#never caught without a cigarette obsessed with kissing and never shuts up

[lovebugism]

Hi!! I an so obsessed with your writing and characterization. Congrats on one year!! Can i request something for Steve?

Prompt:”i didnt realise we still weren't..."

Where someone asks reader and Steve how long theyve been together, Steve thinks theyd been dating this whole time, reader is confused cause Steve never asked her! Best friends to lovers and theyre both a little clueless. Thank you!!

i changed up the prompt a bit but i hope you like it :D — jim and joyce force you and steve to have an important talk about your relationship (established relationship-ish, also best friends to lovers-ish, fluff, 0.9k)

“Does it feel any better now?” Steve asks, cuddled next to you on the porch swing outside the Byers’ home. He’s been wearing the same worried glint in his honey eyes since the sun went down — when he tried to give you a piggyback ride and then slipped in the mud. He broke your fall for the most part, but your ankle got caught underneath him.

You nod, then grimace when you try to twist your foot. “Sorta…” you shrug.

“Have I said I’m sorry yet?” he jokes with a scrunch to the bridge of his chiseled nose.

“Only a billion times.”

“Well, I’m gonna make it a billion and one now. ‘Cause I’m sorry.”

“I’ve already said it’s okay,” you assure with a giggle, leaning over to knock your shoulder against his. “It doesn’t even feel that bad anymore. I swear.”

“I’ll kiss it better when we get home,” he offers, just to make you get all shy. His soft smirk widens to a fuller beam when his ploy works. “I mean, you are staying over tonight, right?”

“Of course,” you shrug. “How else are you gonna kiss my sprained ankle better?”

“Touché.”

He leans in for a kiss. The tip of his nose just barely grazes the side of yours when the screen door shrieks open. The Talking Heads playing from inside grows suddenly louder, then muffles again when the door shuts. Jim and Joyce stumble out together — eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, obviously not totally sober.

The woman pops a cigarette between her pink lips. Hopper lights it for her. “You know… I’ve already booked the reservation for Enzo’s,” he tells her lowly. His back faces the two of you, totally unaware of your presence and blocking any view of you.

“Oh,” she hums sarcastically, blowing smoke from her lungs. “Is that right?”

“Yep. So either I sit there all alone with my chee-anty, or you come and keep me company,” Jim lilts in a quiet, honeyed tone. “And if that doesn’t sound like a good time, then maybe the bottomless breadsticks will win you over.”

Steve leans against your shoulder. His mouth rests outside your ear. “Do you think they know we’re out here?” he asks.

You raise a silent hand with a pointed finger, shushing him without saying a word.

Joyce giggles like a teenage girl. “Look. I don’t even know if I like you,” she teases.

“But you’re thinking about it, right?” Hopper wonders, with all the hope of a schoolboy asking out a girl way out of his league. “‘Cause you should.”

Steve shifts. The porch swing squeaks. Both parents turn to face you, features softly agape. Jim blinks once. “You guys been sittin’ there the whole time?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“Enough to hear you groveling,” you answer.

“Alright…” he grumbles half-heartedly.

“The bottomless breadsticks are actually pretty good, Joyce,” Steve chirps obliviously, smiling wide and flitting his eyes between the two standing across the porch. “But, you know, if she doesn’t wanna go with you, Chief, I’m always available—”

“Okay, let’s go around back,” Hop announces, guiding Joyce down the steps with a hand curled gently around her elbow. The woman giggles when you whistle suggestively at them. Jim shouts at you over his shoulder. “Watch it! And ice that ankle when you get home!”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Harrington, don’t let her walk on it,” the man sighs, already exasperated. “Be a gentleman, alright? Give your girl a day’s bed rest, dote on her or whatever—”

“Oh, we’re not— I’m not his girlfriend,” you correct with a forced laugh.

Your words seem to take Steve by surprise. He flashes you a look, scruff features swirled with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re not dating, Steve.”

He scoffs an awkward laugh, brows pinching. “You’re joking, right?”

“Well, this is awkward,” Jim mumbles, grateful he’s not the butt of the joke for once.

Joyce slaps his arm. “Hop.”

“We’re gonna go,” the man announces, heading towards the backyard. “Have fun with… this.”

Steve waits until they’re gone to face you fully. He turns on the swing until his knee brushes the outside of your own. The hurt puppy expression on his face hasn’t quite ebbed. “You don’t think we’re dating?”

“You do?” you retort.

“Yes!” Steve shouts, talking wildly with his hands. “Our first date was at Enzo’s! I brought you flowers and everything!”

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend, Steve—”

“I thought it was implied!”

“—I thought you didn’t wanna be, like, official with me or something!”

Steve goes suddenly silent. His chest starts to ache like there’s a fire rising behind his ribcage. He swallows hard. “Have you been… Have you been seeing other people?”

“No!” you answer instantly, face twisted in abhorrence of the thought. “Of course not!”

“Okay. Good,” he nods, raking a hand through his wild hair and settling again. “‘Cause I haven’t either, so… We’ve basically been dating this whole time.”

You meet his smile with a playful glower. “You still shouldn’t asked me, though.”

“Well, I’m asking you now,” he announces and wraps an arm around your shoulder. He leans in until you can smell the birthday cake and soda on his breath. You don’t notice until now that your lipstick is smeared on his mouth. “Do you wanna be girlfriend-boyfriend with me?”

You purse your lips to the side with a playful hum. “Mm. I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

[haveyouanytime]

obsessed with ur rust domestic blurb we need more of that vibe

another blurb for old dog rust :3 | cw: implied age gap (reader 18+), smoking cigarettes, literally all about cigarettes, very short :( and not proofread ... living life on the edge

Rust hated that you smoked. It was a social habit you formed back in high school from sneaking out during lunch, wanting to be cool with the other kids that dreamed of leaving Alaska right out of graduation. However, once you got into a relationship with Rust, smoking became almost a constant thing. 

It started off with sharing cigarettes. You’d go out with him for dinner, finding yourself outside and leaning against the brick wall with the Louisiana air murkily settling over you. You’d look up at Rust as he lit his cigarette, watching with a doe-eyed look as if he had put the moon in the sky. He took a deep puff, exhaling with a quiet groan and pushing the plume of smoke out into the muggy air. 

“Can I have some?” You softly ask, your smaller hand reaching out for it. With a chuckle and a small shrug, he hands you the cigarette. 

You take a drag like how your friends taught you in high school, but the accidental tolerance break made the tickle of the strong nicotine too much to handle. You coughed out, your eyes scrunching shut with the unfamiliar tickle in the back of your throat. 

You hear Rust chuckle, his hand moving to rub a circle onto your back. “Not too much now, baby.” You cough, still holding the cigarette as your other hand moves to push at his chest to wordlessly tell him not to laugh. 

Then, you started smoking by yourself. Rust had forgotten his cigarettes at home during one of his shifts at the bar, and your curiosity got the best of you. You coughed again but slowly worked past it, thinking of seventeen-year-old you who could smoke two without even coughing. As it finished, a strange sense of accomplishment came over you, and you didn’t mind it too bad. 

He noticed you’d started to smoke more often, and he felt like he had corrupted you in some way. That guilt had always been a small manifestation deep within him, starting just as your older boyfriend in Alaska. Now he had taken you all the way to Louisiana and got you fixed on cigarettes. 

“You should quit.” He grunts one night, watching as you roll over in bed. The covers hid your exposed body as you grabbed your pack from your nightstand. 

“You first.” You answer, lighting the cigarette with his own that dangled between his own lips. He could admit he hated that he got you to start smoking, but nothing sparked fire in his loins like when you’d lean in, kissing the tips of your cigarettes together to light them. 

After your own budding addiction, Rust became notorious for stealing your cigarettes. The pack in your purse would disappear, and you’d see Rust with a new pack despite never taking the time to stop by the store. Even if you tied your ribbons around them or hid them in your nightstand drawer, you’d find them in the pockets of Rust’s jeans. 

What frustrated you the most, however, was the one’s he’d steal straight from your lips. 

You’d be lounging at home, slowly and carefully applying a bold red to your fingernails. You were taking drags with the cigarette that sat between your lips, the TV playing an old sitcom as background noise. Suddenly, long fingers would appear in your eyesight, snatching the cigarette from between your lips.

“Hey!” You whine, turning to look at him as he stands behind the couch. With a smirk, he looks down at you, taking a long drag of the cigarette he thieved from your own mouth. 

“That has my lipstick on it.” You pout, pointing at the ring of red on the cigarette where Rust’s lips pursed. 

“Baby, I’ve had your lipstick on more parts of me than I can tell.” He drawled back with a raise of his brow. He took a drag of the cigarette, chuckling as he caught the pillow you threw at him.

[villain-life]

The mean hero

Cw: blood, slightly spicy

• Inspired by a prompt i found somewhere (can’t remember whose, but credit to them)

The villain was ready: they wore a leather jacket, guns were hidden in their pants, knives in their pockets, a cigarette in their mouth. That’s exactly how the criminal was going to enter a big room, full of people that would have been killed by them minutes later. The people were a bunch of powerful heroes that were imprisoned by their team, all of them had special strengths. That’s why, the villain thought that maybe closing them in a room without any food or water or light for a day would have helped making them weaker. At the end, where would have been the fun in killing without hurting them before?

They opened the door slowly, the cigarette still in their mouth.

“Hi little heroes, are you ready to make my evening fun?” Said the villain with a smirk on their face, before turning the lights on. Unfortunately when they did, their cigarette fell from their lips. Something unexpected was in front of them. All the heroes were already dead, blood was everywhere, the silence was deafening.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

The villain laughed, when they heard an heavy breath, coming from behind the sofa.

“I always knew you weren’t that innocent, darling, but why stealing my hostages? They were mine.”

The hero was there, hiding their face with their hands, covered in blood. They were trying to accept what had just happened.

“W-well, you think that just because you caught them they’re yours? I’m better than you at hurting people, and those heroes deserved to die anyways.” Said confidently the hero, looking at their nemesis. Guilt was hidden in their voice.

Villain was shocked.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I would have never imagined to hear you say such things! Are you finally accepting that being a hero is not funny enough and that you should be a villain?”

The hero rolled their eyes. “No dumbass, i killed them because they tried to steal from my agency. They’re powerful, but stealing important informations is not very heroic.”

Then, the hero stood up and went near the bodies, trying to clean the blood on the floor.

“You know what? I like this side of you.” Admitted the villain, looking at their nemesis. They were very hot, especially with the blood all over their face.

“Shut up, you know i could kill you too if i wanted.”

“Well, then do it. It would be such a hot scene to live.” Said the villain, licking their lips. They were very close to the hero, their eyes stuck on the other’s lips.

“Ugh, you’re so- i’ll kill you, not in a hot romantic way though!” Answered the hero, blushing a bit even if they tried to hide it. “You know i could do it, i killed this people. I also have plenty of weapons here and-”

“Oh my sweet little hero…you’re becoming such a baddie.” Whispered the villain, close to their mouth. “I have a bad influence on you.” After saying that, they kissed the hero gently. Just a soft little kiss. “You’ll be mine one day, don’t worry about that.”

“Y-yours? I just said i want to kill you.” Said the hero confused, blushing even more.

“Your mind said that, your body thinks something else.”

The hero felt completely exposed, Especially when they bear the touch of the villain on their skin. Not even the blood could stop the villain from being obsessed with them.

• please, send me requests! I need a few ideas for new snippets. thanks for reading 💗 i wanted to make this snippet sad/comfort… LOL. i also wanted to make it longer and a bit better-😭

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

_____________________________________________________________

You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

[markosmate]

Could you do one where the boys (poly or David) girl gets insecure after seeing other girls fawn over the boys so she try’s to dodge the boys thinking they’d be happier with someone else- also your writings are quickly becoming some of my favorites of the lost boys ff writers 💛💛💛

aww thank you so much!! that means so much to me and of course,, this is a really cute idea so i had fun writing this one. i chose to do poly, if you want me to write another one that’s just david i'd be happy to :) - 🧚🏻

cinnamon

pairing; poly!lost boys x reader

warnings; self doubt, insecurities

The first thing you noticed about the boys was how well they were dressed. Despite all of their outfits consisting in relatively dark colors, they all seemed to have their own little aesthetics that fit their personalities well. The second thing you noticed, was how they either seemed to completely deflect people, or draw them in like bees to honey. No in between. You felt drawn to them almost immediately, their punk yet boyish vibes rubbing off on you the perfect way immediately.

But after realizing how many girls flocked to them on the nightly, you refused to give into the butterflies in your stomach when you locked eyes with one of them for the first time. Instead, you turned on your heel and began making your way in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long for them to get you wrapped around their finger, almost like you got hooked on their line and they were pulling you in quicker than ever before.

You fell for each of them, hard, and in turn, they fell for you. After many conversations among the four of them, they decided to break both the news of what they were, and their plan of sharing you, in one night. You were honestly more shocked at their confession of feelings than you were about their apparent bat side.

Of course you were a little horrified at first. What do you mean your sweet boys drained people of their blood every night to survive? You didn’t quite believe either thing they were telling you until David flashed his face at you, yellow eyes and fangs galore. You stared at him for a good long while, taking it all in before the second confession hit you like a truck.

"You’re saying all four of you have feelings for me? Like, feelings feelings?" Your jaw dropped, looking each one in the eyes as they all nodded at you with cocky smirks on their faces. Except Dwayne, he was kinda sympathetic about dumping that all on you at once, you know - he’s a nice guy when he’s not killing people to survive. "Dwayne kills people?" That earned you a round of laughter that cooled the tension in the air.

That night, you let your walls down. After all, you could deal with a few girls flirting with them every few nights. Now that they were all with you, they'd surely turn down the flirting and make sure the girls knew they weren’t interested right? Wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

In fact, it almost seemed like they were doing the exact opposite. Dwayne and David were about the same, they never used seduction to lure in victims. They had always preferred to use stealth and intimidation. Paul, on the other hand?

Suddenly he didn’t know how to hunt without cat-calling three girls in the process.

It angered you to no end. But at the same time, it also dug up many self-doubting thoughts that seemed to ring around your head every time he or Marko did it. Would the boys be happier with someone else? One of those girls who constantly fawned over their every move, practically obsessed with your four boys? You didn’t know, and after a while of that insecurity building, you decided you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Your distancing started out small. Not showing up at the boardwalk for a night here and there without telling them you weren't going to be able to make it, cancelling plans of going back to the cave with them to sleep there for the day. They noticed immediately, obviously, but they couldn’t for the life of them figure out why you were suddenly acting this way. And the night that they planned to ask you about what was wrong, you didn’t show up to the boardwalk. Nor did you didn’t show up to their meeting spot the next night either, or the night after that. On the fourth day of you not showing up, the boys were all practically ripping the hair out of their heads.

"I’m going crazy here, man! Why can’t we just go check on her?" Marko groaned, thumping his fingers on the handle of his bike.

"Because." David answered curtly, breathing in deep around the butt of his cigarette.

"Because?" Paul cried out, looking at his leader with an exasperated expression. "Something could be wrong with her and you’re just saying 'because'?"

"He’s letting his pride get in the way." Dwayne huffed out, taking a sip from his milkshake. "He wants her to come to us, not the other way around."

"This is ridiculous. I’m going to her man." Paul grunted, starting up his bike before revving the engine for extra effect.

"Right on, dude." The shorter blond mumbled under his breath, following the former's actions.

"I told you we need to wait." David narrowed his eyes at the two offending vampires.

"No, man. They have a point. Something's wrong." Dwayne defended the other two's protests. "She’s been distancing herself lately and suddenly she’s not showing up to be with us anymore?"

"Obviously we did something." Marko threw in. "She wouldn’t just stop talking to us if we hadn't done anything."

"She’s not like that, man." Paul concluded as they all stared directly at David knowing that he had to give in now.

"Alright. Let’s go." The grins on his three boys' face was infectious, and he had to hide his own to avoid the teasing that was sure to come if they were to notice it.

The four revved their bikes and were off to your house, arriving in a record-breaking four minutes. They parked their bikes down the street as to not raise suspicion from your parents and quietly made their way around the back of the house towards your window.

Paul took the opportunity to pick up a few small pebbles along the way, before tossing them gently up to your window.

After a few short moments, your face appeared to them as you pulled your curtains back.

Your eyes caught Dwayne's first as you stared down into the yard, trying to make out their shapes in the dark. You unlocked the window and threw it upwards, much harsher than you should’ve considering your parents were still very much asleep. "What are you doing here?" You hissed down to them after poking your head out of the opening in the window.

"Whoa, babe." Marko tried to calm you. "We’re your boyfriends, why aren’t we allowed to visit you?"

You glared at him before turning to gaze at each of them individually. "Please leave." You mumbled calmly. "I don’t want to see you guys right now."

"Babe?" Paul called up, voice cracking the tiniest bit. "What’s going on? Can we please come up?"

You frowned. You were doing this so that they could find someone else that they would be happier with, not to hurt them. Your eyes softened as you made eye contact with each of them once more, eyes locking with David's at last. "Come on up." You sighed, stepping away from the window and plopping down on your bed. A huge gust of wind came blowing through your room, pushing your curtains out of the way and rustling your hair as all four of your boys managed to stumble through your small window.

You reached over towards your headboard and grabbed the nearest pillow you could to hug to your chest. Immediately Paul threw himself on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body to hold you against him. David moved to lean back against your closet door. Dwayne stayed near the window, moving to sit against the sill as Marko just kind of fumbled about awkwardly in the middle, not quite knowing where to go.

"You guys have never been in here before." You muttered, trying to divert the conversation that you knew they would want to address immediately. "Just outside to pick me up."

David rolled his eyes at your stalling tactics, pushing himself off the closet door to walk over to you. He leaned down, slipping a finger under your chin to bring your head up to face him. "What’s going on kitten?"

You sighed, not knowing how to put it without sounding desperate or clingy. You opted to lean back against Paul's chest as he shifted to sit with a leg on either side of you. "I wanted to distance myself from you guys-"

"Why?" Paul and Marko blurted out before you could finish your sentence. Paul seemed hurt while Marko just seemed offended that you would lead them on only to ditch.

"She was trying to tell us, shut up." David shushed them both.

"I just- I thought that maybe if you guys didn’t have me holding you back... you could find a nice girl that you really like who makes you more happy than I do." You whispered, holding on tightly to the blond's wrist that were wrapped around your waist.

"Baby, why would you think that?" Dwayne cooed, moving to sit beside you and Paul as Marko and David visibly deflated at your confession.

"I don’t know... I guess I just- I just got kind of upset seeing all the girls that flock to you guys night after night. And then seeing Marko and Paul flirt back with them, even more than you guys did before we all started dating, it just kinda sealed it for me. I just... felt like you guys were better off before we started dating." You explained almost all in one breath. Paul buried his face in your neck as Marko moved to sit on the other side of you. David kneed onto one knee and cupped your face to encourage your eyes to meet his own.

"Doll, we want you. That’s why we chose you. We don’t want them. We want you baby." He whispered, scanning your face to try and read what emotion you were feeling.

"And I’m just dumb, babe. You know I never mean it when I flirt with them. They’re just meals, you’re everything to me." Paul pouted, pressing a flurry of kisses to your neck and shoulder. "If I had known that it bothered you that much, I would have stopped right when you said the word."

"Yeah, baby doll. We won’t do it anymore, promise. They could never compare to you." Marko grinned at you, leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, your smile was already beginning to return to your lips.

David grinned at you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "All you had to do was tell us, kitten. You didn’t have to put yourself through all this self-doubt. We’re yours."

You smiled softly at him, leaning into his gloved hand. "I love you guys."

That night, three of your boys fell asleep curled against each other at the foot of the bed. You slipped out of Paul's arms, causing him to toss and turn until he found Marko's body to pull into his own. You crawled up the bed towards the headboard where Dwayne was leaned back against a bunch of your stuffed animals. He gathered you tightly in his arms as you curled up against his side.

"Go to sleep." He whispered into your hair. "I'll wake you up before me and the boys leave to say goodbye." You knew he wouldn't, but it made you smile anyway. You tried to keep your eyes open, trying to make the moment last as long as possible as you knew they would all have to leave in a few hours before the sun rose but you couldn’t deny how comfy it was to sleep against Dwayne. You fell asleep to the sensation of him pressing kisses to the crown of you head in rhythm you couldn’t pick up on.

"My cinnamon." He whispered just as you finally drifted off. "How could you ever doubt the love we have for you?"

Quick AN:// you’re LYING to yourself in you try to say the image of david curled up with marko and paul doesn’t sound like the absolute cutest!! okay i’m done hehe, i have three more requests to work on so i need to get started on those,, bye y’all mwah <33

[mothandpidgeon]

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @silverwolf319 @killermonkeys45 @velia27 @anxiousandboujee @amneris21 @green-socks @pedro4ever @pedrocentric @kesskirata

[kiranogareru]

What She Loved Most

WARNING: Death, blood

A/n: Gender neutral reader in this one

Also when I post a request I've been working on, I'm closing requests for good (probably, idk I might change my mind and re-open them one day)

Y/n was getting annoyed from all the drunk people, the stench of cigarettes and the heavy smell of flowery perfumes mixed with colonges!

This fancy party altogether had become insufferable, making Y/n question why they even attended in the first place..but of course appearances are important when you're new in the hero scene!

'Tch! Appearances, status..like all you fuckers have nothing to hide!'

Y/n got up from the couch, making their way to the balcony, to get away for a bit

Everything felt so loud and they felt out of place!

When they finally managed to walk through the dance floor, filled with drunk, swaying bodies, they noticed that a man, around their age, was also out there!

Y/n sighed, while leaning onto the marble covered surface, preventing them from a fall, and took a sip from the stong, orange liquor in their glass!

From their peripheral vision, they could see the man downing his own drink

"Bad day?" Y/n asked the rather attractive man, nonchalantly

"More like, bad life" He bluntly responded

He came closer to where Y/n was standing

They started talking, getting to know each other a little, just to realize that they hadn't shared an important detail...their names!

"I'm Katsuki by the way" He gave a smirk full of pride

"I'm Y/n! Dynamite right? I've heard a lot about you!" They smiled while scanning his appearance

He looked ravishing in a suit!

His shirt defining every muscle that he's worked so hard to build!

Of course being the fiery person he is, Bakugou wasn't wearing a tie and had left a few buttons open

His wild ash blonde hair, was styled in spikes as usual

'Hmm he looks like he doesn't give a fuck..I like him'

"So, did you come here alone?" Y/n asked him, getting curious

"They look fun" Y/n snickered while watching them

"I came alone, but they came with me?" He rolled his eyes and gestured at a group of young heroes

A red head had hardened his whole body and was getting zapped by an electric blonde, while a raven haired guy was trying to stop them, getting electrocuted in the process and making a beautiful pink woman burst into laughter!

"I guess. Who did you come with?" Bakugou's gaze returned on Y/n

"No one" They simply said, getting a nod of understanding from him

"Do you have a partner?" Bakugou asked casually

"Normally I work alone" Y/n took a gulp of their glass

"I'm asking if you're single dumbass!" He chuckled in amusement, his eyes trailing along their form

"Hm? Bold of you to assume anyone likes me!" Y/n laughed it off

"What about you?"

"Do I look like I have time for that shit?Besides..my last girlfriend died" He said bluntly, gazing at the view in front of him

"I- I'm sorry I didn't mean-" Y/n's words were cut short by Bakugou

"No, it's ok. I don't mind.." He assured "I had to talk about it to the media a lot, I'm used to it!"

"May I ask how?" Y/n asked him, a bit unsure if they had crossed some kind of line and upset him

Y/n turned to look at him, for any type of reactions or response..

"A villian" He replied, turning his head so that he can look at them, causing an intense moment of eye contact

"Oh..was she killed on duty?" Y/n questioned, feeling rather dumb, since the answer seemed pretty obvious

"Yeah, she was killed by what she loved most!" He said, turning his attention back to the view

"She must have been a great hero"

*After the party*

The duo ended up walking down the street, enjoying a stroll without needing to patrol for once!

They kept on walking under the dim streetlights, taking in the strong smell of the fresh, night air. Until...

"Huh, what was that?" Bakugou said, stopping dead in his tracks and staring into a dark alleyway

"I didn't hear anything, but let's be on our guard" Y/n said, following his actions

"C'mon, this way!" He told Y/n, taking their hand and leading the way

They went in the alley, stopping at the end of it, which actually was a dead-end?

"What are we doing here?" They questioned him, feeling uneasy and wary of this situation

"Don't worry...I'd say that I won't hurt you, but that would be a lie!" His voice was low and the way he towered over Y/n was intimidating

Bakugou pulled them in front of himself, bringing his hands up to their neck and wrapping them around it tightly!

"You know...you remind me of her!" He whispered, looking at them in adoration

Y/n's eyes widened, stomach dropping, heart sinking, all in fear for their life!

'Move! Do something! Use your quirk dammit!' They told themself, but it felt as if the shock had paralyzed them

"Don't even think about activating it, I'll blow your ass sky high" He threatened with a growl

Of course what they didn't know was that he was bluffing!

Bakugou is smart and strategic, he knew that activating his quirk would only bring attention to him and he'd be found out!

Besides he'd figured out a way to avoid all suspension..

He detached one hand from them, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a knife that resembled Toga's, slowly dragging the end of it up the side of Y/n's neck, then along their jaw halting just bellow their chin!

"You have that look in your eyes..the same exact look she had when she was in your position!" He smiled

"You lied" Y/n managed to breath out

"No, no. I did not lie, baby!" Was he really so much into this, that he saw them as his previous partner?

"I told you she was killed by what she loved most. You assumed I meant heroics, but..I'm what she loved most, she was addicted to my love!" He told them, while the grin on his face widened

"You're the villian!" Y/n's eyes sank in realisation

"NO! She was!" His grip tightened and the blade grazed Y/n's skin

"I thought she was as obsessed with me as I was with her, that she loved me as much as I loved her!" He leaned his forehead on mine, blade still in place

"But she betrayed me! All she wanted was intel!" He closed his eyes, while still in their face, as if he was savoring the moment

"I had clear orders to kill her and when I did..it felt so good! That way she would never hurt me again, she couldn't lie to me anymore, she couldn't use me!" He pulled away from Y/n, staring in their soul

"But you see..her plan failed and I caught her!" He smiled once more

"She attacked and when she saw it was me, she hasitated..but-" His face twisted into a psychotic grin and he laughed

"Something is missing" He said, slightly tilting his head, while frowning

"You should have seen her face! The fear in her beautiful eyes, the surprise written on her face, as if to say she would never expect me to do that! I could almost hear her rapid heartbeat"

The way he spoke about these terrifying things was laced in adoration and love!

Y/n could have sworn the blood had frozen in their veins

"You're sanity! That's what's missing!" Y/n spat

"Hah, you're even acting the same! It's that day all over again!" He sounded so excited, it was disturbing

"Say you love me" He demanded, voice stern, with an ice cold glare to match it

"No" As soon as the word escaped Y/n's lips, Bakugou's hand heated up on their skin

"Tell me you fucking love me!" He commanded once more, hand tightening it's grip on their neck

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, subconsciously, at the sudden action!

"I-I love you" They choked out in a whimper

"I love you too baby" He whispered

"Please, don't kill me!" They begged

"I'll kill you as many times as I need to baby! Until there's no trace of you left!" He mused, withdrawing the blade from their skin, leaving a kiss at the spot

He stabbed Y/n right through their heart! Blood trailing from the wound like a river and some spilling from their mouth!

He slid the hand that was on Y/n's neck, to their mouth, getting blood all over it!

He put his bloodied hand on his shirt, right where his heart is, and smeared it, staining his clothes with their blood!

Y/n could feel their soul being drained from them, trying to claw it's way out of their body!

Bakugou twisted the blade, before pulling it out, letting their body hit the ground and a pool of blood to form around it!

The last thing he did, was look at their lifeless self, satisfied with his work!

Even if Y/n was found, the heroes would think this was the work of the league!

"My love" He looked up at the sky "I hate you! I'll see you in the next one" He laughed

Bakugou took off, quietly making his way to his residence, carefully dodging any heroes on patrol!

[prose-for-hire]

All I want for Christmas is you

[This is a (late) part of my 12 Days of Chirstmas fics]

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request: Hi! A spike request angst for the holiday collection. Where spike and the reader get into a massive fight and he says some really hurtful things. So its really awkward leading into Christmas and the reader considers leaving him. But then spike gives the reader a present on Christmas like a sorry present that changes her mind :)

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Spike and reader fight and say mean things. Swearing. Very light sex references.

A/N: I use the ambiguous phrase ‘jewellery’ rather than explaining what the object is because it’s a reader insert and some people like certain items and some people don’t like any jewellery (blame Buffy and Dawn sorry)

You and Spike loved each other, you knew this. But you and Spike also argued. All the time. You had broken up and got back together more times than you could count. It was a ‘can’t live with him, can’t live without him’ situation. And you were just going in circles.

This particular time, finds you and Spike finishing decorating the crypt. It had been fun, by all accounts. You had even got a tree. He had managed to distract you a lot, making an hour’s task lasting the entire day.

When you were loved up, it was bliss. It was fierce passion. Often languid and sensual. Even giddy and fun at times.

He hugged you from behind, closing his eyes as he inhaled, kissing the back of your head. His hands started to wander from your hips and you closed your eyes in delight. Pressed against him felt so right.

“Did you hear that?” You said, your eyes snapping open. It was bells. Little, twinkling Christmas bells. It was eerie, not cheery. You hadn’t bought any bells.

Spike groaned in frustration and looked around as if you had gone mad. You were always doing this. Driving him wild. Teasing him so.

“What in the buggering hell are you goin’ on about?”

“There’s something…” You said cryptically as you looked around, which irritated him to no end.

“It’s nothing, just- come here”

“Spike! Why don’t you listen to me?” You pouted slightly, hoping it was entice him to take you seriously, check if there was a threat. But it did the opposite.

“Oh, right, and what’s your plan then? Why don’t we scream and run away. That’s about the form of your fighting skills anyhow ain’t it?”

“Just shut up – it’s Christmas” You snapped, looking at him as if he needed to drop it. But this just irritated him, as if you were chastising him. Like he was someone you could control. Emasculate.

“Poor little y/n, making things up for a scrap of attention again” He stuck his lower lip out and tilted his head to the side, in a way that nobody would describe anything other than patronisingly, “You don’t know who you are, not without me” He added the end after a pause.

“You’re the one that followed me around for months on end before I agreed to date you!” You bit back. This is where everything tended to go south. Fast.

“Yeah? Well we’re only together after last time ‘cause I took pity on you and took you back – saw how I left you wantin’ thought we might as well. You’re attractive at least” He leaned in and took your chin, moving you to face him as he insulted you. You held back tears. He was supposed to love you, why was he always so mean?

“Fuck you, Spike!” You shouted, grabbing his wrist and moving him from touching you before adding, “You’re such a self-assured pig!”

“Yeah, you love it” He purred.

“I hate you”

“No, you don’t” He stated. Before dragging his voice out almost sing-song like but in a humourless way, “You want me. You need me” He bit his lip, moving closer and closer, making you shiver. He was trying to charm you into submission. Again.

Well, it wouldn’t work… not this time anyway.

“You’re the one that wouldn’t leave Buffy’s doorstep until I came back with you! You’re obsessive! You’re a slave to love, no - to pain, Spike!” You stated, moving away from where he had started to back you against the wall.

“Slave to you” He offered, that look in his eye. Offering to forget about it, although he had been the one that had been cruel. His look offering making up. In bed, wherever you wanted. He would even apologise if it meant you wouldn’t leave him again. But you were still mad, still angry at the way he spoke to you.

His look almost made you back down, he was hard to resist. You were addicted to each other. Even when you were fighting it could switch to sex so easily. To hot passion.

But not today.

“No. You’re not. You don’t want me. You want drama, a fight. I’m sick of it! Forget it” You shouted, continuing, “I mean it this time, Spike! We’re done!”

“Love, you don’t mean that – we’re-”

“Finished!” You ended his sentence for him, “Get out!”

“No- I’m the one with my name above the door, you don’t bloody pay the rent” He said, backing away from you as you had that look in your eye. You could be downright vindictive.

“Neither do you - it’s a crypt, you don’t pay shit!”

“You wouldn’t throw your fella out just before Christmas, would you, love?” He tried as you had walked him out of the front door, throwing his leather duster at him. He caught it in a ball and clutched it to his chest.

He sighed exaggeratedly. He really didn’t want to have to rough it somewhere, exposing himself to possible sunlight. He wanted you again. He cursed himself. Wished he had just kept his mouth shut.

But you weren’t so innocent. If he hadn’t created an argument, you would have done. It had been in the air. Building up over weeks.

“Bloody women!” He screamed at the door you had unceremoniously slammed in his face. He heard you slide the bolt across the door and he kicked it for good measure, howling in pain and hobbling away.

To add insult to injury, as he stalked through the streets trying to find a suitable crypt it had started to snow. The first bloody snow here in centuries and he had been caught up in it. It couldn’t get any worse.

Shit. Why did he have to think that? He rounded the corner and almost ran straight into the Slayer. He had been dragging his feet, kicking a stone until he looked up and saw her.

“There a reason you’re terrorising the sidewalk, Spike?”

“None of your business”

“Y/n’s kicked you out again hasn’t she?” Buffy’s face lit up as his face gave away she had guessed correctly.

She enjoyed seeing him like this. She was your best friend and she thought (no, knew) that you were too good for him. She told you all the time. But you were both too swept up in the animal attraction. In the possessive, heated entanglement you couldn’t escape if you wanted to.

“Betty the do-good…-er” Spike floundered. It wasn’t his best line. He was ridiculously sad. Mourning the loss of his relationship with you again. He craved you, he wept for you. There was a deep aching in his chest the further he walked from the crypt. The further he walked from you.

“That was tragic. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you were bad” Buffy said, not able to hide the smile at her own joke.

“Yeah, well, just lost the love of my un-life here. Give a bloke a break” He snapped, sniffing and trying to wipe his eye on his sleeve subtly. Buffy rolled her eyes but for some reason, before she went over to the crypt to collect you and the overnight bag you had packed and re-packed more than you can count, she turned back to him.

“You know she feels the same. Maybe it’s time to let go, Spike. Or buy jewellery. I hear girls like jewellery” Buffy shrugged.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know” He muttered, luckily she didn’t hear it or she would have spun back and staked him on site. She only hadn’t before the previous interaction because she knew you would never forgive her.

Your relationship was infuriating. And not just to you and Spike. It had a ripple effect, it was a part of your friends lives too. One day you would be shouting and screaming, the next passionately making love on the nearest surface. It was exciting and painful, like whiplash from a rollercoaster. The rollercoaster that was y/n and Spike.

It had been a few days now. You were staying at Buffy’s. She was a good friend to you. No matter how many times you and Spike yo-yo’d between love and hate she was there for you. With as little judgement as she could.

She comforted you while you cried, heartbroken despite Buffy being sure you would manage to find it in your heart to forgive him yet again. You clutched the mug of hot chocolate she had made, complete with marshmallows. She had learnt well from Joyce.

Dawn had slipped you some of her freshly baked sugar-cookies that she had made specially to cheer you up. She had decorated them with little Christmas characters which made you smile at her.

The girl adored your relationship with Spike, whether rightly or wrongly. She looked up to you, wanting to emulate a passionate relationship like that herself when she was older. It was like you were in a romance novel or something.

What you and Buffy didn’t know that since you had moved in, Dawn was Spike’s spy. She was, for the price of $5 and scary stories from his past, she told him all about what you said and how you were feeling. He now knew you were upset, missing him. Wallowing the same as he was. Well, good. But now, he had to make it up to you. He made Dawn help him brainstorm into the night.

She wanted to do it, she was sure it was for a good cause. In the name of true love, obviously.

Spike walked her back to Buffy’s where the Slayer was pacing and you were watching out for her to come home. You were going to give her the heads up that Buffy wasn’t pleased that she had gone awol. The snow had fallen thick now, anything could have happened and Buffy was scared Dawn was hurt.

You saw her then, with him. Your heart rose and your eyes glistened. You watched him trudge beside her, the white glow of the snow lighting up his face, making his cheekbones more prominent. He took a final drag of his cigarette before throwing it away, his eyes finally meeting yours through the window.

You walked to the door and unlocked it, whispering to Dawn that Buffy was gunning for her before turning back to Spike.

“Love…” He started. You just shook your head, you were still hurt.

“Goodbye, Spike” You said pointedly, closing the door on him once more. This time you turned with your back against the door, sliding down it as you started to cry. Dawn worried that it would take more than the Christmas gift they had been planning to win you back as Buffy scooped you up. She suggested that there was plenty of Christmas films you could watch, to take your mind off things. You nodded, leaning against her shoulder debating yourself whether to run after him or not. Buffy decided against any heavy romance-based films as you continued to sniff.

Eventually, Christmas Day came and it was the first that you spent without him in years. You usually made up before. You spent the entire day with a fake smile plastered on your face, not just at the slightly misjudged present from Anya (it was a vibrator, because you were on your own. You opened it in front of Dawn not realising and Buffy had to cover her eyes).

You thought about him the entire day. You ached, pined. You almost braved the thick snow, that you had almost been snowed in by, more than once before one of your friends distracted you with something.

As night fell, you gave up hoping. That was, until, there was a sharp knock at the door. His knock, you knew it. You had slammed the door in his face too many times not to know that knock. You sprinted over there, swinging the door open.

“Spike” You breathed, smiling. You had felt his absence so painfully.

“I know, I’m not stopping, wouldn’t wanna interrupt the touch-feely bollocks I’m sure is in full swing about now” He said and it made you smile, You loved the way he spoke. His accent. The way he phrased everything as if he had crafted it just for your ears.

He handed you a surprisingly well-wrapped gift as you smiled down at it, “It’s- for me? But I didn’t have time to get-”

“You know the only gift you could give me worth anything would be you” He admitted, which was how you felt for him. You didn’t need this, but you knew this was his way of apologising.

You opened the present and gasped, smiling wider. It was jewellery, just the kind you adored with a little gem that sparkled in the moonlight. You looked over at him, how could you ever have doubted him? He did his best by you, he always did. You knew who he was when you had started dating, just as he had known who you were.

“Spike, I’m sorry for how-” You started, but he shook his head, taking your hand.

“This- the way we- it’s not right, I know it” he admitted that the way things were, the bad seemed to take over the good. He lived in hope, though. He was convinced that this time it would be all love, “But I want you, I burn for you – it’s why the gem’s that colour, see? You’re the only one for me, the only one I could ever love through it all” He said it so honestly. So sincerely.

You invited him in after you whispered your own affections, much to everyone else’s chagrin. You showed them the gift and Dawn cheered, telling you she helped. You grinned at her and Spike had to convince Buffy not to stake him again. You both stayed in the living room for a moment, listening to the rest of them talking and just gazing into each other’s eyes.

Then you were kissing. His lips on yours hotly, you had missed this so bad. His lips were made for yours. He drank you in, all of you. Your flaws and your perfections.

He loved your everything. The good and the bad. And you matched his message. He felt it, deepening the kiss. Forgetting where you were for a moment. Until he heard your friends mutter insults at him.

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. All the while, you had barely stopped for breath. You never wanted to part from him again. You were pressed close to him, willing him even closer.

His lips caught any exposed skin on your neck, your jaw as he carried you without word upstairs. You looped one arm around his neck, the other against his jaw so you could catch his lips again with heightened desire.

The others just watched you leave, trying to ignore the way you were all-but grinding against Spike in anticipation. None of them were surprised by the turn of events but they weren’t exactly pleased either.

Buffy, Xander, Willow and Giles all shared a look as you and Spike thudded against the walls as you walked along the corridors upstairs trying to find a room to slip into.

They all wondered how long it would last this time as you gave yourselves a very merry Christmas.

[callmemythicalminx]

Wonderin’ What If - Sam Trapani x Reader

Fandom: Mafia Definitive Edition

Warnings: Mild language, that’s about it. 

Summary: Morello is finally dead and the family are celebrating. You and Sam have been in a relationship for a while now, but he wants to keep it secret to protect you. You expect to celebrate the end of the gang war without your man, but Sam has other ideas...

A/N: Surpise 1! Yayyyyy! I know Paulie is next, but I like to balance out my works between smut and fluff, so here’s a little Sam fic to brighten your day! The other surprise will come a little later...  👀👀👀

Dedicated to: @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lolita-wolfson@mayday1284 @xxsamanthaxx @kneelingforvillains @loutino20@levitate-gengar @dorothynerding ​ @blackbladevika ​ @my-blog-for-me ​ @rammstein-obsession ​ @octorebel @demonsouthere

The atmosphere is positively electric tonight at Salieri’s. It’s a far cry from what it was like this morning when the order was finally made to kill Morello. Everyone was stressed, worried of what was to come, but now there’s smiles all round, booze flowing and music in the air. You and Sarah had got to decorating out back behind the bar as soon as you heard word from your brother Paulie that the job had been finished. In a few short hours, the area had been transformed into a lively party space, ready for a grand celebration. There were fairy lights hanging, creating a cocoon of warmth with the fires lit around the space. There were tables and chairs scattered everywhere, filled with drinks and a banquet of food. 

The whole family is gathered, laughing, dancing and getting drunk. You stand off to the side, leaning against the wall of the garage waiting for Ralphie to come out. When this war started, you promised him a dance if you made it this far, so now you’re all too happy to pay up. He emerges, all smiles, and you beam back at him. You grab his hand and practically drag him to the makeshift dance floor you created earlier, happily laughing when Ralph holds your hands and begins dancing in exaggerated steps. The melody of your happiness joins in chorus with the rest of the family’s joyous celebrations. 

You’re too occupied in your happiness to feel the gaze of the man standing against the wall in the corner, smoking amidst the shadows. The steel grey eyes of the man you adore so much look at you with warmth, a slight crack through his usually stoic expression. You’d blush if you knew he was looking at you in such a way, but as you twirl around the dance floor, your cheeks already bloom red. When you laugh again, the noise echoing through the courtyard, you have no idea just how sweet it sounds in the man’s ears. As he stands there watching you, he wishes he were the one twirling you, making you laugh in front of his family, instead of only in secret back at his apartment. He wants to kiss you in public, hold you close when he walks you home after working late at the bar. If he wasn’t so afraid of losing you, he’d take you into his arms right now and kiss you in front of everyone. 

“You’re drooling Sam.” The man in question whips his head towards the sudden noise, glaring when he sees Paulie standing there smirking. 

“Fuck off Paulie.” He says it with anger in his voice, but his best friend can read him like an open book. He leans closer to Sam, wiggling his eyebrows as he laughs drunkenly. 

“Don’t go acting all defensive now pal! I ain’t blind! I know there’s something goin’ on between you and my sister. For fuck sake, you standing here watching her for the past ten minutes is proof enough.” Sam’s head shoots back, eyeing Paulie with annoyance but he can’t argue- he knows he’s been caught red handed. Instead, he looks down, taking a large puff of his cigarette. 

When a large hand falls roughly onto his shoulder, breaking him from his reverie, Sam looks up to see Paulie leaning against him. 

"I don't mind you being with her if that's what you're worried about. I know she's gonna be well looked after with you." 

He sighs. "Paulie, buddy. You're drunk. You won't rem-" 

"Shhhhh!" Paulie's finger smacks against his best friend's lips, shutting him up while nearly poking him in the eye at the same time. Sam smacks his hand away, but can't help letting a small smile appear at his friend's drunk antics. "She's crazy about you Sam, I can see it in the way she looks at you like your her whole fucking world!" 

Paulie shakes Sam as he speaks, pushing more of his weight onto his friend. The sober of the two grunts from the weight, a small breathless laugh bubbling from his throat. Still though, Sam doesn't say anything. 

Paulie sighs. "I know you're worried about losing her. It's fucking wearing me out too knowing everytime I leave for a job, I might never see my sister again. If she makes you happy though pal," he pats Sam's shoulder gently, " it’s better to love her properly now than spend the rest of your life living in the shadows, wonderin’ what if.”

Sam looks up at you, now sharing a drink and some laughs with Tommy and Sarah. His heart clenches when he sees you look between the couple, your face going sad for a second when you watch them hold each other close. 

"I love her Paulie. It fuckin' scares me how much I care for her." He looks at his friend, clearly showing the battle raging in his eyes. Is he selfish enough to keep their relationship private, just so he can keep from worrying? Or should he show just how much he cares for you in front of everyone, so that you can finally be truly happy? Paulie recognises the pain in his friend’s eyes and clasps Sam around the neck, pulling his face towards his. He shakes his best friend slightly as he grates "Go get her pal. Make my sister happy." The two embrace with one of those manly hugs, slapping each other on the back. 

"Thanks Paulie." He pats him on the shoulder. After a smile of encouragement from him, Sam throws his cigarette to the ground and makes his way towards you. 

---

You're smiling at Tommy and Sarah slowly dancing when you suddenly feel a comforting presence at your back. You look behind you to see those pale grey eyes you love so much looking down at you with an unreadable yet warm expression. 

"Will you dance with me Y/N?" he holds his hand out for you to take. You hesitate at first, trying to figure out what’s going on in his mind, then take his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor. The eyes of everyone seem to follow you, surprised not only that Sam is partaking in the celebration, but that he’s going to dance with you. Even Tommy looks surprised when you both stop beside him. 

Sam gently takes you into his arms, beginning to rock gently. You lay your hands on his shoulder and upper arms, caressing him as discreetly as you can. 

“Sam I-I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are you dancing with me?” You whisper it between you, your voice breathless. The combination of being this close to Sam in general, nevermind in front of your family, is making you feel weak at the knees. You distinctly wonder for a moment where your brother is and what he thinks about this, but then you’re twirling. 

You spin back into Sam’s arms, to find him looking down at you with a small smile. “I wanted to celebrate with my girl.” Your eyes squint in confusion again, but he offers no other response. 

“I want to celebrate with you too. But-but what about keeping us a secret? Everyone is looking at us, they’re gonna suspect something!” 

"I know. I want them too. I want them to know you're my girl.” Then his lips are on yours, effectively cutting off your gasp of shock. You stay stock still for a second, letting the shock wear through, then melt into Sam, turning your head so he can deepen the kiss. His arms wrap around you tighter and you can’t stop the giddy feeling that explodes in your body. You smile against his lips. 

"Fucking finally! Tommy you owe me 100 bucks!" Paulie yells from one of the tables, breaking you and Sam apart. You look towards your brother, seeing him smiling smugly while Tom and Sarah stand frozen, staring at you with their mouths open. The rest of the family look at you in pretty much the same way until Vinny whistles, cheering too. You laugh, tucking your face into Sam's neck. He hugs you close, letting out a throaty laugh himself. 

As you continue to dance with your man, this time your heart full with the love of your family around you, you can’t help smiling up at him like you’ve just become queen of the world. You never thought you’d be able to be with Sam this way, away from the confines of his apartment. In your heart, you know he’s scared of losing you. But as he looks down at you now, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, you know he’s willing to do anything to keep you in his arms forever. 

---

Thanks for reading minxies! I can’t wait to reveal the suprise!

(Unedited)

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

White Lies || Thomas Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ Can you do 10&13 with tommy please? I obsessed with your writing” (Thank you honey, hope this won’t let you down ♡ )

Summary: n.10 & 13 from prompt list: “I swear to God, I’ll blind you” + “Don’t leave” Warnings: swearing, May Carleton insert, basically jealous reader, Tommy being the absolute cocky bastard he always is, me loving him even more

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, May appears in this piece too, even if she’s never been his lover.   Is Tommy Shelby going to generate a mass murder with his cock? Maybe.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Your sugar paper dress in lace and tulle gracefully fluttered in the wind, as you walked towards the Garrison, head up, a kind smile on your face and your right arm firmly placed on John’s left one.  That same morning, Tommy’s new horse had won his third race in a row, for which reason the Shelbys had decided to have a little party at their pub, so that they could celebrate those amazing successes with their friends and closest fellows from Birmingham, seizing, at the same time, the opportunity to show to the whole town how the family was getting more and more powerful. Therefore, Finn, Michael and John were now escorting you and Polly to the tavern, where the rest of the Peaky Blinders had already got the festivities started. “If you ever get tired of Tommy, keep in mind that I’m here waiting for you, darling” The middle brother playfully whispered those flirty words into your ear, even though he was truly enchanted by the way you looked that night; you immediately glimpsed in his direction, seeing him keep an alluring smirk on his wonderful face and a toothpick held between his rose lips, just like always. A genuine chuckle spilled from your mouth because of his joke, a slight blush instantly covering your sweet face, while your lips promptly left a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny, we can keep it as our little secret” You blinked at him, still giggling out loud, as you entered the Garrison arm in arm, finding a whole crowd of half-drunk people joyfully cheering for the increasing greatness and fortune of the Shelby Brothers Limited. “And that’s Thomas’s definition of small refreshment?” Polly’s usual sarcastic tone prickly referred to the massive amount of guests your fiancé had apparently invited; she lit a cigarette, carelessly throwing the used match on the floor, before her free forearm fondly stretched out to Michael, in a silent invitation to accompany her towards the table where Arthur had already made himself comfortable. Finn, on the other hand, immediately spotted Isaiah amidst the throng, for it took him a scant moment to literally run in his direction, eager as he was to finally spend a night out with his best mate, forgetting about work for a while. “Would you mind helping me find your perennially busy brother, mh?” You asked John, since you were now alone, standing at the entrance like two complete idiots, withouth a clue about what to do next. “Why don’t you come home with me instead?” His eyebrows quickly raised and lowered several times, in an intentionally droll attempt to make that indecent proposal sound tempting, his usual cocky smile never leaving his face. “Oh, shut up now!” you heartily laughed, jokingly punching his shoulder in the process “Let’s just find him, and then you’ll look for a pretty girl to dance with”

“No need to look for girls, love, they throw themselves at me” Your almost-brother-in-law defiantly stated that, while adjusting his houndstooth suit in one swift move, his large shoulders lifted along with his lower lip, giving life to an expression of pure smugness, which esponentially boosted when he found his way to the middle of the pub, performing his usual, cheeky, extremely bold walk. John’s lean and solid body shielded yours as you passed through that enormous amount of people, until you eventually reached for the cluttered counter; your watchful eye immediately caught Tommy’s figure standing with his back turned, a loving grin inadvertently springing upon your red lips, for he had left early that morning without waking you up, and, although it may seem corny, you had shamelessly missed him. Nevertheless, your jaw nearly dropped when, taking a few more steps in his direction, a beautiful woman entered your line of sight: she was talking to him, her clearly infatuated stare burning with desire, one of her palms randily caressing his bony cheek, but the worst part was that Thomas didn’t make a single move to stop her, he just stood there, listening to what she was saying, letting her pet his face. “Oh, fucking hell” John muttered, foreseeing a catastrophic epilogue to that risky situation, indeed, he was perfectly aware that you had no idea of who May was, moreover he could plainly tell she was without a doubt attracted to his brother, which meant no good, considering that you were in the same country as her. Still, before he had the chance to stop you from doing anything, you had already covered the gap between you and them, approaching your fiancé and heavily tapping on his shoulder covered by an elegant black jacket.

Tom’s icy eyes imperceptibly widened as he turned to you and realized how misunderstandable that scene could look; however, within a fraction of a second, he composed himself and regained all of his customary confidence, curving his mouth into an impertinent smirk and placing a hand behind your back, so to guide you in front of the mysterious lady. “Oh, you must be y/n, Tommy’s told me a lot about you! I’m May, May Carleton” Her falsely excited voice brusted out, preceding both of you, and that alone could’ve been enough to set you off, you were aching to ruthlessly punch her in the face, right there and then, yet your strong common sense led you to simply send her a long, eloquent death glare. “Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you, not a word” Perceptible hostility towards that woman infected your tone, still, while you spat that rancorous reply, your killer attention was utterly focused on Thomas, who, for his part, kept looking at you with amusement, blatantly revelling in your jealous little scene. “I didn’t have a chance to” His husky voice nonchalantly spilled from his full lips, whereon he was unchastely sliding a cigarette filter, his piercing black pupils continued to defiantly nail yours as he aimed to provoke you with that silly, senseless remark. Teeth sinking into the warm flesh of your inner cheek, while you tried your best to avoid a beastly outburst in front of everyone; sadly, hardly any moment later, May unwisely decided to throw more salt on your already stinging wounds. “How funny, I’ve been training your horses for three months now” a galling laugh of mockery eurpted from her throat and, once she was sure she had your attention, you noticed raw mischief twinkling in her brown irises “With excellent results, I might add”

She raised the glass of champagne she was holding, along with a hint of her head in Tommy’s direction, inviting him to make a toast to their incredible series of victories; a shrill tinkle filled your ears when his crystal cup joined hers, almost making your skin crawl, you watched speechless and powerless as a seductive expression deliberately contaminated his stunning features. “Obviously. Nothing but the best for my horses”

You just couldn’t believe your eyes, nor your ears; an alarming amount of emotions assaulting your defenseless mind, as you eventually figured out how many lies he had been feeding you during those past months. Soon after he had brought his first mare at the auction, Tommy specifically talked to you about how many expectations and resources he had placed on that brand new project, to the point of actually enlisting an expensive horse trainer, one of their comrades from France, a man they could trust, he did say. Your brain franticly reviewed all of the episodes in which he had called you to inform that he would’ve been late, for he had to stop by the stables in order to check on his beasts; a grievous boulder growing inside your chest, brutally crushing your heart, at the very thought of what could’ve effectively happened in those evenings, your breathing sharply stopped for endless instants, until you regained control of your body, blinking a few times to stop the world from spinning around you. Not a single world escaped your mouth, you only looked at them for one last time, before you hastened to turn tail and run away from that obnoxious situation. Only then, Thomas factually realized he’d gone too far with you, his vigilant stare followed your silhouette quickly moving amidst that mob of drunken yokels, while he briefly took leave of May, without even glimpsing at her once. Pushing and kicking his way through the crowd, he reached for you when you were practically one step away from the main door.

“C’mon, y/n, wait! Hey, don’t leave” Tom delicately grabbed your forearm in an attempt to hold you back, but, as soon as you saw him touching you, a calamitous rage exploded in your belly, leading you to violently yank your arm away. “Take your hands off me, or I swear to God, I’ll bind you with your own fucking cap!” Eyelids squeezing with autentic ire as you snarled in his face, fiercely smacking his hand several times and managing to get out of his grasp; yet, when you tried to leave the pub afresh, his imposing frame promptly interposed between you and the exit, his left palm firmly leaning against the jamb, so to cover the whole open space and preclude you every possibility to find your way out. “Get out of the fucking way, I said!” Frustration filled your yells, you had recourse to all your strength in a restless effort to shove him off, continuing to insult him and punch his chest, still your blows felt like nothing more than tickling to him. Thomas rolled his orbs and, at the same time, raised both his eyebrows, in a plan expression of his nuisance. “I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, love” Thomas was perfectly aware that he was being a total asshole, afterall, he had never even thought of May in such a way, but, for some strange reason, he wanted to tease you that night, he wanted to see you detonate. His imperturbable tone, together with his absurd words, totally made you lose your temper, you sensed your knuckles itching to crash with his perfect jaw, again and again and again. “Overdramatic?!” your voice raising of a couple octaves “You bloody bastard! You lied to me, God only knows what the hell’s been going on between you and that bitch. What’s more, you let her fucking flirt with you, in front of me!” Hot tears were now forming in your eyes while you kept shouting till you felt your throat hurt, Tommy simply kept watching you, not daring to pronounce a single syllable, but never changing his stoic countenance, nor moving from the doorway. “You were flirting back, letting her touch you that way, you fucking humiliated me, Thomas! In my place, you would’ve killed any man, without even thinking ‘bout it!” Tom’s look somehow softened as he observed your features contract with anger and sorrow, he knew he had unnecessarily and foolishly hurt you, he only was too proud to say it out loud; so, he kept his mouth shut and just came closer to you, carefully attempting to stroke your shoulders with tenderness. Nevertheless, you were too full of wrath and delusion to let him make it up to you that easily: actually, you desperately needed to cry, your cheeks were flushing with resentment, blind choler streaming in your veins. And, suddenly, a dull smack resounded in your and his ears. You slapped him so hard, that his head automatically tilted in the opposite direction, leaving both you and him speechless for a full minute; Thomas remained in that forced position, frozen, without going back to face you, consequently giving you the opportunity to finally pull him aside. “You don’t fuck with me, Mr. Shelby” That was all that you hissed, then leaving the Garrison and not looking back.

tag list:  @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @mclfoybaby, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest

[babyshawwn]

Drunk or Sober (smut)

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3k.

You know this specific playlist is made with only one intention in mind. You have heard the songs too many times, though you still can’t remember the words to most. 

Shawn will never admit it, but the only thing he uses this playlist for is getting drunk and getting it on. 

Not that you complain, you never really complain when you hang around Shawn’s. 

The familiar tunes fade into background noise as Shawn’s lips fold around the cigarette, his eyes flicker as they sink together and he takes another drag. 

In public Shawn never smokes, you doubt Karen has the slightest idea and you know he’ll never get caught. He’s too clever. 

You feel a slight tug in your stomach while you watch the way Shawn’s tongue darts around the edge of the cigarette in his mouth. His cheeks are getting flushed, but you hardly even notice, you’re too busy staring at his plump lips moving in ways that makes your toes curl. 

He’s teasing you, playing games and working you up. You can tell easily from the smirk wandering his smug face.

There’s something about these steamy summer nights that makes you a tad insane. 

You’re both laying in his couch, legs entangled to each other with a stunning view of the Toronto skyline as background. You’re sipping another glass of wine and your thoughts are already somewhat slurred. 

You bumped into Shawn outside a club a few months ago and you have been coming around his place loads since. 

Sneaking in late at night when the neighbors has gone to sleep and mostly sneaking out before the crack of dawn. You don’t get your hopes up with him, though. 

You have heard all the rumors at least a hundred times and seen all the pictures multiple girls post on social media. Shawn gets around as much as he likes and you’re fully aware that you aren’t the one to change that. 

You know it’s risky when you stumble into his apartment at two in the morning. At some point, your heart is going to fall in too deep and you’re the one who’s going to end up hurt. Not that you care much. 

Being around Shawn, talking about deep shit you’ve never shared with anyone or getting drunk on a bottle of tequila with him, is the best cure when you’re stressed out. 

There’s something about being in Shawn’s company that you can’t quite put your finger on. You relax when he’s around, he makes you feel less anxious and you like that. Not being at war with your mind every waken moment. With 

Shawn, it’s easy. It’s always easy. 

You tilt your head as you watch Shawn force his fingers through the dark curls, using two fingers to remove the cigarette from his lips to down his glass of wine completely. 

His tongue slides between his pink lips and you feel a warmth in your stomach. Shawn’s slurred eyes fall on yours and you can’t help the smile that peaks on your face. 

He returns immediately with a small but somehow warm grin, that cracks butterflies in your stomach within seconds. 

Shawn shuts his eyes and nods his head to the rhythm of the song. He chews on his bottom lip while humming along almost silently. Most people get him wrong. 

You can’t blame them, you did to begin with as well. People say he’s shallow and thinks too highly of himself. It’s not true, though. 

Sure, he’s confident. But he’s confident in a way that makes him comfortable in his own skin. Shawn knows who he is and what he stands for and you find that extremely attractive. 

He’s much deeper than people assume. You have never met someone who think as much as he does, feels as deeply as he does. 

You are completely and utterly in awe when he talks about things that matter to him, but most people don’t see that side. Shawn won’t let them. He’s private and he doesn’t care what other’s think. You could learn from him and his attitude in life, you know that. 

“Hey.” Shawn mumbles to catch your attention. “What are you thinking about?” He smiles softly when your eyes meet and then, he leans forward to put his empty glass on the table. 

You shrug your shoulders in response as Shawn reach for your feet to drag you across the couch and closer to him. 

You swallow a small giggle and then you crawl into his lip. He watches you carefully while you get comfortable on top of him. 

Your knees are resting on each side of his thighs and you’re staring directly into his warm, brown eyes. 

“Tell me.” He says again. 

“Tell you what?” 

“What you’re thinking about?” 

You feel a heat raise to your cheeks while a small lump appears in your throat. 

“You.” You stutter back, eyes darting across the room. 

You aren’t quite sure why you’re feeling embarrassed, maybe because you have been staring long enough for him to notice, maybe because you suddenly feel emotionally naked by admitting. 

You’re slightly unsteady from the way he’s mentally undressing you already. You know the look and it forms a wet pool between your thighs. 

“Mmh, I see.” He whispers while leaning towards you. He attaches his warm lips to your jawline as chills rush down your spine. “We can play that game.”

“That’s not what I meant, Shawn.” You correct him with a laughter while his curious fingers wander your body and leaves burns behind. 

You hold back a soft moan when his hands dig into your ass, a small smirk appearing on his heated face. His hair is messy and tots of curls are sticking to his forehead. 

You aren’t sure whether it’s Shawn’s teasing touches or the alcohol making you shiver. You move your hands behind his neck and he tugs you closer to his body while locking your eyes with his. 

You feel Shawn’s boner grow between your thighs which forces heatwaves down your spine. 

“Kiss me.” He breathes as his thumb slips across your mouth. 

You can almost feel him throbbing when you press yourself further against him, eager to feel as much of him as possible. You dwell too long and Shawn loses his patience with you. 

Therefore, he leans in to press his lips to yours in a messy and somewhat sloppy drunk kiss. He tastes bitter from the wine but his usual sweetness lingers just underneath. 

You tangle your fingers into his curls while Shawn uses his tongue to spread your lips apart, he moans into your mouth as your tongue begins to play with his. 

Your entire body is vibrating. You feel it in your fingertips and all the way to your toes. 

Shawn moves his hand from your thigh and reaches for the back of your neck as he deepens the steamy kiss. 

He’s getting worked up, you feel the heat from his body through the white t-shirt, hiding his well-trained chest underneath. 

You search for the bottom of the t-shirt and allow your hands to slip under. Your cold fingers make him shiver, when you begin to trace his butterfly tattoo. 

Shawn doesn’t like when you tease him, he likes to be the one in charge, but you cherish the moments where he doesn’t fight you on it. 

“You do it every time.” He mumbles into your mouth. 

“I like your tattoos.” You excuse yourself. 

“This is my favorite, though.” Your fingertip swirls the ink of the butterfly and within seconds you feel his body tensing. 

“You have an odd obsession with my tattoos.” Shawn laughs in your ear, before sucking gently on your earlobe. 

“I have an odd obsession with you.” You whimper back, your eyes flickering from feeling his wet tongue. 

“It’s not that odd.” He teases with a smirk. 

“You’re an absolute idiot.” You roll your eyes at him and he can’t hold back a small laughter. 

He pushes the white shirt over his head and throws it toward the floor. Shawn watches you carefully and a little impatiently, while you begin to study the small tattoos on his body. 

He doesn’t like to be touched too much, unless he’s in a certain mood, but he allows you feel him this time. Your hand runs over the guitar on his arm and behind to the ‘good luck’ on the back. 

He tilts his head with a smile while you trace the black ink. Shawn cups your cheek with his hand and you feel his thumb caress your jawline softly. 

You lean down and plant a tender kiss on the little yoga tattoo on his wrist. You hear a soft moan as response to your small gesture. 

He’s told you the meaning of the rest, but he’s never gone into detail with this one and therefore, you know it’s special to him. 

“You’re beautiful, you know?” Shawn suddenly states and your eyes darts to his. You shake your head with a smile, but his stare remains serious. 

“I think you’re too drunk to know better.” 

“I might be drunk, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

Your heart flicker from his sweet words but you remind yourself not to put too much into his words. You figure it’s a compliment most manage to get out of him. But even with that in mind, your heart does skip a beat. 

“You’re doing it again.” Shawn points out, allowing his thumb to slide across your trembling bottom lip. 

“Doing what?” 

“You’re overthinking. As always.” He says as if it’s the most logical answer in the world. “It’s like you tune out completely.” 

“Then make me stop.” You interrupt teasingly with a playful look in your eyes. 

Shawn’s expression changes in a heat moment and suddenly you see the lust glowing in his eyes. Shawn dips his hands beneath the hem of your over-sized hoodie and as easily as nothing, he removes the fabric from your body and lets it slide to the floor. 

You hold your breath and feel the goosebumps on your bare skin while Shawn takes a few seconds to look at your curves. 

You feel somewhat exposed and it causes your eyes to flicker as the heat raises in your cheeks. 

The wine is getting to your head and the heat rolls of your body as response when Shawn allow his hands to brush delicate patterns against your collarbone. He smiles at you and your heart melts from the sight. 

You card your fingers through his hair as he leans forward to meet you in a heated kiss. Shawn moves his hands to unbuckle his belt without breaking the kiss, you exhale into his mouth when his fingers slides between your legs to push your panties aside. 

You’re soaking already which makes Shawn smirk while continuing to kiss you. His fingers are rubbing your wet core, forcing you to throw your head back while whimpering his name in an ache. 

You hear him mumble a small ‘good girl’ when you shut your eyes in response to the pleasure his fingers are causing. 

You’re dripping on him, sticking to his skin and warming in his while they are in you. Shawn attaches his lips to your neck, swirling and sucking to leave marks behind. 

He doesn’t take a second to prepare you and in a sudden move, you feel his cock slide in you. 

You sway your back when you feel him deeper in you, whimpering under your breath to cope with the frustration vibrating through your veins. 

Shawn bites your neck, groaning against your sweaty skin when you begin to ride him softly. Your hands are on his broad chest, your nails digging into him as you move on top of his lank body. 

Shawn’s hands are cupping your sore breast while his tongue leaves wet trails behind. 

You’re used to the fact that Shawn’s hands know their way around your body, but he never fails to crack butterflies in your stomach when he explores you with his fingers. 

Shawn shudders when your hands trail down his chest and you reach for his hands. It only takes him a second, until he’s interlaced your fingers together and he open his eyes to catch your stare. 

While you ride him with slow but deep moves, Shawn raises your hand intertwined together to his mouth and places a few kisses on your knuckles. 

The heat is coloring his cheeks and drops of sweat are forming behind his curls. Shawn feels you clenching around him and he begins to guide you while riding him. 

He meets your thrust the best he can, eager to slip deeper into your wet core. A lump form in your stomach and Shawn continues pushing you closer to your limit when meeting your deep thrusts. 

He fills you out perfectly, stretches you out as much as you can take. Shawn throws his head back in pleasure when you adjust your position on him and begins to ride him hard and quick, eager and desperate to collide in an explosion with him. 

Shawn moans your name, entirely out of breath, when you lean down to kiss him. His tongue slides into your mouth and he sucks on your lip hard enough to force a sharp yank to shoot through your body. 

You break the kiss to moan when Shawn lifts his lower body to meet you rough moves. You bite into his shoulder to cope with the frustration and you hear Shawn laugh slightly at your reaction to his cock filling you out. 

He loves to see you like this, desperate and hanging on the edge. You twist on him, resolving the both of you to reach your limits. 

Shawn’s eyes flicker as he releases his load in you with a loud groan. You feel the warm liquid inside you while Shawn helps you climb of his body and sink down next to him. 

You’re seeing stars as you cuddle into his warm chest and he slides his arm around your tired body. 

With a small smile he removes tots of hair sticking to your neck and then, he leans down to place a tender kiss on your lips. 

“You taste like me.” He mutters with a giggle. 

“And you taste like me.” You whisper back. 

For a second, he allows his forehead to rest against yours while he doesn’t take his eyes of you. Your fingers climb his skin to reach the silver chain around his neck, it forces goosebumps to appear on his arms. 

“I have a confession.” He tells you with a raised eyebrow. 

“And what’s that?” You reply with an eyeroll at his dramatic words.

With his thumb he turns your head and allows his mouth to find your ear. You feel a warmth in your stomach when you feel his unsteady breath against you. 

“I’m falling in love with you.” He whispers and your heart stops for a second. You won’t admit the impact those words have on you, but you won’t give in. 

“Let’s not do this.” You remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You’re drunk. Too drunk.” 

It’s not a new confession.

It’s the confession you get most times, when he’s downed a bottle of wine and he’s feeling lonely. 

You know this is all you are ever going to get from him, empty words and drunk love confessions. Shawn isn’t the one to put his heart on the line, he doesn’t like it and at times you doubt he’s capable of doing it. 

That’s the reason you’re never the only one he’s seeing and the reason you’ve never met his family. 

You’re in his sheets when he wants you to be and not when you want to be. Shawn calls the shots and all you do is follow because you can’t quite give him up.  

“I’m being serious.” He tells you, his tongue falling over his slurred words. 

“Shawn, please stop.” You beg him, tears forming in your eyes. “Don’t do this again.” 

Shawn doesn’t react to your begs, instead, he leans forward to place a kiss on your forehead and then, he reaches for his cigarettes on the table. He lights one and takes a drag, then he places it between your lips while you do the same. 

You know its Shawn’s way of shutting down the conversation, his way of acting like he doesn’t know what’s going on and denying that you’re hurting. 

You want it to be real, the things he tells you and the intimate moments you share with him. 

But he’s said the slurred words before, after going through a bottle of vodka and not thinking clear. 

As much as you want to believe him, as much as you want it to be true, you know he’ll wake you in the morning and ask you to sneak out before the sun comes out. 

He thinks he might love you when he’s drunk, but then he sobers up and it all change for him. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that you keep coming around to get your daily dose nor does it stop you from spending the rest of the night laying in each other’s arms in a cloud of smoke and a smell of cheap wine, while you talk about the stars and the moon to completely forget about it in the morning. 

When the alcohol runs out, so does Shawn’s feelings but not yours. Your feelings stay the same, day and night, drunk or sober.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Aching soul, bleeding heart // Arthur Fleck x Reader // fluff + angst.

Summary: You find him climbing into the fridge at 3 AM. What choice is there but to stay awake with him?

Fun fact: all of my writing is emotionally driven so when I’m done with a piece I’m usually pretty sleepy/tired. I have so much love for Arthur Fleck it keeps surprising me. Also this GIF made me sad so what I intended to be pure fluff now has angst in it, too. Sorry.

Tw: swearing, smoking, unhealthy elements to your relationship which reader admits to privately but doesn’t care about. Mentions of implied NSFW - past and future.

Word count: 2, 548.

The feeling that something was really wrong woke you up from your deep slumber. Languidly did you stretch an arm out, fingers probing the cold air for Arthur’s warm body. You met only air and it was with a sleepy groan that you sat up, opening your eyes. The bedroom door was wide open and from where you were in the bed could you partially see Arthur leaning against the counter top, the blue lights illuminating his emaciated features eerily. 

You were up and out of bed almost as soon as you realised that his insomnia was acting up again; it was one of those nights in which neither of you would get any sleep. There was no way that you would leave Arthur alone with his thoughts tonight, especially if you caught sight of his joke book. His journal making an appearance always meant that his negative thoughts were a little darker, a little louder, and a little more obnoxious. On those nights were you tested; your patience usually only stretched so far but with Arthur, it was pushed further still. He always made it up to you, though, well aware of how his bad behaviours could try you. You had your own behaviours which tested him, and it was with silent understanding that you accepted the other for all that you were. Together would you find new ways to be yourselves, and in your personal growth would your relationship strengthen as a couple.

Before you could make it to the doorway did you hear the sound of the fridge being opened, then a terrible series of dull thuds, grunts and crashes. Your ears were met with the sound of the fridge closing after a brief pause. The second time the door opened and closed was it slammed shut harder, and in confusion did you slowly walk into the kitchen; wondering if you were going mad or if Arthur had actually just... climbed into the fridge. You knew that he expressed himself in odd ways sometimes when it seemed that nothing else would show how he was feeling, but this was definitely one of the more worrying impulses he had had of late. If this was going to become a late night habit of his, you would need to keep a closer eye on him.

You wasted no time in rushing through the small, cramped space to wrench the fridge door open. You paused, your brain still trying to shake off sleep. Arthur was crouched with his head tucked between his knees, his hands over his ears. At the rush of cold air and the light inside the fridge turning on did he look up at you. Sorrow quickly turned to a small rush of happiness as his eyes fell upon your cautious form in the doorway.

“Arthur, what... what are you doing in there?”

“I, I, uhh - I c-couldn’t sleep so I... I just wanted to stop feeling. The f-fridge is c-cold so - so it would make me stop.” His next broken whisper, which you could barely hear over the humming of the fridge, made you drop to your knees, uncaring of the shelves which had been haphazardly tossed across the floor, “I just want it all to stop.”

You cooed sympathetically and reached out with both hands, your fingers curling around his thin wrists. Shit, he was cold. His hands were almost frozen through. It was lucky that he had barely been in there for a few minutes before you got to him if his core temperature had dropped so fast in such a short space of time. Hurriedly did you leave his side, calling out a, “I’ll be right back!” as you darted into the living room and ripped the big, thick blanket off the back of the armchair which Penny used to sit in, before legging it back into the kitchen, almost skidding to a stop. You crouched, reached for Arthur again, exhaling heavily through your nose as you helped him slowly out of the fridge. You wrapped the blanket around his frame and ran your hands all over his upper body, desperately trying to, at the very least, chafe some warmth into him.

Arthur tilted forward to rest his forehead on your shoulders. With shaking fingers did he peel back your shirt, pressing dry kisses to your bare shoulder with cold lips. You closed your eyes to just enjoy the moment, your arms wrapped around him. Just at the point you were ready to take Arthur to bed for a different reason, reality slammed into you and you pulled away from Arthur, doing your best to think on your feet. Your exhaustion and other bodily needs could wait. Briefly did you feel irritated with how you weren’t already wide awake.

“Go sit down, darling.” You watched Arthur go. He didn’t even bother picking up his feet, walking with a shuffle and a slight limp, his head tilted to one side. It was really bad tonight, whatever it was that had made his insomnia flare up. Quickly did you reassemble the fridge’s insides, a part of you wishing that you could do the same to Arthur’s head; opening him up and rearranging the parts so that, when you were done, he was less broken, happier. You shook off the thought, though, slightly disgusted with yourself. Arthur was fragile, this was true, but he wouldn’t be Arthur without all that he was, all that he had been through. He was perfect just as he was. It wasn’t that you wanted to reach inside Arthur and fix him, but you wanted to be able to reach those darkest, rawest parts of him, and heal them. If you could take his pain for your own, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

With the fridge fixed, you peeked through the small built in gap in the wall to look at Arthur. He was sat staring at the floor, his brow furrowed and his hands tightly clenching the soft material of the blanket which you had wrapped him in. Quickly did you make some sandwiches, grabbing the nearest things you found to make him something. You cared little for what Arthur ate, just so long as he did. You also grabbed the pack of Marlboro's which you had bought on your way home from work. Arthur had run out earlier this evening and wouldn’t be paid for another few weeks, and you wondered if he wasn’t experiencing some nicotine withdrawal symptoms on top of everything else. He hadn’t been shaking that badly just from the cold in the fridge; he hadn’t been in there long enough.

With two plates in your hands and his cigarette pack in your mouth, you made your way over to him. You set the plates down somewhat awkwardly - you didn’t want to lean over too close to Arthur because he had issues with personal space sometimes and you didn’t know if he would be okay with you practically leaning over him at the moment. It was so hard to read him sometimes, but your instincts were rarely wrong when it came to Arthur. Still, you remained stood just off the side of him as you took the pack from your mouth and went about opening it, removing one and lighting it easily. 

“Here.” You held it out to him, filter first, and watched his eyes light up. You smiled. Such a simple gesture meant so much to him, and it was one of the things that you treasured the most about him. “You gotta eat, too.” You put the plate on his lap and sat down to eat yours. Eating sandwiches at three in the morning with your insomniac significant other had always seemed like a far off dream to you when you had been somewhat younger and more impatient to start living despite all the time you still had in front of you, but here you were. You couldn’t think of a better person to spend your life with, if you were being honest with yourself. With all his challenges and conditions, he was still the purest, kindest soul you had ever encountered and you would hold onto him tightly. Never again would he go through a day without you right there with him. You would tear the world apart if it meant keeping him happy and you knew that he would do the same for you.

Arthur looked at the two plates and then back at you, a look of childlike curiosity on his face. “W-what are you doing?”

You smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Arthur leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping closed; a soft smile on the corner of his mouth. You kissed his forehead, hummed against his skin happily, and pulled back. Arthur’s hand caught yours before you could lower it, and he kissed the back of your hand just once. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette and his eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled with his entire body. 

“Thank you,” He murmured. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the cigarettes. Who were you to deny him anything? You had never been able to say no to him for anything. If he asked you to jump, your next response would be, “how high?”. You could admit that there were unhealthy elements to your relationship, but you didn’t care enough about that to change it. You were both obsessed with each other and you both loved it.

“Of course. Come on,” You tapped his plate with your finger, “Eat.”

Arthur frowned, then. “Oh, yeah.” He sounded like he had just been reminded of something, his voice lighter towards the end of his sentence. “Why are you up?”

You couldn’t help the look of ‘duh’ on your face. It was three in the morning and you were tired. “I’m staying up with you. If you’re gonna be up all night, then so am I.” You didn’t tell him that you were also up because you couldn’t sleep without him beside you. The bed was too cold, too big, too empty. You had gotten so dependent on Arthur for so many things and you knew that you were ruined for anyone else in your life, ever. You were Arthur’s first and last everything and he would never let you go for anything.

“No,” Arthur sighed, “I don’t want to be a - “

You cut him off. You could admit that you really were too tired to censor yourself, even given the circumstances. Arthur had always appreciated, always craved total honesty, though, and so you weren’t all that bothered by what he would think of your being sharp with him. As long as you didn’t actually snap at him, he could handle a little terseness. Goodness knew that he was sometimes the same with you when everything was too much for him and you wanted something from him that he didn’t have the mental energy to give to you. “Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence.”

Arthur shifted, guilty, and he took a small bite of his sandwich. You watched him chew before you started to eat your own. You felt a quiet hum of satisfaction towards yourself for how well you had managed to pull Arthur out of his mood. Sometimes it was almost impossible to get through to him. You had done well this night to help him. You could admit to yourself that you were proud of yourself, and you were proud of Arthur too. Only he knew just how bad things were inside his head, but still he fought each and every day.

You ate without speaking, the thunderous silence ringing in your ears. When Arthur was done, you took your plates into the kitchen. You would deal with them in the morning. You heard the quiet noise of paper rustling and a lighter, the deep and relieved inhale, and when you turned to look, Arthur had dropped his head over the back of the sofa, the arm not held to his lips draped over the edge, too. He looked so at peace now. What had you done this night to so completely soothe him?

Sitting beside him did you rest your head on his covered shoulder. You let your eyes drop closed, your tiredness threatening to overwhelm you. You were just so tired. Your eyes were burning even when they were shut and you had a headache brewing behind them. When the sun rose in just a few hours, the long day ahead of you would be made all the worse by your scant handful of precious hours’ sleep. You would definitely both suffer with sore backs, too. The sofa was well past its time but you couldn’t afford to replace it.

Arthur’s pressure beside you eased off. Just as you were about to open your eyes to look for him, hands pulled you into a lying down position; one tender hand lifting your head up gently, just enough to put a pillow underneath you. You let Arthur arrange you as he saw fit, and then his weight was on you as he nestled into your body; his blanket coming to shield the both of you from the cold atmosphere. It wasn’t cold, as such, but without a jumper was it chilly. Arthur snuggled into you, his head over your heart, his legs tangled with yours. Immediately did your fingers find their way into his hair, and you threaded the strands through your touch carefully, comforting him even on the edge of sleep as you were. Arthur moaned quietly and without even looking at him could you see the sleepy smile he had to have on his face. You knew him so well that you could recall his facial expressions in your mind’s eye from a single noise. You knew what every laugh meant, what every noise meant, what every silence meant. He was your entire world.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so, so much.” Arthur slid up your body clumsily to kiss you softly, gently, his lips barely touching yours. You opened your eyes just enough to see him pull back. You used your grip on his hair to pull him back into you for a proper kiss which left your toes curling into the sofa, breathless with love. You felt a brief arousal pool low in your stomach but you were just too tired to do anything about it. Arthur would be there in the morning and you were sure that he would be in the mood to satisfy you, especially if he stayed lying on top of you the whole night through.

“I love you too. You know I do.” Your words were slightly slurred, your voice soft, and the last sound you heard before Morpheus swept you away for a nap (for that was all the time you could have this night to sleep again) was Arthur’s quiet happy laughter. You slipped into sleep like you would ease into a warm bath, and with Arthur all around you did you dream with a smile upon your face. Arthur was there waiting for you in your dreams, too; there was nowhere you could go that he wouldn’t follow.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z  @x-avantgarde-x  @mapreza1 @insomniabird  @mavalenovaninagavi  @itwasrealenough  @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms  @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing  @rebs-doom  @vivft  @help-i-am-obssessed@autumnaffection   @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99@misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland  @sweetheart-syndrome  @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx  @0callmejude0  @the-one-that-likes-riddles  @hannibalsslut  @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo  @bingewatchingmylifegoby  @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx  @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox  @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur

[imaginesmai]

Roger Taylor-Freddie’s Best Friend

I saw some time ago Bohemian Rhapsody; and if I was in love with Queen before, seeing Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor has make my obsession even bigger. I’m not going to spoil anything, but I might do a second part a little bit happier between Freddie and reader, because honestly, he deserves a little more love. I hope you like it!

Plot: being Freddie’s best friend means supporting him on everything, and being in love with Roger Taylor means suffering in silence, doesn’t it? Maybe a little trip to the fields can change that, but not in the best way.

Warnings: Freddie being a bad bitch and spoilers (little one) from BR. 

Being best friends with Freddie had always been hard. He had a sharp tongue and didn’t hesitate when telling the truth, even if it hurt you. His relationship with his parents was bad, and when you went to his house, it was awkward and embarrassing. Sometimes he didn’t think before speaking, and that led to a few fights where you had to get him out. There was this time in high school when he made you break up with your boyfriend because, as Freddie said, he wasn’t fashionable enough for you. You’ve done a lot of crazy things for him, but in the end, he has always been there for you. When your prom date ditched you, he took you to it. If you had a fight with your brother, he let you stay in his house as long as you wanted. And everytime you cried, he was there to wipe your tears and draw a smile on your face.

When he started in the band, you supported him when no one did; and you thought then that God was repaying you for all the times you had helped Freddie. With Roger Taylor. Roger Taylor was handsome, funny, cocky and charming. And you fell for him the first time you laid your eyes in the childish drums boy. He was the type of guy your mother always warned you about; with a flirty smile, mischievous eyes and a body that made girls drool. Roger could have any girl in his bed, but when morning arrived, he was already looking for another. That’s why you decided to keep thing as a professional friendship; you were his manager and he was your drummer boy.

-          It’s horrendous. -you said, looking at what Freddie was wearing. -Really, I’ve seen you wear ugly things. But now you look like a drunk peacock.

-          A beautiful peacock, darling. -he smiled, looking at the mirror.

-          Freddie, it’s an important meeting! -you argued from the couch. -We have to give a good first impression if you want to produce an album.

-          Y/N, they have to know who is Queen. -he sighed, putting on his sunglasses. -Besides, you should probably be the one dressing a little bit more… appropriately.

-          What is that supposed to mean? -you frowned. -I’m fine.

-          If by fine you mean vulgar. -he turned around, looking at you with disapproving eyes. -You’ll never catch anyone eye if you keep dressing like if you have raided a charity store.

-          I bought this a week ago! And I don’t want to catch no one eye.

-          Not even the “oh, so handsome and pretty and amazing Roger”? -he imitated your voice.

Your cheeks went red at his words, and you looked down at your clothes for the first time. It was true that, when you talked about Roger to Freddie, you sounded like a teenager in love. But that’s what you felt when he looked at you with his baby blue eyes.

-          Come on, Y/N. -Freddie sat besides you. -Roger’s hard to get, we all know, but you haven’t even tried.

-          He’ll probably get me to bed, Freddie. And then, forget about me. I don’t want that.

-          Don’t let your happiness depend on someone else. -he smiled at you, kissed the top of your head and got up, dragging you with him.

The meeting with the agent went well. Freddie impressed him with his sassy and confident attitude, and before you knew it, he was offering you a tour across Japan, if everything went perfect of course. After John Mayer, your new agent, left, you decided to celebrate it together. There was a big party in the bar where the guys played together for the first time, but before you could walk in a hand grabbed your arm. Turning around, you found Roger looking at you with a bright smile.

-          Freddie was good today. -he said, placing a cigarette in his mouth. -He for sure knows how to talk to people.

-          He does. -you smiled, and softly took away the lethal arm from his lips. -If you want to keep your voice, you might have to quit this.

-          Caring about my health, dove? -he laughed, taking it back. -Don’t worry, I can handle myself fine.

-          If you say so. -you heart jumped at the wink he gave you.

-          You did good too. -he said. -Everyone is talking about Freddie, even himself. He loves to talk about how good he did.

-          Freddie can be a little extravagant, yeah. -you let out a soft laugh, and missed how Roger’s eyes shinned with pride at making you laugh.

-          Y/N, you need to give yourself a little credit, hm. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t even be a band.

Roger was right, and in a way, it pained you to think about that. All your life you had been focused on Freddie, on his well-being and happiness. But it was true that when it came to the band, he usually took credit for everything you did. And most of the times Roger was the only one telling you that.

-          Thanks, Roger. -you got lost in his eyes until he talked again.

-          Really, dove. If Freddie was good, you were fantastic. Thanks for everything you do for us.

There were a few seconds where everything was silent around you, where you couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his. It seemed that you were closer each time, and you knew that if you looked at his lips you would lose yourself. Before you could find out, a high-pitched voice called him and a blonde girl took his attention away from you. With a sigh, you entered the pub; not noticing how he followed you with his eyes instead of listening to the girl.

Apart from that, the night was perfect. Freddie got lost with Mary after dancing like a mad man for a good hour, and Brian and John stayed with you until you went home. Brian, who was a gentleman, waited for you to close your door and give him thumbs up before leaving with John back to the party. You enjoyed yourself, you really did. Not only you had Freddie as a friend, also three wonderful guys who were like a family to you. But that night, buried under your blankets, you couldn’t help the few tears that escaped your eyes when you though about the blond drummer boy.

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John Reid’s assistant was an ass. He was rude, selfish, disrespectful and wanted nothing more than to take your place. At first, it had been only him planning a few meetings for the boys. Then, he forgot to tell you some times where the meetings were. And if it wasn’t for Roger and Brian nearly cutting his head off, you wouldn’t have come to the house in the field. Queen needed to create some new music, and the only way of doing it was by leaving all the stress behind. So the boys decided to spend a week in a lost house.

You were talking to Freddie for the first time in a while, since he was always busy doing only God knows what with that annoying man; but your little moment with your friend was interrupted as Paul took his bags away and helped your friend to carry them. That left you with your two bags and a, once again, abandoned look in your face. Scoffing softly, you were going to take the second one when a soft hand stopped you and took it.

-          Don’t worry, I can carry it. -a smiling Brian told you. -I only have one, and I’m sharing it with John.

-          Half of my bags are filled with Freddie’s clothes. -you said.

-          I don’t know why you let him treat you that way, Y/N. -he looked down at you while you walked. -He’s an asshole.

-          That Paul guy is making him lose himself, Brian. I’m his best friend, I can’t let that happen.

-          You’re too good, dove. -Roger’s voice said behind you, putting an arm around your shoulders an dragging you close to him.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Brian, who chuckled loudly and kept talking. You entered to the house between both boys, your smile present again since it felt good having friends to joke with. And, maybe because Roger too. You were enjoying too much the feeling of his body next to you. Paul was talking with Freddie and John on the top of the stairs, and there seemed to be a problem.

-          You said there would be six, Paul. -John said, frowning.

-          I know, I know! -he put his arms up. -That’s what John told me, he must have understood it wrong.

-          What’s the matter? -you asked, feeling Freddie’s eyes on you.

-          There are only five rooms, Y/N. -Paul said, mock in his eyes. -I’m sorry, but you will need to come back.

-          What the fuck are you saying? -you expect it to be Freddie’s voice, but it was Brian. -She’s not going anywhere, Paul. She’s our manager!

-          Look, you all need to stay here. And I’m the one in charge of you, guys. -Paul sighed.

-          No, you’re not. Y/N’s our manager, Paul. -John replied. -If someone needs to go, it’s you.

-          Freddie agrees with me. -Paul said, and everyone looked at him in silence.

-          I just-Look, Paul can help us a lot with the songs. -he looked at you for a while. -I’m sorry darling, but it has to be this way.

Everyone kept looking at him while you felt your eyes fill with tears. Freddie, the one who had been your best friend forever, was choosing some asshole instead of you. Your breath got caught on your throat, and you decided to leave without causing any problem. Before you could do that, Roger’s arm came back to your shoulder and pulled you against his chest.

-          She’s staying, Freddie. -he said, without a doubt. -I don’t care if this place is small, she will stay with me, even if I have to sleep on the couch.

-          Come on, she will be a distraction! -Paul argued.

-          Shut up, Paul. You make me want to stick my head in the toilet. -John said, and everyone laughed but Paul and Freddie, who gave his friend a disapproving look.

Since that moment, the boys tried to make you as happy as possible, and you started to forget what your best friend was doing to you. Brian made breakfast every morning for you and let you try new things in the kitchen. John played with you the most random games, and you always ended crying of laugh and hugging your stomach. And Roger, he was treating you like a princess. The first two days, he slept in a too small couch so you could have his bed, until you decided to ask him if he wanted to sleep with you. Trying to sleep apart didn’t work, as most mornings you woke up laying on his chest or with him hugging the life out of you. He also wanted to make you smile again, and he did; the drums and you didn’t seem to like each other, but sitting on his lap each day was worthy. Roger let you sit on him while he played, he taught you even if it was a failure, and he let you read his songs as soon as he wrote them.

Paul noticed how the guys were very fond of you, and knew that he had to do something before you took Freddie away again. So, he started to talk about you to him. It started as a harmless remark about your attitude with the boys or how you seemed to ignore Freddie the most. By the end of your week there, Freddie found you very annoying. And we all know that he doesn’t know how to stop his tongue.

-          Morning. -he said, entering in the kitchen. You were there, as always, covered in flour with Brian and John. Laughs disappeared when you saw him.

-          Hey, Freddie. -you said with a smile. -We’re trying to make some pancakes.

-          I’m doing some pancakes. -Brian said. -John and you are ruining them.

-          That’s not true! -you chuckled. -We are helping!

-          Where is your shadow today, Freddie? -John asked playfully.

You were the only one who saw how Freddie eyes were not joking or kind, and feared what his reaction might be. He sat against a stool with a sarcastic smile.

-          By shadow you mean the only person who cares about me, John? -he asked, and John stayed quiet.

-          He didn’t mean it like that, Freddie. -you sighed.

-          Oh, he did darling! All of you must think that Y/N is part of the group. Since you follow her like lost dogs. -Brian opened his mouth but you were the only who talked.

-          You are the one who is ignoring us, Freddie. -you frowned. -With Paul here, you don’t care about us.

-          I am the bad guy, darling? Really? -he let out a sarcastic laugh. -You don’t fool me, Y/N.

-          What are you talking about? -Brian said, getting tired of the way he was talking to you.

-          She doesn’t have enough with being pathetic around Roger, now she is being an attention whore in front of you guys.

-          Freddie! -John’s angry voice yelled. -Dude, that’s not nice!

-          I’m not the one choosing some chick over his friends, Freddie. -you said with a cold voice.

There was a second when you thought that it had been the worst moment in your life, your best friend calling you a whore. But then, Freddie got up to start his speech; and Roger entered with a frown in the kitchen. You couldn’t tell Freddie before your nightmare began.

-          Roger doesn’t care about you, Y/N, get over yourself. He has a million girls around him, he’s not going to choose the only one who begs pathetically for his attention. -he said, not caring about your tearful eyes. -You’ve been in love with him since the beginning, for the love of God, darling! I would call you a whore, but that’s not true, because it doesn’t matter how hard you try, Y/N; no one wants you, not even Roger.

-          Freddie. -a sad whisper left your mouth, and he turned to see Roger looking wide-eyes at you.

-          Oh.

It seemed that his whimper held a little regret, but you would never know if he wanted to apologise to you. Because as soon as the first sob left your lips, you ran away.

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When Paul walked in the room a few seconds after you left, he found the guys looking at the door in silence. He knew what had happen; he could hear Freddie from his room. And even if it was what he wanted, to make you feel so bad that you left, Paul felt a little tug on guilt at his chest. Because no one knew who far Freddie could take things.

-          I…didn’t mean to say that. -Freddie said, not looking at anyone.

-          You’re an idiot, Freddie. -Brian said. -She has been nothing but kind to you, even when you were being an ass to her.

-          She was-

-          Y/N was sad as fuck. -John interrupted. -You’ve been ignoring her for the real whore here, Paul, and she felt abandoned. We were being the friends you weren’t.

-          Come on, guys! -Freddie argued. -Maybe I was being a little harsh, but that’s all. Y/N will come back soon. It’s just a tantrum.

A discussion started between the guys, and Roger was the only one who still seemed frozen. He was in the bathroom when he heard Freddie calling you pathetic and an attention whore, and he walked in wanting to kick his ass to the moon. What he didn’t expect was to hear that you were in love with him. You, the kind and funny girl who always took care that he didn’t get too drunk. Roger thought about all those times when you had waited until late so you could spend time together, and about the cute blush that covered your cheeks when he touched you. Finally, he thought about your beautiful face full of tears and pain at Freddie’s words. No one could do anything to avoid the fast steps that led Roger to Freddie; and soon, the last one was on the floor with a bleeding nose.

-          You feel better, Freddie? -he asked, getting him up and grabbing him from his shirt. -Tell me, saying those lies about Y/N makes you feel a better person?!

-          I said I didn’t mean it! -Freddie said with a muffle voice, before getting another punch from Roger.

-          But you said it! -he shouted, putting his face inches away from Freddie’s. -You are a coward, Freddie. Y/N is the only good thing here and you just lost her.

-          Don’t act now like you care about her, Roger. -Freddie scoffed, getting away. -She’s the coward, not me. At least I don’t hide my feelings.

-          You sure about that, Freddie? -a cruel laugh left Roger’s lips. -Y/N’s sleeping with me because you aren’t enough of a man to admit that you’re fucking Paul.

-          I’m-! -Freddie’s eyes hardened and, after a pause, a sarcastic smile appeared on his lips. -I’m fucking Paul because I like him, darling. But no one would fuck Y/N even if she paid them for it.

John held Paul away and Brian stood in his place, waiting a few seconds before nodding softly. It took the three men to take Roger away from Freddie; he tried to get away, shouting insults and threats to Freddie blinded by anger. He was thinking about you, a sweet and caring girl who thought less of herself because an idiot. And that gave him strength to get free and hit Freddie one last time.

Time stopped for a few seconds. Freddie was laying on the floor letting out soft pained whimpers, Paul was panicking over him; John and Brian were looking with sadness at the scene; and Roger spat on the ground next to him before leaving the house looking for you.

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The second day after you arrived to that house, Roger and you were bored out of your mind, and decided to go to explore around. You found some interesting things, like a lot of strange tools, some chickens and a barn. Inside the barn, there were hidden stairs that lead to a beautiful and comfy place where you could see the stars and the fields. It was the first place you thought about when you ran off, and after hearing the big door close, you regretted your decision; it was obvious that he would find you there.

Your sobs had disappeared nearly an hour ago, just when you though you were going to pass out from crying so much. However, little cries left your mouth still every now and then, and that’s what guided Roger to your place. His long blonde hair appeared at the door, and when his blue eyes saw you, you didn’t find pity or rejection, as you expected; he held worry and care for you.

There was a little mattress on the floor where the drummer boy sat besides you; not offering any useless words, just his calming company while you prepared yourself to talk about it. Your shoulders touched each other, and you found yourself looking at his bruised knuckles.

-          You should take care of that. -your voice was horse from crying. -Before they get swollen and you have problems with the drumsticks.

A small smile made its way to his lips, and he almost wanted to cry. You had just heard your best friend being an asshole to you and you were worrying about him. Maybe he should have been a little bit rougher with Freddie, he thought. He deserved it.

-          It can wait. -he said softly.

-          How much did you hear? -you asked after a while.

-          Everything. I was in the bathroom and Freddie was shouting. -he took your hand between him. -Nothing of what he said was true, Y/N.

-          He’s my best friend, Roger. -you said, and he pained at the defeat in your voice. -If he has said those things it’s because it’s true. Freddie knows-

-          Freddie is an idiot, dove. -he squeezed your hand. -You are not pathetic Y/N, you are the most funny and intelligent girl I’ve met. You’re caring, selfless, beautiful, and your smile is the best thing in everyone’s day.

-          Roger you don’t have to make me feel better. -you sighed, and he hated the tears that formed again in your eyes.

-          I’m not! Dove, I-you’re not clingy. -he sighed, and moved so that he was in front of you and could look at you in the eye. -Do you like me?

-          Roger, please. -some tears escaped your eyes, but he dried them quickly.

-          I need to hear it from you, please. -he begged. -Do you like me as much as I like you?

-          I don’t know how much you like me. -you smiled sadly. -But I like you a lot.

-          That’s good, because I like you a lot too. -he smiled too. -You’re too good for me, Y/N. You’ve endured too much around me, and I don’t deserve that you like me back.

-          Why? -you frowned.

Roger looked at you with loving eyes, wondering why such a perfect human being would like a guy like him.

-          I’ve always thought that Freddie was a coward. -he whispered, wanting to keep the intimate moment that way. -Because he’s gay and everyone knows it; yet he keeps denying it to himself. But I’m the real coward, dove. Because I’m scared that, once that I admit that I like you, you’ll get tired of me.

-          Why would I get tired of you?

-          That’s why I don’t do relationships. -Roger felt shame filling his chest, but he kept going; because you deserved an explanation. -When I imagine myself with a girl, I realise that I don’t have anything to offer. It’s easier to have just one-night stands.

-          I don’t want to be a one-night stand, Roger. -you said, realizing suddenly that you were inches apart; and this time, you did look down at his lips, soft and inviting.

-          You’re perfect, Y/N, everything I’m not. -he said. -But I’m willing to give it a try, just with you. I promise I will do my best, dove.

Before you could talk again, he closed the gap between your lips and closed his eyes. Feeling his lips on yours was something you had imagined a lot of times, but it was even more perfect in real life. His mouth seemed to fit perfect with yours, and it moved slowly; as if he wanted to prove you that he was being serious with you. One on your hands found his long hair, as the other covered his on your cheek. The kiss began to be greedier, but before you could think if you wanted, he parted. You followed his face a little, making him laugh and place a soft peck on your lips.

-          I’m in for whatever this is. -you smiled, feeling the happiness coming back.

-          I promise, you wont regret it, dove.

That afternoon, Brian found you in the barn, both of you sleeping in the small mattress on the ground tangled around each other. He smiled softly at the sight. Maybe you were no longer Freddie’s best friend, but Roger’s amazing girl. And everyone was okay with that.

[freddie-mercurial]

Brian accidentally calling Freddie "baby" in front of the boys when they're still hiding their relationship (aka they're really not subtle at all), thoughts?

god i’m OBSESSED with this thank you this is like, one of my favourite trope/moment-y things ever for a ship is when it’s a secret and everyone finds out.  can i just direct everyone to this chapter of tartymoriarty’s toe the line fic real quick because it is my FAVOURITE ‘finding out’ scene literally in any fandom or fic or anything ever.  masterpiece.  god i just read it again it’s SO DAMN GOOD.

anyway.

i have two scenarios here because i cannot help myself i just love this so much.

scenario one: oh fuck

post-concert.  roger and john have both gotten caught up talking to a roadie or some VIP guest backstage or something, leaving freddie and brian to head back to the dressing room on their own.  freddie claims the tiny shower in there first because he’s freddie, and brian gives in with zero fight because it’s freddie. so after brian gets in the shower, roger and deaky arrive back and crack open a couple of beers while they wait for the go-ahead to pile on out onto the tour bus with the rest of their immediate touring group.

freddie’s pottering around doing not much of anything when he stubs his toe and, being freddie, yelps loudly, swearing blindly because fuck that actually hurt, those sofa-legs are solid.  and the shower suddenly turns off and brian’s voice can very clearly be heard calling out “babe?  you alright?” and freddie freezes.  it’s just like an instinct.  he doesn’t move, says nothing.  brian could have said anything, there’s no need for anyone to be suspicious, though judging from the seriously raised eyebrows from both roger and john, they are.

“baby?”  freddie of course hasn’t answered so brian’s getting more concerned, thinking he’s actually hurt himself.  

freddie still does and says nothing, just pretends he hasn’t heard him.  brian could be talking to anyone, he could have carried the telephone in there with him, have a particularly close relationship with his toothbrush, have snuck in a groupie; there’s no need for anyone to jump to conclusions.

except brian yanks open the bathroom door like “freddie!  honey, what’s wr--” and goes deathly still upon realising that their other bandmates have joined them.  just “....oh.”  because......he has no idea how to hide this.  he’s not like freddie; he doesn’t just bestow pet names on anyone he comes across, they can’t play it off like that.  

“something to tell us?” deaky is oh so innocent.  

roger’s smirking like the cheshire fucking cat.

and freddie realises.  “you both knew?!”

“of course we fucking knew!” roger laughs.  “you guys are about as subtle as our bloody stage show!  you may be on the other side of the table but we can see when brian puts his hand on your thigh.”

brian has the good grace to look abashed at that but he’s not really sorry.

“deaky owes me twenty quid,” roger adds, nudging john.  “he thought freddie’d give the game up first.”

“you’re both assholes.”

and that’s pretty much that.

then, scenario two: soft.

it’s one of those nights on the tour-bus when the hours have dripped past without anyone really realising, everyone casually making their way through beers and cigarettes with the exception of freddie.  he’s tired after tonight’s show and his voice is starting to get strained so he’s been drinking warm lemon and honey all night, trying to soothe it.

they’ve played endless games of scrabble with brian currently just in the lead after a very successful game and what roger insists was just several lucky picks of tiles.  they fall into this habit, the four of them, very easily after months on the road and it’s calm and easy and safe.  not the most rock’n’roll way to come down after a show but sometimes it’s just what they need.

brian’s knee is pressed against freddie’s under the table, moving away only when he gets up to refill freddie’s drink so it’s still warm.  when he sets the drink back down his hand finds its way automatically on freddie’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.  “how’re you feeling?” he asks gently, taking the seat next to him once again.

“oh, i’ll live, darling,” freddie replies around a yawn, taking the drink.  “i think i’ll head to bed though.”

“yeah?  you gonna get an early night?” brian asks, turning to look at him.  he doesn’t think about it, because if he did he’d have managed to catch himself, but freddie’s sleepy and soft and a tiny bit miserable though he’d never admit it and brian can’t stop the way he needs to comfort him.

so brian kisses his forehead with a quiet “night, baby, sleep well” and freddie leans into him for a heartbeat and it’s perfect.  until they realise.

brian jerks back like he’s been yanked and freddie’s eyes are wide, just staring at him for a long moment before he turns to look at roger and john sat across from them. 

he’s expecting them to be reeling but neither look particularly surprised.  

“uh, we can explain--” brian starts but roger snorts and cuts him off.

“don’t bother.  we’ve known for months, been waiting for you to bloody well tell us,” he says, rolling his eyes.  “you do realise my bunk is right above brian’s, right?”

which...fair enough.  sometimes they’re not that quiet.

“oh, well that was easy, then,” freddie says as he gets up.  “brian was talking about buying you both gifts or something to break the news a little more gently.”

roger’s face lights up.  “i don’t know a thing!” he insists suddenly, grinning.  “and i like cars.”

it’s brian’s turn to snort.  “in your dreams.  if you both know then there’s not much point in me pretending to wait around for a bit before joining him, is there?”

“nope,” deaky says, popping the ‘p’.  “caught onto that trick a while back, bri.”

“night!” he and roger call in unison as brian gets up to head to his bunk with freddie, very pleased to finally be able to actually clamber in with him rather than waiting and sneaking around while everyone’s asleep.

“hey!  that rule about no shagging groupies while other band-members are still awake counts for band-members too, you know!” roger calls suddenly.

“shut up, rog, freddie’s not well, we’re not going to shag,” brian retorts, before catching the thoughtful look on freddie’s face.

roger knows that silence.  “i mean it!” he calls down the bus.  “i’ll take your bloody curtain away!”

deaky makes a face.  “that would be worse,” he mutters.

“christ,” roger says when he hears freddie sigh.  he hopes it’s a tired sigh but he suspects otherwise.  “we should’ve pretended not to notice, like last time.”

and the time before, and the time before.  they really aren’t subtle.

[sunaswife]

How did we end up here?/ Erick Brian Colon SMUT

I hope @cncopmhoe likes this cuz I’m Lowkey trash hehe.

Inspired by 5sos’s “How did we end up here?”

“Oh no I’m late I’m late. Mrs. Vega is going to kill me.” Erick said to himself as he rushed down the hall. He was trying to hurry to class, this is what happens when you try to help your irresponsible best friend with his homework. Chris is going to pay for this. Before he knew it he bumped into someone and they both fell on the floor. He immediately looked at the person to apologize and was in awe by her beauty. She was wearing a simple jean jacket with black pants and a band t shirt tucked in. She also had a beanie on. She looked so casual and beautiful. She looked up at him and gave him a glare. “Watch where you’re going dumbass.” She grabbed her folder, he saw a schedule and he quickly grabbed it. “I’m sorry, is this yours?” He asked and she grabbed it. “Yeah, hey dumbass where is this class anyways? It’s B 21.” She asked, “down the hall to your left is the b wing.” He said and she was already walking away. He stayed there for a second but quickly remembered he was already late. He grabbed his folder and he was on his way to class.

He opened the door and was confused that the whole seating was changed, his best friend was paired with someone else across the room. “Erick you’re late.�� His teacher said, “I’m so sorry.” He apologized, “I let the students pick their partner but there is only one person available.” She said and noticed the girl from earlier. “Okay thank you.” He said and sat next to her. She was messing with her nails as she read the paper, she looked at him and looked back down. “Hi I’m Erick whats your na—“ “President Nixon.” She said, “Excuse me?” He asked. “Our project is on President Nixon. I chose cause you’re late.” She said and handed him the paper. “But Roosevelt is better.” He tried convincing her. “Too bad dumbass. I already chose.” She shrugged. He glanced across the room and saw his other best friend Joel talking to a cheerleader, Joel looked up and he shrugged. They usually pair up together but Joel thought he was absent and he was distracted by the cute cheerleader.

You walked in everyone was asking for your name, you just smiled and told them trouble

“Ay shorty what’s your name.” The schools fuckboy, Richard said. Erick and her looked up and she smirked, “Trouble.” She said and looked back down to the textbook. “More like nerdy.” He snorted, “What do you say we switch our partners so we can work together baby.” He said and she giggled. “Nah I’m good—he looks smart.” She shrugged. “But with me—“ “But with you we’ll fail this project. I’m not an idiot, now get the Fuck out of my presence.” She groaned. “Bitch.” He muttered and walked away.

My head spins, I’m pressed against the wall just watching your every move. You’re way too cool and you’re coming this way.

“She literally said trouble?” Zabdiel asked as Erick talked about the new girl. “Bro bro.” Joel shook Ericks shoulder. “What dude.” Erick said annoyed. “She’s coming this way.”

How did we end up talking in the first place?

“Hey dumbass.” She stood right in front of Erick, “It’s not dumbass it’s Erick.” He corrected, “Nah you look more like a dumbass.” She shrugged and he sighed. “What do you want?” He asked, “What are you doing after school?” She asked, “I’m going to the arcade with—“ Joel punched his shoulder interrupting Erick. “Ow What the hell.” He rubbed his shoulder. “If you’re asking if he’s free then he is.” Zabdiel answered for Erick and Erick looked at Zabdiel in confusion. “Sweet so after school meet me in the front so we can go to my house.” She said and turned. Erick, Zab, and Joel stood there in shock. No girl has asked either one of them to come over. Especially for a project. “Oh and Erick?” The way his name dripped off her lips made him melt.

You said you like my Cobain shirt

Her confidence is amazing for someone small and beautiful like her. She’s scary and mysterious but so beautiful and sexy at the same time. “Yeah?” He asked. “I like your Cobain shirt.” She said and walked away.

Now we’re walking back to your place, you’re telling me how you love that song about living on a prayer.

I’m pretty sure that we’re halfway there

She would not shut up, neither did he. “RIP to the legend.” She said and he nodded. Who knew they shared a similar taste in music. They walked close on the narrow sidewalk. His hand accidentally grazed hers and she moved her arm. “Hey dumbass just because we like the same music doesn’t mean we’re friends.” She said and he was slightly disappointed. “I figured.” He muttered and she pretended she didn’t hear. She mentally smiled and glanced at the boy. He was the hottest guy she’s ever seen. His eyes are beautiful but she hasn’t properly looked into them. He had a nice posture and a simple but good taste in clothes just like her. He was definitely sweet and she loved that.

“We’re here.” She said and he followed as she entered her home. “Your parents?” He asked, “one just got into work and the other who knows, never came back after buying a pack of cigarettes.” She shrugged and he felt bad. “My mom comes back at like two in the morning. She’s a nurse.” She said and he nodded. “Well let’s get to work. My room is upstairs the one with the 5sos poster on the door. He nodded and walked up the stairs as she made her way to the kitchen. He was nervous, this was the first time he has been over a girls house, this was the first time he’s been in a girls room. And they were alone. He made himself comfortable on her brown carpeted floor. She came back ten minutes later with a big bowl of pizza rolls to share and two Gatorades. I would make something but we don’t have a lot of food because we’re still organizing.” She said and he smiled. “Thank you.” He said and ate the pizza roll from the shared bowl. She layed on her stomach as she was googling information on her laptop.

But when I wake up next to you I wonder how,

Erick woke up to the sound of giggling, he opened up his green eyes and he was in a bed that wasn’t his, in a room that wasn’t his, with a girl that wasn’t his. “It’s about time.” She said as she looked at him, she was sitting on her desk watching funny cat videos. “My mom is asleep but, she’s knows you’re here. I told her you accidentally fell asleep and she was cool with it.” She said and he sat up. “Come on you have an hour to get ready.” She said, “How are you up so early?” He asked. “I go for morning jogs so I can see the sunrise.” She responded and he smiled. “The shower is that way and I put my brothers underwear and shirt inside so you can change into.” She said. “Thanks.” he mumbled and he stood up and made his way to her bathroom. She tried to not look but he was gorgeous.

Erick showered and he was daydreaming. Remembering what happened yesterday. They were arguing over how the PowerPoint should be. “Ugh if you weren’t so hot I would have slapped you.” She hissed and he was taken aback. “You think I’m hot?” He asked, “Don’t get too cocky—“ “no it’s just that no one has ever called me hot.” He admitted and she smirked. “Really? But I mean look at you? You’re earrings, your hair, your eyes. Your intoxicating.” She said lowly and crawled her way to him. He was feeling tight in his pants. She sat in front of him and held his chin with her soft hand. “Have you had your first kiss before?” She asked all of a sudden. “Um no..?” He said, she bit her lip as she looked at his. “May I?” She asked, “Yes.” He whispered and she moved closer to him. She kissed his lips gently and pulled away. She gave him a smile but he wanted more. He grabbed her from behind her head and he smashed his lips towards her. She released a moan. He wanted her to make that sound again. “You’re a little horny huh?” She said against his lips. “Is that a problem?” He asked and he sat her on his lap. “Of course not.” She smirked and kissed him once again. They stripped clothes and he quickly turned to text his mom he was spending the night at Zabdiels and told Zab to cover for him.

He turned and was in awe and he saw her in her underwear. “Close your mouth before you eat flies.” She said with a giggle. She crawled onto his lap again and their lips fought for dominance. She didn’t have much experience either but they both hoped that porn was enough knowledge to know what to do. Her clothed heat was on his growing bulge and every time she moved he moaned. They both pulled away and they looked at eachother in the eyes. “Are you okay with this?” They both asked at the same time then chuckled. “Guess that’s a yes.” Erick said and he picked her up and gently tossed her on her bed. He baggy shirt lifted slightly and he kissed where her belly piercing was at.

“So beautiful.” He whispered and lifted up her shirt more. He looked at her breasts and without a second thought he nibbled on her left and he played with her right. She released another moan and he groaned softly. His lips found hers again and he carefully pulled down her underwear. She became a little shy and she kept her legs closed. “Come on Mami, spread those pretty legs.” He said and she was so turned on by his words. She did as asked and he tasted her. He was in cloud 9. No wonder why Chris is obsessed with sex. She’s delicious. She pulled his hair and he groaned which made her released a soft whimper. “Erick—“ she gasped as he put two fingers in without warning. “You’re okay right?” He asked, “Yes go faster.” She moaned and he obeyed. The sight of her weak underneath his touch made him want to cum right there. He pulled away and she sighed and caught her breath. He grabbed a condom from his wallet and he carefully placed it on himself. His mom got him these in case he ever needed them. She didn’t want her son getting a girl pregnant at seventeen.

He remembers a bit of advice Chris gave him and he rubbed his cock up and down her slit to self lubricate. When he was satisfied he put the tip over her entrance. she admitted that it was her first time as well so Erick wasn’t as worried. “I’m ready.” She said and he carefully entered in her. She gripped her bed sheet and she took a deep breath. When he was all the way in and she had time to adjust he moved at a slow and steady pace. She released short breathy moans, he looked at her in amazement because she was so beautiful in this state of bliss and he was so happy that he was making her feel this way. She opened her eyes and they made eye contact, she bit her lip and she pulled him down to her and she attacked his lips. “You’re so good.” She whispered, “Go faster.” And so he did. They didn’t move or do anything else because it was their first time and they were focusing on getting the release.

“Oh my god—Erick I’m close.” She squeaked and he nodded. “I am too.” He mumbled and his rythem became sloppy. He thrusted two hard ones and she scratched his back. “Oh Fuck Erick, just like that.” She said in his ear. He felt her walls tighten around his cocked and they both released in sync. “Oh my god.” He released a boyish moaned, “fuck—that was so good.” She said and They catched their breaths. He carefully pulled out and tossed the condom away in her small trash bucket. “Are you okay? Did it hurt?” He asked, “I mean in the beginning but I’m fine.” She responded, “I just don’t think I can move my legs.” She giggled and he quickly grabbed her underwear and helped her put it on. “Thanks.” said and he slid on his. “No problem.” “What time is it?” She asked, he looked at the time on his phone. “10:30.” He said. “We should go to sleep, we have school tomorrow.” She said and patted a spot next to her. He smiled and layed under the covers with her. She hugged his waist and put her head on his chest. They both quickly fell into a blissful sleep and they both dreamt about eachother.

How did we end up here?

[jemej3m]

to the moon and back (p1)

a softer high school au because i love high school aus fuck off i know ive written like ten 

also, boys like you (by Who Is Fancy) is a gay vibe and is absolutely the vibe of this fic

part one | part two | part three

Andrew swung his legs from where he was sitting on the picnic table, glaring at Renee sitting beneath him. She grinned with crossed legs, pushing at his feet so they would swing.

Andrew, spiteful as ever, didn’t move unless he had to. Moving was motion and motion caught people’s attention and if Andrew gave him the chance, Kevin would continue to plead with him on refusing to join the exy team.

His brother was on it. His best friends were on it. They played a tonne of cute guys from other schools. That was Kevin’s pathetic attempt at appealing to Andrew, to which Andrew had taken his shiny, new pocket knife and stabbed it into the school cafeteria’s table by Kevin’s clenched fist.

It was only the four at this table - Renee, Kevin, Aaron and himself - who knew about Andrew being gay, and Betsy -- of course.

He’d backed off after that, but Kevin’s cool-down period for pissing Andrew off was irritatingly short. He sat, barely a metre away, looking on at Andrew and Renee silently. Aaron was texting, probably that simpering junior Katelyn. Andrew didn’t like it, but what was he supposed to do about it?

You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend. Aaron had teased him the other week, when Andrew grumbled about his twin’s obsession with the girl. Andrew then sneered about probably being able to fool Katelyn into thinking he was Aaron, and then Betsy had to quell their little cat fight.

They never fought about anything seriously. They’d been thrown into the foster system together at birth, and adopted by Betsy a week after their 10th birthdays. They had fought to survive together: Logically, Andrew knew Katelyn wouldn’t put a divide between something like that. But Aaron was the logical one, and sometimes Andrew couldn’t help but let his anxiety win.

Renee tugged on his sneakers to catch his attention. “How was tutoring yesterday?”

He rolled his eyes with heightened exaggeration. “I got stuck with some kid who’s absolutely abysmal with Literature and History. He can’t drop them, because he’s at the bare minimum, so he’s practically going to be riding me so he can pass all his exams. Typical jock.”

Andrew didn’t add that Neil Josten was hopelessly attractive.

“Well, who is it?” Kevin demanded, in his usual Kevin fashion. He really had no idea how to do anything lightly.

“Neil Josten. Year below us.”

The green-eyed boy looked relieved. “Oh, thank god. Coach was going to kick him off the team if he didn’t focus more on school.”

Wait. What?

“He’s on the fucking exy team.” Andrew muttered under his breath. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Since when were you on the fucking exy team?” Andrew dropped his things onto the table, not caring about the glowers that other students of the library sent his way for being obnoxiously disruptive.

Andrew is often obnoxiously disruptive in class, but performs extremely well in examinations. He must do a lot of studying at home to achieve that result: He might find that he would have plenty of leisure time if he just listened in class, rather than talking to other students or sleeping.

His report comments were always interesting, as were Betsy’s reactions.

Neil flinched at the noise, which was new. Then he shrugged, avoiding Andrew’s gaze. “Since I started.”

“Right.” Andrew drawled. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me, considering we’re trying to improve your grades to keep you on said team?”

“Sorry.” Neil muttered.

He paused. The boy was awfully withdrawn for an unknown reason: Neil Josten was all spitfire and burning scorn, with bouncing red curls, ice-like blue eyes and freckled cheeks, marred by horrific scarring. He told people it was surgery and acne. That was bullshit: It had to be. “I didn’t want an apology. I want a reason why.”

He shrugged again. “You hate Kevin Day. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention him.”

Andrew snorted. “Kevin’s been one of my closest friends since middle school. But I do hate him. He sucks all the way to the moon and back. He wont shut the fuck up about exy because we used to play together.”

“You did?” Neil shot up, the spark somewhat returning to his eye. “You play exy?”

“No.” Andrew told the one-track minded jock. “Get your work out. I’m giving up my time for a reason.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You volunteered for it.”

No, he didn’t. He was avoiding detention. He told Neil so, but the boy still smirked.

“You still chose to tutor me that sit in a room on your own, which I thought was more your style.”

“Fuck off.” Andrew said decidedly and poked him in the cheek with a pen. Neil scrubbed it off quickly, looking worriedly at the ink coming off on his fingers. Andrew forced himself not to care.

Neil was truly hopeless with these subjects. He might be fluent in multiple others and a natural with mathematic equations, but trying to wrack his brain for anything he could remember about King Lear or the Treaty of Versailles was like getting a stone to bleed.

By the time the hour was over, Andrew’s head hurt. Despite the obvious aggravation Neil caused, he couldn’t get himself to give it up. Neil was too interesting.

When they left the library it was dark outside and the last stragglers like themselves were being shooed off campus. Andrew marched straight to his car. It was excessively expensive, due to the twins receiving their mother’s life inheritance and an extra tidbit from Betsy. They’d never met her: they just knew she was estranged from her brother and the rest of her family, which was why they’d received the money instead.

When Neil didn’t follow, he paused to call out to him. “Junkie.” He’d been dropping Neil home after every session thus far. Something had changed.

Neil didn’t look at him. “I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Andrew didn’t press it and left Neil standing alone and dejected on the sidewalk.

“Cut the shit. What’s going on?”

Andrew stayed behind the doorway, listening to the conversation. Wymack wasn’t a gentle person, but this was his compassionate side at work: Pulling his athletes aside and getting to the bottom of their problems. He claimed it was to make sure they lived up to his expectations on court, but that was bullshit. Wymack was an absolute grouch of a softy.

“I’m fine, coach.” Neil said. Typical.

“Bullcrap. You could barely keep up with Kevin this morning, and you’re usually running your little heart out, way ahead of him. What’s wrong.”

A moment of pause.

“Nothing, coach. Just a late night.”

Andrew, Wymack and Neil all knew that they could see right through his lies. Well, Wymack and Neil didn’t know he was there. But that was besides the point.

“Scram, Josten.” He said tiredly.

Andrew vanished before Neil had the chance to flee the man’s office. It didn’t need any convincing: Andrew was going to get to the bottom of the stupid, pretty-faced Exy junkie’s strange behaviour.

It was a new, perplexing puzzle to solve. Andrew stopped his jog a distance away from the coach’s office and watched the boy cross the courtyard. Neil glanced at him only once before ducking his head and running off.

Andrew was only doing this because Neil was interesting. Not because he cared. No, not at all.

“Come here.” Andrew snapped.

It was a bad day. He’d woken up in an awful mood, and nothing could improve it. Small, usually insignificant events had turned his mood from sour to volatile and he was itching to get home and into bed, turn off the lights and hide under the covers with Aaron and play on their old Nintendos until Betsy joined them with hot cocoa and marshmallows. Every gaze upon him was sickening, every noise around him making him wince.

Neil, despite his harsh words and reprimands throughout the hour, hadn’t seemed afraid of him. He looked exhausted but not scared as he approached Andrew’s hunched figure on the hood of his car.

Carefully, Neil took the cigarette from between Andrew’s fingers and looked at it, almost melancholic. When it began to wither away, he took a drag and coaxed it slowly back to life. He breathed out slowly, without coughing or choking. Then he slotted the cigarette back between Andrew’s unmoving fingers.

Fuck you. He thought, bitterly. He thought about Drake, his first boyfriend, and how he had ruined everything for Andrew. Maybe he wouldn’t be so scared to kiss Neil, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he’d be finally comfortable with his sexuality, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he would be able to go through a school day without being terrified for Aaron’s safety if it weren’t for Drake. He would never had needed to lie to Aaron and Betsy, if it weren’t for Drake.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, his mind continued. Neil was looking at him with a blank stare. “Give me one good reason not to cut your throat.”

“You called me over here.” He reminded Andrew. Andrew wanted to sneer, but he was spread too thin today. “Andrew, I’m not scared of you.”

“You’re so stupid.” He ground out.

“Maybe.” Neil agreed.

“Why haven’t you asked what’s wrong?” He demanded, stubbing out his cigarette. His back was hurting from sitting like this, but being on the car’s hood gave him a height advantage over Neil. Neil had to crane his neck up to see him, but he was still unafraid. “Everyone asks what’s wrong.”

“I already know something’s wrong.” Neil shrugged. “I don’t need to know what, or why.”

They were very different, then. Neil was complacent to exist, to have everything at face-value, to accept what he was given and never take more. Andrew was deprived of so much that he grabbed for what he could. Two different methods of coping. Two different boys.

And yet, the same sense of understanding, shared between them.

“Let me drive you home.” Andrew said.

“I can’t.” Neil replied.

Andrew nodded and dismissed him with a flick of his fingers. He watched Neil walk away and didn’t move until he was well out of his sight. Then he sighed, hopped off the car and spent the drive home thinking of an excuse as to why he was later than usual for his adoptive mother.

It never worked. He almost always told her the truth.

There were three taps on his bedroom door the next morning, a Saturday morning, which wasn’t what woke Andrew: It never was. His meds made him sleep extremely heavily, which would be sickeningly dangerous if he wasn’t living in a house with only his mother and his brother.

What awoke him was the smell of hot chocolate being brought into the room, and the shrill tone of the home phone’s end dial. He hated that fucking thing, but Betsy needed it because she couldn’t use her mobile for work-related emergencies. His eyes flickered open as his mom settled the mug by his bed.

“Thanks.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Feeling steadier?” Betsy stroked his hair carefully, knowing that was all she was allowed to do.

He nodded. She smiled gently and offered him the phone. “A friend of yours called. He said to call him back.”

Andrew sat up too quickly, considering he’d skipped dinner. His mouth tasted like July roadkill, having not drunk any water since midafternoon yesterday and his head throbbed. It was all familiar. He snatched the phone and pouted underneath Betsy’s shrewd look. She poked his nose and left the bedroom just as quickly as she’d entered.

The only ‘friend’ Andrew had who didn’t have his mobile number was Neil - mostly because Neil didn’t have a phone himself, but also because asking to talk outside of their tutoring sessions would be admitting to his interest in Neil, which was, obviously, completely crap. Andrew couldn’t care less about him.

“Come to my Exy game.” Neil said, before Andrew’d had the chance to ask him what the fuck did he think he was doing, and how the fuck he got this number. “Ple-” He cut himself off.

Andrew almost forgot they’d had that conversation.

“That’s a lot of please’s in one sentence.” Neil remarked, looking at the practise exam questions for his lit. exam. Andrew snatched the paper off him and looked: The excerpt was two sentences from some random book he’d never heard of. He got a pen and scribbled it out with more aggression than intended.

“You don’t have to do that question.” He decided, re-centring himself easily.

“What did ‘Ballad to Impress’ do to you?” Neil snorted.

“I hate that word.” He answered. “Don’t do the question.”

The boy just nodded. “Okay.”

“Why the fuck am I going to come to your Exy game?”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just come.”

Now that caught Andrew’s attention. “One question and one honest answer.”

“Yes.” He sounded nervous. “It starts in half an hour: It’s a home game. Will you be there?”

Andrew had to admit, Neil was impossible to deny. “Yes, junkie.”

He let out a sigh of relief, as though he’d been holding it in. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Shut up.” Andrew hung up.

He threw the phone off the bed and flopped back, staring at the ceiling, his mind and heart simultaneously racing.

He definitely hated Neil Josten. So much. All the way to the moon and back.  

:)