do you live for away from here? I bet that if I take you back home, your parents will give you a lollipop because you were so brave.’

‘Oh’, the child cries out in wonder, pain in her foot forgotten completely at the mentions of dessert. Peter can’t help but smirk a little, bribery works on Morgan every time too. ‘I’ll show you, but you have to carry me okay?’

Peter can’t think of a worse activity for his injured body to sustain right now, but he’s not about to let a kid down.

‘It’s a deal, lead the way and hop on up.’ His tone is cheerful, even though he has to bite back pained groans by biting his lip.

The girl shows no hesitation and follows his lead immediately, giggling in delight.

‘So, do you want to play a game on the way over?’

They end up playing I spy with my little eye, which Peter loses every time, and not only because he can’t see straight at the moment. The girl, being clearly very young, is a spitfire, which is good because it means Peter doesn’t have to talk during the trip.

It gets increasingly harder to carry her the longer he has to endure the pain, but he knows that salvation is near when the girl, points to a brown blob in the distance. ‘That’s it, there it is. Put me down, I want to get my lollie now.’

Peter obligates, and watches as she runs without any regard for her painful foot, smiling to himself. He hears the door of the house open, and a male cadence calling out and sounding so joyful he must not have noticed Peter yet. He can only imagine the weird sight that must be, to see a stranger bringing home your daughter, but Peter can’t move away yet. His body has stopped listening to his commands.

‘Daddy, daddy, can I have a lollipop, Peter said I could if I was brave, and I was! He said so himself.’

Peter assumes she points to him, and his smiles weakly, although he’s having trouble even finding the strength to do that. Once he walks a little further, he should rest for a bit, close his eyes for the briefest amount of time. Before it get’s to that point though, Peter hears a glass mug being dropped on the ground. The sounds is piercing in contrast between the quiet forest and the intrusion, but that’s not the weirdest thing.

‘Peter?’ That same cadence exclaims, the voice breaking of the syllable. It’s strange, because for the briefest moment Peter’s mind flashing the name Tony at him, but the man is long gone.

Peter just about handles frowning at the direction, a weird knowingness to the exclamation, like the man somehow knows who Peter is.

‘How do you-?’ The sentence is cut short when a wave of nausea slams into Peter again, and he can’t keep himself upright this time. His knees buckle, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and the ground nearly welcomes him with open arm. Before he can collide with it again however, in such speed Peter can’t phantom the man being fast enough, he instead lands between the mans arms. All the strength has left his body, and Peter can do nothing but let his head roll onto the man’s shoulder.

‘Pepper’, he screams, so shut up it comes across as hoars, pulling Peter even closer to him than thought possible. ‘You’re okay kid, you’re okay. I promise you’ll be okay.’

---

Peter comes too slowly, groggily, as if moving through solaces. The logical part of his brain, of which there is much, screams at him to panic. He doesn’t know where he is, he can only vaguely remember the events leading up to his current situation, and he can’t ensure his safety or anyone else’s furthermore, but the smaller part of his brain soothes him.

Tells him everything is fine and he’s safe. It’s rare that Peter feels that way. Even at home with May in their appartement, there’s a constant need to be alert. Peter snaps awake from every little sound, his body turning rigid from the forceful transition between sleeping and waking up, even if the cause was only a door creaking.

It doesn’t make any sense for Peter to be this tranquillized right now, or any other time for that matter. He groans, pained, fluttering his eyes open to find himself in a dark room with the windows drawn. His eyesight is still blurry, his head is still pounding beneath his skin, and because there’s no acute danger to be detected- his spider senses tell him so, though he hasn’t learned to trust them completely yet- he allows his eyelids to droop closed again.

A warm, calloused hand strikes through his hair softly, while a thumb strikes out the frowning lines that pain flashes put on Peter’s forehead. Peter realizes with a startle that his not alone, and that must mean his Peter tingle has failed him, but can’t force himself to push the hand away. It’s nice to experience a loving touch after so many rough handlings, and the memories of lab days with Tony, car rides with Happy, building Lego with Ned and cuddling with MJ render him immobile. He longs so fiercely to feel safe, to be safe, that he leans into the touch like a cat being petted.

‘It’s okay Pete, just go back to sleep.’ A rough voice rumbles from besides Peter. All the rest he previously had, flies out of the window, as his entire body fill up with adrenaline. That voice belongs to a man that’s long gone, a man that sacrificed himself to save Peter and paid the ultimate price for it. That voice can only originate from a ghost.

Peter practically jumps up, opening his eyes and looking in the direction where the voice came from, but he miscalculated how fast his concussion would go away. He stumbles, faceplanting into the body that held Tony’s voice, and was only held up by the grace of the other man. Again, there were bouts of pain, but not only from his physical ailments.

The fire that Peter imagines to be inside of him, the one that destroys everyone else around him but leaves him, unfortunately intact, burns up from the remnants of his heart. He’s tried very hard to move on from Tony’s death in the past few months, and he had almost convinced himself that he was over it. That would be a flat out lie though, and Peter Parker doesn’t lie. The agony of the situation had just been shoved to the back of his mind, while Peter took on so much so he wouldn’t have to touch upon it, to prod in it. It peeked out every once in a while, when Happy would tell May about his life and an anecdote with Tony would be told, or when a poster with Iron man on it drew his attention, but it’s easier to pretend to be okay then to deal with the truth.

‘Hey Peter, I’m glad to see you too, but don’t get too excited now bud.’ Tony laughs, but the tone with which he says it sounds grief stricken, with the barest hint of hope coating the edges. He lowers Peter back down into the bed, and Peter has to bite back a sob at how comfortable the sheet caresses his skin, and how gentle it is on his wounds.

He shakes his head vehemently, trying to clear it and be able to think logically. He wants so badly that Tony is actually here, but there isn’t any way for that to be true, unless.. Peter gasps, memories piercing through the fog in his head. Unless Wanda managed to do what they set out to do. And that would mean that It’s no weird fever dream. Peter’s hand clench up in Tony’s shirt, pulling him down so Peter can meet him in the middle and hug him. He still can’t see the expression on Tony’s face, but he prepares to be rejected, and can’t find it in himself to care. Even if Tony pushes him away after barely a brief second, at least Peter still did something he had set out to do for months now.

That doesn’t happen. Instead, Tony grabs him even tighter, a gentle hand cupping the back of Peter’s head as he curves his body around him.

‘Tony’, Peter whispers, the first tears starting to track a path on his cheeks. ‘Tony.’ Sobs are building up in the back of his throat, unable to be contained for much longer, and as they escape, Tony doesn’t scold him, or tells Peter to stop, but he starts to rock the both of them.

Peter can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels splatters of Tony’s tears on his shoulders as well.

‘Morgan’, Peter says nonsensical after a while, sobs are still heaving his body, but he’s had experience pulling himself together in need before, and right now he needs to know Morgan is safe.

‘Is she okay?’ he asks Tony, with a clumsy tongue. The crying has made his weak and aching body even more exhausted, the rocks reminding him of babies being cradled and normally he wouldn’t want to be seen as a baby, but he doesn’t care right now. He just want to enjoy being around Tony again.

‘Morgan?’ Tony laughs, sniffling quietly like he’s refusing to let Peter knows his been crying too. ‘She fine, she’s probably playing in the barn again even though Pepper tells her she’s not allowed. She’s a bit of a menace, just like you Pete.’

At that, Peter sobs turn into heaves, his entire body shaking with the force of them. All the grief of the past few months, the guilt that Peter has carried knowing it’s all his fault, is all coming to a head now. It’s his fault that Tony’s dead, it’s his fault Morgan has to grow up without a father, and it’s his fault the world doesn’t have Iron man to protect them anymore. He’s tried to so hard to make it right, but how can he? How can he ever be the person Tony was, when he’s just Peter Parker.

‘Kiddo, please calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick’, Tony soothes despairingly. He lowers peter again but stays close, his hand going back to striking Peter’s hair. ‘You’re okay, I promise you, I won’t let anything else happen to you.’ Tony is getting chocked up again, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it. ‘Not again.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Peter whispers, his voice wrecked by the amount of crying he has done. He wants to talk to Tony, explain what happened, spend time with him and beg for his forgiveness, but Tony shushes him, and he’s asleep before he can argue.

----

The next time Peter struggles to consciousness, he senses their presence; Morgan, Pepper and Tony, and he knows without a sliver of doubt that its them. He shakes with the knowledge. The room he’s in, his room as Pepper had told him upon visiting for the first time, is scattered with spiderman toys, and even a few posters on to wall to complete the image. The sight is ridiculous, but Peter laughs at it all the same. He tries to keep the smile on his face, but melancholy isn’t easily beat.

At the very least his concussion seems to have gone away since waking up a first time, and all that’s left to remind him he took a fall is a vague pounding in his head, and the nausea. It’s not as bad as before, and Peter takes the reprieve with greedy hands.

The hustling and bustling of the family, alive and well, downstairs is crustal clear to Peter’s advanced hearing. It’s strange, being back in the lake house without it seeming so bleak. After they defeated Thanos, and Mister Stark died, Peter’s mind helpfully supplies, he had only been here twice. Pepper tried her best to come back, to give Morgan a home away from the home they owned in the city, but too much had reminded of the husband she was forced to burry, so they moved fairly quickly.

So it unusually to see it the way it was supposed to be. Lived in, with Morgan’s giggling and Pepper’s pretend scolding voice, with mister Stark chuckling quietly to himself, a perfect little family. It’s supposed to emit a warm, honey affection bleeding through every crack, and it’s a shame it isn’t anymore.

‘Morguna, go play with your toys for a second, I need to talk to your mom about something very important.’ Spying on Tony leaves a bad taste in Peter’s mouth, but he can’t help it. He’s been so devoid of any scraps connecting him to Mister Stark, that he’s willing to forgo manners.

‘Is it a surprise?’ Morgan asks, mirth in her voice. She’s so much younger than Peter ever remembers her being, because he’d never got to witness her at that age. His heart clenches, the hurt still so fresh.

‘You know what little miss, as a matter of fact it is, so you better scoot, or we might not be able to get in time.’

Morgan squeals in delight, and Peter hears her little footsteps sprinting outside. Peter smiles, he knew Tony would be a good dad someday. The downstairs is quiet for longer than normal, and Peter suddenly turns worried that Pepper and Tony caught him.

Then, Pepper speaks up again. ‘You can’t keep spoiling her you know. She’ll turn into a monester by the time she hits fourteen.’

‘She’s fine,’ Tony placates. Peter visualizes Tony pressing a kiss to the top of Pepper’s head, the only weakness the woman has, which he takes great advantages of. The issue seems to be settled, the playful disagreement put to rest.

Peter ponders over what to do next. He’s so extremely awkward, and despite hoping for an opportunity like this one, he has no idea what to say to Tony.

‘Oh Tony, is it really him?’ Peter freezes, so caught of guard by the heartache in Pepper’s words. She sounds both optimistic and demoralized, as though she has had her hopes up for so long she can’t risk it again.

‘It is Pep. I know it is, I saw it in his eyes.’

‘But how?’ Pepper questions extensively. ‘He was blipped, just like so many people. None of the others have come back.’

‘I don’t have all the answers Pepper, God knows I wish I had. All I know is that my kids back, do I need to question why?’

Hearing, outright hearing mister Stark say Peter is his kid, has Peter tearing up, something sharp sticking at his ribs and feeble heart. It hurts just as much as he longs to overhear it again.

‘He might be able to bring the others back. Tony, I get why you don’t want to hear this, but he could be the key to helping millions.’

‘He has to be nothing but healthy alright? Maybe he can help, maybe he can’t, but all I’m sure of is that I’m never,’ Tony’s voice sinks lower and even more venomous then before,’ putting him in the line of fire again.’

I’m okay, Peter thinks, needing to scream it to Mister Stark’s face that he didn’t do anything. It wasn’t up to anyone, just like it wasn’t up to anyone to save Tony either.

‘I’m sorry’, Tony utters, sounding defeated and, honestly, old. ‘I’m sorry, but I just got him back, and I can’t, I can’t lose him again.’

‘It seems like the first step in ensuring it never does it to go up and talk to him. Go to him Tony, say what you couldn’t say three years ago. And’, Pepper swallows thickly. ‘Tell him we all love him.’

Peter’s grateful he won’t be forced to initiate the first move by walking downstairs.

‘Underroos, I’m coming up so you better not be sleeping anymore.’ The flawless transition between vulnerable and slipping into his role a cool role model is staggering, but it doesn’t surprise Peter in the slightest anymore. He’s spend too much time with Tony for that to be the case.

He doesn’t know what to do with his body, how he’s supposed to respond to seeing Tony in person again? Part of him wants to lung at his mentor, while the other part hisses at him to act like a normal human being. Peter ends up sitting down on the bed, standing in front of the door, hiding behind the closet and finally back to bed in the span of however long it takes Tony to reach the room.

By that point, Peter is too distracted by the glimmer of his past to overthink the encounter. He remembers the lego set as if it just happened. It was the first bout of Peter’s interests that Tony listened to wholeheartedly. After the battle with Thanos, it had slipped Peter’s mind completely. He had no idea Mister Stark had this thing in his home.

‘I asked May if I could take it with me, when I moved out here’, Tony says with melancholy, taking a seat by Peter on the bed, but leaving a considerable distance. He’s not looking at the lego set at all, instead dividing his full attention on Peter. Swiftly his eyes roam Peters face and posture, sucking in all the little details Tony hadn’t been able to discern about him after a while.

‘There’s so many of that stuff in her apartment, but this one was the most fun to put together, because it’s the death star you know? It has all this detail and it took forever to make but that’s all good, cause there’s so much detail and-’

‘Pete’, Tony sounds chocked up, like the façade he was forcing himself to wear is already slipping. Peter hasn’t even said anything yet. ‘God kid, where the hell di you come from? I’ve tried everything but I-‘, he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter has only witnessed mister Stark crying once, so it’s a shock that it occurs again. ‘I didn’t know how.’

‘Mister Stark-’, Peter stops, cutting his own sentence off. Is he even supposed to say anything? Is he supposed to blab the secrets of the future. His Spidey scenes are distinctively ordering him not too, but Peter itches to all the same. ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to say,’ he settles on, ‘with the butterfly effect and all.’

‘The butterfly effect? Kid what in the world are you talking about?’

‘You know, like in the movie, where he can travel back in the past but it always alters things for the worst?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen the movie’, Tony asserts, almost deadpans. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘Just- just please trust me Mister Stark’, Peter pleads, hands beginning to tremble with the need to reach out for reassurance. The memories of the one complete hug Tony had ever given him sparking a longing in him. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course’, Mister Stark firmly agrees.

‘Then don’t ask me how,’ even to his own ears the desperation is tangible, ‘please.’

Tony clasps his hand on Peters shoulder, a ground weight to which Peters never endings zing in relief. Before he can stop himself, he’s crumpled in, his head on Tony’s shoulder while his hands twist in the back of mister Stark’s shirt. The reciprocation is immediate.

‘I’ve missed you’, He chokes out, feeling rather annoyed at himself that all he seems to be doing is crying. His time here is limited, he can sense it, the hunch that time is of the essence and he doesn’t posses much of it, and he refuses to waste it on more tears.

‘Me too, Pete, more than you know.’

‘I think I have a pretty good clue’, Peter laughs bitterly, it’s not the same really. He’s only been missing mister Stark for a few months, the man in front of him has been missing him for three and will need to miss him for two more years. The buzzing in the back of his head grows louder. Another stroke of Parker luck, he spend most of the time he had with mister Stark unconscious.

Whatever, he can’t change it now, but he has a few more things to say before he needs to leave.

‘Tony’, he begins, using Mister Starks first name to ensure he understands how important this is. He pulls away, just enough to be able to look Tony directly in the eyes, but what he sees there is nothing short of panic. His hand tighten, softly guiding him back but Peter resists.

‘Please don’t tell me you have to go again.’ It seems that despite Peter intent, Tony savvies more than he’d like. Peter smiles bitter.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘What?’

‘What happened on Titan, when he blipped all of us, me, that’s not on you mister Stark.’ Peter repeats patiently, watching as Tony’s face hardens.

‘Peter-‘

‘It’s not. You couldn’t have protected me any more then you did. I’m sorry it turns out the way it did, but I need you to know it’s not on you.’

‘I should have done more.’ Tony insist, raising his voice a few octaves. Downstairs, Morgan asks Pepper why her dad is so close to yelling. ‘I should’ve, you were my kid Peter, are my kid, and I failed.’

‘You didn’t fail’, Peter yells back just as loudly, he stands up from the bed, subconsciously trying to appear taller so he has more say in the situation. ‘Because if you already failed then what did I do? I’m still here and you-‘, he cuts himself off once again, almost spilling all the secrets.

Tony approach him like he’s an animal that needs to be handled with care. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about, but I’m a grown man Pete, I can take care of myself.’

‘But I-‘

‘Ah, ah, ah, not talking back, I’m the adult here. Zip it kid. How about this, we’re both not to blame alright?’

Peter isn’t convinced Tony believes that, but it’s still a weight of his shoulders to have said it to Mister Stark, maybe, in the future, when he pins the blame on himself once more, he’ll think about this moment. He nods.

‘I have to go now Mister Stark’, The words tumble out of his mouth before he realizes that it’s the truth. Whatever is going to happen next won’t wait much longer.

Peter walks over to the window and opens it, ready to swing out after saying goodbye. He can’t go and see Pepper and Morgan, it’ll upset them as much as it’ll upset him. He’ll see them back in his time.

‘Wait,’ Tony screams, as I Peter was going to leave without a goodbye. The embrace he pulls Peter in is heavier this time, loaded with the upcoming goodbye’s. It’s still nice though, and Peter enjoys every second of it. Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s temple then holds it there when he asks; ‘How long do I have to wait before I see you again.’

Peter swallows painfully and considers lying to make Tony feel better but, ‘two years’, he eventually confesses, figuring that he can at least give that little piece of information.

Mister Stark simply hums, but Peter notices his tears nonetheless. With one last, solid squeeze, Peter wiggles out of the embrace and tries to stall his own tears. It would hurts less if he could go back to find Mister Stark there, if only he had a way to warm Tony.

He’s pretty sure he can’t go into too much detail but; ‘Mister Stark, when it happens, please hold on. I can’t lose you either.’

‘Okay Pete,’ Tony assures, his hands shaking with the urge to drag his kid back, safe in his arms. ‘After this is all over, we’re going to hold a movie night okay? With pizza.’

‘And Star Wars?’ Peter asks hopefully. Mister Stark laughs, his eyes wet. The smile is all Peter demands before he jumps out the window, not waiting for an answer. He prays that he’s done enough without messing anything up. He hopes.

---

When Peter makes it back to his own time, his phone pings with a message.

It reads; ‘Hey kid, still up for a movie night?’ send by Tony Stark.

#peter parker #tony stark #pepper stark #morgan stark #spiderman #peter parker imagine #tony stark imagine #spiderman imagine #post avengers endgame #happy ending #nobody dies #irondad #spider son #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #protective tony stark #marvel imagine #marvel #the avengers

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johnismyreason · 3 years

Note

I have a request for a oneshot! Meeting tom in a bar, chatting, flirting, ending up at his place and having $ex🔥

It always takes me so much time to write something I’m sorry... Anyway I hope you’ll enjoy :)

warnings: smutt, alcohol (kinda), praise kink, no foreplay, dom-ish!tom, and obviously the usual bad English

The longest day ever. Ugh.

It was one of those days where you just think I just should’ve stayed in bed. Your alarm clock didn’t ring. You cracked your favourite pair of jeans right before heading out, making you running late even more. Your boss gave you yet another assignment in addition of you hundred of other ones. Stacy, your favourite co-worker, wasn’t here because she was on vacation with her boyfrie- fiancé now, wow she just texted you a selfie with her ring, and you remain single. Someone spilled their coffee on your shirt and didn’t even apologise. And finally hen you thought nothing bad can happen anymore, the rain was pouring. Of course you didn’t take your umbrella or a coat with a hood. Thank you London shitty weather. And of course, a car splashed the only puddle of water all over you. You wanted to cry, scream and burn everything down. You lift your head and read in bright red lighting the holy word “PUB”. Hallelujah. You didn’t even think about it, you just walked in.

The place was almost empty, which didn’t bother you at all, since you had enough interactions with humans for the day, maybe even for the week.

You sat at the bar, your coat drenched, your hair sticking to your face, your make up was gone and your mascara left black ink under your eyes. You were sticky and looked gross, but you couldn’t care less anymore. After three minutes with your head between your hands and elbows on the counter, the bartender bring you a shot of vodka.

“Wait,” you called him, “I didn’t order yet”

“Yeah, well, the guy over there got this for you” he replied, pointing at a curly hair young man sat on the banquette behind you, who, with a tight smile, waved shyly at you with just two fingers.

You looked at him with your tired eyes. Shit, he’s cute. He must has a weird obsession for desperate girls. You take the small glass and poured it down your throat.

“Thank you,” you told him a little louder than expected but you didn’t bother pretending you were sorry for three other customers. The young man got up and walked towards you, his bottle of beer in his hand.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, seating on the stool next to yours. “You looked like you needed it” he chuckled.

“T’was that obvious ?”

He chuckled again before replying “a bit.” and you smiled lightly too. He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, just looking at you. “I’m Tom by the way” he introduced himself and extended his hand to you.

You looked at his hand, a little surprised by his traditional behaviour, but took it anyways “Y/N”

“Nice to meet you Y/N”. Another smile appeared on his thin lips . He was really cute. “So, what happened ? It seems like you had a rough day, don’t you ?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer. His jaw was sharp and his fingers were long and thin around the bottle.

“You wouldn’t want to know, it’s too long, and boring, and sad and... yeah, pathetic” you said, your head resting on your palm, staring at the counter.

“Well thank god we have all night, and you might think it’s an odd coincidence but, boring, sad and pathetic stories are my favourite.”

You thought about it. He’s a stranger in the creepiest pub in London, you don’t know nothing about him, and he doesn’t know nothing about you. You look a mess and weird, you’re drenched, why does he want to know about your day ?

“You like desperate girls, don’t you ?” you finally said.

“What ?” Tom replied, genuinely confused.

“Or maybe you’re the desperate one and is ready to pick the most rubbish looking girl, as long as you can have your release” you teased

“N-no, no ! I-I just... I saw you by the window getting splashed by the car, I felt so bad for you and I hoped you would come in so I can offer you a drink. I-I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll leave-”

“Wait !” you stopped him from getting out of his stool, placing your hand on his forearm. Now you felt bad. He’s the first and only person today who didn’t annoy you in any kind of way. “Please, stay. It’s been a long day. A very long day” you sighed. Tom sat back on his stool with a tight smile. He ordered two other beers for him and you.

“Wanna talk about it ?” he gently proposed. You nodded and started your narrative. You gave all the details, from the sound of your ripped jeans, the tone of the unkind comment your coworker spat after pouring his coffee on you, to the very beautiful diamond your friend got when she got proposed to what seemed the perfect guy. Tom listened to everything, and kept his focus on your eyes, sometimes your lips, but just for a second. You finished your story after what felt like 10 hours of speaking.

“Wow... that was... a fucking shitty day” he chuckled bringing you warmth to your heart.

You chuckled “I’ll drink to that,” taking your beer and clinked it with his. You sighed dramatically and turned to him.

“What about yours ?”

“Mine ?” he said after taking a sip. “Well, it was way less interesting than yours” he laughed. “Um... I woke up. Got to the grocery store, worked out, watched TV, worked and got to this bar. And now I’m talking to a very pretty girl.” you blushed, not expecting him to say that.

“I bet she smells like flowers” you roasted yourself.

“More like a wet dog but that’s light” Tom teased and you hit him lightly on his arm. You both laughed lightly.

“We’re closing,” the bartender cut you.

“It’s only 9 o’clock...” you responded, your eyebrows frowned.

“We’re closing,” he repeated.

You looked at Tom, rolling your eyes “It’s because of my bad luck, I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be. This gives me the opportunity to ask you if you want to come to me place, have another drink.” he asked shyly, putting the money on the counter.

You looked at him awkwardly stuffing his hand in his jean pockets, waiting for your response. He’s really cute. Fuck it, let’s go. You bit your lip into a smile and nodded a yes. His eyes widened.

“Really ? Great ! Um, let’s go then,” he let you walk first towards the door but opened it for you. He told that his appartement is just a few minutes walking from here.

You followed him in the almost empty streets, talking about everything and mostly about him. He was nice and funny and it felt like you knew him for years. He led you to his building and then apartment which was gigantic next to yours. He took your coat and offered you to dry your hair with his hairdryer while he sets everything to eat. You agreed and followed him in his bathroom. You came back in the kitchen where Tom was preparing dinner. There was a central counter illuminated by three industrial-style lamps. Tom had a folded tea towel on his shoulder and seemed very concentrated on cooking his dish.

“Pasta alla tomato,” he announced with a proud smile and his fingers pinched together, noticing you coming back from the bathroom.

“I’m not quite sure, that’s how Italians call it” you laughed standing next to him.

“Who cares ? It’s gonna be delicious,” he smirked. “Wanna taste ?” he asked with a low voice, his spoon ready to make you taste the tomato sauce. You nodded eagerly, making him chuckle. You parted your lips and leaned towards him, welcoming the spoon in your mouth. You moaned at the taste and watched his pupils dilate for a split second.

“It is delicious,” you confirmed licking your lips. Tom watched your tongue dancing on your mouth and felt his heart beating fast. Suddenly, it was too hot in the room.

“We um... we should take some plates,” he tried to resonate him. He moved around you to grab two plates, forks and knives and placed it on the counter, in front of the chairs.

You kept talking about life and laughed at the strangest stories you two lived. You were having the best time. Tom was nice, funny and it felt like you knew each others for years. Everything since the bar was simple and comfortable. Also, he was really cute. You couldn’t take off your eyes of him. You admired the stain of curls falling on his forehead, and how his biceps contrat when he runs his hand through his hair to replace it. The little wrinkles around his eyes when he was smiling and the joyful burst of his voice as he laughs.

You also noticed a small stain of tomato sauce on his jaw, and without thinking about it, cutting Tom in his sentence, you swiped your thumb over it and brung it to your lips. Before you could reach your mouth, Tom stopped you, interlacing your hand with his fingers, pulling it to his face. He plunged his gaze into yours and wrapped his lips around your thumb. He licked softly your digit without breaking the eye contact. You stopped breathing, your heart pounding in your ears.

“That was mine,” he almost groaned. He then kissed delicately your other fingers while you starred at his lips and his face. He sometimes made eye contact with, making you loose your mind, before closing his eyes refocusing your fingers. He pulled gently on your wrist close to make you lean towards him. Your faces are a few inches away and the tension is so thick, the space between you is barely breathable.

“Y/N,” Tom whispered “please let me kiss you” he tilted his head waiting for your answer. Your breath was jerky, your pupils dilated and all your senses in turmoil. You leaned a little more, closing your eyes and nodded slowly.

Tom placed his other free hand on your cheek and closed the space between you. His lips were warm and rough at the same time, but his kisses were soft and caring. He wanted to make you feel good. The leaned position wasn’t the most comfortable though. So without breaking the kiss, Tom guided you up and sat you on his lap.

“Hm, much better” he said between kisses. You giggled and ran your hands through his soft curls. Tom navigated his lips down your neck and sucked on your hot skin. You tilted your head back giving him all the space he needed. Tom then traced his way down to your chest, his hands running up and down your back, waist and hips. You gently pulled on his curls to bring back his lips on your mouth, both whining and moaning.

“Tom, I need more... so much more” you desperately moaned out of breath. He didn’t say anything. He just got up, holding you around his chest and walked to his bedroom. After letting you falling gracefully on his bed he got up and took off his tight t-shirt. You discovered his muscular features, making you want to touch it.

“Give me your hands,” he nicely ordered. And you obeyed. He placed your palms on his pecs and slowly ran them all over his upper body. Your eyes stared frantically every inch of his skin, in awe of his features. Tom looked at your face with a slight smirk, admiring you.

“You like what see ?” that was so cocky yet so hot. You would gave laughed if it was anyone else, but there was something about him that was so hypnotising.

“I really do,” you whispered, still caressing him.

“Y/N, can I take off your clothes” he gently demanded, lingering his long fingers on your arms.

“Please,” you whimpered. Tom took the time to kiss you before pulling up your almost tired t-shirt and bra.

“Gorgeous,” he groaned and ran his warm hand on your breast. You moaned his name when you felt his lips around your nipples. “you’re so beautiful Y/N”. He pushed you against the mattress, stil sucking on your buds. He slid his hands down your body to take off your panties. “Can I take these off ?”

“Yes, you can” you answered desperately. He wasted no time and admired your glistening core.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you” Tom got up and grabbed a condom in his bathroom. When he came back he stumbled while taking off his boxers, making you giggle at his eagerness. He almost jumped on the bed and placed the condom on his very hard cock. You looked at him with wanting eyes, licking your lips.

“Do I need to work you out a little ?”

“No, no, don’t worry about that, you’ve done enough” you giggled and he responded the same way. “Please, I just need you...” you whimpered. Tom leaned on you to kiss you, and ever so smoothly entered you. You both moaned loudly.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel amazing” he stayed immobile for a little while so you can accommodate to him, until you moved your hips. He got the message and started thrusting gently but deeply.

Tom never stoped kissing you. On your lips, your cheeks, your neck... every bit on your skin that was reachable was showered by his lips. It was like a drug to him. You couldn’t get your hands off of his body, running them on his back, abs, chest and hair tugging a little on his curls. And each time your did that, he groaned and moaned. He made the prettiest sounds and you were loving it. Tom sped up his movements, holding close to him.

“Tom... umm you feel so good ! Gosh, please don’t stop”, you praised him and deepened his thrusts. They were more calculated, more passionate. Seeing him responding to your praises this way, made you want even more from him, so you continued.

“Um, yes just like that, oh fuck ! Tom, fuck you feel amazing !” he became animalistic in his thrusts and you felt your orgasm getting closer.

“You like this cock pretty girl ? um ?” he groaned in your ear “do you feel how perfect it is for you ? how it makes you loose yourself ? I feel you clenching baby...” his thrusts sped up even harder wanting you to release your pleasure “cum for me Y/N, I’m right behind you. God, fuck- your pussy feels so good, so tight !”

Your nails scratched his back, searching for something to hold onto, you arched your spine and let your orgasm took over you. Tom thrusted a few more times before he cums in you, moans and groans filling the air. He relaxed his body on top of yours, both you regaining your breath. Who knew, after spending the worst day ever, you would end up in a stranger’s bed. Tom eventually rolled on the side, giggling.

“What’s so funny ?” you asked a bit embarrassed.

“Nothing, nothing,” he reassured you, kissing you softly, “it was just... mind-blowing.” You felt your cheeks heat up against his palm.

“I know,” your confirmed. “Thank you for brighting up my day” you joked.

“Anytime, love !” Tom smiled before hesitantly asking you “actually, I was thinking, maybe we could go on a date, or something... I spent a really good time with you. I’m not only talking about the sex, huh, it was an amazing evening.”

You bit your lips and kissed him delicately “I would love that. I had a great time too”

#tom holland #tom holland request #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #peter parker #tom holland imagine smut #tom holland imagine fluff #tom holland imagine #peter Parker x reader

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fandom-imagination-ss · 3 years

Text

Imagine: your Father Bruce Manner comes visits you unexpectedly and catches a very Sweaty Bucky in your closet half naked

‘Okay Doll relax we got all night!”

Smiling weakly hearing the sweet pet name Bucky gave you, grunted it was probably Not that “special” too him since in his time “doll” was a common phase. But in the 21 century? Where everything is highly complicated and everything offends something. Like even the nick name “doll” your friends heard him call you that and you LOVE IT! But your friends jumped on his back saying you aren’t a object and you agreed you aren’t but you also agreed that Nothing sounds better then him calling you “Doll” or sweetheart. Bucky quickly apoglized as you had too tell him if he stopped calling you Doll you would be mad.

it’s been a Long two weeks. Steve, Bucky, Nat, Hawkeye, Wanda and the kid Peter were on mission in Russia. You knew that they would be safe. I mean four outta six have superpowers. And you know Nat can protect herself and she’s a badass and she scares everyone and then thier was Hawkeye he was a basically a god with a arrow so you weren’t worried. But two weeks without Bucky was tough!

the Only people who knew about your relationship with Bucky was your friends who are not involved in the “Avenger” life mainly cause they don’t even know who your dad is. It was two different worlds and with your friends and Bucky you can be a regular couple no one questions it.

But if the Avengers KNEW!

If they knew Everyone would have questions, Nat would be supportive, Wanda would want too talk about how it happened. Tony would. Ask completely inappropriate questions , Steve would be silent but supportive. Vision wouldn’t care, But Bruce!

the HULK! Bruce! Your father would Have definitely a few words for you. He hated that you were so involved in the Avengers in the first place . Your Dad Only wants you too have a safe , normal life something you didn’t have much growing up. Let Alone! Dating a guy who was frozen who is technologically older then him and has a lot of baggage’s! You dad wouldn’t be thrilled.

Bucky agreed also, If they knew about your relationship the rules at HeadQuarters would be different for starters, he wouldn’t be able too sneak too your room anymore, because everyone would be stalking the hallways too see if he was coming over, and Bruce would use his massive brain too sperapte you bothd also Bucky very scared about the Hulk coming out and killing him.

Missions are apart of the gig you get it, you were just annoyed it’s been two weeks. He messaged you whenever it was safe but it wasn’t the same you were always restless when he was gone. So when the door opened and you saw him standing their grinning brightly you bolted over too him planting a kiss on his lips as he held you tightly.

both of you were unaware of Bruce heading towards he’s daughter apartment he held some flowers a tradition he started when he visited you at home too give you flowers. He wasn’t around much while you were growing up but when he did visit he bought you some flowers. Now that you see your dad almost every day he hasn’t done it lately but he’s seen how out of it you been for the last few weeks and he was hoping some flowers and too spend the day going too the national museum would cheer you up. You always love correcting the wrong dates. Picking up some beauitful sunflowers your favourite. He walked up heading up too his little girls appartment.

Having Bucky stripped it was always heated with you both and neither of you wasted time when he arrived him. You were ALMOST there! When the door knocked. You jumped high stunned hearing the door as Bucky went too ingore it until they heard Bruce’s cheerful voice.

‘sweetheart it’s Daddy you home?”

“Shit!’ You whispered softly as Bucky shot up as you got up quickly getting dressed as Bucky looked around trying to oo find something. He’s shoes? They were at the front door. You got into your jeans and your crop top that was white as you had your black fannel overtop as you called out “HOLD ON DAD!”

You pointed too the closest as Bucky nodded his head bolting too the closest as you walked off too the front door. Quickly moving Bucky’s shoes. As you checked yourself in the mirror. Oh God1 your hair was a mess and your makeup was awful! Your lipstick smeared as you realized you quickly grabbed a napkin fixing it as you spoke, “Sorry Dad-“ opening the door you looked at your dad seeing him holding fmlwoers you smield as you spoke, ‘what’s that for?” He handed them too you as you smiled as you sniffed them walking too the kitchen, “what brings you over? We didn’t have plans today did we?”

“No- I thought i would take you out- you been so sad and off lately I- Is that bucky’s bag?”

Shit- you thought as you turned seeing Bucky’s Bag on the sofa. You spoke, “no?”

He walked over looking at it as he spoke, “this is Bucky’s bag I just saw him with it- why did it take you so long too answer th door?”

you blinked stunned. As you spoke, “I- Ugh... i was looking for my shoes.”

“your barefoot..-“ he walked too your bedroom seeing the bed was unmade and messy , you followed him as you spoke, ‘let’s go get ice cream- Dad.?”

He ingored you going too your bathroom as he opened the door seeing it was empty. As you cursed softly. Damn it..

“Dad-“ you went. Too confess it was better if you tell him vs Bucky Buck naked appeared from the closest.

Before you could confess Bucky opened the door too your surprise and your fathers as he was still shirtless and covered in sweat. “I- Bruce- Sir.. this isn’t... I love her.”

Bruce felt his blood boiling. HIM! He knew one day that one idiot would take he’s daughter heart that he wouldn’t be good enough. But he was HOPING! The person would be her own age- and Not older then him- and he wouldn’t be a former agent from hydra, Or that he wasn’t basically a walking mess. He was HOPING that the person wouldn’t be a Superhero! He wanted you too have a normal life. He felt his anger raising as you stepped over, “Daddy- it’s fine.. it’s- were all adults and-“

he looked at the bed as you noticed that look instantly backing up as you spoke “Bucky.... you should Runn..”

The Hulk appeared as you quickly called out too Friday. Tony set you up last christmas for safety, and because he thought it would be fun too send you more codes thru the lights. When he was bored. Piper mainly thought safety.. but Tony thought a torment tool. “Friday! Code green!”

the hulk screamed loudly as Bucky stumbled backwarrds before heading towards you too shield you. As you slapped he is protective arm as you screamed, “he wont get me! He’s after you! Get away from me!” You bolted as he screamed, “THANKS FOR THE PROTECTION!”

“LOVE YOU!”

The hulk bolted towards Bucky who jumped out of the window.- the hulk followed making a massive hole in your wall. As you saw Tony flying over as he noticed the scene as he laughed as thor appeared too assistant as they tried too calm down your dad.

Back at the headquarters you sat beside Bucky rubbing his head. It was a Hell of a fight, as you spoke, ‘how- you okay?”

“he has some anger issues.”

“Yea- that’s generic- you should see when i get angry.” He grinned weakly at your lame joke as he spoke, “he broke my ribs..”

“you’ll heal!”

He rolled his eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder, “it could of been worst.”

“HoW!” He gasped as you spoke, “he could of easily! Ripped your head off!”

He rolled his eyes as Bruce arrived he was fiddling with his glasses as he looked at his only joy in his life resting her head on Bucky. He sighed heavily as Tony was squeezing he’s shoulders, “So- I personally want too hear everything!”

Tony stated as Bruce, Bucky and you snapped shut up. As you looked at your dad. “We were going too tell you- but honestly.. we were afraid you would of reacted- like you did..”

Bruce looked at you as he spoke, “how long?”

“almost a year.”

“Well- 14 months and three days.” You turned too Bucky as you spoke “you asked me out in October! It’s July.”

“I was yours the moment I saw you.”

you said aw touching your heard as Bruce spoke up, “Okay! Okay! No lovely doves stuff! Y/N! I’m sorry i broke your boyfriend.”

“thank you.”

Bucky asked if he gets a apoglize as Bruce spoke, “No! I dont like this!”

he walked off as Tony spoke, “he’s protective, those great way kids telling the old man!”

“Shut up! TONY!” You both snapped as he chuckled going after Bruce.

#bruce banner #Bruce banner Imagine #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #tfatws #tfatws imagine #the felcon and the winter soilder imagine #the felcon and the winter soilder #thor #fandom imagine #imagine

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smol-and-grumpy · 2 years

Note

It’s true that both of them are just idiots 😂😭 I swear they better kiss when Dean comes back!

Honestly I don’t really hate Sam. He’s definitely just clueless 😂 and that’s a way for you to throw in some tension for that couple and stretch it for as long as possible (yes I see you Nat and what you’re doing 😂😂😂). How can he not see that every time he comes in, they are about to kiss? 🤦‍♀️😂

Also, I hope you’re okay with my endless and frequent messages 😅😅😅 like I hope it’s bothering you or anything 😅 I was thinking of sending a big message at the end but there’s just so much and I have too many feelings as I’m reading the chapters 😅😅😅

Oh no… after Carmen’s message, here comes Adam. Why are you doing this Nat? 😭😭 also, wtf is Dean doing? No, you don’t want to go grab drinks with Carmen… you really don’t…

Poor reader… I also want to wrap her in blankets and hug her

That homecoming greeting was so cute 🥰🥰 how are they not a couple already? 😩 they really are stubborn idiots. Pushing each other for the other to have a significant other when clearly, they are perfect for each other…

Oh no, is Cas going to become Sam 2.0? 😂 something was about to happen between the two of them!

Dean was so focused on the game and the reader that she forgot that Carmen was coming. Am I a bit happy? Yes 😂 but I don’t like where it’s going. I do feel bad for Dean though and maybe Carmen a bit because he’s clearly not interested in her. Okay nope, not feeling bad for her anymore. She just planted herself right onto Dean’s lap? Like what??!! Omg please don’t tell me the reader invited Adam over? 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Nat, you are currently breaking my heart. More like you ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it. And it’s not even close to being done 😭😭😭 (still love you and your writing though 😘)

Wait what? Wtf happened. Dean’s comment was a bit out of place 😅😂 why is he being so stupid 🤬🤦‍♀️ so funny that he literally forgot Carmen in the appartement though 😂😂😂 how does that happen? 😂 no no no no they kissed. NO! Omg Dean is so stubborn and an idiot and ugh. Just go back!

Btw, I absolutely love your chapter warnings. They just make me smile every time 😂

I like Adam now 😂😂 he basically just told her what we’ve been trying to make her see in 18 chapters 😂 omg he’s so blunt I love it 😂 go Adam! And thank you for making the reader think a bit! 👏👏👏

Okay this message is long enough and I do need to sleep 😅😅 as you can see, I am very much involved in this story. Sorry I’m being so invested 😅 you’ll probably get another message tomorrow, I won’t put my phone down until I finish this series - unless the booster shot knocks me down completely and I can’t look at a screen xx Mel

I woke up this morning, and read this. I couldn't contain my big smile.

Exactly, you definitely know me and how my brain works ;) God, Mel, don't apologize for those messages. I love it!

I can't wait for you to pick up at 19. Dun dun duuuuuun. lol

Home To You

#home to you #feedback #nat answers

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cxptain-rex · 4 years

Note

Hi so uh, I was wondering if your could write a oneshot with one of the clones (maybe Fives, Echo, Wolffe, Rex, and or even Dogma?) or a head cannon about the clones reacting to their SO/reader having a major panic attack? Their SO is calm and collected, fun to be around and a skilled fighter so walking in on them having a major panic attack completely throws them off guard? (About the war, losing brothers? Not being good enough or even family issues that left invisible scars?)

Two Souls {ARC Trooper Echo}

pairing: echo x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety attacks and so on.

A/N: Woo! I’m back everyone! It has been so long since I’ve been here. I’m sorry, I decided that I needed a break after the Clone Wars Season finale. I still have pieces to finish for you guys! But let’s get into it!

***

Echo has never been one to break the rules, he follows regulation every single time. In other words, he does things right so he does not face weird outcomes. Of course, he meets you, a skilled Jedi Knight. He immediately falls for you, for your kindness, bravery and rightness. He thinks you’re perfect in every sense of life itself.

After Echo is lost in the Capital everything turns dark. Your bravery turns into cowardice, the rightness turns to doubting but your kindness prevails. No matter how harsh your lover’s death took on you, the person in you managed to carry on slowly.

A full year after his supposed passing the mourning had not run it's course.

The heaviness was in your limbs as much as your mind. Things you used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. He should have been there to laugh with you, or at you, or just near you. He should be making his caf in that damn expensive machine and complaining about the price of eggs. He should be gawping at holopics of fast ships on the holonet and planning what to spend his future GAR credit on, even if he got to have it. He should be gossiping about the vods he worked with worse than an old woman.

But most of all he should be there to hug you goodnight and kiss you before you left for a deployment.

You missed all that.

Back then there was just nothing, a holopic that bore his name and his cold bones rotting in a planet full of evil. You had always been agnostic, but now you put all your faith in the Force to care for him and reunite them when your life was done. Nothing and nobody that good could simply disappear, he was waiting, you could feel it.

So when you found out of Echo being held captive by Techno Union, you marched right towards Anakin and demanded of his help to safe your lover. And so you did, Rex along with Cody and a special batch of troopers went with you. You led them all towards Anaxes and fought your way through.

Slashing and forcing droids to crumble in heaps of metal. With nothing but a yearning of hope perhaps shedding its way in your heart. When you saw him, your heart stopped and your lungs contracted. Your lover hooked on a machine, all frail and pale. Echo seemed to acknowledge you and for a moment you felt at peace.

But you will not forget. You can’t forget how they ripped him appart and how small he looked. You haven’t forgotten, it still lives fresh on your mind that sour memory.

***

The war has been won. The clones have manage to overthrow the villainous Palpatine. Now they are all scattered amongst the galaxy to keep the order and peace. Echo has managed to keep his ARC rank and he manage to keep you as well. Your love growing stronger each day.

Now you live in a house granted by the Organa’s in Alderaan. Echo has built it for you with the help of his brothers. Since then you’ve managed to live in a basic perfect life.

Everything was okay.

Until one night you remembered. The panic starts out as thin cellophane, something your fingers can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes your mouth and nose. That's when the attack becomes absolute, shutting your body down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button.

You try to call for Echo but nothing comes out and as you stand shaking in your kitchen. There is a distance in your eyes as your takes a few steps backwards, bumping into the kitchen counter like you weren’t expecting it. Your head rolls with the impact, eyes glazed. Your voice comes out thin and distant, "What, but, no, it didn't, that's... not... right..." You’re breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air.

Echo trudges into the kitchen with a holopad in hands. His gaze follows your form, he drops the pad and rushes towards you. His hands, both human and mech, grab you as he searches for you. He has no idea what to do, he never saw you before like this. He remembers Fives and Rex helping him overtake one of his own attacks.

He pulls you into his lap, soothing your hair slowly. “I’m right here, cy’are” he assures you as you clutch unto his blacks upper piece. “Echo?” You sob clinging onto the trooper, he nods slowly. Realization falls on him. He knows from where this panic attack comes from.

“I’m here and I’m not leaving you” he reassures slowly as your breaths fall into rhythm. Echo’s heart clenches as you whimper against him. You hug him tighter as he buries his face on your hair.

The panic dies and void emerges. You blink slowly meeting Echo’s gaze slowly. He’s here, your subconscious remarks causing you to tremble and cry against him. Echo’s heart clenches in his chest as he holds your crying figure, he has never seen you like this and it scares him.

Silence strokes the atmosphere, only bits of your sniffling is heard. These attacks were not something you’ve grown fond to, they were constant though since you saved Echo. And now you suffered one in his presence, shame filled your veins like water being spilled into the floor. You advert your gaze detangling yourself from his limbs maintain your eyes towards the floor. Echo frowns, he notices how you step away to retake your long forgotten duties, doing the dishes.

Echo tentatively steps circling your form, he can sense the tension with yourself. He lays fluttering kisses on your bare shoulder until you close your eyes and take a ragged breath. You close your eyes frowning as you tremble, an insharp take makes you turn around and blink away the tears gathering in your eyes.

“They started when you came back. I’ve never felt something like it, I even felt like I was becoming unbalanced.” You explain softly fidgeting with your hands. Echo nods softly as sad features edge on his soft brown eyes. “I tried so hard to contain it but it scares me. The fact of losing you is unbearable. I did it once, I just can’t do it again” you say as your voice breaks in the end. Echo encourages you to come towards him again.

You lay your head on his shoulder. Echo frowns sadly as he takes your face into his hands. His gaze meets yours.

“You have no idea...how much I missed you and yearn for you. Everyday they managed to torture me and turn me into a machine, but I fought hoping that one day you would come and save me. And you did. I love you, Y/N” he says as warmth embeddes itself on your skin and envelops your heart squeezing almost pleasingly.

Nothing comes from your lips as you nuzzle your face on his neck as the sun of Alderaan begins to fade painting an amazing palette on its sky. Warmth sleeps through the walls of your lovely home and everything is perfect. Echo is here, you are here and nothing will take him away from you.

As your souls intertwine in a slow dance across the stars of your mind, a smile edges on your features. Peace has been made within yourself as you come to accept the fact that your lover is alive and well by your side.

***

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy it! I think this is very cute, as always like and reblog for more content. Slowly I will begin to get back on track for you guys! I haven’t forgotten. I’m sorry for disappearing on you guys all of the sudden but I have my personal reasons. Thank you for understanding, xx.

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Doyenne ~ Part 7 (Final Chapter)

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: Murder, Illegal stuff (Is this even a warning for this show? Everything’s illegal)

Word Count: 5867

A/N: Ahh! The last chapter!!! As I go back and re-read the last few chapters, I’m nervous Tommy has been a little OOC (I hadn’t watched the show in a few weeks). But oh well! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy the finale!

A/N 2: Also, all the monetary references have been adjusted for inflation. I think I forgot to mention it before. But, yeah. So 400 pounds was worth much more than 400 pounds now.

___________________________________

Fuck Thomas Shelby.

Fuck him and the way he treated everyone around him as if they were beneath him. Fuck him and the way he acted like people were expendable. Fuck him and the way he viewed everyone as pawns in his own overlord game of chess. Fuck him and the way he just blatantly called you out. Fuck him and the way he made you crave him.

Your encounter with him had been fulfilling in ways you hadn’t expected but it had also infuriated you, bringing back memories you’d struggled to suppress for the last two years. Memories brought out emotion and emotion was vulnerability and you had no room for that. But since Tommy had planted the seeds of memory in your mind, all you could do was feel the hidden rage and heartache you’d been concealing since Mason had screwed you over.

Mason had been your lover years ago as the Hemlock Angels grew. He was a poor boy desperate for money and you were a poor entrepreneur desperate for people willing to do illegal work. A romance very quickly blossomed and he was the first and only man you could say you ever truly loved. You’re whole heart and soul was invested in him.

He was tall and handsome with auburn hair that was slicked back on top but shook loose when he’d get into something he was doing - whether it was working hard loading crates, beating someone up who tried to cross you guys, or making love to you. He had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that gave his otherwise chiseled and angular face a soft touch. Toned muscles rippled across his perfect body and-

Even today, after all this time, after all he’d done, you still felt love for him and you hated yourself for it. Once the Hemlock Angels took off as a whiskey exporter (though still a young and admittedly sloppy version of your current business in retrospect), he’d been caught at the docks with the cargo. He and the crates were seized by police and, with the promise of a very handsome monetary reward and legal immunity, he’d given the police the address of your distillery. Thankfully, you weren’t there when it had been raided but you lost everything you’d worked for because of him. ₤400 was worth your love and life’s work apparently. He took the money and ran off to Switzerland to avoid being drafted and lived off his money, leaving you to rebuild your empire.

The betrayal had destroyed you, left you a complete shell of a person, incapable of trusting others, especially men. But it had allowed you to grow the Hemlock Angels. To avoid the pain, you threw yourself into rebuilding the distillery and developing more foolproof protocols for business operation. Never again would you make the mistake of allowing someone to double-cross you. It was why you conducted your business quietly, even quieter than, say, Alfie Solomons, who was also fairly underground as these sorts of businesses were concerned.

Thomas Shelby made you feel things that Mason had made you feel and it terrified you to no end. The impending doom of repeated history loomed over you heavily, suffocating you and ripping your ability to breathe away. But it was a mistake that you kept feeling yourself drawn to making.

Friday night had come around quickly and you found yourself awaiting Tommy in your main office yet again. The last thing that you wanted was to see him in this room, the ghost of his touch coming to haunt your skin. But no. This needed to happen here because meeting him on his turf gave him the upper hand. And now that Jameson and Brandon, the only thing you’d asked for in return for your work, had been killed, this was feeling more and more like a free favor. You refused to stake anything more than you already had on a free favor.

“Y/N, Thomas Shelby is here for you.” Rita announced, peeking her head through the crack in the office door. You stiffened up, trying to play it off as just sitting up straighter but your prodege must have seen straight through you because she gave you a knowing glare.

“See him in. Thank you.” Straight-forward, professional, and impersonal. That was going to be your new tactic. No more of the games you’d attempted to play with him, the same games that you were usually able to play successfully with everyone else. No more hot and cold, nice then firm. Tommy was able to worm his way through the small cracks of your professional wall to see the parts of even yourself that you tried to hide and that vulnerability stopped here.

“Mr. Shelby,” You nodded in acknowledgement when he entered your office and you gestured to the chair across from you. Tommy’s eyes flashed with a hint of confusion. The entire energy of this interaction felt off already but nonetheless, he followed your gesture and sat down.

You reached down and grabbed a leather bag from beneath your desk, dropping it on the table. Reaching up, you clicked the little locks on top open and pulled the material appart, revealing thousands of American bills, “Here is the final installment of the money. All the same as the first.”

Tommy peeked into the bag, just to ensure that the money was in fact there. He lifted out a stack and flipped through them. They all appeared to be identical both to each other and to the last bag and if he hadn't known any better, he would think they were all legitimate notes.

You leaned back and watched as he inspected the money, sure that he’d be satisfied with the work, before continuing, “There is a shipment going out to America tomorrow night. I need to know what it is that you’re shipping so I can be sure to leave enough room onboard.”

The man shook his head, “I can’t tell you what it is that we’re shipping.”

“Then I can’t help you anymore.” You stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “I need to know what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

“Like I stuck my neck out for you?”

“Yes.” Your eyes locked with his, refusing to back down or allow him to guilt trip you.

Tommy sighed, “It’s snow.”

Your eyebrow raised in surprise, “Didn’t have you pegged for a drug lord.” You actually were almost impressed. The man had range.

“Just dabbling as you would put it,” he responded vaguely.

So cocaine… It wasn’t the worst of the possibilities that you’d imagined. Ideas of dismembered body disposal or massive amounts of firearms or a million other worse things had occurred to you as possibilities. Of course, it depended on how much as well. “What’re the dimensions of the shipment?”

“Half a cubic meter.”

“Half a cubic fucking meter?!” You exclaimed, nearly choking on air, “How the hell did you come into that much blow?”

Tommy put his hand up, “Now that I can’t tell you.”

You nodded, “Alright, alright. I can respect that. A half cubic meter is an easy accommodation. Now, for the game plan…”

Shipment days were anxiety producing enough as it was when you weren’t shipping thousands of pounds worth of cocaine along with it but tonight, your heart felt like it was in your throat. “Billy said the crates are all loaded at the distillery.” Rita announced to you, holding one ear to the receiving end of the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand. You finished loading your gun at the kitchen table inside of your shared house, slipping each bullet one by one into their slots with experienced skill.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet him at the factory in forty-five minutes.” With a final spin of the chamber - a ritual you’d developed after telling yourself (with no real evidence) that it was good luck years ago - you clicked the metal pieces together and slid it into the holster at your side.

“Forty five minutes? It’s only twenty minutes outside of town.” Rita questioned once she’d hung up the phone after relaying the information.

You loaded Rita’s gun for her while you spoke and slid it across the table to her, “We are picking up Thomas and his brother Arthur to take them to the factory to load up their cargo.”

She caught the gun and looked at you with wide cautious eyes, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Taking the Shelbys to the factory?”

You sighed a knowing breath, “Yeah, I know. But he insisted that he remain in possession of the goods for as long as possible.”

Rita’s face scrunched, “He knows he’s gonna have to relinquish possession at some point, right? What is he even shipping?” She slipped the gun into the pocket of her skirt.

“Snow.” You confided with an impressed chuckle.

She nearly snorted, “Really? Didn’t have him pegged for a drug lord.”

A shocked laugh left your lips, “That’s what I said!”

Ten minutes later, you pulled up to the shipping yard that Tommy had said he’d be at with the cocaine and sure enough, there he was standing beside Arthur, both with cigarettes between their lips as they waited. In the shine of your headlights, you saw them both look over at you and move to pick up a wooden crate that was on the ground alongside an old military canvas bag. “Good evening, Y/N.” Tommy greeted politely once your tires came to a halt on the crunching gravel.

“Good evening. This is it?” You confirmed once you got out of the car, pointing at the crate and bag full of money on the ground.

He nodded, “Yes, this is it.”

“Alright, we’ll just load those in the back seat for now,” You pointed back over your shoulder towards the black automobile behind you, “You must be Arthur. It’s nice to officially meet you. This is my right hand lady, Rita.” You introduced, first shaking his hand and then moving so Rita could as well.

“Pleasure.” Arthur nodded to you both.

“Well, should we get going?”

Right on time, you arrived at the old factory you were meeting Billy, the man in charge of transport at the distillery, at. The factory was inconveniently located, even in its prime, set twenty minutes out of town, and had been abandoned since at least the 1880’s following a massive fire that had totally destroyed the structure and killed dozens of working men. The ghost stories surrounding it had kept it from ever being rebuilt and it had been abandoned for nearly half a century since, which now made it the perfect place for you to conduct business.

“What the hell are we doin’ all the way out here?” Arthur asked when the car pulled up to the building. There had been nothing for miles and even now there was just your car and a large truck.

After turning off the engine, you got out, the other three people in the car following, “I know it doesn’t look like… well… anything really. But trust me, this has worked well for us over the years.”

“There’s no ports, no railroad stop. We had to take a dirt road to get here. How do you even move goods from this point?” Arthur questioned, skeptically. You could almost feel him reaching for his gun, convinced they were being ambushed or something and maybe, if you hadn’t been so eager to get this deal over with so you could stop whatever the hell was going on with Tommy, you would have dragged this out and messed with them a little bit.

You pointed to the opposite side of the large factory - or what was left of it at least, “You can’t see it from here at night but there’s an old railroad track just on the other side of that wall. The train only comes through once every two weeks or so but thankfully it’s usually the same conductor. A few pounds buys us an unscheduled stop on his trips down to Gloucester where they load everything up onto a cargo ship and haul it off to America.”

You were proud of your little system you’d developed. It had allowed you to grow into an international exporter and was the main source of your success. Tommy had seemed impressed last night when you developed the plan and explained everything to him then and now Arthur seemed to match his affections.

The loud closing of a door drew all of your attention to the large truck. Billy, a stout, acne scarred man in his late forties, walked towards your group from the driver’s side of the truck. “Y/N! Will said the train is runnin’ a little late but should be ‘ere by 10:30.” He informed you in his thick Irish accent once he made it to you guys. A few other of your men jumped out of the passenger side but hung around the truck instead of approaching.

Rita flipped out her pocket watch and checked the time, “We got about fifteen minutes then.”

The next fifteen minutes were passed with pleasantries and conversation. Arthur never quite let his guard down and seemed on edge but had relaxed significantly. Honestly, you had as well. Something about tonight felt different than usual. There wasn’t the constant paranoia that the Shelbys were out to double cross you tonight you. Perhaps it was a mistake but, for once, you felt almost comfortable in his presence.

The train came by right at 10:30, it’s crawling pace coming to a screeching halt with a loud hiss of steam. Billy went up to one of the old metal train cars and undid the locks. The door was slid open to reveal an empty space. “Alrighty, we’ll just move the boxes from the truck to here and then we’ll be on our way.”

The other men who chose to stay by the truck had already lifted the canvas cover off the top and were carrying huge crates one by one, full with copious bottles of your illegal whiskey, to fill the train car. You stood off to the side with Rita, Thomas, and Arthur while your men worked, waiting patiently as they unloaded the truck.

“Alright, Mr. Shelby. We have the space for your cargo now.” Billy invited, hands outstretched to take what Tommy had to ship. You noticed a nervous glance from the crate to Billy’s hands from Arthur.

Tommy at least pretended that he trusted Billy, “Y/N told me that you travel with the shipment all the way to America,” He took out a picture from his pocket, “This is the man that will be awaiting your arrival there. Pass the goods off to him and only him, understand?”

Billy nodded, inspecting the picture of the man before folding it into his coat, “Yes, sir.”

Finally, Arthur relinquished possession of the cocaine to your man and he set it carefully on one of your boxes. After packing the duffel bag full of money, Billy hopped inside and the door was slid shut.

The other men took the truck back to the distillery and you turned to Tommy, “I’ll call you when I get the call that it’s arrived in America. It usually takes between seven to ten days, depending on the weather.”

“Thank you. Perhaps, we could get a drink to celebrate.” He suggested as if you hadn’t had sex out of spite the other night.

“What is there to celebrate?” You avoided the invitation.

He gestured around, “A successful business transaction?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I feel like you’d use anything as an excuse to drink. I have a hunch whiskey flows through your veins in place of blood.”

He shrugged, “Nobody needs an excuse to drink.”

“Fair point.” Internally, you smacked yourself but you ended up nodding a reluctant agreement, “Alright, one drink.”

Tommy gave you a satisfied look that could have almost resembled a smile, “But this time I want to show you one of my establishments.”

Thankfully, Tommy had agreed to your suggestion of Arthur and Rita joining the pair of you as well, using them as a buffer to ensure no other mistakes were made with the man who seemed to be your kryptonite. You’d taken everyone to the Garrison, a pub that you’d known to be under the control of the Peaky Blinders for the last several years, right after all the work at the factory had been finished.

Tommy held the door for you as you passed through, Arthur taking over to hold it for Rita. Wordlessly, Tommy held up four fingers before ushering you away to a small booth in the back, along with his brother and Rita. All four of you slid along the cushion seats, making small talk yet again. Thankfully, now, after having been around each other for the last few hours, it was much less awkward and everyone was open to more conversation than initially.

Arthur excused himself after a moment and when a poker game opened up between some of the other Blinders, Rita, an secret card shark, disappeared to swindle some poor, unsuspecting men of a few pounds. You and Tommy found yourselves alone, exactly what you’d hoped to avoid.

“Sure she should be playing?” Tommy pointed over to Rita was his mostly empty glass of whiskey. You followed his gaze to see her with a disappointed look, one of the guys sliding his hand to take what you assumed were her chips.

You snorted, “Oh, I’m sure. It’s your boys that should be looked after. Give ‘em a few more rounds. She’ll be leaving with most of their money.”

Tommy almost smiled and nodded, “Aye,” He paused before beginning again, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. You helped us out with a lot and you didn’t exactly get your end of the bargain.”

You inhaled deeply and looked away from him, bringing back up that professional front that you’d felt slowly slipping away throughout the night, “It happens sometimes I suppose. I thought about asking for more but a deal’s a deal and unlike some others, I don’t like to change my conditions once they’ve been agreed upon.”

“And what is it that you would have asked for had you been one to change deals?” He leaned forward, listening intently to your next words.

“Is Thomas Shelby feeling guilty for taking more than he gave?” You asked in shock, “I wouldn’t even do that.” Your tone quickly became jestful. “No, I’m only joking. You did end up coming to the rescue the other day which is more than others would have done.”

Instead of seeming satisfied with your answer, though, he only raised his eyebrows and repeated the question, “What would you ask for?”

Something told you that he was offering you new circumstances, an extra favor. Who did that? In this line of work, who knew what kind of horrible request would be made?

What did you want? It was a good question. But did you have to answer honestly? Because an honest answer might jeopardize your life’s work and maybe even your life itself with some people. Tommy hadn’t double crossed you thus far though…

After a long pause, you licked your lips, “A deal.”

“Another deal?” He questioned curiously.

You nodded, a small smirk on your face, “Yes. A deal between the Peaky Blinders and the Hemlock Angels. Business partners and an agreement to aid each other when needed. Neither of us offer the same services or sell the same goods, with the exception of the Garrison and my little establishment, so there’s no need to worry about losing business.”

Tommy cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t trust me. A double crosser, I believe you called me when we first met?”

“I said that’s what other people had called you.” You defended, remembering your first interaction well. “But I must be honest, I had a hunch they were correct.”

“Then why trust me now?”

“I don’t,” You answered short and honest, “But I want to despite everything telling me not to. I figure this way, I can keep an eye on you.” You threatened in a joking tone, although you really weren’t joking all that much. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Or, more fittingly for your scenario, keep your friends close and your acquaintance/ occasional hook up/ business partner who might backstab you closer.

It took only a few moments for Tommy to weigh out the decision before nodding, “Alright, a deal then.”

You raised your glass to him and he mirrored the action, a slight ting as your glasses tapped against each other in a celebration of a new alliance. The next twenty minutes or so was full of small talk, something that Tommy never found himself doing with anyone, so why was it so easy with you? Every now and then, there’s be grumbles of anger from the table playing poker as new opponents who insisted they could beat Rita lost a larger and larger fortune with each round.

A quiet ding as the door opened made you twist your neck, curiously checking to see who came in. Then your heart stopped. “Fuck-” Your heart was caught in your throat and you wanted to vomit.

Mason.

He looked almost identical to how he did two years ago, just with a few more age lines. Time had been less kind to him than it had to you. He entered the room with a large casual air, surely unknowing of your presence.

Tommy noticed your sudden panic when you uncharacteristically sunk into the the booth, hiding your face from the red-headed man who had entered the pub, “So that’s the man, eh?”

You covered your face which had turned a shade somewhere between pink with embarrassment and red from rage. But nevertheless, you nodded, still side eyeing Mason from between your fingers as he ordered a glass of gin.

“Gin?” Tommy noticed judgmentally, “Drinks like a woman.”

Normally, under any other circumstances, you would have made some snarky comment about using your gender as an insult but you appreciated the effort to insult this man he’d never met, simply because he’d wronged you. “So what happened?” He inquired.

You sighed, finally sitting up straight, just keeping your eyes on the table, “My ex. We were practically on the verge of marriage. He helped me start up the Hemlock Angles before he sold us out to the cops for a few hundred pounds. Ruined us for months.”

Tommy listened to the story intently, watching the man out of the corner of his eye and quickly noticing that he seemed to have noticed your presence. At first, he glanced over nervously towards you before deciding to approach, a decision that Tommy had a hunch was the wrong one.

“Four o’clock.” Tommy mumbled over the rim of his glass. Your eyes immediately shot to four o’clock to see Mason walking over, all too confident for your liking, a confidence you had every intention of destroying.

“Y/-” He began, only getting half way through your name before you interrupted.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face ‘round here.” You hissed, venom dripping from every word.

Mason put his hands up in defense. Those same hands that used to be calloused from work and you’d seen covered in blood looked as if they hadn’t so much as lifted a piece of wood in months. “I didn’t come looking for a fight. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you dead where you stand right now you pathetic sack of shit.” Tommy sat back and watched as you destroyed this man with your words and he could only imagine the other stories about him you had. Your viper tongue had him on edge in the best possible ways.

“I-”

“No. You’re nothing.” You interrupted.

He sighed, “I wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did! I miss us. I miss you.” He reached down, trying to take your hand, but you snatched it away. He looked down and eyed Tommy for half a second, trying to determine whether your relationship was romantic or platonic.

You laughed a sadistic laugh, “You’re not sorry and you don’t miss me. You ran out of money didn’t you? Well I hate to tell you but you disappearing was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. I run Birmingham now and it’s all thanks to you. Now get the fuck out of my city.”

Then for a second, there was a brief flash of danger in his eyes, that same danger that you’d fallen in love with. But this time, that anger was directed at you. His fist slammed down hard on the table in front of you, just barely missing your face, but you didn’t even flinch, “Listen here,-”

“She said fuck off, mate.” Tommy interjected finally. Both of you looked over at him and you could’ve sworn you almost forgot he was here.

Mason snorted, “‘N who the hell are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you respect her wishes and kindly fuck off.” Tommy’s voice was calm, much calmer than yours, but still holding a very sincere threat.

Mason looked between the two of you and chuckled as if he’d been the one who was wronged in all of this before turning away, like he was trying to laugh it off nonchalantly. All of a sudden, he drew his arm back and began to swing his down onto Tommy. Before the blow could connect, you had your pistol out in a second and pulled the trigger.

The loud bang drew several startled yells from around the bar and everything got quiet as they looked at your booth to see Mason’s body crumble face first on top of the table, lifeless. When the realization of what you’d done hit you, your mouth fell open in shock. “Holy shit…” You whispered to yourself.

Tommy had jumped when the gunshot went off but now looked just as surprised as you did to see Mason lying dead across the table between you, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.” He really didn’t. Sure, he’d seen you shoot Sabini’s men but the way you looked at and talked about Mason, he assumed it was one of those loves you’d never be able to harm no matter the damage they’d caused to you. But, boy, was he blissfully surprised.

All the Blinders in the building, including two of the Shelby brothers, Finn and Arthur, jumped up, guns pointed and ready to take down the attacker. Tommy held up his hand, “It’s alright, boys! Hold your fire!”

You stood up to avoid the blood that was now dripping off the table and onto where you sat, “‘m sorry.” You apologized for the mess but Tommy shook his head.

“Don’t be. He looked like he had it comin’.” With a wave of his hand, a few Blinders that you didn’t know the names of stood up from their seats around the poker table and walked up, lifting the body off the table. You weren’t quite sure what to do or say. You’d actually shot him. You killed Mason. He wasn’t the first person you’d killed but that didn’t mean that you enjoyed doing it. Unless it was in a moment of grave danger, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as they crumpled into a bloody heap never ceased to make you momentarily sick, thoughts of the family you may have ripped apart destroying you.

But you knew Mason didn’t have any family. The only person you’d hurt was him. You’d freed yourself.

You looked up at him as he now stood beside you and saw that he was gazing down at the body and then glanced over to you, nothing but pure impressed admiration on his face.

Tommy liked that you were able to take care of yourself and that you spoke honestly. It made him feel like perhaps this deal that you two had struck up would prove to be beneficial and trust based and that, just maybe, if things went well, perhaps the two of you could build your own empire together.

Tommy had always been rather daft (or perhaps was that he just didn’t care) when it came to other people’s emotions and he was well aware of this flaw. But now, it was like he could see every inch of confliction on your face. “You alright?” He asked when he’d noticed your eyes hadn’t left the body, even when the men’s forms had covered it.

His voice shook you out of your daze and you blinked yourself into clarity, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” You turned away from the table to face the open room of the bar. Rita stood at the table, her chair tipped over on the ground behind her. She looked from you to Mason’s body that was being carried out back and back to you with a look of shock plastered on her face. The only other person who knew as much as you did about that situation was her.

You walked up to the bar and threw a few coins on the bar, “I don’t care what it is, just make it strong.”

“You don’t have to pay.” Tommy insisted but you ignored him, leaving the coins on the bar and taking the mystery drink that had been poured. Walking out the front door, Tommy trailed close behind.

Finally, you parked yourself against the outer wall of the Garrison and downed the whole glass in one go, the fiery liquid burning a trail down your throat. Whatever the drink was, you had no idea. You set the glass down on the ground and lit a cigarette to replace the glass rim.

Nobody spoke for a moment, until a small group of cops came running by. You tried your hardest to look innocent as they stopped and eye Tommy knowingly. “Tommy-” One of them started in a thick cockney accent.

Tommy shook his head and pointed down the road, “Wasn’t us this time. Came from down the street.”

It was clear from the looks on all three of the cops' faces that none of them believed a word that came out of his mouth but they weren’t about to cross Thomas Shelby. “There was a bit of a commotion from up there earlier before the shot.” You tried to reinforce the lie as smoothly and believably as possible.

The cop looked a little more convinced when you agreed with Tommy and nodded before the trio ran off down the road looking for another gunman. This exact situation was why you didn’t get involved with the cops because they’re not going to believe you when you need to lie about something like this.

As time passed, you became more calm, “I really am sorry about this, Tommy.”

“I’ve never had a woman shoot someone ‘cause I was ‘bout to be punched. It was quite attractive, I can’t lie.” Tommy lit a cigarette as well, standing beside you, almost blocking the activity of the street in what seemed like an attempt to protect you.

A smile cracked on your face when you chuckled a little, the constant matter-of-factness of his tone making almost everything he said sound like business, even when he was complimenting you, “Well, like you said, it had been a long time coming.”

You felt like you were being dramatic. Wasn’t killing just part of this gig afterall? “Y’know, I swear I can usually shoot someone without breaking down.” You tried to defend yourself with a weak laugh.

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not always easy, I know. My hands get the shakes at night. Just because it’s part of the deal doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You know, I haven’t felt the way I feel around you in a long time.”

His confession was simple and, while a small part of you wanted to smack him for his terrible timing, a larger part of you felt the same way. “Neither have I. I’m used to being airtight but you make me weak… and I hate it.” You looked away from him, avoiding his deep, knowing eyes.

“Whoever said that this had to be weakness?” He inquired, a hand running along your arm.

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “And you don’t believe that romance is weakness?” It wasn’t until the words left your mouth that you remembered he’d lost Grace and a pang of guilt struck your chest for bringing up the memory. But you also weren’t about to revoke the question. It just further illustrated your fear.

Tommy looked at the ground a for moment, remembering what it was like to hold the love of his life in his arms as she died, knowing it was fault, and thinking about how it felt to relive that pain every time he looked at a portrait of her or his own son.

Finally, he nodded, “We’ve both lost people we loved but we also still have people we care about, whether they’re family or friends. A lesson that’s been very difficult for me to learn over the last decade or so is that it is impossible to completely rid yourself of all weaknesses.”

Again, an almost humorous comment coming from Thomas Shelby, who everyone had known to be as secure and weakness-free as you were. You thought about his words, though, and tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea - that an alliance and romance with Thomas Shelby was only sure to blow up eventually.

“So?” He urged, his voice low and gravelly, after a few moments of silence.

Silently, you found yourself trailing your eyes from his chest that was straight ahead up to his lips and then to his eyes. You took just a step closer, closing the already thin gap between the two of you and placed your hand around his neck, slowly coming to lean up on your toes. The movement was slow, giving him more than enough time to protest or pull away from you but he didn’t.

Tommy’s hand lightly landed itself on your hip and he leaned down, meeting your lips in the middle. Unlike the last time your lips had met, this was soft and gentle, a side of Tommy that you had no idea even existed anymore.

The two of you stayed like that for a while before finally parting your lips. Your faces still rested just beside each other’s, bodies close enough to feel the other’s warmth through the cool night. Your eyes slid open finally to see Tommy already looking down at you, waiting to see if this was a kiss of new beginnings or of closure.

“Don’t make me regret risking everything for you.”

_________

Taglist:

@kiaoizz

@sweatydragoncloudknight

@hinagiku0

@stressedandbandobessed7771

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #doyenne

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thewolfisapartofmysoul · 4 years

Text

Hey lovelies,

I wrote another Dewey Finn x reader fanfic.

The reader is really insecure and of course our Dewey is the sweet jellybean to help her out and calm her down. Fluff is on the way. Hope you guys enjoy.

Pretty odd.

You tiptoed to your secret new hobby.

Well... you hoped none of your neigbours noticed it yet. You would be so embarrassed you might have to move if anyone found out.

You recently started to learn how to play ukelele. The instrument was small, fun, bouncy, upbeat, and a bit odd. Like yourself.

If only you had some more courage... you felt insecure about a lot of things. Daily. Your new hobby wasnt an exception.... Especially since Dewey-'rock-god'-Finn lived at the appartement above your own.

You sighed thinking about Dewey... he was just... perfect.

Too perfect for someone like you. Secretly you'd been crushing on him the moment he moved in.

He played the guitar like it was as easy as breathing. With 101% chill. It was listening to Dewey that had put the idea in your head in the first place, the sound of his voice humming and the different tunes calmed your anxious mind. Not that he knew all that. Pfeww. Hell no. You would be suprised if he'd even remember your name.

You checked the time as you took your chord-book and your ukulele to the balcony.

It was friday. Meaning there was a 80% chance most of your neigbours were at the bar, welcoming the weekend. Which ment: less-anxcious playing time for you, since you could practice in piece.

You walked over to your balcony. The cool summer breeze welcoming you as you opened the door. You peeked upstairs to Deweys appartment, luckely there was no light to be seen. You havent heard him around today. He was probably at school or preparing some gig, you figured. Smiling to yourself as you imagined Dewey Finn rocking out on some stage in a bar. He got so excited as he played, joy practically radiating off him.

A little while back he asked if you wanted to check out his band, as they had to play at the local bar two blocks away. You gathered all your courage and said yes to that. You werent the bar-type. Or going-out type. But you were glad you did that night. The memory of Dewey on stage made your heart tingle again and you couldnt supress a smile forming on your lips.

The breeze on the balcony snapped you back to reality. As you were lost in thoughts you forgot your mission to come here in the first place. You took a seat, placed your ukelele gingerly on your lap and glanced around one last time to make sure u were alone. Then you started your first chord.

-----

Dewey jolted upright from the slumber he was in. He'd had a long week at school, teaching the kids and was planning to go the bar tonight. He glanced at the time... could still work. It wasnt that late. He stood up from the couch and glanced around the room, looking for his jacket. Then he remembered he left it outside, after brainstorming for some new songs on the balcony last night. He ruffled his hair, trying to get the sleep out of his head as he walked to the door of his balcony.

-----

You started to get the hang of it. Your fingers moving slightly faster and more secure then a few minutes before. Still sounded like a beginner. But... less a beginner then 20 minutes ago.

As your fingers struggled to do what your head wanted, you paused and checked your chord-book again. You smiled, your eyes finding the needed chord. Your fingers moved again to make the chord you needed, but you winced slightly at the sound you produced. That wasn't right.

You tried again. Fingers failing you again and you sighed deeply in annoyance.

You were just about to give up for the night when you heard a deep voice above you hum: "try a G, love.... it suppost to be a G, not an Am."

FUCK. Someone heared you.

You winced, but noticed it sounded very sweet and helpfull instead of judging.

You almost dropped your ukelele as you registered who that voice belonged to. You knew even whitout looking up.

You heard a soft chuckle from upstairs, and your face flushed deep red in embarrasment. You clung on your instrument as if your life depended on it. Reminding yourself you had to breath.

Concern now seeped trough his voice as you heard him say: "Uhm... You okay down there sweetheart? I was only trying to help..."

You gathered all your courage to look up, to see the face of the man, the myth and the legend, that held the name: Dewey Finn.

The look on his face was nothing but excitement mixed with a little bit of worry. This helped you calm down your nerves a bit, and you nervously smiled at him. He beamed a genuine happy smile back.

You stuttered: "gosh... this is embarrassing... i... i am... just... i was just..."

He moved a hand trough his hair, his smile was amused but kind. God he was handsome. He helped you out by speaking: "you were... just... killing it on the ukelele?"

You stared at him in shock. Mouth slightly open. "I... i... just... i fucked up the chords... i was definetly... not killing it." you mumbled, still very self concious. Looking at the floor, stress creeping up your chest.

Dewey frowned as he noticed your anxiety... "you weren't fucking up... you are learning. That's okay. Y/n, look at me... im trying to help, okay love?"

Shocked that he knew your name you looked upwards.

"Sorry for disturbing you..." you mumbled. "You probably have better things to do..."

Dewey shouted a "wait a second y/n...!" As you heard him moving around on the balcony moving some things around. Sounded like he was looking for something.

His head popped up over the balcony again, triumphantly holding his hand up with a goofy smile on his face. Before you knew what was happening you heard him yell: "CATCH!" As you saw something falling down the balcony towards you, you grasped it quickly, right on time. When you opened your right hand you noticed it was a guitar pick. You squinted your eyes at the words written on the pick itself. Scribbled on it, in a messy handwriting it said: "stick it to the man"

You looked upwards towards Dewey again. You remembered this song. You heared him play it a couple of times right above your head, practicing it in his appartement.

He smiled at you, his hand anxiously rubbing his scruff. You beamed back at him, anxiety and worry starting to fade.

You heared him say: "Y/n... Stick it to the man... you are rocking the ukelele, okay?"

You nodded, picking up your ukelele again. "Now..." he hummed above you "try a G for me, love..."

You moved your fingers slightly against the instrument. Strumming a perfect G-chord. You chuckled softly to yourself as you heard him yell: "Whoow!!! Yeah! Rock-star to be! Crowd goes wiiiiiiiild!!! Yeahhhhh!"

Suddenly an idea bubbled up inside you: "Hey Dewey..." you called up towards your neigbour.

He replied: "Yeah this is Dewey Finn... please leave a message after te beep...."

You laughed at that. Oddball.

You ripped a sheet out of your chord-book as you scribbled something on it. Folding it in a paper plane, right before you threw it to him, you yelled: "hey... CATCH!"

After 2 missed attempts of him catching it, and you laughing your ass off during the process, he managed to get hold of the plane you threw him.

You watched his eyes go wild as he was reading what it said.

-you wanna teach me how to play the ukelele?-

"Whoow!! Hell to the yeah! Anytime babe. You free tomorrownight?"

"Depends..." you smiled to him. "Is it gonna be a private-lesson Mr. Finn?"

He beamed at you, voice low: "well... only my best students get a one-on-one session... so... if you want to play that perfect G for me again... maybe we could arrange something."

As you chuckled your trembling hands proceeded to play indeed a wobbly G-chord. "Perfect babe... told ya. Rocking the uke already... what else could a man want? Pick you up at 8, okay?"

The smile on your face never leaving your lips as you spoke to Dewey, looking upward and winking as you did so: "I cant wait... You know were i live, mr. Finn..."

"Awesome doll. Keep rocking okay? Your doing great..." Dewey said.

Later that evening you heard the door above you close, footsteps thumping on the floor above you. As you noticed someone loudly whooping, sound muffled through the closed door and the appartement floor above you.

You smiled again. God what a dork. You couldnt wait untill your date tomorrow. Feeling incredibly happy with what your new hobby had brought you so far.

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