#sorry for wanting to buy him his favourite whiskey for his birthday?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkmulti · 3 years

Text

-> 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞

-> 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝.

-> 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-> releasing this a bit early because we reached 4K+!! Thank you guys so much! I love you all<3

-> THIS PROFILE CONTAINS DUB-CON AND NON-CON THEMES! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was a Saturday night — the busiest day of the week. You worked at the strip club, not as an exotic dancer but as a waiter. The money you were making was just enough for you to survive on your own.

Tonight, you wanted to ask your boss if you could start working as a dancer. You packed your new dancewear and everything you might need in case the boss says yes. It was around 4 pm when you arrived. You walked to your boss’s office and gently knocked on the door.

“Come in”

You grab the door handle and push the door open, revealing your boss Taehyung with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Hello, little one. What can I help you with?”

You thought the nickname was creepy at first, and when you politely asked him to stop calling you that, he said that he had a nickname for every employee. Over time, you’ve grown used to it. And you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t give you butterflies in your stomach.

“I know this is sudden, but can I start dancing?”

Taehyung squeezed the glass cup tightly, almost shattering it with his bare hand.

“But why? You’re just a little angel. Angels don’t sin, little one.”

“Sir, I really need money. I want to go back to school and get a degree so I can have a permanent job.”

There was a pause of silence before you spoke up again.

“I-I can show you my skills. I’ve been practicing. I even brought my dancewear.”

Taehyung shoots you a glare. It was intense and almost threatening. He sighs as he puts the glass of whiskey on his desk and walks to the couch, where he sat down with his muscular thighs spread apart.

“Go wear your little outfit and come back here.”

You innerly smile and leave to the dressing room to change. Once the door closed, Taehyung let out a chuckle. He’s never going to allow you to be a dancer, he just wants to watch you for his pleasure.

After adjusting your straps and fixing up your hair, you sprayed some perfume around your neck and walk back to his office.

“Sir, I’m ready.”

“Good, now come in and lock the door.”

You did as told then remove your robe. It didn’t take long for Taehyung’s member to harden after seeing your body on full display. Taehyung turned some music on then said “the stage is all yours, little one.”

You’ve been practicing for months, just for this moment. Bending over and whipping your hair back, showing off your beautiful body to him. Taehyung motioned you to come to him, so you can give him a lap dance.

He placed his hands on your hips and made you grind on his bulge. Your face warmed up after feeling his boner that you caused. Taehyung started moving his hips with yours, making you whimper.

His hands moved to your breast and gave it a light squeeze. “Sir, I thought touching is not allowed.”

“I’m the boss. I make the rules. Right now, touching is allowed.” You were too naive to understand that he was manipulating you.

30 minutes pass and you finally stop and take a step back.

“So... what did you think?”

You were expecting a positive response and even a praise but you got the complete opposite.

“I’m sorry, little one. You’re not good enough. I can give you a raise but I’m not letting you become a dancer.”

“But what if I practice more? Could you reconsider?!”

“No is my final answer, little one. I’m a very busy man and I don’t have time to watch you dance just for you to fail.”

Embarrassed. You felt so embarrassed. You genuinely thought Taehyung was enjoying your show. Well, it sure as hell looked like it. A gloomy look took over your face and you walked towards the door to leave.

“Don’t give me that pouty face, little one.”

Taehyung abruptly pulled you on his lap and attached his lips to yours. You didn’t respond until Taehyung’s hand spanked your butt, causing you to moan.

“Grind on me, baby. I know you want it just as much as I do.”

You rubbed your clit harder against his bulge until you released. “Keep moving, little one. Help daddy cum too.” He growled, before grabbing your face and kissing you again. Deep moans left his mouth turning you on even more. His hands all over your body — it felt euphoric.

Taehyung let out one last groan before cumming in his pants. “Fuck! You’re so fucking good.” he kissed your jawline and moved down to your neck.

“How about this, little one. You become my personal dancer and I pay you money. You can stay with me, I’ll buy you everything you need as long as you accompany me and satisfy my sexual needs.”

“Like a sugar daddy?”

“Exactly”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rules:

No dating

No lying

No revealing clothes

If something is wrong, tell him

No swearing

Don’t be bratty

Obey him

Never reject his kisses

Don’t leave without his permission

Answer his calls and texts immediately

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

How he’s like:

Taehyung’s a charming, gentleman

He treats you like a queen

He never ignores you

You’re his first priority

This man spoils the shit out of you

He buys you luxurious clothes and accessories

For your birthday, he bought you a brand new Porsche convertible

Taehyung’s very possessive, but you honestly don’t mind

You love spending time with him anyways

Anytime another male is too close to you, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him

If you hug him, his hands will immediately go down to your ass and grab it

He’s very affectionate

Even at important events, Taehyung will always hug you, kiss your lips, cheeks and forehead in front of anyone

Sometimes you forget that you’re his sugar baby because he treats you like his wife

Your opinion matters to him

Whether it’s a big or small decision, he always wants to hear what you think

In the morning, he makes you breakfast

Especially if you had a long night with him (if ykyk)

When he’s doing work, he makes you sit on his lap and do some cock warming

Taehyung loves travelling with you

He’d rent out expensive villas or hotel room

Taehyung loves swimming with you

The man enjoys your company

You’re so lovable, sweet and innocent

It was almost like you were made for him

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yandere Taehyung:

Taehyung was secretly obsessed with you

After he hired you as a waiter, he wanted to know everything about you

Since the job application required your address, Taehyung knew where you lived

He broke into your apartment and hid tiny cameras in places you’d never see

There were cameras in your kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom

He did this to keep an eye on you and make sure that you’re not seeing another man

When you’re at work, Taehyung stops by your apartment and takes some of your underwear to get off

He hacked into all your social media accounts, unfollowed guys he didn’t like and checked your dm’s regularly to make sure nobody was trying to get with you

If you made plans with your friends, Taehyung would show up (in disguise) and watch you from afar

Whenever you had plans or even a date, Taehyung would call you and say that more waiters are needed and he will pay extra because it’s an emergency

So you end up cancelling on your friends/date which angers them

Soon, your friends stopped inviting you to hang out because you always cancel last minute because of work

Taehyung’s plan was too isolated you from your friends which gives him the perfect opportunity to swoop in and be your one and only companion

And what do you know, his plan worked

Not only that but since you have no friends anymore, you’re always with him

So he never has to worry about you fooling around behind his back

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sex Life:

Taehyung was incredible in bed

He never failed to satisfy your sexual needs

You’ve both tried so many kinky things in bed and it was honestly fun

He was addicted to eating you out

Hickeys all over your body. Between your thighs, on your stomach and chest. All over your neck, collar bone and jawline.

Taehyung loves marking what’s his

Traditional rough sex + doggy

But hey, it gets the job done

Three round minimum, 7 rounds maximum

Taehyung will always cum inside of you

He loves watching himself cum into your little hole

He gets more turned on when watches cum his leaking out of your hole and running down your thigh

Dry humping is something he’s into

The idea of both of your coming without having actual sex drives him crazy

Blowjobs for days

He loves watching you suck him off

Make eye contact with him while you suck and he’ll have an orgasm

You must swallow all of his cum

Don’t spit it out

Before Taehyung got you, he used to use your underwear to masturbate

You eventually started to notice that a bunch of your panties disappeared

Therefore, Taehyung returned most of them (except for his favourites), some washed, some not

Taehyung could literally cum to the thought of you wearing panties covered in his dried-up cum

It made him hard just thinking about it

Over time, you notice Taehyung becoming more aggressive in bed

It would get so bad that you’d have to use the safe word to get him to stop

You noticed he started doing things he’s never discussed with you before

Sometimes, you cry under him because he scares you

He’d pin your hands above your head and fuck as hard as he could

You were not used to it nor were you a big fan of it

He was taking everything out on you

Taehyung would start at 21:30 and finish at 04:00

Unknowingly, Taehyung’s yandere side took over him

Some may know him as V

His cruel and sadistic side who felt no remorse whatsoever

V’s kinks are dark and heavy

He choked you until you couldn’t breathe, tied you up so you couldn’t move, and slapped you when you asked him to stop

V enjoyed watching you cry too

Overstimulation was the worst part

Your core was crying for a break but V couldn’t care less

The man fucked you until you passed out

Minimum 7 rounds, maximum... there’s no maximum

In the morning, he’d still be deep in you and depending on his mood, he may or may not fuck you again

At this point, you didn’t care if it was Taehyung or V, you needed to leave him

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Trying to break off the (3 years) contract:

This is when Taehyung goes fucking insane.

After nights of relentless sex, you finally decide to break the contract. You couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. Sex every night to “remind you of your place” was complete bullshit. You stayed with him for two more months, hoping that the old, sweet Taehyung would come back and save you.

Unfortunately, he never did. After you lost all hope, you wanted to get away from Taehyung as soon as possible. He can keep all the gifts and money he’s given you if that means freedom.

You woke up only to see Taehyung missing from the bed. He must’ve gone to work, you thought. You get ready and pack all of the clothes you brought to his mansion. You write a small message on a notepad, saying that it’s over. You didn’t dare to tell him face to face because you knew exactly where it would’ve lead to.

You left his mansion and took the bus back to your apartment. An hour later, Taehyung was blowing up your phone, spamming you with messages.

“Where the fuck are you?!”

“Answer my calls!”

“Explain the message on the notepad!”

“What do you mean that we’re “done” ?”

“The contract’s not over yet! I still fucking own you.”

“Get your ass over here!”

“You’re making your punishment worse for yourself.”

“How can you say goodbye to me like this?! Do I mean nothing to you?!”

“You’re going to regret this!”

“Come back here, now!”

“Stay where you are, I’m on my way!”

You started to tear up because you were petrified. You drop your phone in fear and ran into your closet. You hid in a basket full of your clothes so no one could see you. Not even a minute passed and Taehyung was banging on your apartment door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, Y/N.”

You covered your mouth, stopping the sobs from coming out. You needed to find a weapon. You looked around your closet and that’s when you spotted something.

A camera.

A tiny camera is hidden in plain sight. Your heart dropped to your stomach. How long has that been there? Who placed it there? Your mind immediately went to Taehyung. You were trying to connect the dots but how could he have possibly gotten into your apartment?

You stopped questioning when you heard Taehyung break down the door. He came right to your bedroom and opened the closet door. He pulled out the basket you were hiding. “Get up.”

That’s when you knew the camera belonged to him. He knew your exact location. You couldn’t help but wonder how long he’s been watching you.

You take a deep breath in and stand up. Taehyung’s fierce eyes encountered your terrified ones. He grabbed your jaw and pulled your face close to his.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought one of my enemies kidnapped you but no! You just left me with a shitty ass note.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?!” Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose. “SORRY?! THAT’S ALL YOU FUCKING GOT?!”

He picked up your glass jewelry box and threw it on the floor. The whole thing shattered, causing you to burst out in tears. “T- Taehyung! Stop! Stop it! You’re scaring me!”

“Good bitch. Seems like I haven’t scared you enough because you still have the nerve to fucking leave me.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Omg, I finally wrote something after months of being an unproductive piece of shit.

This is bad, but I still hope you enjoyed 😊

Oh and I apologize for any mistakes. Like always, I’m half asleep:)

xoxo,

naina❣️

#taehyung smut #yandere taehyung #taehyung yandere #kim taehyung smut #Sugar Daddy Profile: Kim Taehyung #bts smut #bts profile #taehyung profile #bts yandere reaction #bts yandere #yandere bts #dubcon #non con

987 notes · View notes

smol-midgets · 3 years

Text

Professor!Andrew AU

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

So his students know how soft he is, but they are also kind of terrified of the short midget. The constant death threats don't help

"Get used to it, you're majoring in criminology"

One day "If you don't want a knife between your ribs I'd recommend being less of a nuisance"

"Professor, you don't have knives"

Andrew looks pointedly at his armbands

".....Do you have knives in your armbands!?"

"Don't ask stupid questions"

They still don't know if he has knives in his armbands

He's staying back after school often, teaching John, some of the strikers from the team also stay back to improve further

On morning of November 4th, Andrew wakes up to Neil gently calling his name

He opens his eyes to find bright blue eyes staring down at him, hair glowing auburn from the sunlight filtering through the windows, and a gorgeous smile

Neil bends down to whisper a soft happy birthday against his lips, before lightly kissing him. "Go brush, Drew, and come out for breakfast"

He comes out for breakfast and sees Neil standing by the counter, preparing pancakes

"You made pancakes?"

"Don't worry I didn't poison them"

"You're cooking is inedible enough, you don't need the poison"

Neil pouts and Andrew has to kiss it away. One kiss turns to two, then ten, and then Andrews setting Neil on the kitchen counter, they're lips not parting the entire time

Andrew gets late for his class

when he gets there, Kevin is sitting at his desk. Students are staring because Kevin Day is sitting in their classroom in front of them

Cue Andrew's "What the fuck are you doing here"

Kevin is out of Andrew's chair in an instant "You're late for your class. And I wanted to tell you to come to that La Guardia restraunt by 6 today"

Andrew narrows his eyes "Why"

"I wanna have dinner with you"

"Why"

"What do you mean why! Can't I wanna have dinner with my best friend on his birthday??" Did he say best friend??? Professor Minyard is best friends with Kevin Day?? And it's his birthday??????

"You were never a good liar"

"I just wanna have dinner with you!"

"Try again"

Kevin's eyes dart around him, as if looking for help

"Spill day, or leave, but stop wasting my time"

*sighs* "Fine, we have a surprise planned for you"

"I hate surprises"

"We know but you'll love this one! I swear! Will you just come to the damned restaurant Andrew!?"

"No"

Kevin tries a little more, but eventually throws his hands in the air and leaves grumbling to himself (Andrew enjoys saying no to Kevin way too much)

"Is it your birthday today professor?"

"Yes"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't care about it" and that was that

When Andrew gets home Neil asks him if he enjoyed his birthday present. When Andrew only raises his eyebrows Neil says "It's been a long time since you really got to say no to Kevin. I know how much you enjoy it. That was your first birthday present. Well... second since this morning" And then smiles cheekily

Andrew rolls his eyes, but they're fond "So are you going to try to convince me to come now?"

"I definitely want you to. We know you don't like surprises but I really thought you'd enjoy this. If you say no nobody is going to force you"

"What will you give me for it?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to"

And how could Andrew say no to his junkie now?

So they go to the restraunt, and all the foxes, plus a few other people from Andrew and Neil's old exy team are there (only the people they got close to). Some of Aaron's colleagues are there too. Everyone wishes Andrew and Aaron happy birthday. It's a good reunion, he gets the chance to catch up

Kevin and Aaron drink a lot and get up to weird shenanigans. Matt starts behaving like a puppy and cooing over Dan and Neil. Allison and Nicky start betting on everything and drag the rest of the foxes into it too

Andrew pretends to be annoyed by how he has to deal with the foxes' antics, but he's secretly happy to be around their weirdness again

A few hours later Neil and Andrew leave the party, and Neil takes Andrew to the roof of an abandoned building, where they share whiskey, cigarettes and kisses

They go home and cuddle and fall asleep

The next day his students have prepared an assortment of his favourite chocolates and ice creams (how he manages to maintain that body is a mystery), and a copy of a book he wanted

Andrew is just staring, and at first they think he doesn't like it but then they notice the reverent way he's holding the book (it's a book he's thought of buying for a long time)

"There's even a few cupcakes for your wife here"

"Husband" Andrew corrects automatically, finally able to unstick his tongue from his mouth, "and he doesn't like anything sweet"

Fortunately for them they quickly gather themselves and respond with smiles "Oh sorry. Well, more for you then"

They know better than to think that Andrew will thank them. But when he starts eating what they got him while teaching, they know he liked it

One day students slowly filter in the class to find a man in a large black hoodie sitting at the back of the class

Of course they are criminology students they're not going to just ignore a shady man in their class they've never seen before

So after bugging and threatening the man a little, he lifts his hoodie to reveal

Neil josten

What?!!???!!??

Several students are mortified because they just threatened Neil fucking Josten

Others are still trying to get over their shock at seeing Neil fucking Josten in real life

Andrew enters the class and looks at Neil "Aren't you supposed to be at practice". As if Neil Josten sitting in their classroom is a perfectly normal thing. Right, the only thing weird in this scenario is that he's missing practice. That's it.

Neil responds "I wanted to see you teach"

Andrew narrows his eyes "Did they kick you out? What did you do"

Now Neil looks sheepish "Ah yeah, I kind of hurt myself and Coach forced me to take the day off, but I do want to see you teach."

Andrew is visibly irritated and is grumbling something to himself quietly

The students' eyes are wide because that's probably the most emotion they've seen on their professor's face

He turns to the class and is clearly unimpressed "I don't want to be here either, but that doesn't give you free pass to stare at my face and do nothing. And you," looks pointedly at Neil, "if you're going to sit there you better keep that mouth shut."

Neil considers making a comment about how they might be staring because he's so pretty, but let's it go. However he definitely smirks at Andrew in a way that clearly says "you know how to shut me up"

Andrew tries very hard not to blush, and turns to the board in case he was unsuccessful (he was)

Everyone forcibly look away from the celebrity sitting in their classroom and try to concentrate on the lesson

Andrew makes sure they pay attention (flying chalks make for surprisingly good projectiles)

He finishes his lesson 5-10 minutes early so his students can talk to Neil like they have been dying to the entire time

In his office, later after class, Andrew looks over Neil's injuries

"It's not that bad, Drew. Really I'm f—"

He's interrupted by Andrew's mouth on his. "Don't" is all Andrew says between kisses. Neil smiles

I am SO sorry this part has come this late. I've had a lot on my plate these days. On the bright side, you will be happy to know I've found the super old post that inspired this fic! You can find it here. Credits to @humongousvoidbear for that. (I'll admit this entire fic could be better, but again, this was completely self-indulgent.)

EDIT: I have made a small edition to this part, because someone wanted a meeting of Neil and the students. This is the best I could come up with, hope you like it!

247 notes · View notes

nineteenninety-six · 4 years

Text

A Tragic Birthday - Pt 2

REQUEST: Can you do a part 2 to A Tragic Birthday with like the funeral and people talking about her and there best memories of her. But with the Shelbys and people like Johnny dogs and Alfie Solomon’s the Jesus’ people like that

Thanks again for 500 followers! You guys are the absolute best <3

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @stassiebabyy @futuristicslimemongerbanana @dayna041101 @sweetgoodangel @captivatedbycillianmurphy

WORD COUNT: 1613

[PART ONE]

Tommy felt his head began to pound as his siblings and aunt argued over how they were going to do (Y/N)’s final send off. It had been a few days since Tommy’s whole world came crashing around him and now he had to deal with her funeral and the rest of his family. He hadn’t had the chance to properly come to terms of what happened and mourn but he was slightly grateful because he knew that the mourning process would be rough and destructive and he really didn’t want to do it anytime soon.

Arthur and John wanted to do it the traditional gypsy way but Polly and Ada wanted to do it the traditional English way. They were going back and forth loudly and Tommy wanted to scream at them, he was mentally and physically exhausted and all he wanted to do was put his youngest sibling to rest without any drama.

Tommy already had problems sleeping ever since he came back from the war but ever since (Y/N)’s death he hadn’t been sleeping at all. Usually if he drank enough he would pass out but that wasn’t even working at the moment, all it led to was him being slightly drunk at work the next day. So instead of sleeping all he did at night was lay in bed and look out of the window while memories of (Y/N) tortured him.

“Enough!” Tommy cut off the argument, “We’ll give her a normal funeral and burial then we’ll burn the vardo after. Okay?”

Tommy looked at his family waiting for their agreement and when they did, he stormed out of the room and headed towards the Garrison, desperately needing a drink. He guessed that one of his family members was going to confront him at one point and when Polly joined him in the snug with a bottle of whiskey and a glass ten minutes later, he wasn’t surprised.

“You decided on a normal funeral service. I’m surprised.” Polly spoke first.

“This way I can visit her whenever I want.” Tommy took a large gulp of his drink.

Polly’s heart clenched at Tommy’s reasoning, she knew that he was going to have the hardest time with (Y/N)’s death but now she doubted if he would ever recover.

“I think she’ll like somewhere that gets a lot of sunshine and is up high somewhere.” Polly said.

An location immediately came to Tommy at those words, he knew exactly where to bury her, “There’s a place just outside of Small Heath, large field on a hill overlooking the town. We’ll do it there.”

It was a place that (Y/N) constantly visited and found solace in, Tommy had brought her there originally and it became their place but as Tommy got busier with the company she went there by herself a majority of the time.

“Of course.” Polly finished the rest of her drink, “I’ll let you be.”

Tommy nodded his thanks and as soon as the door swung shut behind his aunt he poured himself another drink.

♣️♥️♣️♥️♣️♥️

Tommy stood in silence as Jeremiah read out the eulogy, he couldn’t hear the sobs coming from Aunt and sister as well as the sniffles coming from his brothers, he was trying his hardest but he was struggling to hold in his tears.

The funeral has been a small event, just the Shelby family, Johnny Dogs, Uncle Charlie, Curly and the Jesus’.

They had no reason for a big one, knowing that (Y/N) would have wanted the people closest to her to attend. As the coffin was lowered into the burial plot and people began throwing the flowers they had been holding into the plot, Tommy finally broke. His shoulders shook with the force of the sobs he was trying so hard to keep in, he made no effort to wipe the tears that were running down his face.

A hand on his arm pulled Tommy back into focus and when he looked to see who it was he found his aunt.

“We’ll meet you at the vardo.” She informed him, knowing that he’d want a few moments alone.

Once they left Tommy stalked forward to the grave and fell onto his knees, not caring about the mud and finally let his cries free. He sobbed and screamed until his throat was raw, cursing the god that allowed this to happen. He took a few minutes to calm himself before he stood up and brushed the dirt off his trousers, when he turned around he was met with the hulking figure of Alfie Solomons. He had extended an invitation to the man but hadn’t expected his attendance.

“Alfie.” He greeted once he walked over to him.

“Tommy.” Alfie nodded, “‘m sorry for your loss.”

“Me too.” Tommy grunted.

“Blaming yourself doesn’t help anything.” Alfie informed in

Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “It’s hard not to Alfie.”

“Do you think your sister would have blamed you?”

“No. (Y/N) never held grudges.”

“And from what I have gathered, you were her favourite sibling.”

“Something like that” Tommy ‘s lips twitched

“Then she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Alfie theorised.

Tommy nodded, “You gonna join us on the other field?”

“Nah, you’re alright I’ll leave you lot to it.” Alfie declined the invitation.

“Thank you Alfie.”

Alfie nodded and patted Tommy on the shoulder, “Good lad.”

Tommy and Alfie parted ways and Tommy drove towards the field where Johnny Dogs had set up his own camp along with the vargo that held (Y/N)’s possessions.

When he arrived everyone was placing the flowers on the pieces of wood that surrounded the caravan and when they noticed him they stepped back from the vargo. Tommy made his way over to the crowd and stood in front them, building his nerve and clearing his throat,

“Our (Y/N) left this world too early but during the time she spent on here she made a mark and impact on pretty much anyone she met. She made me a better brother and person and when I was away fighting in the war, I kept thinking about the three year old that I left behind, the one that made me want to change the world.” Tommy paused, “She was the final piece that completed the family and that won’t ever change.”

Tommy headed over to Arthur and passed him the matches and motioned him to do it before walking over to the crowd and standing next to Ada, who immediately wrapped her arm around his.

“You doing okay?” She asked.

“Not really.”

Ada nodded and turned back to where varo, the wooden logs surrounding it were lit and the fire was slowly spreading. Tommy squeezed her hand comfortingly as she began to tear up.

The family watched as the caravan was lit alight for a few minutes before Johnny Dogs came around passing drinks to everyone,

“This is a celebration of life! We reminisce about the happy memories and events we had with the littlest Shelby, no need for the gloom!” He shouted as he walked around.

“Right, remember how she managed to convince me, Arthur and Tommy to buy her a book even though we had a strict rule about she had to finish one before she could get another.” John spoke up first. His story making everyone laugh

“She had the three of you wrapped around her little finger.” Polly laughed.

“Never could trick Ada though could she” Arthur grumbled

“That’s because she learnt those tricks from me. I’m immune to them.” Ada spoke up.

“All she needed to do was pout in your direction and you’d be offering to buy out the whole story. I know she managed to get whichever of you was picking her up from school a bag of sweets for her on the way home” Polly recalled with a smile, “Even though I strictly forbade you to do so.”

“Tommy was the worst! You’d always find them sitting in front of the fire sharing sweets at the end of the day.” Ada chimed in.

“All that sugar making her hyper before bed.” Polly rolled her eyes but smiled. “I made sure you were the one to put her to bed when you started to do that.”

“Tommy’s word was gospel, he told her to go to sleep and she’d go to sleep. “ John said

Everyone laughed at that, knowing how true it was. (Y/N) and Tommy were two peas in a pod.

“I remember when she was a baby she absolutely refused to be held by anyone other than Tom and Pol, screeched her little head off giving everyone on the street a headache until she back in one of their arms.” Arthur recalled.

“The amount of complaints we got.” Tommy laughed.

“What was her first word?” Michael asked.

“Tom!” The Shelby’s all exclaimed, laughing afterwards.

“Fuckin’ smug he was when it happened” John snickered.

“Don’t be jealous John.” Tommy chirped.

“Remember when Tommy found out that (Y/N) had been getting Michael to do her maths homework?” Finn spoke up, loving the stories of the sibling that was closest in age to him.

“I thought he was going to kill me!” Michael said, “I didn’t know it was her homework, she tricked me.”

“She was a good egg, too nice and kind for the horrible world.” Arthur mourned, “But she will be missed.”

Tommy raised his glass in the air, “To (Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone cheered.

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, drinks, food and good memories going around celebrating the life of a person very important to them.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagines #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #angst #tommy shelby imagine #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby!reader

751 notes · View notes

yeoldontknow · 4 years

Text

Kissing Vermilion: Teaser

aslkdjal i am so much more late with this than i intended to be. getting the pace right on this is proving to be a challenge BUT! heres a small sample of what im trying to have completed by next weekend. this was meant to be up yesterday for joons BD but i was busy and couldnt write as much as i wanted to :((( you can all thank @jamaisjoons for the utter filth that this will become. happy birthday namjoon im sorry im late and will continue to be late *tosses confetti* (sorry theres no graphic im saving it for the full thing eep)

↠ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ↠ Full Story Summary: It was never your intention to sleep with your brother’s best friend, but it happened. It was never your intention to fall in love with him, but it happened. It was never his intention to fall in love with you, either, but it’s happening. Against his better judgement, Namjoon just can’t seem to stay away from you. ↠ Genre: fwb!au; smut; angst; the full story is going to be the most filth ive ever written im so sorry ↠ Rating (teaser): R ↠ Warnings (teaser): nothing terribly smutty but she thinks about it...a lot...theres a lot of mature concepts here ↠ Tentative post date: 9/19

March, 2013

You really must remember to thank your roommate.

As the condensation rolls down the chilled glass of your vodka lemonade, the eyes of the man beside you do their best to stay focused on the lush crimson of your lipstick. Every now and then, at the end of a sentence or at the end of a joke that does not necessarily land, his brows narrow, ensuring his gaze does not fall, lower and lower still, to the provocative shape of the red dress that hugs your body. For the moment, he is nameless, an unintroduced stranger whose eye you caught just by standing next him and ordering a drink. You have not let him go, even as your mind wanders. Or, rather, it's the red that refuses to let him go, red and the way the shade kisses you with reverence.

All your life red has been your dearest companion, your first of many experiences and your best of even more. Red was your first lipstick, a scarlet transgression against your mother at twelve years old. It was sacred only because it was forbidden, the cream from the bullet now a fleeting memory of cracked concrete behind your middle school and the wide eyes of boys passing by, likely wondering if they should tell your brother. Red was your first Solo cup, and the first you’d crushed beneath your spine as you lost your virginity sophomore year.

Red was not your first hickey, and also not your first scarf to cover the evidence, but it was your best one, your most favourite one. It was small, and it burned against your skin for days, the same way your nails ripped scarlet down your boyfriend’s back, the scratches stinging beneath all his shirts. He’d said he loved you, and you believed him, giving him red as a promise of your loyalty. Red was the wine you poured in his bed and the flush against your chest when you found him with another woman, her legs too slow in the effort of unwinding from his hips. Red was his lies, your slap against his cheek, and the paint of Yoongi's car, which you'd borrowed to not lose your campus parking spot.

Red has always been yours, oftentimes the only thing you trust, the only thing that has never let you down. Now, it sits on your skin like you belong to it. You chose the dress for the shade, your roommate made you buy it because of the shape. You don't usually toy with such a deep cut against your back, a low swoop as alluring as the moon and turning the line of your spine into a promise of treasure or victory. But this red turns you into something special, something dangerous.

And now, with his eyes on you, you really must remember to thank her.

The man beside you flashes you a smile he thinks he is dazzling, rolling the base of his whiskey neat in slow circles against the bar top. He waits for you to flush, anticipating a rush of blood to your cheeks or your lips, but you merely offer him a thin lipped smile, remembering to be polite. His eyes dart from your face to the seductive contour of your hips, and back again, and he tries to be respectful, tries to play it off like he's positively twitterpatted, but you can tell. You can always tell.

As his eyes flick away once more, admiring the supple skin of your shoulder, you wonder if you would be interested. Your mind starts to wander for a moment, and you envision yourself leaning close and letting him have his fill. It would be so terribly easy, and you'd let him feel like he'd won even if you had no intention of it going any further than this. If it was just you and just him, you'd be good. At the end of all his jokes, you would laugh and peer at him through the thick curtain of your lashes. At all the right places, you'd rest your hand on his arm and make him believe he mattered. For one night, you would be so good.

But his eyes are on you, the searing heat of Namjoon's intense and focused stare kisses at the small of your back from across the room. He sits at a table with your large group of friends, expression entirely neutral except for the power that lurks ominously in his jaw and dark irises. His gaze has walked from the small of your back to settle at the warm highlight of your cheekbone, and, now, you are aching. Feeling him all over you is just the same as feeling his hands at your throat, your heartbeat rattling in your chest as though lingering on a knife's edge. There's something different about it tonight, about him. There's something different about the way you feel under his unwavering attention, and somewhere amidst the laughing and the talking and the indiscernible number of drinks you have convinced this stranger to buy you, you have started to learn you want Namjoon to stay.

Tonight, you are learning that his attention makes a kingdom bloom beneath your skin, amongst your blood, and you are asking, silently willing, him to claim it.

You should not want him here. You should not want him nestling into crevices long untouched, and long unnoticed. Namjoon unfurls in the spaces between your bones and your joints, curling into the gaps between your ribs, and you wonder if he can feel it. Have you done the same to him, just by standing, and talking, and quietly wanting? If you're being honest, you've always wanted him, at least a little. If you're honest, you can distantly remember the time your brother brought him over their final year of high school and he had grown into the baby fat of his cheeks, his white shirt somehow battling the muscles of his chest for dominance, and his smile, and the dimples he so often kept a secret, felt sweeter to you than honey.

If you're honest, it was your family, the proximity of your relationship to him that decided he was not for you. There’s something forbidden about craving a person you’ve known all your life, someone your brother has spent his whole life calling his best friend. It was your family, and it was Yoongi, who made you turn away from your infatuation. You were eighteen when you finally swallowed your crush on Namjoon whole, convinced you had rid yourself of it while taking the appropriate lesson you were meant to learn: you no longer wanted a boy, you deserved a man, your hunger to be touched deserving of confident, unyielding hands.

So you set your attention on other guys learning how to grow into their adulthood - even if they had never mastered the strength or dominance of it, even if they never tasted quite right against your tongue. It’s been a long time since you have wanted him to look at you like this, even longer since someone has done so without demanding you witness them, without expecting you to bend for them.

Namjoon looks at you like you matter, like you're something worth keeping. He watches you intently, refusing to look away until you are certain he could devour the very flesh of you, and still find away to take more, still find ways to keep all your lonely parts begging for him. He looks at you like he needs you, simultaneously uncovering the terrifying truth that you have always needed him, and as the man beside you slides his phone number over to you on a napkin, a number you know you will lose or forget as soon as it is out of your line of sight, you are certain you are toeing a line that, once crossed, offers no point of return.

'You should come see it.’ Abruptly, your thoughts are broken by the gruff voice of your conversation partner. Raising his voice slightly, he regards you knowingly, silently insisting your attention return to him. 'I think you'd like it.'

Ever since he started speaking to you the conversation has been mundane, likely because every topic of discussion has somehow revolved around or worked its way back to him. There’s an edge of pride in his voice, the sort that expects respect alongside awe for his, ultimately banal, accomplishments. Offering him a small, lopsided smile, you tilt your head to the side and feign interest, exposing more of your smooth skin.

'Oh?' you hum, amused that even something as simple and unaffected as this noise of inquiry will provide him a sense of self-security.

'Yeah, I can show you around.’ He takes a long, slow sip of his whiskey, as if his statement is a promise of something meaningful. ‘You can bring some friends, too, if you want. I admit, the frat is a mess but it's still a good time.'

You’ve forgotten which university he goes to, where he’s from, his name. Idly, you wonder if he’s a member of Namjoon’s friend group, though you doubt it. Over time, your college friends have merged together, Sunhee’s interest in Jackson bringing them together since she met him at the gym. You’re meant to be celebrating her birthday at the table, beside your friends and beside Namjoon. Removing yourself from his orbit has proven to be a test, but, at this angle, Namjoon sees all of you, keeps you rooted to this position at the bar just so he can have his fill, and this, you think, is hardly a sacrifice.

Having nothing to say, you simply nod, offering yet another generic question that will keep him talking and keep Namjoon watching you. 'All frat houses are a mess,' you shrug amiably. 'Do you like the campus?'

Immediately, he begins nodding, lips flattening into a sly grin. 'Yeah, it's a nice place. A little cloistered at times. If you stay too long you feel like you're in a bubble, you know? But I chose it because the law program...'

Tuning his voice out, your focus returns to the raised hair and gooseflesh that dimples along your arms. It’s been months of this, of your friend groups coming together to play matchmaker in the effort of being supportive, and through all of this you have become acquainted with who Namjoon really is when he’s liberated from the influence of childhood. Without your hometown, Yoongi’s deep laugh, or the distant chatter of your parents in the other room, Namoon’s identity has stretched and morphed into something almost unrecognizable in its alluring temptation.

Yoongi makes him warm, soft, a voice of wisdom and reason that has, more often not, left you feeling comforted and protected. At home, he is clumsy, sheepishly so, endearing in the way he trips over his own feet or drops things even if he’s being careful. Namjoon laughs first, even if his laugh is not always the easiest. He is the most curious and, simultaneously, the most distant, miles away in his thoughts even as he considers every word you say. And even tonight, he still is this way, the rich texture of his voice ringing out above the din when he laughs, genuine and encouraging, doing his best to make sure everyone feels comfortable.

But the more you’ve seen him with friends he’s made by choice and by interest, university friends who both challenge and offer a mode of relating to his own adulthood, the more you have watched him separate from the things that made him Joonie. He has become someone who carries eroticism in their bones, his smile no longer just a comfort, but one that is altogether too full of temptation even in its patient inertia.

The confidence in him has your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth every time he's with you, your walls clenching around nothing every time he looks at one of your friends with more than a little interest. Joonie has abandoned the childhood endearment in favor of his whole name, Namjoon a word that gets pressed against his neck and shoulders like a brand. He’s become fluent in more than one language and also in the destructive language of ruin, a single look from him and you feel naked all the way down to your nerves.

Reclining in his seat, his hand moves languidly up and down the glass of his cold beer while he remains poised in his consideration of you, your round ass, and the way you lick your lips to keep them moist when you presume no one is watching. His broad shoulders are rolled back and even when you aren’t looking at him, even when he is not directly in your line of sight, you still toy with the idea of getting on your knees and begging him. For what, you are not certain, but you think it is likely the simple request to stay with him, wherever your feet, your finger, or your bones rest.

You’d like him to invade you like that. You’re certain he’d excel at such a carnal delight.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMJOON #its coming i swear #not tagging a whole shebang because?#its just a teaser lmao #enjoy

60 notes · View notes

tomhsource · 4 years

Text

falling - t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader summary: based on falling by harry styles. word count: 1k warnings: angst, alcohol abuse, cheating, i don’t condone any of the behaviours mentioned! a/n: i just wanted to write this because falling is such a beautiful song. if anyone would like a part 2, please let me know and i’ll get on it! gif is not mine.

i’m in my bed and you’re not here,

and there’s no-one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.

tom turned over sleepily, his eyes still stuck together with exhaustion as his fingers lay flat on the opposite side of the bed, his arm outstretched. for a moment, his semi-conscious mind allowed him to forget that you weren’t there, reminding him of all the times that he had turned over to face you, his fingers dancing over your half-naked body, your skin glittering in the morning sunshine which filled the room, fighting its way in through the half-drawn curtains. he would kiss your shoulder and you’d turn over to give him a sleepy smile, and then you’d lay there together for an hour or two before tom would get up to bring you breakfast in bed; eggs, or toast, or whatever you felt like on that particular morning.

but you weren’t there, not this morning. tom stared at the empty side of the bed, the sheets still crinkled from the spot where you used to lay. he refused to change them. though he knew how gross that sounded, he couldn’t bring himself to wash away the scent of you, the one thing that helped him sleep at night.

tom threw his legs out of bed, catching sight of himself in the mirror which sat on the table where you’d get ready in the morning, as he’d lay in bed and watch you in awe. his eyes were sunken, his face pale. he looked away in disgust, instead choosing to grab the bottle of whiskey that sat on his bedside table, finishing off the bottle as he poured himself a glass. he told himself that alcohol was the only way he could forget about you, but all it did was knock him out long enough to give him an hour or two of relief. as he spun the glass, the whiskey swirling around the sides, he stared into the bottom of it, his mind cast back to that night.

he never led her on, at least not on purpose. he’d just had one or two drinks too many and his reflexes hadn’t been fast enough to push her away when she pushed herself against him, her lips pressed against his. he let it happen for a second too long, forgetting that this wasn’t you that he was kissing, his body too consumed with alcohol. he pushed her away but by that point, the pictures had been taken and spread like wildfire, and within minutes, a notification had flashed on your phone, your whole world had fallen apart with just one photograph.

forget what i said, it’s not what i meant,

and i can’t take it back, i can’t unpack the baggage you left.

the fight that had followed was awful. you had screamed at each other, threw hateful words back and forth, going round and round until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“it’s not just about what you did tom, it’s about the life you live,” you had said to him. “you go out and you do these things and you never think about how it reflects on me. whether it was an accident or a mistake or whatever you want to call it, that kiss and that photograph happened, all because of the sort of life you lead. maybe i just can’t live it with you anymore...”

“maybe you shouldn’t then.” he hadn’t meant it, it just slipped out in anger, but he couldn’t take it back. you had already ran upstairs, your bags packed within half an hour, leaving your key to his flat by the front door before you left.

the days that followed were quiet; tom missed your giggles as you’d watch your favourite tv shows, your calls from the kitchen as you’d ask him what he wanted for dinner whilst he worked on learning his lines, listening to you hum your favourite song as you’d clean the apartment. then the days turned to weeks and tom stopped expecting you to just walk back through the door as if you never left.

tom finally lifted his gaze away from the whiskey glass to the picture of the two of you which sat framed on the wall. he’d bought you that frame for your birthday last year, after you’d begged him to not buy you anything too extravagant, a sheepish smile on his face as you opened it. he grimaced now at the memory, of how happy the two of you had been, and before he could stop himself, he threw the glass towards it, causing the frame to fall from the wall and shatter into pieces.

you said you cared and you missed me too.

as his heavy breathing calmed, he realised now he felt lost. this wasn’t the person he wanted to be; a drunk, lonely, mess of a man. his hands were on his phone, fingers calling you before he knew what he was doing. he didn’t expect you to answer, his breath catching in his throat when you picked up with a gentle, “hello?”

“y/n?” his demeanour softened and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

you sighed, “tom, why are you calling me?” he didn’t register that you hadn’t realised it was him when you picked up, meaning you’d probably deleted his number.

“i-” he started but he didn’t know what to follow it with. he had no idea how to put into words how much he missed you, that he was sorry, that he made the biggest mistake of his life letting you walk out. “i miss you, y/n. i’m a mess without you,” his voice was shaking. “i need you in my life... i mean, you were my everything, are my everything, and i just-” he was rambling now. “do you still love me? or at least care?”

you went quiet, for so long so that tom wondered if you were still there. he was about to call your name when you spoke. “of course i care, but-”

“don’t say but,” he interrupted you, “just... can you meet me somewhere? we can talk about all of this.”

“i don’t know, tom...”

“please? the cafe down the road from where we had our first date? at 5?”

you hesitated. you had spent so much time trying to force yourself to get over him, and letting him back in would tear down all of that hard work. but you did miss him and you couldn’t deny that no matter how hard you tried, you did still love him.

“okay.”

#tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland drabble #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland writing #mine

122 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

otp asks [drake x camille]

Thanks for tagging me @argylemnwrites

Big thanks to the amazing @mskaneko for drawing up these questions AND for making this edit of Drake x Camille for me which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy!

****************************

1. What other couple would your OTP get along with?

Leo and Olivia, hands down. Drake and Olivia have a weird friendship founded on Instagram trolling, insults and their annual hug. But Drake knows that Olivia is the most loyal person he has and she adores his daughters.

2. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

Drake will sneak a cigarette when he’s stressed out. He hides the evidence with cologne and breath mints.

Camille will sneak a cigarette when she’s stressed out. She hides the evidence with perfume and breath mints.

3. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus on the small details?

Drake sees the big picture while Camille focuses on the small details.

4. Who does stuff on impulse?

Camille does on occasion but she is learning to kerb it.

5. What is their favourite holiday?

Drake loves 4th July because it means he can buy all the fireworks and get his daughters all excited for the festivities. His dad was a huge 4th July fan so Drake wants to carry it on - especially since his kids are more American than Cordonian.

Camille loves Christmas and goes overboard with decorating. It’s the one time their house isn’t all neat and organised - when Christmas rolls around, all rules go out the window.

6. What is their favourite board game?

Drake likes card games such as Cards Against Humanity. He loves inappropriate humour and seeing how far he can take it.

Camille likes Game of Life :)

7. Who would go out of their way to do something silly to make their partner laugh?

Drake. He turned into a goofball when he married Camille. She makes him feel at ease and he doesn’t care about looking silly.

8. Favorite canon moment of them?

Oooh... I love it when Drake beats up Tariq. Like any time he shouts ‘Get your hands off of her!’ I sploosh.

Or it has to be in Lythikos in the snow and they hold hands ‘for safety.’ That made me smile.

9. Least favorite canon moment of them?

Drake deciding he loves the idea of his kid becoming the heir of the kingdom and his whole personality was destroyed in one fell swoop.

10. Who is the competitive one?

Drake is. Camille will be like ‘it’s just a game!’ and he’s like ‘Camille, I swear to God, I need to beat Leo at Mortal Kombat, I refuse to let that smug bastard win again!’

11. Who likes to go on drives to nowhere in particular

Drake. He loves driving through the hills of Cordonia and just feeling like a weight is lifted off his shoulders.

12. Who sings along with the radio?

Camille will sing to cheesy 90s when she is driving. Drake will want to open the door and throw himself out onto the road.

But when Drake is driving his kids to school, he will sing his heart out to make them laugh.

13. Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire while cooking?

Well, at Christmas, Camille did forget about the turkey while having a 2 minute quickie with Drake..

14. Who is more seductive when they are drunk?

Camille is.

But Drake does a seductive dance when he’s had one too many. Think body rolls. Camille loves it. Drake swears he doesn’t have a seductive dance.

15. Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had?

Neither.

16. Who asks weird questions in the middle of the night?

Drake will if he can’t sleep and just wants to talk to his wife.

17. Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on?

I can’t imagine a head canon where Drake and Camille would want the other to put some clothes on. Sorry, not registering.

18. Who is always ready to have sex at any time, at any place?

Both of them, Drake more so. Say the word and he is ready.

19. Who likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

They’re not that materialistic, instead preferring to leave little notes and things.

20. Where did they take their first picture together?

On a night out with the gang, wasted on tequila shots.

21. Who knows the most useless facts?

Drake. He knows everything.

22. Who is more likely to forget their own birthday?

Neither, but Drake doesn’t like his birthday. The only time he really enjoyed his birthday was when Camille surprised him with a little baby grow with a marshmallow embroidered on the pocket as a ‘you’re going to be a daddy’ gift. He cried.

23. Which bad habit of their partner do they find the most annoying?

Drake leaves his towel on the floor after a shower, like most men.

Camille tidies up after him but then that means he can’t find any of his stuff. This is annoying for him.

24. Who is the better driver ?

Drake. To quote Ross from Friends, he is not getting in ‘the death seat’ when Camille is driving.

25. Who is more likely to admit they are wrong in an argument ?

Both. Drake has had to learn to do it. But when they admit it, they sit down and talk calmly.

26. What is something that reminds them of one another?

Coconut shampoo and Chanel perfume reminds Drake of Camille.

Whiskey reminds Camille of Drake.

27. Would they get matching couple tattoos? If yes, what it would be?

No they wouldn’t but Camille does have ‘DW’ tattooed inside her thigh after a drunken brunch with Maxwell.

28.Who sleeps wrapped up in a cocoon of covers?

Neither.

29. Who would win in a pillow fight?

Drake would. He takes no prisoners.

30. Who likes to take photos of the other when they’re not looking

Camille. She loves photography and tries to take photos of those little moments that she wants to remember forever.

31.Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

Honestly? Texas. It’s the one place where they can pretend they are normal. Days are longer and lazier. Sunsets by the lake. Laughing. Kissing. Happiness.

32. If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?

Drake loves it when Camille dresses down. She usually dresses so elegantly but he prefers it when she wears her ripped jeans, Converse and a white t-shirt.

Camille likes it when Drake wears a henley shirt, jeans and boots. A slightly more elevated version of his usual look (oh my god, I sound like Tan from Queer Eye. PRINTED SHIRTS!)

44. What do they love most about each other?

Drake loves how big Camille’s heart is. She puts everyone first and cares about everyone she knows.

Camille loves how far Drake has come. She says he is the strongest person she knows.

Bonus: 3 random HC about your OTP

Their favourite thing to do is to sit out on their terrace with a glass of whiskey and a glass of wine and just talk. They never run out of things to talk about.

Their mottos are: ‘Husband and father first, Duke second,’ ‘Wife and mother first, Duchess second.’ It helps them remember what actually matters in life.

They are best friends. Enough said.

***********************

Not sure who’s done these but taggin’ those who might like to: @emichelle @loveellamae @jovialyouthmusic @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @katedrakeohd @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

Taggin’ those who like Cake: @ibldw-main @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @saivilo @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @rainbowsinthestorm @notoriouscs

#drake x camille

23 notes · View notes

argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

OTP Questions

Thanks for tagging me @addictedtodrakefanfic, and thanks for building this list of questions @mskaneko! I always find things like this crazy fun!

1. What other couple would your OTP get along with?

Like, in universe? They get along very well with Liam and Iris (who I will write more about going forward), although Iris and Riley are closer in the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe even though they see each other in person less often.

2. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

Not really, most things have a way of coming out with these two, and most of their “secrets” aren’t something they intended to keep from the other, it just never came up in conversation. The closest is probably that Drake slept with a woman Riley knows at court years before they met, but when Drake tried to tell her, Riley said ignorance was bliss and that she did not want to know that detail.

3. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus on the small details?

Riley is a big picture optimist (”everything will sort itself out” type of thought pattern most of the time) usually, whereas Drake tends to focus on the details, even though they often frustrate him.

4. Who does stuff on impulse?

The one who moved to Cordonia with guys she’d known for less than 24 hours on a whim, hahaha!

5. What is their favourite holiday?

Drake loves Christmas, Riley loves Halloween.

6. What is their favourite board game?

Drake prefers card games, but he does enjoy Risk quite a bit (Riley refuses to play with him because she finds it painfully dull). Riley likes Clue and Monopoly.

7. Who would go out of their way to do something silly to make their partner laugh?

Riley

8. Favorite canon moment of them?

When Drake asks Riley if things would be different between them if they met under different circumstances after the Tariq incident. The moment is such a perfectly vulnerable one for him, that it just holds a special place in my heart.

9. Least favorite canon moment of them?

“I don’t know what to say. My kid sitting on the throne? I mean, it would be an incredible honor.” - Drake Walker, on his honeymoon, agreeing to King Liam’s plan to name his yet-to-be-conceived child heir to the Cordonian throne before discussing it with Riley.

10. Who is the competitive one?

They are both incredibly competitive. They both insist the other one is more competitive.

11. Who likes to go on drives to nowhere in particular

Seeing as Riley never got a driver’s license growing up in Manhattan and feels incredibly uncomfortable behind the wheel, we’ll go with Drake here. I could see him doing this to clear his head on trips to Texas.

12. Who sings along with the radio?

Riley will if she’s in a good mood. Drake will if he’s drunk.

13. Who would accidentally set the kitchen on fire while cooking?

Riley. Not only is she a mediocre cook, but she’s more easily distracted and might tend to forget she left something on the stove.

14. Who is more seductive when they are drunk?

Drake gets really affectionate and cuddly when drunk, but whiskey dick is a thing so... Riley is a happy drunk primarily (unless she is drinking to cope in which case she is a very sad drunk), not so much a horny drunk. She does get pretty handsy when she’s just tipsy, though.

15. Who wakes the other up in the middle of the night to tell them a cool dream they had?

Neither. Riley is difficult to wake up, so Drake wouldn’t bother when he could just tell her later. Drake is such a light sleeper that Riley wouldn’t want to be one more disruption to his sleep just to tell him about an interesting dream.

16. Who asks weird questions in the middle of the night?

Riley, if they’re both still awake. Otherwise neither.

17. Who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to go put some clothes on?

Okay, so all this makes me think of is the Seinfeld episode where Jerry is dating a woman who chooses to be naked all the time and it brings up the discussion of good naked and bad naked. Riley is prone to stripping down for “good naked” tasks pretty often. Sometimes it’s just to flirt and tease, but other times it’s to persuade Drake to do something he doesn’t want to do. He catches on to this tactic pretty quickly, so he will tell her to cover up and that it isn’t going to work if he suspects she has ulterior motives. This behavior pretty much comes to a halt once Riley is pregnant as she isn’t as confident given the changes that are occurring to her body, and after they have a kid, nudity as a flirting and/or manipulation technique just doesn’t happen all that often.

18. Who is always ready to have sex at any time, at any place?

Both of them, although Drake won’t at his work functions/parties in the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe because he’s too nervous they’ll get caught and he’ll get fired.

19. Who likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

They both buy each other things, but Drake’s gifts to Riley are more practical (he’ll grab her granola bars or creamer before she runs out) whereas Riley chooses more random fun items that just made her think of Drake.

20. Where did they take their first picture together?

Maxwell snapped a pic of them walking back from the first cronut run together.

21. Who knows the most useless facts?

Drake. Riley often questions how accurate his claims are, but he’s right more often than not.

22. Who is more likely to forget their own birthday?

Neither, but Drake is far more likely to try and downplay his birthday. Riley never lets that happen.

23. Which bad habit of their partner do they find the most annoying?

I don’t know if these are truly bad habits or just irritating ones, but Drake cracks his knuckles absentmindedly, which can get on Riley’s nerves, and Riley never returns food to the same spot in the refrigerator, which really annoys Drake.

24. Who is the better driver ?

Definitely Drake. Riley doesn’t really drive, though Drake has attempted to teach her during trips to Texas. She’s just not that interested in learning.

25. Who is more likely to admit they are wrong in an argument ?

This is a struggle for both of their stubborn asses. Drake is more likely to say he’s wrong, but Riley truly means it more often when she says it.

26. What is something that reminds them of one another?

The smell of peaches reminds Drake of Riley. Probably an obvious answer, but whiskey reminds Riley of Drake.

27. Would they get matching couple tattoos? If yes, what it would be?

Nope, neither one of them are tattoo people.

28.Who sleeps wrapped up in a cocoon of covers?

Neither. Both prefer just a sheet and a thin blanket, plus a quilt/comforter if it’s winter.

29. Who would win in a pillow fight?

Riley’s agility and impressive aim give her the slight edge.

30. Who likes to take photos of the other when they’re not looking

Riley would be more likely to do this

31.Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

In canon, Drake goes fishing at a small creek between the capital and Valtoria. Riley goes to the undercroft area of their estate. If they are looking to get away together, they go camping on the grounds of their estate, cycling between a few different locations so it’s harder for the staff to track them down.

In It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment, Riley is very willing to share “her beach” with Drake. If they are looking for a longer getaway together, they’ll rent a car and get out of the city to go camping.

32. If they got to pick what one another wears for a day, what would one another wear?

Riley likes seeing Drake dressed up in a simple suit since it’s a break from the usual. Navy would be her preferred color. Drake would have Riley wear a slim cut red dress with a length short enough to be sexy but not so short that he feels that everyone is going to be checking her out.

44. What do they love most about each other?

Drake loves that Riley has a bit of a temper, but uses it for “good,” such as calling out stuck up, snobby assholes (He loves that she swears up a storm with her temper, too). Riley loves the way nothing she can say or do phases him.

Bonus: 3 random HC about your OTP

In canon, they host a Superbowl party every year, even though neither one of them really cares about American football, because Riley feels this is one America tradition they can still embrace without it being seen as a “thing” by the press (They drew some flack when they tried to have a July 4th barbecue with fireworks because that was seen as too political)

In It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment, they attempted to rent a cabin to get out of the city for a couple of nights around New Year’s Eve to escape the insanity that first year, but Riley did not have a driver’s license and Drake’s Cordonian license was deemed insufficient, so they had to text Liam to emergently transmit them some additional documentation. He essentially just wrote a three sentence letter on stationary with the royal seal stating that Drake had a driver’s license in good standing.

In any universe, they will intermittently have intense poker nights (just the two of them), that devolve into drunken rounds of strip poker and insane bets.

Tagging @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @ravenpuff02 @omgjasminesimone @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore if any of you are interested in joining in the fun (sorry if this is a repeat tag for any of you), or anyone else who sees this and wants to play along!

#meet my otp

19 notes · View notes

milofuckedup · 4 years

Text

Questionnaire; task 2

read more about my boy under the cut

Basic Character Questions

First name? Milo

Last names? Blevins

Middle names? Dean

Nicknames? Mi, Mimi, Spacey

Date of birth? September 9th 1996

Age? 23

Physical / Appearance

Height? 6″0

Build? Athletic, lanky

Hair colour? Honey Brunette

Hair style? Mess of locks across his head

Eye colour? Blue

Glasses or contact lenses? Neither

Scars or birthmarks? cigarette burns across his arms, a scar above his right eye

Tattoos? none

Physical or mental handicaps? none

Type of clothes? thrift store chic. He lives in light washed jeans and old button down shirts

Race / Ethnicity? caucasian

Mannerisms? fidgety, stuttery, always rubbing his lips

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? “im sorry” “lets play a game” “can we go home?”

Do they have a catchphrase? No

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? pessimistic

Are they introverted or extroverted? VERY introverted

Do they ever put on airs? no

What bad habits do they have? smoking, drinking, running away

What makes them laugh out loud? just about everything

How do they display affection? gently nuzzling his head into you, resting his head on your shoulder, holding your hand. He likes to be touched softly

How do they want to be seen by others? like a nice person, someone who loves deeply and genuinely

How do they see themselves? as actual human garbage

Strongest character trait? sensitivity

Weakest character trait? sensitivity

How competitive are they? not at all

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? he over things EVERYTHING

How do they react to praise? awkwardly

How do they react to criticism? crying

What is their greatest fear? spiders

What are their biggest secrets? he is sure that everyone in his life hates him, they all want him gone, so he works with everything that he has to try and get people to stay

When was the last time they cried? right now, he is probably crying this moment.

What haunts them? his father

What will they stand up for? his friends, his loved ones, never himself

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? indoorsy

What is their sinful little habit? chainsmoker

What quality do they most value in a friend? honesty, loyalty, wont leave him

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Dignity

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? his inability to speak about what he wants, what he likes, what he needs from someone

What is their obsession? reading

What are their pet peeves? people biting their nails.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? hes all alone.

What is their perception of family? that it isnt who you are born with it is who you chose.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? none

Describe their best friend. Luna Olsson she is selfless, and thoughtful and has picked Milo up more times than he can count, she is the on person on this planet he trusts enough to live with, he loves her more than he thought he could, he has let her in more than anyone else.

Ideal best friend? See Above

Describe their other friends. Hudson the person he always turns to when life gets too tough. Tanner the man that he can always have fun with, turn his brain off with and just let himself breathe with. Rion someone who has always been perfect and loving and gentle with him.

Do they have any pets? no

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? he was a quiet baby, and a well behaved child, he did everything that he could to get his mother to stop abandoning him

Did they grow up rich or poor? DIRT poor

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? neglected

What is their greatest achievement? staying alive

What was their first kiss like? awkward, fumbly, he threw up afterwards because his stomach was in knots

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? make them feel like they were second best

What are their ambitions? maybe get his GED one day

What advice would they give their younger self? its all shit, dont even bother trying

What smells remind them of their childhood? burning tires, old gas stations, and piss under bridges

What was their childhood ambition? to stay alive

What is their best childhood memory? his 10th birthday his best friend came over with a cupcake and remembered the day while his mom was drugged up on the couch

What is their worst childhood memory? take your fuckin pick.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? every day

What past act are they most ashamed of? any time he has ever been intimate with someone

What past act are they most proud of? any time he has been intimate with someone

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? no

Are they in a relationship? no

How do they behave in a relationship? like a lovesick puppy, very clingy, very needy, asks if they still love him every twenty five seconds

When did you character last have sex? two years ago

Has your character ever been in love? yes

Have they ever had their heart broken? yes

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? tears

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? his tongue

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? the teddy bear his grandma gave him

What do they love to hate? reality television

What are their phobias? spiders, the dark, being alone

What living person do they most despise? no one

Have they ever been bullied or teased? his whole life

Where do they go when they’re angry? on a long drive to the next town over

Who are their enemies and why? he doesnt like to have any

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? gas station clerk

What do they think about their current job? he hates it

What are some of their past jobs? gas station clerk, thief, drug dealer

What are their hobbies? reading, writing, singing

Educational background? didnt get ANY formal education

Do they have a natural talent for something? singing

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? god no

What is their socioeconomic status? lower lower lower class

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? cats

What place would they most like to visit? england

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? the beach at night

What is their favourite song? halloween - hunny

Music, art, reading preferred? music: indie. Art: abstract. Reading: character studies

What is their favourite color? green

Favourite food: chicken tenders and fries

What is their favourite day of the week? friday night

Possessions

What is in their fridge: ketchup, sauces, lemons

What is on their bedside table? books, a glass of water

What is in their car? absolutely nothing

What is in their purse or wallet? his id, and his library card

What is in their pockets? a packet of gum, his phone, his empty wallet, his keys, two rings that he takes on and off

What is their most treasured possession? his book collection

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? doesnt have one

Do they believe in the afterlife? no

What are their religious views? none

What do they think heaven is? a full fridge and your best friends

What do they think hell is? other people

Are they superstitious? no

What would they like to be reincarnated as? a house cat

How would they like to die? car accident or sleep

What is your character’s spirit animal? field mouse

What is their zodiac sign? virgo

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? abandonment

When did they last lie? he doesnt really lie, he mainly omits truths

what is their view of lying? he hates it, thinks its despicable

When did they last make a promise? last week

Did they keep or break their last promise? he broke it

Daily life

What are their eating habits? whenever he can, he will eat whatever is in front of him.

Do they have any allergies? pollen

Describe their home. small, dingey, covered in books, a bed on the floor, empty fridge

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? clutter hoarder

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? sleep, he just finished the night shift

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? go for a walk and take a picnic

What do they do on a Friday night? stay in and read

What is the soft drink of choice? sprite

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? whiskey neat

Miscellaneous

Who is their hero? he doesnt have any

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? dracula

If they could save one person, who would it be?

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?

What is their greatest extravagance? he owns an iphone 5

What is their greatest regret? hurting angel @angclhqs

What would they do if they won the lottery? buy a house, donate the rest

Do they believe in happy endings? no

What is their idea of perfect happiness? a good book, electricity on, and a cup of tea

What would they ask a fortune teller? how long until I am content

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? 2200

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? invisibility

#crawford:task2 #crawfordtask2

2 notes · View notes

hawkeyes-riza · 5 years

Text

an army of one

Fandom: FMA Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Berthold Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Pairing: Royai (implied/mild) “Ew, gross, what’s wrong with her?” Riza started at the shrill voice, and her hands went instinctively to her lower back.

Wednesdays were the best day of the week.

While Riza’s schoolmates moaned that the coming weekend was as far away as the one before it, Riza would sit straighter at her desk than she usually would; would smile more than she usually did; sometimes she even dared to raise her hand to answer her teacher’s questions.

Most days, when the schoolhouse’s bell rang to adjourn class, Riza would pack her bag slowly and take her time on the long way home. But on Wednesdays she would shove her books into her bag in a hurry and practically run home on the shortest route she knew.

Wednesday’s were always the best day because her father would go to town in the morning and he would not come back until late at night. What he did in town was not something he shared with his daughter, but it seemed to change every time. Some nights he’d come home with strong powders and tonics from the apothecary, sometimes with books from the library, and sometimes he’d come home with nothing but the smell of liquor on his breath.

But that short reprieve meant everything to Riza. She would unlock the door to the looming house she had lived in all her life, humming under her breath, uncaring about the sounds her boots made on the old wood floor, for there was no one to chastise her for making noise. When Roy Mustang had still lived with them, she had noticed that even he—who she had thought viewed her father with shining eyes—walked a little taller. But Roy had been gone for five months, and although she hadn’t known him very well, he had had a bright and persistent presence for years, which only made his absence more noticeable.

But on Wednesdays, Riza didn’t miss him too much. On Wednesdays she could put the gramophone on and dance in her socks to songs older than she was. She could make food the way she liked it, she could laugh out loud at the funny parts of the radio shows, she could walk through her home without fearing an encounter with her father and whatever mood he had found himself in that day.

Her birthday fell on a Wednesday the year she turned sixteen, and she nipped into her father’s well-stocked liquor cabinet. She had caught Roy Mustang doing the same a few years before, but he had sent her back to her room with a finger pressed against his lips and a playful wink, as if they had shared a joke. The whiskey burned its way down her throat, but not so horribly. She drank only enough so that her head felt a little lighter and her thoughts a littler freer, and the world was softer as the clock struck midnight. She’d never had a birthday present before, and so she decided that the nicked whiskey was one for herself, even though her head had hurt a little the next morning.

Wednesdays were always the best days. Until they weren’t.

Two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, Riza arrived home humming a song she had heard on the radio the day before, and opened the door to find her father waiting for her in the foyer. The lights were off and the afternoon sunlight cast shadows through the windows—his silhouette was much taller than he really was.

“Father,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear the disappointment and anxiety in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be home tonight.”

Berthold said nothing. He tilted his head, regarding her as if she were a stranger. Riza tried not to tremble under his cool gaze.

“You need a haircut,” he said, after a long pause. He reached out and touched the ends of her hair and it took all of Riza’s strength not to flinch away.

When his hand pulled away, Riza ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. It was well past her shoulders, but she trimmed it herself every three months to ward off split ends. “But I just did—”

“Come with me,” he interrupted. He walked up the creaky stairs, never turning to see if she’d follow, for he knew she would.

When they reached the bathroom, Berthold gestured to the edge of the bathtub, where Riza hastily took a seat.

“Father, what—” Riza broke off and swallowed as Berthold pulled a pair of scissors from the cabinet. “It’s alright, Father, my hair isn’t so long. If you don’t like it I can—”

“Hush, child,” her father said gruffly. He grasped a thick clump of her hair and the jaws of the scissors opened around it.

Riza’s eyes burned with tears. She was not vain by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn’t know what he was doing, why he was doing it, and—who cared if it was silly? — she liked her hair, it was pretty and it looked a little like how her mother wore it in the photographs she had of her. It was hers, it was hers, it wasn’t his.

Blonde hair fell in into the bathtub in clumps, and hot, silent tears fell from Riza’s eyes until they were all she had left.

Riza had been so relieved when Wednesday came again. It had been a week since her father cut her hair to her ears, and it still took a moment to recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. The prospect of spending an evening without her father’s form shadowing her life was a relief that she could not wait for. But when she unlocked the heavy front door after school, he stood in the foyer once again.

“Riza,” he breathed as her heart sunk. He smiled as he turned to her. “Life is hard. There are some of us who learn this better than others. Those of us who know the truth must do our part to ensure that others suffer less than we, don’t you think?”

Riza’s eyes flickered across her father’s face, seeking meaning and intention, and finding none.

“I suppose so, Father,” she said carefully.

Berthold’s eyes flashed, and he grasped her thin wrist in his large hand. “I knew you would think so, child. Clever girl. So clever, in fact, that I think that you could help me with my work. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Riza looked up that the man who had crushed her favourite doll underneath his boot when she was six years old because she hadn’t picked up her toys. She looked up at the man who ignored her in favour of his work. The man who would have forgotten to buy groceries if she hadn’t done it for him. She looked up at the man who had given her life and yet had only just smiled at her for the first time in her life.

“Yes, Father,” she said, as her stomach churned. “I would.”

It hurt.

Riza cried when the needle pierced her skin.

“Hush,” Berthold said sharply. “It’s one needle, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

But he was wrong. It hurt, it hurt so much. Riza was fine with pain. When she was twelve she had broken her wrist after falling off her bicycle and hadn’t cried once, not even when the village doctor had set the bone straight. But when her father moved the needle from the fleshy part of her waist and up to her spine she had screamed.

“Stop crying. Riza! Stop crying, or the lines won’t be straight.”

Riza lay half-naked on the table in her father’s study as minutes bled into hours. She shook with pain and hunger and cold by the time her father finally withdrew his hand. He had begun when she had returned from school at 3:30, and the moon had set hours before.

“Is it done?” she hated how her voice shook.

“No, my darling, not even close,” her father had never used such terms of endearment with her before, and Riza found that she hated it. “I’ve only managed a small portion. It will take months to complete properly.”

Riza’s lip trembled. “Months?” Her back felt as if it were on fire. He had told her a little of what the formulae on her back meant, but not all. What was the suffering worth, what was the pain worth, if she received nothing from it herself?

What will you give me? she wanted to scream. What is my reward?

As if in response, Berthold stroked her hair, and Riza tasted bile in the back of her mouth.

“Ew, gross, what’s wrong with her?”

Riza started at the shrill voice, and her hands went instinctively to her lower back. She dropped her half-eaten sandwich onto her napkin and turned toward the sound that she had heard.

A group of girls from the year above her were staring at her nearly-unoccupied table, their faces twisted in fascination and disgust. In the months since Berthold had begun tattooing her back, Riza had become used to the pain, and used to forging sicknotes as needed. Her grades were falling and the disappointment in her teacher’s eyes did not go unnoticed, but she had come to learn that there were things that mattered more, or at least that was what her father told her. But Berthold had left his canvas alone for four days, and Riza had breathed a sigh of relief when she had pulled on her uniform shirt without feeling the pain she had become so familiar with.

She could feel the eyes of the other girls upon her, and on instinct, Riza touched her lower back, and whimpered when her fingers came back wet.

She raced to the washroom before the girls could say anything more, and locked herself in. When she was sure that all the stalls were empty, she stripped off her powder-blue uniform shirt. The back of it was a mess of blackening blood and blacker ink, and some sort of thick, clear fluid that churned her stomach. She stumbled half-naked into the closest stall and vomited up her cheese sandwich. Her throat burned when she was finished, but not as much as the open wound on her back. She wiped her mouth against the back of her hand and slid down the bathroom stall until she was seated on the damp tiled floor.

One year later, Riza let her shirt fall so that her father’s former apprentice could see the inheritance her father had left— a legacy that she had long since released was not for her.

“Riza,” Roy’s breath was hot upon the skin of her back. He undid his blue uniform coat and draped it across her bare shoulders, covering her, she realised with a vague sense of annoyance—hadn’t she chosen to show him? “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Roy’s words were kind, but they still crawled under Riza’s skin. She creeped her hands up to the collar of the jacket, pulling it closer. His words were kind, but the meaning behind them was hunger. Not a hunger for her, Riza thought, as Roy Mustang’s eyes burned through the thick cotton of the jacket he had given her, but for what she carried on her skin. She pictured Roy’s hopeful eyes, and the words he had spoken in front of her father’s grave, a sense of idealization that she couldn’t even imagine possessing. Her father’s words echoed in her mind again.

Those of us who know the truth must do our part to ensure that others suffer less than we, don’t you think?

She shrugged Roy’s jacket off so that it fell to the floor with her shirt, exposing her father’s research entirely again.

Wednesday, she would decide later, as the Flame Alchemist and the Hawk’s Eye wreaked havoc upon the people of Ishval, was the worst day of the week.

#riza hawkeye #roy mustang #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfiction #fma #berthold hawkeye #my fic #berthold is awful and that's all there is to say on the matter #and riza is so so good

37 notes · View notes

whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome · 5 years

Note

Ship meme: Wayne and Katy 5, 9, 10

ship headcanon meme from THIS POST (check it out if you haven’t already)

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

That depends on how you’re counting. Katy says the words, easy as breathing, has done since she could talk, no problem. It’s never a formality or a reflex, it’s 100% genuine every time she says it. Wayne only says it a handful of times, but he shows it every day, cooking and doing dishes together, planting her favourite flowers in the vegetable patch, carrying the basket of wet laundry for her so she can peg it out, bringing her coffee in bed for their traditional Sunday morning lie-in.

Once Katy told him she was thinking about keeping bees, to save them some money instead of hiring them every Spring for pollination. So he looks up plans and builds her some boxes the very next day. He calls around town to find a hive that someone wants shot of, and buys a secondhand but still-in-good-nick spinner and a beesuit and veil. It’s worth it, the splinters and stings and running around, all of it, when she pops the first bite of honeycomb into his mouth and smiles at him.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

This one’s tough, because they’re never really uncomfortable enough with each other that they get embarrassed.

The first time they get drunk, like, properly drunk, they’re in their study room, chilling on the secondhand loveseat they got from Uncle Eddie and Aunt Marian. They’re sixteen tomorrow, and consider themselves very grown up, capable of handling pretty much anything, including liquor. Their parents are the lax sort, so they’ve had a wee dram here and there, usually in tea, or warm milk with honey if they’re ill.

Tonight though, it’s the day before their birthday, they’re supervision-free, it’s the height of summer, and their parents are away on a date, so the twins decide to start their revels early. They nick the whiskey from the kitchen and make sure to load up on snacks to bring upstairs with them so they don’t have to chance sneaking back down to the kitchen after their parents get home. Very responsible, very forward-thinking; they’re totally nailing adulting. They’re not even going anywhere, so they can’t possibly get into too much trouble, right?

Wrong.

They’re getting quietly tanked, chirping an old episode of MST3K, and booze is as booze does, so Katy has to wee. She stands up to go, or rather, she tries to stand up. All the alcohol goes to her head all at once, and she immediately over-balances. The only thing that saves her from taking a header into the coffee table is Wayne throwing his arms around her and pulling her back into his lap. Concussion successfully avoided, yay, but the pressure around her middle only exacerbates her original problem.

‘Wayne, you gotta let me up, I gotta go.’ She pats his arm, tapping out.

‘You gonna be alright?’ Wayne seems sceptical, but releases her nonetheless. It’s not fair he sounds so much more sober than she feels.

‘I’ll be fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.’ To be honest, Katy’d expected being drunk to feel kinda similar to smoking pot, which she’s pretty used to by now. She stands up much more slowly this time, moving very deliberately, and makes her way to the washroom between the study and their bedroom. Her fingers refuse to cooperate with the pocket door and the button of her shorts, but she does eventually get things sorted before she gets too desperate.

While she’s sitting there, she decides to make things easier on her future self and change into pyjama shorts. She’s a genius, she’s handling this so well. The pocket door to the bedroom gives her just as much trouble as the one leading to the study. Rather than tempting Fate by attempting to stand on one leg, Katy sits on the bed to get changed. She’s just pulling her shorts up when Wayne chooses that moment to bang on the door.

‘Are you okay in there?’ he calls through the door.

‘I’m just putting on some pyjamas.’

Wayne sounds disgruntled. ‘It’s been twenty minutes. I thought maybe you’d fallen again.’

Awwwwwww. He was always looking out for her. Katy slides the door open and leans against the frame, smiling. ‘Were you worried about me?’

Wayne’s habitual squint is a bit uneven, so maybe he’s not as unaffected as she thought. Good to know. ‘I don’t wanna hafta explain to our parents that I’m suddenly an only child, no.’

Witty as ever. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to the sofa.’ Katy slides an arm around Wayne and they lean against each other as they walk a little unsteadily back to the loveseat. Once they’re settled back down, they keep absently nibbling their snacks and passing the whiskey back and forth. It gets late enough that they hear the truck coming up the laneway, and they share a moment of visceral, heart-stopping paranoia, like somehow their parents are gonna just know, via telepathy or some other Spooky Parent Power.

Normality reasserts itself when after a couple of minutes, there’s a complete lack of doors opening and shutting. Wayne barely leans out the window before he registers the slight sway of the truck, and for the sake of his sanity he launches himself backwards before he can see anything unfortunate, but he hadn’t counted on Katy being right behind him and he bowls them both over in his haste.

‘Oof,’ is all she says, staring up at the ceiling. A moment of silence passes between them before Wayne speaks.

“They’re gonna be in the truck a while.’

Another moment of silence while this works its way through Katy’s brain. ‘Oh my God,’ she moans, voice full of despair, ‘we have to ride in that truck!’ She rolls over next to him and buries her face in his shoulder. ‘I really, really wish you hadn’t’a said that.’

Wayne sighs, puts his arm around her shoulders, and pats her sympathetically. ‘Sorry, kiddo, but if I have to suffer, so do you.’

‘That is not covered under for better or for worse,’ she says, muffled.

‘Twins for life, honey. No getting divorced.’

Katy raises her head to look at him and digs her pointy little chin into his ribs extra hard, just ‘cos she can. ‘You’re a terrible person. I’m gonna trade you in.’

Wayne adopts the snootiest Customer Service voice he can muster. ‘I’m afraid the sixty-day return policy has lapsed.’ He grins. ‘You’re stuck with me.’

She hums, ‘Well, if that’s the case. I suppose you do have your uses.’ Katy snuggles closer and lays her head back down. ‘You’re pretty comfy, for a start.’

‘Oh, well. As long as I’m useful.’

‘Like a good piece of furniture. Decorative and sturdy.’

They giggle quietly until they hear the back door open and shut. There’s the sound of feet on the stairs, and then a quick tapping at the study door as their parents wish them goodnight in passing, and they warmly return the sentiment from their spot on the floor.

When they hear their parents’ door close, Katy whispers, ‘There’s one way to try and erase that image.’

Wayne nods. ‘That’s a Texas-sized 10-4.’

They relocate back to the sofa again, piling pillows on one end and stretching out across it as they resume passing the bottle back and forth. Eventually, the television switches over to a new programme, and by that time, their parents’ snores are echoing through the house. They’re both so relaxed it almost feels like a Sin, breaking the peace, but Katy’s had the most excellent idea and it would be rude and selfish if she didn’t share it.

‘Hey, Wayne,’ she queries.

His hand pauses petting her hair. ‘Katy Kat?’

‘Wanna go have a smoke on the roof?’

Oh, that’s class. ‘I’d have a dart.’

The biggest benefit to their room being on the complete opposite side of the house from their parents’ is that it’s practically soundproof. They don’t hear any night noises they don’t wanna hear, and they get easy access to the roof via the porch gable and the big window in the study. Wayne gets the gear from the sock drawer and they climb out on top of the porch, only a little wobbly. From there, Wayne hoists himself up onto the roof proper, then pulls Katy up after, and they settle in for a dart and a joint respectively. They’re flushed and warm from the drink, and the smokes go straight to their heads, leaving them dizzy and giggly; but the night air is bracing and helps cool them off.

They lay back together and point out all the constellations they can remember, then start making up new ones and giving them the most ridiculous backstories they can come up with. After about half an hour, the whiskey jacket wears off and Katy gets cold enough she wants to go inside. Getting down is a lot more of a challenge than getting up had been. Any other time they’d just jump for it, or else they’re sneaking out and shinning it down the tree, but those are both too noisy to be real options. They eventually work out that they have to sit down and then lower themselves in a weird sort of reverse pull-up type manoeuver. Or, well, Wayne has to lower himself and then lift Katy down. There’s a close call as she shifts her weight forward when he’s not expecting it, but they recover and no one falls or breaks anything, so they carefully climb back in the window.

Safely ensconced back on the couch, they’re in that space between drunk and sober where judgement has left the building, but you’re absolutely certain you’re making an unbiased, totally objective decision to have another drink. Killing the last third of the bottle seems like a brilliant idea. Things take a sharp nose-dive from that point. Where before they’d been slowly sipping at the whiskey, now they take gulps; after all, they’d handled it so far, right? The television plays softly in the background, but they’ve long since lost the plot. Whatever’s going on, it involves a robot, a Cat-man, an idiot, and some prick with an H on his forehead. Drunchies are no joke, and before they know it all the snacks have mysteriously disappeared and they’ve no memory of finishing them.

That was the tipping point, it seems, because the nausea comes on, creeping up like a thief in an alley, the heartburn and the churning bile and the spins, and oh fuck, the spins. Katy’s head feels tight like a migraine, but also weirdly floaty, like she’s too high. Wayne’s not doing much better himself, breathing slow and heavy and focussed on one spot on the ceiling to try and quell the urge to spit. If they’re very, very still, they might be able to power through this.

Luck is not on their side. Katy needs the bin, now. She turns to ask Wayne to grab it and-

A strangled ‘Wayne,’ is all the warning he gets before Katy hurls right in his lap. For a moment, he’s too stunned to do anything, but then she retches and does it again, and that’s what triggers his gag reflex, the sound and the smell and the warm liquid splash, and Wayne tosses his cookies even as he’s reaching for the rubbish bin. That sets Katy off again, and they’re caught in a vicious cycle of calling Huey until there’s nothing left in either of them to bring up.

They have to use every towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess, dry heaving the whole time, until it’s as good as they’re going to get it in the middle of the night. They rinse their mouths out and brush their teeth very gingerly, trying not to set off another round of gastrointestinal rebellion. Katy still feels hot and woozy and not a little gross, and she refuses to get in bed like this and mess up the nice, clean sheets. Wayne doesn’t exactly smell like a bed of roses either, so they sluice off and get into fresh, non-puky pyjamas. Katy’s head is clear enough by then that she has the foresight to make them both drink some goddamn water and take some aspirin before they get in bed.

The next morning is a special level of Hell, ‘cos it turns out their parents are totally on to them. Busted. As if being wretchedly hungover weren’t punishment enough, their parents make sure to be extra loud and unsympathetic to their misery. Birthday pancakes bring no joy, the smell of frying bacon is revolting, and the very idea of anything as acidic as orange juice has them both on the razor’s edge of being ill again.

Wayne and Katy Suffer through breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen after, until some buckets, brushes, and heavy-duty surface cleaner are shoved into their hands. They trudge upstairs and start scrubbing the puke out of the floorboards. Every part of the sofa needs to be cleaned as well; the cushions, the upholstery, the cover. Even the remote for the television. All of this on top of their regular chores leaves them shaky and exhausted by lunchtime.

The bollocking they get is definitely well-deserved, but neither of the twins has the strength to tolerate it. Wayne just crawls under the table and lays face-down and still, waiting for death, and Katy pillows her abominably sore head on her arms and tunes out until it’s over. They’re grounded for the foreseeable future, and just to make sure they don’t have any time to get into any more mischief, they’ll be doing chores over at Uncle Eddie’s as well as at home. The only pity they’re shown is a sleeve of dry crackers and some ginger beer to settle their bellies. The rest of the day is spent hauling bales and mucking stalls.

After dinner they go straight to bed, no shuckin’ and jivin’. They pinkie swear that next time, they’re gonna take about fifty percent off the whiskey and double down on the water. They grow up to be champion lushes, the pair of ‘em.

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Katy:

Music: House of Tom Bombadil by Nickel Creek, ‘cos Katy’s secretly a huge Nerd, and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri even though it’s so Basic White Girl, because no matter how cheesy, she genuinely loves it.

Books: The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett (her favourite since childhood,) and How to Invent Everything by Ryan North, a surprisingly useful survival guide.

Luxury Items: A tarpaulin, because Katy’s nothing if not Practical, and sunscreen for Wayne, ‘cos he’ll never think of it and he burns like paper.

Wayne:

Music: Wayne actually has the most rubbish taste in music. If he likes anything good, it’s purely by accident. He brings a cover of Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore as Gaeilge and Animals by Nickleback.

Books: Le Petit Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery. It’s his favourite, and it’s set in a desert, so. And since he knows every word off by heart in English and in French, to keep him engaged he’ll also bring Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence. Sure, it’s on-theme and all.

Luxury Items: A flint and a hammer hatchet. With these he can make simple tools, and with simple tools he can make complex tools, and with complex tools he can make anything.

(Edit: I only just now realised that perhaps this meant two total, as in one of each item for each of them, rather than they both bring two of each item. Oh, well. What’s done is done.)

#letterkenny #wayne #uaithne #katy kat #caitríona #Anonymous #original post #my writing #fanfiction #ask meme #ship headcanon meme #fanfic #fic

10 notes · View notes

georgialouisea · 6 years

Text

The Perfect Match - Part 12

Characters -Dean X Reader, Pam Stenson (ofc), Steve (lawyer, omc). Word Count - 3k Warnings - Fluff, swearing, pregnancy, Angst (Further warnings in the tags to avoid spoilers), cliffhanger. Summary - Dean and Y/N are free, happy and moving on with their live together, everything is perfect… A/N - Part 12 of The Perfect Match series, major cliff hanger, I’m sorry.

Part 11 - Catch up here.

Life outside of your Father’s grasp was so different yet so good. You and Dean were all moved in, Dean’s place was sold and you both now had a place to call home.

Dean was surprisingly okay with your choice of decor, he gave you suggestions along with puppy dog eyes when he wanted something of his in a room. You didn’t argue with him on any changes he wanted or you wanted, you both compromised which ended with you having the perfect home.

Dean bought a local garage in town from a man who had been running it for over 50 years. The previous owner was more than happy to sell to Dean when he told him of his plans for the place, keeping it as a normal garage that specialises in renovating classic cars. Within 2 months he had a full workforce and he’d renovated the whole garage.

You were so proud of him, he’d taken a slightly run-down old place and turned into something beautiful, when people heard about the classic car service Dean and his team had a waiting list before they’d even opened their doors. It helped when people saw Baby in the parking lot all shiny and beautiful.

When you moved you now needed a car, in New York you never needed one, now with Dean working every day, you needed your own car. There was one car you’d always loved a Porsche cayenne, sure Dean had rolled his eyes at you when you’d told him. He was more concerned about how safe it was for you and the baby, but he was satisfied after a few hours of research.

“Hey, babe?” Dean shouted from downstairs.

“Yeah?”

“Just got a call, your car is coming at eleven.”

“Okay!”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“No, give me a second I’ve got to do something then I’ll be down.”

“I have to leave in a few minutes, I can’t be late on the opening day.”

“You won’t be!” You shouted running down the stairs, black gift box in hand with a big silver bow on top. “Here.” Standing before him you held out the box.

“What’s this?”

“Well, office warming and I’m proud of you gifts.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to give me anything.”

“I wanted to, If you don’t have time to open them now you can do it in the office.”

“No, I have time, you look beautiful this morning.” He took the box from you and kissed you, one hand snaking around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“You’re kidding me right?” You pulled away from him breathless. “I’m in your shirt and jeans, not exactly pretty.”

“Y/N, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and right now? Wow.” Dean grinned at you.

“Stop it and open your presents.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at you before turning his attention to the box in his hands. “I can’t believe you got me something you’re honestly the best.”

“I know.”

“It’s a mystery why I fell for you.” He smirked watching you flop down onto the sofa, patting the empty space beside you. Curling your feet under yourself you rested so you could watch Dean’s face when he opened each gift.

Picking up the first gift from the box he ripped the paper from it to reveal a silver frame, the photo inside was from the day you first met Dean at your Father’s birthday. You were stood together talking, smiles on your faces.

“How did -”

“Millie took it before she got drunk.”

“Wow.”

“If you don’t like it I can change the photo.”

“No, I love it, kind of the moment I knew I loved you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you were so different and not what I was expecting.”

“Mr Winchester, you’re such a sap.”

“Only with you.” He winked before opening the rest of his presents which included a mug, another framed photo of you both and a bottle of his favourite whiskey. “You’re seriously the best, I have to go but I’ll be putting this on my desk.” Dean held up the photo looking at it again, smiling at you.

“7 months ago did you think we’d be here?”

“Not at all, I’m so glad we are though.”

“Me too.” He mumbled as he leaned down and kissed you. “I really have to go but remember your car will be here at eleven.”

“I’ll remember.” You smiled up at him watching him put the mug and photo frames in his bag. “Have a great day babe.” Standing up you kissed his cheek before watching him walk out the front door.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You called watching him pull off the drive and drive away.

Closing the door you took in the silence of your empty home, sure this was what life was like in New York but there you were working most of the day and evening. When you called to quit your boss congratulated you on your engagement to Sam and told you there was always a spot open for you in the store.

Filling the silence anyway you could you’d leave the TV on or the radio. The hours between 7am and 6pm were the worst, you needed to do something to pass the time, originally you wanted to adopt a dog but when Dean told you to imagine life with a dog and a newborn you u-turned on that idea.

You could maybe buy a store in town or find a new business venture.

Online shopping started to bore you, you’d first started looking for the babe, ordering a few clothes and basics. You didn’t want to make any decisions on furniture without Dean, so you switched to Christmas shopping. Buying and ordering a few Christmas trees and enough decorations to fill a football field, it was nearing the middle of December and your house looked so plain.

The next day all the decorations had been delivered, by 6pm you’d single-handedly put together 2 artificial trees, decorated them both and decorated the whole house.

“Babe?” Dean shouted through the house before the door slammed shut.

“Yeah?” You lifted your head up off the couch before regretting your decision and flopping back down.

“You decorated?”

“Yeah I did, do you like it?”

“You know I do but did you put up the trees yourself?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t have done that you’re fourteen weeks pregnant.”

“I know I am but it was okay, all plastic and super light, if it was too heavy I wouldn’t have moved a thing.”

“I know you wouldn’t have.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.”

“Good, how was your day?”

“Busy, it’s been a busy week or so, I can’t believe we’re booked up so fast.”

“It’s because you’re amazing.”

“That I am.”

“I ordered pizza for dinner, I was kind of tired after today is that okay?”

“God yes.”

“I’ll head to the store tomorrow and do a full shop, get some bits for Christmas.”

“Sounds good.” Dean slumped on to the sofa.

After your pizza you handed Dean a beer, curling up on the sofa next to him, today had completely worn you out and the Christmas decorations were making you feel so cosy.

“I’m happy.” You mumbled into Dean’s chest.

“I am too.” He smiled down at you placing his beer on the table beside him. “How are you feeling today?” His hand moved down to your stomach, his palm spread out as he kissed your hair.

“Good, just tired now, so glad I don’t feel sick, probably going to come back next week knowing my luck, you?”

“I’m fine, it’s you and this little one I worry about.”

“We’re good.” You yawned before cuddling into Dean even more.

“Bed?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded trying and failing to get up in your hazy state.

“I’ll carry you up.” Dean offered scooping you up off the couch before you could protest and carried you to bed.

Dean’s 6am alarm ripped through the quiet room, with a groan he pulled his arms from you and hit snooze before rolling back beside you.

“Morning.” He mumbled into the pillow beside you.

“Morning, you okay?” You laughed running your fingers through his hair.

“Tired.” A mumbled response came from the pillow. “Babe if you carry that on I’ll fall asleep again.” He groaned pulling his head from the pillow and resting it on your arm. “What are you doing today?”

“Going shopping.”

“Do you want to wait until I’ve finished work then we can go together?”

“No, I need something to do today.”

“Okay, If you’re sure, I’ll go shower.” He kissed your forehead, watching him get out of bed and walk to the bathroom you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Dean!” You shouted as he disappeared.

“You okay?” He flew back into the room hands out in front of him, his eyes darting between you and your hand on your bump.

“Oh yeah, oh my God I didn’t think, I just love you so much.”

“I love you too.” His brow furrowed as he crawled up the bed, hovering over you. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yah I’m just so happy.” You smiled at him running your hand over your bump. “Go shower I’m fine.”

“Okay, don’t scare me like that again.” He kissed your lips before shuffling back and walking back into the bathroom.

By 10 am you had cleaned the house, fixed and rearranged some decorations you didn’t like the look of, so you finally decided to go shopping.

You made it round the store pretty quickly, your cart was full of essentials for the week or so ahead for the two of you, some Christmas food and snacks and a pie for Dean.

As you stood in line to pay you noticed a woman looking at you from across the store, a basket full of snacks and water in her hand. You felt yourself panic slightly, you told yourself it was nothing, she was no one, yet every time she thought you weren’t looking her eyes were locked on you.

Pushing your cart full of bags back to your car you could hear heels clicking on the tarmac, someone was walking fast, almost running. Loading the bags into the trunk you glanced over your shoulder you saw the woman from the store was walking towards you.

“I’m sorry can I help you?” Smiling at her you turned to face her.

“Miss Whittaker?”

“Yes.” You spoke before loading two more bags into the trunk.

“I’m a reporter with the local paper, I also work for channel three.”

“Okay…” You waited for her to continue, shutting the trunk and walking to put the cart back she followed your every move.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Erm -” You turned and walked back to your car.

“Why did your engagement to Sam Winchester end?”

“I…”

“And why are you now living with his brother Dean Winchester?”

“I’m not going to answer those questions, please if you want to interview me or my family please contact my parents and their lawyers.”

“Why? Do they rule your life?” She snapped.

“Okay please leave me alone.” You sighed turning and opening your door, you were so glad you were in an oversized coat, it was far from cold but you were constantly freezing and if this reporter even though you were pregnant she would have it on the news by lunchtime.

“So you’re with Dean now, did you cheat on Sam?”

“Just stop!” You snapped at her sliding into your seat, throwing your handbag onto the passenger seat you listened as your car connected to your phone. “If you have a card I’ll call you to arrange an interview.”

Her eyes lit up as she searched her pockets for her card, grabbing one from her purse she smiled at you handing you the card.

“Hi Pam Stenson, just a quick question, do you see that camera over there?” You pointed to the CCTV camera pointing towards your general direction.

“Yeah?”

“Well, that and I’m sure many others inside will show you following me and harassing me.”

“Miss…”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer within the hour, write anything about me, my family or the Winchesters and you’ll face one hell of a lawsuit.”

Slamming your door shut you rolled your eyes at her, she stood there eyes and mouth wide watching as you pulled out of the car park, she scurried to her car and pulled onto the road a few cars behind you.

Hitting dial on your dashboard you called Steve your lawyer.

“Hey Steve, we may have an issue with a Pam Stenson from a local paper and news channel, she ambushed me outside the shops asking about my engagement to Sam and my relationship with Dean.”

“Right.”

“If it helps she’s a few cars behind me right now, I’m hoping she turns off but I’m not going home with her following me.”

“Y/N, do you want me to call the police?”

“Give it a few minutes, if I take a detour to rejoin the highway and she’s still behind me then yes.”

“I’m staying on the line, my assistant is contacting your family lawyers making them aware this may be an issue.”

“Thank you.” You spoke as you slowed the car down taking a route through the next town to join the highway, every turn, brake and acceleration she was a few cars behind.

“Steve call the police and Dean.”

“You okay?”

“She followed me through through most ridiculous route and she’s stayed behind the whole time.”

“Okay stay calm, I’m calling Dean and patching him into this call.”

“Okay.”

“Y/N?”

“Hey.”

“Baby, what’s happening, why is Steve on the line?”

“I think I pissed off a reporter, she ambushed me outside of the store, I threatened her with legal action, called Steve and now she’s following me.”

“Dean, Y/N has taken a detour and the reporter Pam Stenson is still following her, she’s on the highway heading south.”

“Babe keep driving, how’s your tank looking?”

“Nearly full, I’m good.”

“Dean, Steve she’s been behind the same black SUV for the past 15 minutes.”

“Y/N, you’re okay Dean is on his way, the police are too, I have a team on this and your family’s lawyer is on it too.”

“Baby, just keep driving I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“She’s gone, she turned off it’s just the black SUV.”

“Y/N, I’m a few minutes away stay calm babe.”

“Okay.”

“Steve where’s the fucking police?” Dean shouted down the line making you flinch.

“They’re seven minutes out according to my assistant, a few minutes behind Dean.”

“Is there someone you can safely overtake, see if it follows?”

“Yeah, about 5 cars.”

“Do it,” Dean ordered, you could tell he was worried, yet he was trying to stay as calm as possible.

Following his orders you began to overtake the cars, again the SUV sped up behind you and switched lanes with you.

“Shit he followed.” You breathed out blinking away the tears.

“It’s a man?” Steve questioned, you could hear him typing and his assistant talking to the police in the background.

“No, I can’t see I’m assuming.” You choked down the tears.

“Babe, you’re doing amazing, is there a few lorries near you?”

“I overtook them a while ago.”

“Okay, I can see them so I’m really close to you okay? Steve tell them I can see her.”

“Dean, he’s really close to me.”

“Slow down slightly if you can.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing Winchester.” You smiled biting your lip.

“I do.”

Doing as Dean said you lifted your foot off the accelerator and allowed the car to slow slightly, watching your cars speed drop you knew he’d have to brake. Looking in the mirror you got a good look at the driver.

“Dean, It’s a man, middle-aged maybe forty, white, he’s talking to someone, he’s the only one in the car.”

“Okay, Steve you get that?”

“Yes, the police are 2 minutes out, no sirens or lights they don’t want to draw any attention to this.” Steve sighed.

“There’s an exit in less than a mile, take it but take it at the last second only if it’s safe, I’m about 5 cars behind, can you see me?”

“I can hear Baby.” You gave in when you heard Baby, the tears you were holding back fell.

“Y/N, you’re okay, you see the exit you’re seconds away?”

“Yeah, take it at the last second only if it’s safe.” You repeated Dean’s words, as you spoke the world slowed, the SUV pulled out and swerved in front of you slamming on the brakes. Following suit you slammed on the brakes and managed to start taking the exit without the car spinning out, the driver realised and pulled off the highway, he was half on the road half in the dirt next to you.

Bracing you waited for the impact, the SUV swerved trying to get back onto the road or drive you off, either way, it ploughed into the back of your car causing your car to spin.

Opening your eyes your car was now facing sideways, it had nearly done a full circle as it sat blocking the road side on, the SUV was in the ditch behind you smoke pluming from it. Fighting against the airbag you managed to get yourself some wiggle room, turning to look for Dean taking the exit you knew he’d be really upset at the state you were in but despite his concern, the car held up pretty well.

Then you heard it, the horn, the rumble of an engine, the screech of tyres, the crunch of metal, Dean screaming through your phone.

Then you saw it the panic in the lorry drivers eyes as he ploughed into your car.

Want to be tagged send me an ASK

Forever Taglist - @mega-loser1298 @smalltowndivaj @roxyspearing @ginamsmith @donnaintx @emoryhemsworth

Dean Taglist - @akshi8278 @awesomestperson22 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @michellethetvaddict @dramaqueenrolf @itsallabouthedean

The Perfect Match Taglist - @ericaprice2008 @human-and-angel-2 @soullessbabee @meghan-brannon @skymoonandstardust @keepcalmandbeajunkie @fandomsandyeah @sslater34 @wingedkidexpert @empowermentandmemes @sandlee44 @i-just-wanna-live-gc @the-greatest-temptation @mango-pancake @hellomynameisanxiousbaker @oneglassofvodka @lear1chmond @clarise1980 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @moonlitskinwalker @samdanza94 @arikas5744 @son-of-a-supernatural @me-han10 @dancingalone21 @jayankles

SPN Pond Taglist- @dr-dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @spn-fan-girl-173 @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @jpadjackles @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @deantbh @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @revwinchester @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @4401lnc @just-another-winchester @canadianjelly

@mrswhozeewhatsis Taglist Dean - @thinkwritexpress-official @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @charliesbackbitches @ellen-reincarnated1967 @littlegreenplasticsoldier @gryffindorable713 @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @sis-tafics @amaranthinecastiel @fandommaniacx @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @samanddeanwinchester67 @ferferelli @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @ackleslaugh @fangirling-instead-of-working @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @kayteonline @spnsimpleman @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @sleep-silent-angel @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @trenchcoats-and-bees @jencharlan @skybinx-blog @thebunkerismyhome @feelmyroarrrr @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @tia58 @sams-little-toy @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @everyday-supernatural-af @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @babypieandwhiskey @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @hexparker @atwistoffate @evilskank-inthemegacoven @there-must-be-a-lock

150 notes · View notes

l0vegl0wsinthedark · 7 years

Note

Hey baby! I was thinking about my favorite scenes/lines from my favorite fics and got to wondering what scenes/lines stood out to the people who wrote them. Lolol. What would you say are your top 10 favorite bits from your fics? Gimme the scoop. ❤❤

YOU SENT IT ANYWAY DAMN YOU 😂😂😂

And does it have to be ten?!

Okay omg i’ll try to go through them and pick something decent? (nope, just picking at random lmao)

1) In Your Arms, Rests My World:

“Nobody else is ever going to touch you again,” he promises fiercely. “I’ll kill the next one, I swear to God.”

Malfoy gasps. “Potter! Oh, Merlin.” He grabs Harry’s hair roughly, half sitting up in his urgency to kiss him. “Say more things like that.”

“You’re mine,” Harry says immediately, pushes him back down and kisses him again. “Never letting you go again.” He bites along Malfoy’s clenched jaw. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Malfoy assents fervently, nipping his earlobe. “You fucking wanker. All yours, only yours. Who else’s would I be?!”

“I’ll kill them all,” Harry hisses into his shoulder, and Malfoy keens softly. “Every last one.”

“Promise me,” he implores. “I swear I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep, Potter-”

“I’ll kill them all,” Harry grits through bared teeth. “I promise I’ll die before I let anything happen to you again. I promise, I fucking promise.”

Why this bit: IDK I felt like this bit was really satisfying after all the angst and shit - plus I love me a possessive/protective Harry so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2) Muggle ‘Drug Store’ Items:

Harry groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as Malfoy straddles his thighs with an excited grin, tugging Harry’s jeans halfway down, before rolling down his pants as well, Harry’s cock bouncing out eagerly to slap against his tanned belly.

“Oh, look, you’re all ready,” Malfoy comments happily, before leaning forward. “Wait, this doesn’t have a hole.” He pauses, holding the condom right in front of his nose, eyes crossing as he peers closely.

“You should call the manufacturers and leave that as feedback, it’d make their day,” Harry says, his voice rough, staring fixedly at the bulge in Malfoy’s snug black underpants. “Take your pants off and come sit on my face.”

“Wait.” Malfoy rolls his eyes, and jumps off the bed, returning with his wand. “I’m going to make a hole in it.”

“Why the hell, you weirdo?” Harry laughs despite himself.

“How else am I supposed to swallow?” Malfoy asks flatly and Harry chokes shut on his laugh.

Why this bit: LOL cause only Draco can buy contraceptives and then proceed to make holes in them and that’s fucking hilarious idk

3) To Those Who Wait:

It had helped that, along the way, I’d become reacquainted with the boy whom I’d hated for most of my childhood, who then, miraculously enough, turned out to be my soulmate.Yes, I know, I’m actually using the word soulmate. Like I said, I’m a practical man.

Later, we leave the windows open to coax in some of the cool, salt laden night breeze, Harry moving over me in patient, torturously slow undulations, his cock brushing my prostate every now and then in a teasing flick, my heels digging into his firm arse cheeks, my mouth gasping open under his.

“Harry,” I whisper, cradling his face with both hands, letting my lips flutter over his skin. “Please…”

“You’re my whole world,” he says abruptly, soft and breathless. “Did you know that?”

I can’t help but smile. “I had a vague inkling,” I tease gently and I kiss his laughing mouth, moaning softly as he picks up the pace.

Why this bit: Well, TBF, I picked two bits, but that’s only cause I can’t pick the whole fic (or at least the whole epilogue). Yeah, this one’s pretty close to my heart.

4) What Real Thing?:

“He has to go,” Draco repeats more vehemently. “It’s too late now– I can’t– He has to go.”

“Right.”

“I don’t even like him,” he repeats, his lip curled derisively. “I hate him, really.”

“No, you don’t,” she says quietly.

“No, I don’t,” he whispers miserably, staring into his hands.

Why this bit: Cause Draco admitting he doesn’t hate Harry is fucking precious?

5) Good Talk, Potter:

About seven pairs of eyes instantly swivelled onto me and I was quietly grateful for having worn my best shirt, I look fucking fabulous in this thing.

“Fuck you, ferret face.” Weasley’s ears still did that thing where they turned beet red and looked like they’d sizzle off his stupid head.

“Such a delight, aren’t you?” I’d smiled sweetly, still not looking at the man sitting half a foot to my left, smelling like aftershave and worn leather, looking up at me with eyes that are greener than the Malfoy grounds in spring.

Ugh, now I’m speaking in poetry?

Well, I’ve had one too many whiskeys and my thoughts tend to atrophy into doggerel by this stage – you’re not exactly the Bard of Avon yourself, let me see you come up with a decent verse or two when you’re tiddly.

Do you want me to go on or not?

Why this bit: Cause Draco ranting = endless entertainment lolol

6) Trouble:

“I actually wanted to ask you that very evening–” Potter speaks in a mumble. “–but the probability of you chucking a chair at my head was rather high, so I decided otherwise.”

“Ask me what?” Draco asks impatiently when the man doesn’t continue.

“Do you think–?” Potter scratches his ear, restlessly kicking at a stone near his foot. “Could you maybe–?” He looks rather irritated with himself so Draco purses his lips on a smile and waits, tucking his thumbs into his pockets and turning to face the man properly. “May I have my number? I mean–” He looks rather alarmed as he hurries to correct himself and Draco could feel sudden laughter bubbling up inside him. “–would you give me my number?” He looks downright horrified now and Draco has to inconspicuously bring one hand up to his mouth to hide his grin. “Your number,” Potter sighs resignedly. “May I have your number?” he finally manages to say, hanging his head and looking miserable.

Draco bursts out laughing then, although his belly is suddenly filled by a swarm of manic butterflies and his heart thuds excitedly.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Potter growls irascibly under his breath.

Why this bit: Cause Harry’s a fucking dork after being an evil, sexy little shit earlier in the fic and it’s really satisfying lol

7) Kiss The Light Back Into Me:

Harry likes to hold his hand a lot. His hands are perennially warm and when they’re wrapped around Draco’s fingers, he feels like he’ll never be cold again.

Harry’s mouth is soft and warm and his kisses are long and patient. He pins Draco to himself and kisses him like it’s his absolute favourite thing to do.

Well, it’s Draco’s favourite thing anyway.

He loves Draco’s hair and plays with it when he thinks Draco is asleep. Draco pretends to be asleep a lot.

Why this bit: Cause fluffeh goodness?

8) Luckiest Fucking Size Queen Alive:

I know what you’re thinking; Draco Malfoy, proud Slytherin, Senior Undersecretary to the Head of International Magical Cooperation, blond perfection, never one to follow the herd, hardly the type to be swayed by superficial things like the girth and length of objects, even less when said objects are attached to strangely handsome wizards, especially wizards who just happened to have saved and liberated the wizarding world before turning twenty even.

Draco Malfoy, twenty-seven and pretty darn attractive (if you ask me), who absolutely, definitely, almost certainly, probably didn’t, maybe did have a infinitesimal, itsy-bitsy, fair sized, shamefully gigantic, likely unhealthy crush on the aforementioned wizard.

Draco Malfoy who is also a sucker (occasionally, a downright slut) for sizeable cocks.

Oh, sue me, you judgemental, sanctimonious wretch. And go get a haircut.

I’m the one he eventually admits to being in love with, the words whispered reverently into my forehead, calloused hands tenderly cupping my face, his eyes soft and honest; and I’m the one he asks to move in with him six months later (golly!). I’m the one he makes breakfast for everyday, and I’m the one for whom he wakes up early on Saturdays to go buy fresh-from-the-oven pain au chocolat from that French place in Mayfair. It’s myface he sees and kisses first thing every morning and I’m the one he falls asleep pressed against every damn night.

Me, the luckiest fucking size queen alive.

Why this bit: Two bits, again; still have a dozen more fav bits. Also, Draco rants quite a bit in this one too lolol it was really hard to pick

9) (Un)Calculated Risk:

“Happy birthday,” Harry whispered, grabbing Draco’s hand where it lay on his cheek and then pressing something into it. Draco’s fingers closed around the Snitch and he looked back up at Harry with a soft snort. “I keep my promises.” Harry winked.

And with another kiss to Draco’s wryly grinning mouth, he was zooming away, leaving Draco there with the winning Snitch and jauntily flying away with his heart.

Why this bit: Cause Harry being a smooth, romantic AF fucker gives me life.

10) Hurt Me, Fuck Me (Just Don’t Hate Me):

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Potter pants into his neck.

“You just did,” Draco drawls, his balls quopping with the need to come. “Eat me out,” he tells Potter, and lifts his knees up to his shoulders as Potter more than amiably slithers down and obliges.

Why this bit: Because @bixgirl1 would’ve brought the roof down if I’d picked any other bit

Bonus (even tho like literally nobody asked for it and I whinged about doing the first ten):

11) Just Go With It:

“Challenge accepted.” Harry sat up, kicking the covers off himself vigorously and accidentally catching Baguette with one heel. “Shit, Baguette, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck, Potter? Why do you keep yelling at a loaf of bread?!”

“It’s not—it’s my pet ferret! I accidentally kicked her.”

“…You have a pet ferret?”

Harry hurriedly tamped down a laugh. “Y-yeah, her name’s Baguette.”

“Why?!”

“Why do I have a pet ferret, or why is she named Baguette?”

“All of it! Why?!”

Why this bit: Because when @o0o-chibaken-o0o suggested I name the ferret Baguette, I didn’t realise what a celebrity that sassy little furry’s going to become. But she did! Plus, they have phone sex right after this bit, so.

12) All The Sense In The World:

“I take it you’ve spotted my arsehole by now,” Malfoy bit out. “So go ahead and put one finger in, Potter.” Harry blinked and looked around, registering the instruction at last.

“W-with the lube, right?” he blurted uncertainly. Malfoy pursed his lips.

“No, Potter, the lube is just for moral support – to sit there in your hand in case you need something to hold—yes, with the lube!”

Why this bit: It wasn’t until a number of readers pointed out this bit as being funny that I realised it too because Draco is such a salty bitch even when he’s seconds away from having his arse fingered open lmao

(I feel like I’ve let down my other works now D:)

THIS TOOK WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND I ENJOYED IT WAY MORE THAN I INTENDED TO DAMN YOU @bixgirl1 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

79 notes · View notes

coughdontfeelwellcough · 7 years

Text

Favourite Time of Year (Catch Me If You Can, sickfic)

Hey guys! So I might have the tiniest crush on Aaron Tviet and as a result I’ve watching all the shows he’s been in which includes the musical version of Catch Me If You Can (You know the one with Leo and Tom Hanks) and honestly it’s amazing!! It has a great soundtrack and I really urge you to go and look it up! And of course I couldn’t resist writing a little something so here it’s a slightly off canon take on the song Christmas Is My Favourite Time Of Year.

I hope you enjoy :)

It was Christmas Eve the hours till Christmas Day ticking down to the single digits. Most people were in their homes, wrapping presents, having parties, being with their loved ones but Agent Carl Hanratty wasn’t most people. He had a job to do, a con man to catch and if that meant spending his Christmas alone in the office then so be it. It wasn’t like had a family to go back to anymore. One too many missed birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases and they leave you behind.

Carl Hanratty was sat at his desk surrounded by fake checks, they’d been trying to get hold of the con artist for months but the kid always seemed to slip away from them. That was the thing that surprised Hanratty the most, he’d met a lot of criminals in his time in FBI but never any like Frank. He was just a kid, not even eighteen years old yet his con had racked up over two million stolen dollars. By the eleven o'clock chime Hanratty had resigned himself to a night with just his whiskey and cigar but then his phone rang. It wasn’t usual for his phone to ring but no so at such a time of night.

“Hanratty, Merry Christmas,” he answered trying to force out some jollyness.

“Carl?”

The voice at the other end was young and raspy. Hanratty didn’t need to be in FBI to know who was on the line.

“Why are you calling me Frank? It’s Christmas, don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked.

“I...I…”

The boy’s voice cracked and there was the muffled sound of coughing, it sounded harsh and there was a certain wheeze to his breathing.

“Frank, are you ill?”

“Yeah,” the boy sniffed.

“Then you should be in bed, not talking to me.”

Hanratty isn’t sure where the piece of parenting comes from, after all he’d never had children of his own but there is was all the same.

“Couldn’t sleep,” came the raspy reply.

“How long have you been ill?” Hanratty asked.

Frank coughed again, the sound crackled in the phone and Hanratty winced.

“I don’t know, couple of days maybe,” Frank replied.

“Have you taken anything?”

“Don’t know what to take,” Frank said.

Hanratty is stumped for a moment, how can a person not know what medicine they should take? Then he’s reminded just how young the kid is, he should be getting a day off school and have his mom taking care of him. Instead on his own on the phone with him, the Agent trying to take him in.

“Is this why you called Frank? You didn’t have anyone else to help.”

There was a pathetic sniffle and the sound of him clearing his throat.

“So what if it is?” He croaked.

Hanratty felt something in his chest, something like sympathy. The kid shouldn’t be alone, not like this. He was probably running a fever and judging by that cough he was feeling pretty awful, he deserved better than to be talking to him but it seemed he was all he had.

“Doesn’t matter, just tell me how you’re feeling?” Hanratty asked.

“Bad, my head hurts, my chest aches, I can barely talk and I’m so cold,” Frank said.

“Sounds like you’ve got the flu, you needs pain meds and cough syrup… Are you even old enough to buy that stuff?” Hanratty asked.

“No, but when has that ever stopped me?” Frank replied, a little of his cheekiness returning.

Hanratty didn’t want to condone lawbreaking so he said nothing, the truth was he knew the kid didn’t have another choice.

“I… I’m sorry about this, I didn’t…” Frank is cut off by a brutal sounding coughing fit and Hanratty finds himself wishing he was there to pat his back.

“I know kid, it’s okay. I’m here right by the phone if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Frank replied, Hanratty pretended not to hear the little waver in his voice.

“You go get your meds okay? You’ll feel better.”

“Okay, thank you Agent.”

Frank sniffled and then the line went dead. Hanratty couldn’t help but feel slightly empty, the phone still in his hand. He hadn’t realised how lonely it was in the office until he found himself sad to hear Frank go. He felt for the kid, he did. No one deserved to be alone and sick at Christmas, not so young. Hanratty remembered being Frank’s age, trying to get act grown up but in reality you’re not. No one is at that age, they pretend but they’re not and Frank is no different. He still needs someone to look out for him, to make sure he’s okay and it seems his parents weren’t up to the job, too bothered by their own lives to see when their son was spiraling out of control. Sometimes he wondered who the real criminals were.

Christmas Day arrived but nothing changed, at some point Carl Hanratty had fallen asleep at his desk, a half drunk glass of whiskey next to him. He hadn’t moved from beside the phone, just in case but so far all had been quiet on the Eastern front. There had been a little pit of worry in Hanratty’s stomach, one that wondered if the kid had made it back okay and hadn’t passed out in the street or been jumped by someone not fazed by the pilots hat. But in the end sleep won out as it usually does.

The phone rang at three thirty am. Hanratty jerked awake, sending fake checks all over the place in his scramble for the phone.

“Frank, is that you?”

“Yeah.”

His voice was worse, a hoarse whisper he was losing quickly. His throat was probably wrecked from coughing.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so,” Frank said, he sounded so young and vulnerable. It wasn’t the Frank that Hanratty had gotten to know, the cocky one that was on top of the world. This was something altogether different and one he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

“What’s wrong?” Hanratty asked, kind of scared of the can of worms he was about to open.

“I miss home,” Frank said and sniffed. Hanratty is pretty sure he’s crying and though he suspects it’s the fever that’s doing it it doesn’t make it any less painful to hear.

“I’m sorry kid, it’s the time of year it messes with you. But I miss home too,” Hanratty replied.

“Why aren’t you at home?” Frank asked.

Hanratty sighed, he thought about telling him about his wife. He’d met Penny when he’d just started in the academy and she was training to become a teacher. If you’d asked a young Carl Hanratty if he’d believed in love at first sight he would have laughed in your face but that was before he saw her, all red hair and green eyes, she was beautiful. It had taken him weeks to get up the courage to ask her on a date and was overjoyed when she agreed. They married less than a year later just at the time he got his job in at FBI. Those first few years were so good, he had someone to come to, someone to love but they’d had no children. There’d been no time, they were so busy and before he knew it he was going days without seeing her, too many late nights at the office. Then without him noticing she was gone, he came home one night and the house was empty, a letter on the kitchen table. She couldn’t do it anymore, the job always came before her and she couldn’t take it. She still loved him but it was obvious he no longer loved her.

That had been years ago and he’d never tried to find anyone else, no one would be able to compare. But he didn’t say any of that, he didn’t want to make things worse. It was Christmas after all.

“Because I’ve got a job to do,” Hanratty replied.

“Even at Christmas?” Frank said, he sounded surprised. Like it was him Hanratty that was the one to feel sorry for in all this not the kid all alone.

“Yes, even at Christmas but it’s not so bad. It beats eating brussel sprouts that’s for sure.”

Frank sniffed and coughed weakly, it sounded like he was still crying and Hanratty wished there was something he could do. He thought about trying to get in contact with Frank’s parents, he probably had their information somewhere but that would break all the rules. He couldn’t help Frank, not really hell he shouldn’t even be talking to him. He still had a job to do and that job was to bring Frank in for his crimes, not help him escape again. No, they’d have to make do with what they had.

“My mom makes the best Christmas dinner, potatoes piled so high you can barely see across the table. Homemade cranberry sauce, rich onion stuffing and then there’s the turkey…”

Frank’s voice cracked and he coughed, they sounded like they were ripping at his throat as they dragged the gunk from his lungs. He really was sick and though neither of them wanted to alone Hanratty knew the best place for the kid was bed.

“Stop it kid, you’re making me hungry. My mom always did brussel sprouts and they smelled horrible, they stunk up the place and every year we were forced to eat them.”

“Sounds awful,” Frank said.

“It wasn’t that bad, though even now I can’t smell cabbages without getting flashbacks.”

Frank chuckled before snapping away from the phone in three violent sneezes, each sounding harsher than the last.

“You okay?” Hanratty asked, trying to hide the concern from his voice. He didn’t want to be concerned about the boy, there was a line he’d tried not to cross but he just sounded so miserable.

“That hurt,” Frank croaked.

“Frank, do you think it’s time you went to bed? You need rest.”

Frank sniffed and struggled to clear his throat, his next words were nothing short of a whisper.

“Don’t want to leave you alone.”

Hanratty’s heart clenched, it wasn’t the reply he was expecting. He had been fighting so hard not to care too much for the kid, to keep it somewhat professional he hadn’t even thought that maybe, in that moment he was closest thing Frank had to family, and that he cared.

“I’m okay, I’ve been doing this a long time. You on the other hand sound like you’re about to drop dead, so go to bed. I won’t get the satisfaction if I can’t bring you in alive.”

Frank laughed a little, a cough escaping at the end.

“Carl?”

“Yes Frank?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas kid, see you in the New Year.”

“I hope not.”

Hanratty laughed and thought about wishing him well but the dial tone was in his ear. Frank had gone, hopefully to bed where he’d sleep off whatever bug he’d picked up and would be back to his crimes in no time. Out the window the sun had started to rise, Christmas had truly arrived but still Hanratty didn’t leave his desk. Just in case the phone rang, not that he cared or anything.

#Sickfic #catch me if you can #coughing #fever #sneezfic #my writing

8 notes · View notes