#VOICING WHO IS NOW MY NEW FAVOURITE CHARACTER??

[ehlnofay]

wip wsunday (night)

tagged by @wispstalk (thank you kindly!) tagging back @ervona and @everybodyknows-everybodydies if you so please.

I put my long-ish tes piece on the backburner to take a break and write shorter things featuring my best friends elder scrolls characters from my mind and then I put THAT on the backburner because my very sweet grandmother paid for me to buy bg3 and. alas. look I can't play a game of this nature without fleshing out my player character far more than necessary and then I get curious. so here's a very shoddily scribbled bit from my very first playing-around piece (a rambling description of my character's extremely abandoned house)

[bedoballoons]

I read both mitsuri!reader head cannons (love them)!!! I was wondering if I could request if they met the readers EX who called her all those names and made her insecure.

Thank youuu!!! Also I have been thinking about that and oh my gosh I'm so glad you requested it!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Insecurities~༺}

CW: Angsty with comfort!, F! reader gets called names, character helps, established relationships, cursing, and some mentions of weight shaming/eating disorders! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour!)

Also I only wrote 4 characters with this one because it was soooo longggg!!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, and Wanderer!)

Past Demon slayer/Genshin fics:

Mitsuri reader pt 1

Mitsuri reader pt 2

Mitsuri like reader X Lyney

Tokito Muichiro reader

Shinobo Kocho reader

Shinobo Kocho reader

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𑁍༄Diluc:

You smiled happily, pink green strands of hair flowing in the wind as you lounged on the blanket Diluc had laid down, the subtle scent of the apples he was cutting for your picnic sweet and tantalising, but sadly enough to make your stomach gurgle uneasily. You wouldn't say it out loud...especially not in front of him, but even despite both of your best efforts you were still finding it difficult to actually consume food. It had become a torture to eat...even when you were hungry or it was your favourite dish...those words just kept coming back.

"Oh my archons...look who it is. Didn't think I would be seeing you outside the gates of Mondstat, especially with the owner of the infamous wine industry."

Your whole body went cold, eyes shooting to the direction of the familiar voice...the voice that had said the words that changed you, that made you see your own body as a mistake. "I-i...ahem, he's my boyfriend." You silently cursed yourself for having such a shaky tone, if Diluc hadn't figured it out just by your reaction...he definitely had when you started to speak.

He stood up with crimson eyes that had gone dark, a menacing look decorating his features as he stared the other man down, "Don't believe we've met, who are you?" You glanced between the two of them, feeling like your presence was steadily growing smaller as they stared eachother down...the situation was making you feel sick to your stomach.

"I'm her ex boyfriend. Honestly I can't believe she caught the owner of the winery, are you some type of chubby chaser?"

That name...it hit you like a ton of bricks, any thoughts of recovery slipping away as tears filled your eyes, but you weren't alone this time. You jumped as Diluc grabbed your ex by his shirt, pulling him close so his fist would be inches away, "If you ever, call her that again...I will find a way to make you disappear, do you understand me? She's perfect the way she is and I love her more than anything else, besides your opinions don't matter...there's only two people who should see her for how goregous she is. Me and her."

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney swung your intertwined hands gently, humming a soft melody while the two of you walked through fontaine. It had become a routine now, taking a walk together after his show and sharing a meal, it was one of the few times you enjoyed eating...mostly because you weren't actually focused on the food. Your attention was drawn to Lyney, the way he always seemed to be glowing with love and excitement after a show, the way he talked with adoration and he never once failed to mention how you'd inspired one of his tricks, it was so calm...that just for a moment you forgot everything else.

"Oh mon amour! Look a new shop has opened up, how about we eat there?" You tiled your head to see past him and sure enough there was a new shop, bustling with customers. "Oh Lyney...it's so crowded though." He chuckled, pulling you into a warm embrace, his eyes meeting yours as he placed a kiss on your lips lovingly, "I won't force you, but...we could just get something to eat and then find a nice quiet spot, it would be different...in a good way."

A light blush dusted your cheeks as you let him lead you to the crowd, silently agreeing to his adventurous ideas like you always seemed to.

"No way...is that you?! You haven't changed one bit have you?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, emotions all but gone at the sound of that voice...the one that haunted your nightmares and used to make you feel so small...treat you like you were nothing but a number on a scale. He seemed to be waiting for your response, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything...you were frozen in place, heart racing.

"Mon amour who's this?" You glanced at Lyney, wondering if he could tell you were uncomfortable, but he didn't appear to have any difference in attitude...had he really not noticed?

"I'm the one who was trying to keep her out of these foodlines so she wouldn't get any fatter, looking out for her health like a good boyfriend should do...guess you can't say the same."

For a split second you thought Lyney was going to strike him, instead he chuckled and lowered his voice to almost a whisper, a terrifying tone seeping into his words as he spoke, "You should really stop talking....I happen to be apart of the fatui and truthfully, if you utter one more word about my perfect girl, you won't be able to say anything at all by the time we are done with you."

𑁍༄Albedo:

Klee held onto your hand tightly, pulling you through the crowded streets with Albedo trailing not far behind. The air was filled with the delicious smells of baked goods and fresh made dishes, and the streets were decorated with stalls that held bottles of wine, toys, banners, anything you could imagine. It was a festival like no other and you couldn't believe you got to be apart of it.

"Come on come on!! We are almost to the stage! Dodoco wants to see it all decorated!!" You giggled happily, following the little girl as she lead you up to the big stage in the center of all of the magic. It really was a sight to see, ribbon and cecilia's hung up with fairy lights, a sweet bard strumming away on his lyre while he sang of a hero from another land and to top it all of, there were dancers not far away, each of them moving to the melody with their partners.

"Wow...this is incredible." You stood in awe for a second as Albedo lifted Klee onto his shoulders, her hands holding dodoco in the air so it could watch along with her. It was a picture perfect moment,...one you wanted to remember forever...until it was ruined. Your eyes landed on met that of a person walking towards you...a familiar face you had thought you'd left in the past.

You crossed your arms over yourself protectively, hoping he wouldn't say a word to you, but of course that would only be to easy, "Heyy look who it is...see you got yourself a new partner to shove food in your mouth. He's clearly feeding you right isn't he?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your clothes suddenly feeling tighter and your previous small meal you'd barely managed to take a few bites of rumbling in your tummy.

"Im sorry what was that? Clearly you must be blind, she's truthfully a work of art and without a doubt the most stunning woman I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Perhaps you should go get another plate of food, actually make it two since you look like you could probably eat both, and stop bothering everyone with that tragic excuse of a voice you have."

"A-a-albedo?!"

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer huffed quietly as you pushed away your plate of food, less then half of it missing and yet you were already feeling queasy? It bugged him to no end,...no matter how many times he said you were perfect and argued with you that your weight was never a issue...you still thought it was. He begged you, something he never thought he never thought he'd do, to try and see yourself from his perspective, but it didn't work.

"You want some of mine? Maybe you'd like it more if it was different? Hey? What's up with you?" Wanderer waved his hand in front of your face, surprised to see fear in your eyes and goosebumps forming on your skin, you didn't even look like you were breathing you were so deathly still. It actually freaked him out a little, could humans just die like that?

"Hey stop that, you're making me all worried. What are you looking at?" He tapped your hand, but with no response he turned to follow your line of sight...it was just some guy? That's what had you all scared?, "Who is he? Did he beat you up? I won't let him hurt you if that's what you're afraid of." You shrunk into your chair, footsteps drawing closer as the some guy made his way to your table...

"If it isn't my ex girlfriend. I really didn't think I'd be seeing you at a restaurant...actually I did completely, I'm more shocked you don't have three plates finished yet. Piggy. Even got the pink green hair to prove it...and who's this clown, his hats bigger than he is."

You covered your face in embarrassment, trying to hide away from the situation...not let either men know how much it bothered you, but Wanderer was to clever for that and he took no shame in starting something...

"How about I take my big hat and shove it so far up your ass you see actual pigs fly. Maybe then you'd know the difference between when you should keep your mouth shut and when you should open it. Oh and moron, she's clearly not a pig cause she looks nothing like you."

He stood up with a grunt, pushing the guy so harshly he was sent backwards falling to the ground with a satisfying thud while your boyfriend grabbed your hand and lead you away, telling you more than once how beautiful you looked as you made your way home.

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◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [vii, preview]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: estimated 100k for the series, 1618 for this preview

— warnings: none for this preview

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: hi. im here to deliver a new chapter and banner for my favourite two idiots. im thankful to everyone for waiting so incredibly patiently and being so nice. i hope this snippet can satisfy you guys until the actual chapter drops (10k+ so far) !! oh and for anyone who might have forgotten the timeline of the story, the characters are stuck in December!!

— find it here

“Is everyone going home for Christmas?” Namjoon asked, wiping his mouth before grabbing his glass of wine, holding it up to his lips, speaking into it. “I know Kook is for sure.”

Jungkook nodded. “Got me there.”

And even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling and more than excited to go back home. He squeezed your hand, and you could tell he did so unconsciously. You squeezed back, happy for him that he was happy.

“Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to ask!” Jimin gasped, turning rather dramatically towards you. You blinked, unsure of what was about to spill from his lips.

“Is it true that you’re going back home with Kook, Y/N?” 

What?

Everyone turned to you, Chaeyoung raising her brow at you because were you? You stared back at her, mouth opened and closing because no, right? You weren’t, or were you? Your eyes lifted to Jungkook, and he had that same look on his face. Neither of you knew what to say or do. This wasn’t something you had discussed. And why would you have? It’d be ridiculous to assume that you’d be going back home with Jungkook to meet his parents for Christmas.

“Uh-?”

“I’m just asking because Kook’s parents have been asking me if I knew if he’s actually gonna bring you,” Jimin continued, shrugging. And maybe you would have focused on how much you wanted to strangle him right now and needed him to shut up if your mind wasn’t reeling from the fact that Jungkook seemed to have not only told his parents about your existence but also that you would be spending Christmas with them.

What?

“Okay, yeah, no, wait,” Jungkook interjected, a clear panic in his voice, turning fully to you. “I can explain.”

You blankly stared at him, unable to even make a single sound. He dug a hand through his hair, looking even more panicked the longer you said nothing.

“So, uh, my brother saw my posts and stories online and might have told my parents… that I’m dating you. And so they’ve been really curious and asking about you a lot, and it was a little annoying, so I just told them that I might bring you around for Christmas to shut them up. But—” He held out his hand as if to get ahead of you saying anything. “—I didn’t promise them anything. I just said it to get them off my back, you know?”

You continued staring at him, unsure of how to react or what to say because well, you hadn’t thought that either of your parents were ever going to get involved in any shape or form. You hadn’t even played with the idea of telling your parents. And why would you? All of this was fake! A ruse, so Jungkook could win his stupid bet!

“It wasn’t planned, or anything, okay? I wasn’t going to tell them about you-”

“You weren’t?” Jimin blurted out, brows pinching together. He seemed to have lost all ability to read the room, just a glass or two of wine enough to dull his brain. “Ow-!”

He glared at Taehyung, rubbing his arm. It still wasn’t enough to shut him up however. 

“What was that for? I’m just saying I’m a little surprised that Jungkook, the definition of a mama’s and papa’s boy, was planning on keeping his girlfriend a secret when he hasn’t shut up about Y/N for months-”

“No, wait it’s not like that,” Jungkook quickly scrambled, gesturing wildly. “It’s just that my parents, you know, can get a little much. And, I don’t know-”

His sentence didn’t find an end, and Jimin seemed to just take that as a sign to go on, 

“Didn’t Narae meet-”

“Okay, how about you finish your food, huh?” Taehyung interrupted, taking Jimin’s fork and picking up a big piece of meat before shoving it into his mouth. Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged glances, cringing. Yoongi lowered his head, and Jennie slid down on her seat. Chaeyoung looked at you with big empathetic eyes and Jisoo even gave your hand a squeeze. 

If there was anything genuine between you, this would have been devastating. Luckily, there wasn’t. So it couldn’t hurt. And yet, your heart felt like it was bleeding in your chest, a dagger shoved in, a dagger with Jungkook’s name. He was staring holes into you, but you couldn’t look at him, settling on the edge of the table instead. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t hurt that Narae with her perfect smile and manicured nails and beautiful hair and glossy lips got to meet his parents and you didn’t. It didn’t bother you at all! That was what you told yourself at least. Because you couldn’t possibly be hurt. Not when your relationship was transactional and just an act. And yet, to your misery, you were hurt, deeply. You hated it, how you weren’t all that unbothered as you wanted and more importantly, should be. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts though when you saw the glare Hoseok was looking at Jungkook with. It dawned on you how awful all of it had to sound to your friends then. Narae, who never even was Jungkook’s official girlfriend, got to meet his parents, but you, who was officially (at least to them) his girlfriend, he not only didn’t want to introduce to them but also planned on keeping a secret?

“Oh my God, you guys!” you laughed, loud and light, like it was all so very dumb and stupid. With a big swoop, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand on the table, hoping no one saw the shake in your fingers. Everyone looked at you.

“You’re misunderstanding. We had agreed from the beginning that we should take it a little slower, and not tell everyone immediately. I knew he wasn’t going to tell his parents. I told him not to.” You put on your most convincing smile, swallowing the knot in your throat, hoping desperately it was enough. Everyone was looking at you, and you looked right back at them, at everyone except for Jungkook. Your vision almost blurred, hazy at the edges, feeling your composure threaten to slip.

“It’s nothing.”

There was a slight shake in your voice, the tiniest of a waver. You couldn’t tell if your friends noticed, their faces unreadable to you. A moment of silence stretched across the room, the food long forgotten about. In the end, it was slightly tipsy Jimin, the one who started it all, to break the awkwardness.

“Okay, well, do I text them… yes or-?”

You wondered if Jimin was this stupid, or trying to put you through hell on purpose. His question made Taehyung next to him sigh and shake his head, lips pressed together as he stared daggers into the older one.

“What?” Jimin whispered, offended. Maybe you should have taken the wine from him sooner. 

You looked at Jungkook finally. He didn’t seem to have an answer at all, his eyes big and wide like a child’s. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It almost seemed like he wanted you to agree, say yes, of course, you’d meet his parents. You had to be imagining it. As quickly as it had come, you squashed the thought.

It was up to you. The decision was in your hands. Everyone was waiting for your answer. Jungkook would have to go with whatever you were saying, whether or not he liked it. 

A lot of it was probably spite, spite that Narae met them already and you hadn’t. And how would it look if you weren’t there when Jungkook inevitably made a post about being back home with his family and you weren’t there in the pictures? What would Narae think? You could already see a backhanded Instagram story in front of your eyes, how there was trouble in paradise. It was something you wouldn’t put past her at all, seeing as she had done so before, posting just an hour after Jungkook celebrated your one month anniversary about how cringe some couples could be. Anyone doubting your relationship might just lead to Taehyung doubting your relationship and then to Jungkook losing his bet and all of this would have been for nothing. That couldn’t happen, right? You had to do something against it!

“They probably won’t stop bothering you until you tell them yes, right?” 

You tried your hardest to sound casual, nonchalant, chill as some might say. This was no big deal, you told yourself.

It wasn’t what Jungkook had expected. He thought you’d give some roundabout answer that in the end summarised that you needed to keep things slow and easy. But you agreed. You were going to meet his parents. He searched for something in your features, anything to tell him how you genuinely felt about it. He was trying to read you, but it was like he had the wrong dictionary. 

“If that’s alright with you-” Maybe it was to hit the nail on the head, finish it off, you couldn’t say. But the urge was strong right then, just once to say it. “—babe?”

You turned to him and looked at him almost confidently. It was both your face and the pet name, but Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, now you were going to call him babe. A grin spread across his lips.

“Okay, yeah.” He held your hand firmer and tighter. “I’d be more than happy for you to meet my parents. They’d be thrilled.”

He was a great liar. It sounded oh so very genuine.

You squeezed his hand and turned to Jimin. “I guess you can text them I’m going.”

find it here!!

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.

Chapter One - Sweetpea

Next Chapter >

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.

~3.4k Words - MDNI

Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.

Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.

You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.

So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?

What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.

You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.

You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.

“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.

“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.

“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”

“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”

“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”

You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.

“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.

“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”

“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”

“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.

He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.

“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”

“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”

“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.

“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”

He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”

“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”

“High praise indeed, princess.”

The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.

You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.

You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.

Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.

When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.

You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”

“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”

You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”

“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”

“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”

Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”

“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”

“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”

“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.

You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”

“She likes it, sir.”

“I most certainly do not!” you protest.

“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.

“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”

Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.

The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.

You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”

You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.

Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”

“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.

“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”

“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.

You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.

Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.

“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”

“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”

“A deal with who?” you ask.

“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”

You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”

“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”

The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”

Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”

Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.

You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve snippet - a follow on from this and this

wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: none | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie but again this is about steve), hurt/comfort, established relationship, stimming

ao3

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Steve is spending the evening doing one of his new things. Where he takes time to just be. It’s recovering, or Stevie time, or whatever Eddie and Robin have decided it should be called. 

He’s alone basically, and it’s nice, because he’s letting it be nice. Letting it be restful. 

It’s for when he’s had a meltdown. Or can feel one coming on, because now he’s starting to recognise what overstimulation feels like on his skin. How it prickles at the back of his neck if his breaks cut short, makes his vision vignette if something too unexpected happens. 

Learned that after something like that he’ll need to rest. Needs time. 

And it’s not lazy. It’s not. (Sometimes it still feels like it is.) (Weak…that word always plays in the deep, scathing tone of his father’s voice…and selfish.)  

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing. 

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space. 

He also pauses to eat the snack he brought in. Actually tasting the food bc it’s the only thing he has to focus on. No lights, no sounds. He forgot how much he likes oranges when they’re ripe. Harder to taste if he has to listen at the same time. So, on a day like today, he lets himself do stuff one step at a time. 

It’ll probably take him double the normal run time to get all the way to the end. But who cares? It’s his time. 

The weird girl’s parents driving off; that feels like him. The jock’s Dad letting him off easy; that doesn’t feel like him. ‘No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.’ Maybe that does feel like him. Before through. A long time ago now. 

He claps sometimes. Keening high in his throat, a little happy hum that he only lets himself do when he’s alone like this. He does it after he whistles the same tune they do. And during the scene of them running around the corridors. It’s exiting. Makes his lips stretch wide and his feet flap around. He claps. Once. Twice. It feels good. 

He laughs at the characters. How they merge together with bits of his friends. He feels that swell of happy sad emotion looking at the jock when he first comes in, acting above the others, only seeing Molly Ringwald. He lives through a couple flashbacks of himself. Resigns to actually watch them, sit in them, begins to process who he was. Who he’s becoming now. Something like forgiveness tasting sweet on his tongue. He cries a little; that swelling and shifting as buried emotion finally passes. It overcomes him sometimes when he lets his mind relax.. He rewinds, and he laughs. 

“Stevie?”

Steve starts, fingers tangle in the blanket in his lap. Brain slow to process the change, the information. Eddie slipping through the door and coming over to him. Eddie dipping to look at Steve’s face, trying to catch Steve’s eye. Eddie smelling like cigarettes and crisp autumn air, it’s nice, but, it’s a lot. Panic sits bubbling somewhere in him. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“…Eddie?”

“Hey sweetheart. I know you had a shitty day, but Wayne’s at home with a headache and he needs to sleep it off. Wouldn’t’ve been able to stay quiet enough for him.”

Steve breaths in and out a little quickly. Eyes wide. 

Maybe it’s okay. Eddie knows he had a bad day. Maybe it’s okay.

“I’ll sit in the kitchen, work on my campaign, just forget I’m here.” Eddie speaks quietly, almost a whisper. 

He stares at his hand in his lap. “..You won’t, listen?” Steve feels small. Knows he’s not, his frame broad and strong. But, he needs small. Wants his world small tonight, slow. Wants to stay hidden. Him and the couch and the film and nothing else. 

Eddie just shakes his walkman and smiles (in that pointy way that makes Steve’s toes curl). 

“Kay” Steve whispers, still wary, off kilter. But accepts the kiss Eddie drops on his head, tangling their fingers together for a breath. Steve leans forward for a kiss on the lips. It’s deep, and lovely. Steve can smell Eddie’s cologne. Feels where the chill bit at Eddie’s nose. He shivers.

“No cooking.” Steve mumbles while their lips are still close. Small smile pulling at his face, eyes sharp, waiting for Eddie to get it. 

Eddie groans quietly in embarrassment but his eyes are soft and molten and Steve’s toes curl up again. “Course not baby, not again. Once you’re hungry just come through, yeah? Make us something nice.”

And the light of the kitchen doesn’t reach the couch. And Eddie listens to his walkman loud. And Steve’s safe. It’s Eddie. He’s not listening. Steve’s safe. 

His favourite scene; Bender and Claire in the stock cupboard. The way he looks so shocked, the way she bites her lip. ‘Why’d you do that?’ ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t.’ Steve whispers as they do. Claps. It’s such a good scene. He’s exited. He claps again. Rewinds to just watch her face. Rewinds to just watch his. Rewinds and watches the whole scene again. Wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes. Pauses on the kiss. He rubs his fingers agains his mouth. Giddy excitement bubbles in his belly. He hums high and happy again. He loves this movie. 

The weird girl gets a makeover, the jock really likes it. He feels like the weird girl sometimes, maybe Eddie can be his jock. Maybe he should get a makeover. Maybe keep growing out his hair. Maybe Eddie would like that. 

The credits roll. Bender’s fist in the air. Steve drifts on the couch, eyes closed. He breaths deep, his stomach growls. 

He pads through to Eddie. Squinting. Too bright. “D’you mind?” He motions to the lights, his eyes too adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t even wanna try and adjust them back. 

‘‘Cause. What we making?” 

Steve hums, goes into the pantry to see what’s easy. Eddie slips in behind him, hand on his waist. “Pasta?” Steve asks but Eddie doesn’t reply, just turns him gently. Nudging him to step back into the corner. 

Eddie looks at him, dips forward to place a slow kiss on his neck. “Why’d you do tha..’ Steve’s words dry up in his throat. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t” and Eddie’s eyes are sparking with glee.

Eddie heard him.

He listened.

Steve’s feels himself flush hot, embarrassed and ashamed. “Ah, I, uh.” He can’t explain it, why he had to watch it so many times, why it makes him so exited. He crosses his arms over his chest. Turns back to the shelves of food and picks a can at random. Shoving out of the room. 

“Steve?”

Eddie said he wouldn’t. He listened in on him. He said he wouldn’t. He’s making fun of him. Steve knew he should’ve told Eddie to go home. 

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s so angry, So ashamed, of himself. What if Eddie heard him clap too, heard him make that high noise, like a fucking baby, like some freak. 

He puts the can on the counter with way too much force, corn, not what he fucking wanted. His hands are shaking. He stares at them, wills his tears to stay behind his lash line. He got too comfortable, he can’t do that. Why is it so hard to pretend now, when it used to be so easy. 

“Steve, tell me what I did, please.” 

“‘M fine” Steve’s insides feel too big, pushing against his skin, itchy all over. He squeezes himself around his middle again, digging his fingers in hard. 

“Don’t do that, you know I hate when you bullshit like that.” Half lovely, half scathing.

The word stinks, a stab to the gut. But Steve gets it, he does, they talked about it. He bites his lip, hard. 

Its old habits or whatever. Because Steve, he loved fine. Liked sinking his teeth into it; toxic waste green coating his mouth and lungs. Thick and delicious. Because fine gets you out of it. Fine gives you translucency. Controlled balance. Everything appearing a none issue, the perfect in-between. Steve was perfect at coming off as something to not worry about, someone to be ignored. It used to work in all situations; can’t get told off if you’re fine, cant do anything wrong, teachers didn’t look twice, his parents wouldn't shout. By staying half alive, never letting anyone too close, never filling your lungs up all the way. That was the fine Steve adored. 

“You were literally just watching a movie. I dunno what the big deal is.” and there’s frustration, confusion, in Eddie, Steve thinks. He feels himself tense up, glance over.

Eddie must see something on his face. See that scared little animal prowling around within him. Because Eddie softens, his voice gentle. “Steve.. it’s nothing I hadn’t heard before.’ And Steve’s teeth clamp together with a click. He’s done that, his clap and his high hum, in front of Eddie before? Steve tries to swallow, he can’t, a lump too big and sticky in his throat.

He can’t look him in the face, angry tears still threatening to spill “You said you wouldn’t listen.” He’s mumbling. He sounds even more like a kid. Stupid. Grow up.

“I heard a little but I was just flipping the tape over, I wasn’t trying to snoop on you Stevie… You just, you sounded happy.” 

Steve huffs. Glances at Eddie. That soft underbelly of his whining, because with Eddie, Steve yearns. Yearns for close. Yearns to be seen, and understood.

“You didn’t mean to?” 

“No, it was just when I was turning the tape.” 

Steve forces a deep breath. 

“You think I’m weird. You hate me.” He whispers it like it’s true. A big part of him believes it, his tears welling up. Feels rejected. Knows that feeling too well. Hates it. 

“Always like you Steve. Always.”

Steve grunts, a tear slips out, rolls down his cheek.

“‘M embarrassed” comes out like an ugly sob. Steve scrubs his palms on his cheeks, feeling how red hot they are. Glaring at the countertop. “I’m embarrassed!” But it’s just Eddie. It was just Eddie.

Eddie comes over, slowly draping himself over Steve’s back. “Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love.” And Eddie leaves soft kisses on Steve’s neck, squeezes his waist. “You looked cute on the couch like that. Like it when you’re happy.” Steve tries taking another deep breath but it shudders. 

Embarrassed, angry, sad. Embarrassed, confused, angry. Frustrated, embarrassed. Tired. 

Emotions wash over him. He’s learning to try and just feel them, name them, pick them apart. Some bubble back up to the surface, some only needed to be seen once. 

Steve turns to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He sighs, rubs his face into Eddie’s warm skin. shaking his head, likes how his lips feel moving against edie’s soft parts. 

Tired, hungry, embarrassed, hungry. 

“’M tired. I dunno what to eat.” He whispers, and then because he said it it’s like there’s space in his brain. “Want pasta.” 

“Pasta it is then. And then we can sleep, yeah?” Eddie rocks them gently side to side, kisses the side of his head and slips away. Goes to get the box from the pantry, puts the corn back. Steve gets a pot out of the cupboard. 

Staring into the water, the tips of his fingers prickle. Steve fizzes with energy and emotion. All pent up and annoying him. Needs it out. He clicks the flame on.  

He starts pacing around the kitchen island. In big striding, stomping steps. “Ugh! You think I’m weird. Some weird guy who acts weird and does weird shit.” Steve grumbles. Annoyed. He smacks his palm quick and hard against the counter top. Keeps stomping. 

Eddie comes back and starts following. Stomping and prancing like some court jester. “I like that you’re weird! You know, I have one episode of the Twilight Zone taped. It’s my third one. I watched the other two so much the tapes broke.’ Steve lets a little shout slip from him “Ha!” bubbly and forceful. Dislodging something within him. Like when a tooth finally falls out. 

Feels good. 

“I only like one brand of spaghetti hoops. Wayne once bought me a multipack for Christmas. Best fucking gift I ever got.” and Steve’s laughing now. Giggling and manic and still stomping around the island.

“I like how it feels to brush my teeth. I’ve never had a filling. I fucking love brushing my teeth, Eddie.” and that makes Eddie laugh now too. Two freaks stomping around the kitchen. A king and his jester, lit up by moonlight. 

Steve turns the corner and stops short, still giggling. Eddies bent at one knee, presenting the box of pasta to him. “My liege.” 

Steve claps, hums, high and keening. The waters boiling. 

-

“How’d you feel now?’ Eddie asks around a mouthful of cheesy pasta. 

Steve curls up tighter into the corner of couch, wraps both hands around the warm bowl. Glances at Eddie across from him. “Still kinda embarrassed.”

Eddie looks so soft, so kind, across from him. “I’m embarrassed too, to be honest. You love that movie, I thought you’d like me doing that. Kinda like when we, when we kissed upside-down, like I was Spider-man” Eddies sentence get quieter towards the end, mumbly, spoked into his bowl, cheeks dusted pink.

Steve strains to hear him. Smiles once he puts the words together. 

He shovels pasta in his mouth. Eyes closed. “You are so annoying Eddie Munson. Why’d you even come here tonight, you coulda gone anywhere.” Steve sinks further into the couch, it’s really good pasta.

“Missed you.” Eddie says it like it’s simple, easy, and warmth drips over Steve’s skin. 

Eddie clears his throat, Steve feels him fidget. “Wanna maybe.. You think we could live together one day? Want you to be able to do whatever you want with me around Steve. Breakfast Club on all the time at our place, kay?” And Steve’s throat constricts, that’s a big change, living with someone, moving out. But maybe with Eddie it could be okay, if they did it together, slow. 

“Yeah, kay. One day.” Softly, bit by bit. Little bits. Steve can get there. Let Eddie in, let Eddie see. “But no to Breakfast Club on all the time.” Because some times, some days, some things, are just for him. Steve needs it that way. And that’s okay. 

He stretches out further on the couch, feeling syrupy and nice, easy smile playing at his lips. “I like it when you kiss my neck though, you can do that again.” And that makes Eddie grin all pointy, put their bowls to the side and crawl over him. 

Steve’s toes curl and he hums, high and happy. 

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tagging those who asked mwah! @2jug2head @lil-gremlin-things

but also people who i think might be interested (sorry if ur not lmk and i won't again) @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @steventhusiast @sugarcookiesteve @spectrum-spectre @irethsune

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— earbuds, my love + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — a single train ride has you sharing your headphones and your feelings with your long time crush, yoichi isagi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions, mutual pining, pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1K.

⭑ notes — third fic queued for aali's away time, one of my many isagi wips! he's literally ceo of friends to lovers ngl !! i love him so bad... enjoy my lurvs - m.list ✩

“this song makes me feel like i’m falling in love with someone.”

isagi glances up at you from his phone, no longer shuffling the playlist that you’re both listening to. you’re looking out of the window, your feet propped up on the back of the seat in front of you, your head resting on your closed fist. you miss the way he flushes red.

“do you want to keep listening to it then?” he mumbles softly, thumb hovering over the slip button and his voice just barely above a whisper. you almost don’t hear you despite the fact that you’re sharing headphones and only have one ear-bud in while he takes the other.

this time, you tilt your head away from the window and the scenery passing by to lock eyes with your childhood best friend. “no, s’okay,” you say, your voice equally as low. “you can change it if you’d like.” your facial expression is tranquil, the swell of your lips pressed into an appreciative smile and your eyes sparkling with the sunlight that glitters outside of your moving train.

isagi’s nerves quickly get the better of him and he breaks eye contact, swallowing thickly before looking away with his own smile (mostly for himself).

“i think we’ll keep listening to it.”

you’re both on the train from the bustling city of tokyo back to the tiny town you both grew up in. with the off-season approaching, japan’s beloved striker had finally managed to get some time away from the blue lock team to visit his parents, and you were off on your university’s allotted spring-break.

this was the first time, in what felt like forever, that your calendars were synced up.

your bond with isagi had always been strong — from the very first moment you’d met, back in middle school when he’d kicked a soccer ball straight into your lunch and then instantly offered to buy you a new one. impossible to separate, you were joined at the hip right up until he left for blue lock. these days, your paths rarely cross and while isagi’s career in soccer bloomed like you always knew it would — you went the more traditional route of life and found passion in your own university degree.

after some moments of quiet, aside from the children crying in their mother’s arms, teenagers gossiping on their way home from junior high and the calls from the attendant manning the snack cart — isagi speaks up, shyly. “who…who would you be in love with? yanno…because of this song…”

“some guy, i’ve known him for years.”

“does he know…how you feel about him?” you shake your head and isagi presses you again. “have you tried telling him?”

“gods no, yoichi!” you wave him off almost too quickly — curling in on yourself like a highschool girl handing her crush a confession letter or chocolates on white day. perhaps because this is exactly like that. you’ve liked him, loved him, for as long as you can remember. he makes your skin hot and your thoughts a mess and when isagi’s nearby you hardly remember who you are.

and he hardly realises how lovesick you’ve been for him over the years. it would be too embarrassing to admit that you have a raging crush on one of japan’s favourite athletes.

“why not?”

“because…if he felt the same he would have noticed by now.” you answer, trying to shut down the conversation. “i’ve been obvious with my feelings. the ball’s been in his court for a while.”

“maybe he’s just oblivious.” isagi keeps going and in the cramped space of your train seats you feel hot under the collar — your nerves shaking under the pressure.

you’re given a brief moment of relief when the attendant on the snack cart stops for the couple seated opposite you. they seem happy and in love, it makes your heart twist.

the train jolts, pushing the attendant into isagi, who then topples into you — invading your space once more, causing heat to build up under your skin.

“h-he’s a way too smart for that.”

“maybe…he’s unsure? maybe he doesn’t understand your signals?”

the song you’re listening too changes as you pull into the next station.

“or maybe he doesn’t love me, yoichi!” you snap, turning your head away so fast that the ear-bud slips from your ears and the wires are left dangling between the warmth of isagi’s body and your own. you try to sit still, fighting off burning, frustrated tears — lucky that no one’s heard your outburst over the busy ambience of the train. “believe me, i’ve held out hope for it.”

“but i do love you.” he snaps back, grabbing you by the wrist so that you’re forced to look at him. isagi’s eyes are wide and deep, swirling in their hypnotising shade of blue with an emotion you don’t recognise seeing on him. love. “maybe you’re the one who’s dumb enough not to have noticed. maybe i’ve been too shy or too caught up with soccer to say so. but i love you. i want that song to make you feel like you’re in love with me.”

“o-oh…yoichi i—“ your eyes widen, then soften all at once and you feel yourself melting fast — as if all of your dreams have come true. “i don’t know what to say…”

the tips of his ears are bright pink, the hue blooming across his cheeks like they’re roses in bloom. yoichi chews on his lower lip nervously before shoving the right bud of the headphones back into your ear. “just say you like me back ‘nd we’ll leave it at that for now, okay?” he mumbles like a teenager, very much unlike the confident, cocky isagi who everyone fears on the pitch.

wisps of a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you reach out and grab his larger hand with yours — giving it a squeeze. “alright then, yoichi,” you say, leaning over to kiss the warmth of his cheeks. “i like you too.” his eyes go wide.

this is all silly and new for the both of you — having been in love with one another for years without saying. you’ll have a lot to talk about once you reach his parents’ house, how you’ll make this work with his soccer career and your new life in the big city, what you want this to be, who you’ll tell. but for now you try not to dwell on it, letting your head flop to isagi’s shoulder and his on top of yours, sharing headphones and listening to songs that made him fall in love with you.

[perplexingly]

I've been wanting to write a description of the Watermill Theatre's Lord of the Rings musical for these who were unable to see it, so I'll mention some of the things that stood out to me.

Also first of all, I saw that @emeraldskulblaka was kind enough to compile a masterpost about the musical, sharing the available videos and audios here

Now to the Watermill production:

The audience was encouraged to come 30min before the start of the show to celebrate Bilbo's 111 birthday.

During that time the actors were playing music, talking with the audience, playing games with the audience, I almost got hit in the face as Gimli in front of me failed to catch a ring that was thrown at him : D I saw there are some recordings of this part around, eg:

While still outdoors, the play started seemlessly with Bilbo's iconic birthday speech. After his disappearing act (in a puff of smoke), we moved indoors and while the audience was settling down, Frodo sat on stage all sad perusing letters

This stage is very tiny but they used it in a clever way; eg. there were moments when, to show the distance, the actors would say their lines behind the audience on the upper ring. They would also utilise the doors at the center stage or the ladders on the sides to climb on. The lighting also gave each scene a lot of character:

Also each actor doubled as a musician, often playing on the edges of the stage but still in full view, giving this interesting illusion of environment.

I think my favourite moment of using actors as parts of the environment was during Sam and Frodo's Now and for Always duet: once they started singing, Bilbo came to sit on the edge, in the shadow, just looking at them, and with each verse a new hobbit/musician came behind, hanging out in the shadows and giving this dreamy idea of Shire. And when Sam fell asleep, there was Rosie coming a bit forward to caress him.

Another such wonderful moment was near the end, when Frodo could go no longer and Sam helped him. The earlier situation when Sam fought off Shelob with Eärendil's light reminded the viewer of Galadriel's - and the elves - indirect help. And when Sam put his arms around Frodo to guide him, quietly, in the shadows around them illusions of elves appeared to show them the way and to catch them when they stumbled.

Speaking about the plot point - act 1 encompassed the first of the trilogy while the second act the other two. To achieve this condensation in the second act, most characters that were not directly related to the fellowship were either removed or merged with other, eg. Denethor and Theoden were combined into one, with the Rohan/Gondor politics removed altogether. But honestly, I thought it was the smarter choice, as we get the time to get attached to the main cast.

One more thing I'd like to mention were the practical effects. While ents were just an off-stage voice, when they were talking there were leafs falling down from the ceiling. But the most impressive was Shelob, which was a giant puppet with real-like leg movement, mostly in shadow except for the reflective eyes. I saw that there's an early test for Shelob posted on Instagram:

Also, I talked about Gollum in an earlier post, but I just wanted to make a quick illustration of the adorable moment between Gollum and Bilbo that I saw in the epilogue:

[yanxidarlings]

hello !! I've been really interested in your "not slytherin" writing and i think i have reread it more than 20-ish times hahahah since it's really good and you're the reason why i am invested in all these fan characters (since i didnt see what their appeal was before reading your work).

and now speaking of it, I'm now thinking about a specific "what if?" scenario, and that is; what if the suffering the reader goes through becomes so much to the point it transforms them into an obscurial? they have pretty much oppressed all their emotions, all their negativity, for four years— and it broke them. and the angst would be so good for this. the reader would definitely be more than distrustful. they're afraid that since their name has already been burnt off their own family; they would soon be expelled or even worse taken into the ministry for how dangerous they are to the other students. and this would definitely up the yandere factor to another level. they're aware theyre at fault for most of the reader's suffering, and that a single trigger would cause them to burst but then they can't do a single fucking thing about it or else.

not a request, but it's something ive been thinking about for a long time now !! (I'm really new to the hp fandom and ur writing definitely made me want to read more into them so I'm glad i stumbled upon it suddenly ^^)

dude, broski, broskilenski, ur a wizard of some sort because HOW ELSE COULD YOU READ MY MIND

i was considering making the reader an obscurial (my favourite fanfiction trope by far) but hesitent incase it was too farfetched but I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A SIGN

was sitting on not slytherin aye p2 but this ask has given me the inspiration to write

so without further adieu, with compliments to the other not slytherin p2 ask

jaythes1mp asked:

Could you do a part two of your latest fic (at this time) — YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

Where all the sudden suffocating affection they’re showing him after years of tournament makes him leave Hogwarts because he’s so terrified. He knows they couldn’t have changed, since they’re still threatening anyone near him. But once news gets around to them that he’s leaving for good? How would they take the news? And if they learn that he’s been disowned from his family? Would that be a good or bad thing — because now they can’t arrange a marriage. And it would be harder to find him if he got out of their grasps.

Would they be forced to team up? Would they force him into an unbreakable vow or blood pact??

Please do my request, I’ll beg. Just ask, I will actually get on my knees and beg. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

i present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE? P2

“remember, you have to do anything to be slytherin, no matter what it takes” draco's words replayed in m/n's head. he'd replayed that sentance so much it had become distorted, is that even what he said m/n thought to himself, watching the train pass by.

under his eyes were bags the size of boulders, he hadn't slept in days. not since..

"excuse me, sir" a voice rung in his head. m/n shook his head, he wanted it all to go away, go away, go away- "mister, i'm gonna have to ask you for ID" somesort of internal wiring within him snapped "GO AWAY" m/n screamed, finally turning to face to the person- man.. muggle police officer, that had been addressing him.

the officer moved back, taking a strange device off his uniform and speaking into it "i'm gonna need back-up, barkley" whilst the man was engaged, m/n made a run for it.

"GET BACK HERE YOUNG MAN" the police officer bellowed, chasing after the teenage boy.

running through, down the subway and onto the train tracks, the officer gave up the pursuit. sooner or later the boy would be run over by an oncoming train in the tunnels.

after running for who knows how long, m/n finally slowed to a walking pace. then he stopped. the sound of a horn filled his ears, the pitch black tunnel illuminated by the vehicles headlights. i

it was getting closer

m/n looked around, there was nowhere to go in the narrow tunnel

closer

tears filled his eyes, but instead of sobbing he began laughing, only to break out into a fit of sobs and then revert back to laughter.

it was too close

suddenly a BANG was heard as the train came to a stop, the tunnel filled with black mist, which had somehow crushed the head of the train.

it was not natural, it was.. dark magic.

• it was on the front page of the daily prophet the next day 'OBSCURIAL SIGHTING IN SOUTH LONDON SUBWAY' obscurials were no common occurance, the last one was reported in the 1930's, new york.

• it wasn't a cured illness, no, the circumstances of it's development had simply become less common. children of all blood status' had access to education in order to facilitate their powers, and there were muggleborn programs across the world to ensure they did not develop one either.

• it had the ministry stumped. there were no leads on the obscurus, nor was a body found to sugget the outburst had caused the hosts death.

• albus dumbledore was no stranger to obscurials, he had lost so much to them, his sister, his nephew — but he knew well what power the host of one held. and the key role one could play in the coming war.

• which is why he had to find the obscurial before the ministry, or lord voldemort did.

"i am not here to hurt you, m/n" the headmaster called out, slowly approaching the young wizard, who's wand was drawn. "what spell do you plan to use, child?" the older man chimed, it was no secret m/n l/n was never the best with applied magic, like he was with potions or magical creatures

m/n's wand arm shook, "petrificus totalus" upon speaking the words, his wand shot out a spell, of which dumbledore blocked. hitting into the ground, the concrete began to degrade.

terrified, m/n dropped his wand, eyes glassy and wide "i didn't- i have to go" he stuttered out

"there are people who will hurt you, who will use you as a weapon" dumbledore moved closer to the boy who was now shaking "i can help, you can help, you don't have to be the monster the obscurus compels you to be" they were now face to face, or beard to cheek, as m/n couldn't break his eyes away from the concrete.

when the boy nodded, the headmaster took his arm, and a loud POP sounded through the air.

the next day, m/n attended breakfast as if he had not been missing for the past two weeks.

the headmaster had given him his own room under the guise of spacing issues, perhaps having an escape would make this year less hellish, or maybe spending too much time alone would exuberate his growing instability.

at least he could kill one of his tormenters without any witnesses now.

a couple people stared at him as he made his way to the great hall, lovegood had even greeted him. albeit she held the quibbler she had with her close to her chest.

"salazar!" he heard a familiar voice exclaim from behind him, arms wrapping around him "where have you been, l/n" he didn't like the way malfoy was looking at him, it was soft "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-"

m/n was quick to shove off malfoys embrace, rather roughly, before turning around to walk away.

he was pulled back, he now saw malfoys eyes were glassy, as if he was about to cry. what a baby, m/n thought, he wasn't listening to whatever bollocks was coming out malfoys mouth, instead he just glared "and i'm sorry if i was the reason-"

"malfoy, just go cry about this to the house elves, they get paid to care i don't"

and with that, m/n was off, ignoring zabini and nott who were staring at him as he shoved past.

• as the days went by, his tormentors wouldn't leave him alone, but they weren't doing what they always had, they were being nice. which scared him even more. perhaps because niceness was so foreign or because he knew it had to be a ploy for their next big trick.

• he wanted to be left alone by them but there was no way out. they held him in chokeholds they called hugs and suffocated him with what they called kisses.

• they sat with him in class and one of them was always partnered up with him, but they just wanted to sabotage his grades, and get him expelled.

• they were no longer hostile towards him but towards each other, whenever one caught him with another, they'd fight each other with wits or fists.

• they dragged him to their dorm every night and drew sticks to decide who he would be stuck with for the night. he never slept those nights, they were just waiting for him to fall asleep so they could do something horrible.

• but he rarely ever slept at all these days, which is what contributed to the paranoia that led him to leaving.

• the only reason he stayed was for headmaster dumbledore, who had been attempting to help him learn to control the obscurus, to no avail. when the headmaster was outcast by the ministry, there was no reason to stay and wait to get caught for what he was.

"do you understand your fault, mr l/n" the sickeningly sweet sound of umbridges voice filled his ears, it was more painful than the cuts inflicted on him by the quill he had been forced to write with.

blood was trickling down to the floor, the words that he had been made to write indecipherable, covered in the blood they had drawn. "i must not disrespect the high inquisitor" he uttered, teeth clenched.

"i don't think you understand, mr l/n, twenty more lines"

he remained still, staring at the blood on the carpet, then at the decorative plates embeded with cats, and then at umbridges face.

"i quit"

"pardon, mr l/n?"

m/n stood up out of his chair, dropping the quill on the floor "i'm leaving hogwarts" he threw his wand on the table he had been forced to maim himself at, before storming out of the room.

• the news soon reached the slytherins that their beloved m/n had left the school, leaving them bewildered.

• when draco tried to find the reader by having his father get in contact with the l/n's, it finally hit them that m/n had been disowned, rendering their previous efforts to keep him useless.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise is probably the most crushed. his entire plan involved arranging a marriage with the reader, which was now impossible. but what upsets him more is that m/n never even told him. five months and not one mention of being disowned.

• he's mad at the reader until he comes to know the reason for the reader being disowened - because of all he and the other slytherins had done to make it seem like he was a blood traitor.

• blaise hated himself for being a part of it all, but above all, he hated the other slytherins for starting it all. it was draco's fault they all started tormenting him, it was mattheos fault they took it to the extreme.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had his suspicions from the moment m/n returned, his father had mentioned in passing about the l/n's and how dissapointed they were in their son. but it usually ended in lucius praising draco for being such a good son, so he had never paid it much mind.

• it was his fault, he knew it. he hated feeling powerless but that's what he felt as his father told him m/n hadn't gone back home. m/n didn't have a home. he could be out there all on his own, exposed to the dangers of the muggle world..

• his obsession only grew after m/n left hogwarts, every moment of every day he wondered where he was, if he was okay, if he was with anyone. if he was with anyone he'd end them.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo had been told by his parents a few months ago they were unable to arrange a marriage because m/n had been disowned. not that he told anyone else, let them think they have him whilst lorenzo makes m/n fall in love with him.

• except his every advance was met with rejection or hostility. and when m/n left for good he was devastated, how were they supposed to live out their love story now?

• lorenzo confronts the other slytherins when the news m/n had left reached them, which is what led to the realization that they were all sickly obsessed with the ravenclaw.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• something had been strange about m/n the moment he returned, mattheo saw it in his eyes. whether it was what he had gone through the previous years still haunting him, or something else, mattheo tries to get m/n to talk to him, but he's.. mattheo, who once broke m/n's ribcage from beating him.

• it was impossible to foster any trust no matter what he did. he tries to talk about his own struggles, his cruel father and upbringing. he tries to treat m/n like a porcelain doll, but the walls never go down.

• hell hath no rage like a riddle scorned, mattheo would have killed umbridge if tom hadn't stopped him. but he wasn't done with just her, the l/n's were next on his path of rage, and there was little anyone could do to stop him from inflicting a painful death on them

THEODORE NOTT

• theo could barely handle m/n's reluctance to warm up to him, it took every bit of strength in him not to yell and force m/n into opening up, accepting his affection, but m/n not being there at all? theo goes off the rails.

• he fears the worst, what if.. m/n.. theo thinks to himself every moment he's not thinking about how to get him back. when draco tells him m/n was disowned, he broke down crying in the bathroom when he was alone later.

• the world was not safe for a young wizard with no wand or money. what if the dark lord went after him for being a blood traitor. theo went with mattheo to threaten umbridge, and figure out where m/n would have gone.

TOM RIDDLE

• tom could see all the pain m/n was going through when he used legilimency on him. he saw the abuse, the torment, the self hatred, and he knew what the reader had been through and become.

• he's furious that m/n's own parents would disown him, as if he was disposable. it reminded him too much of his own father. but he puts his emotions aside to focus on what really mattered, finding and keeping m/n.

• tom was the only one who had figured out m/n's condition, and used it to his advantage, telling his father that the reader was the obscurus the ministry had been looking for, making m/n voldemorts new target for capture.

tracking down an obscurial was not as simple as the dark lord had anticipated it to be, which is why he delegated the task to his eldest son who had first hand experience with the boy, m/n l/n.

coming to a stop as the sight of the boy filled tom vision, the young death eater watched as m/n stared down his reflection in the water. tom slowly came closer, wand at the ready, until his own reflection revealed his presence.

"you look horrible" the boy turned to face tom as he spoke "you here to kill me, riddle?" m/n sounded resigned, like he had already accepted it.

but that was not what tom was there for. "the dark lord wants you within his ranks" tom stated, avoiding m/n's dead gaze. "what the dark lord wants does not concern me" m/n took a step back, he was scared, tom could tell.

"are you going to make this difficult for me, m/n?" tom took a step closer, snaking an arm around the males waist.

before m/n had the chance to try and stab him in the eye with his own wand, tom stunned him, knocking him out, as lord voldemort came out of the shadows "well done, son" tom looked down at m/n's unconscious face as they apparated. you'll love me oneday.

• the readers condition certainly complicates things for the slytherins, it's no longer simply just subjugate him whether he likes it or not, the readers stability is the difference between life or death, freedom or azkaban for them.

• he becomes the dark lords puppet project, a weapon to use against the order of the phoenix and a tool to keep the future of the death eaters loyal.

• he never returns to hogwarts, tom made sure he was outted as the obscurial so that he'd never have anywhere to run, everywhere he could go he would be seen as a threat, a monster.

• an all-out war breaks out bewteen the slytherins once they have the reader in their grasp again. no one is willing to relent, m/n belongs to them. not the others, them.

• the slytherins would slowly come to the realisation there was no single 'winner', none of them could ever have a normal life with him now the dark lord was back and he had developed an obscurus.

• instead the focus would switch into keeping m/n safe, from voldemort, from himself, from the ministry, from everything.

TOM RIDDLE

• out of all of them, tom can handle m/n's obscurus the best. mostly because he's level headed enough not to set him off. sure he has some sadistic tendencies but at the cost of his own, and surrounding lives?

• tom's obsession was exuberated by the obscurus, it made his darling all the more appealing. to hold such power over someone so powerful is what drives him to sometimes provoke the obscurus, to see what potential m/n truly holds.

• sometimes he goes to far and gets someone or himself seriously injured. he wants to help his darling learn to control the obscurus, but it's hard to acheive when he himself also wants to control his darling.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo is frankly horrified when he finds out m/n had developed an obscurus. he had only ever heard stories about obscurials dying young, after an outburst they can't control.

• he wonders how long m/n had suffered with it for. in the back of his mind, he hopes it was before hogwarts, or else he truly was an absolute piece of shit, to help torment the one he loves most into such a despairful illness.

• theo spends the time he's not with his darling searching through the old pureblood libraries for even a hint of a cure. he wanted to be with his darling forever, but the oldest obscurial only ever lived until 23. theo won't stop until he can figure out how to get rid of the obscurus.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo knows he's most likely the reason, above all the other slytherins, for the readers affliction. he was the one who chased him into dark hallways and used the torture curse, the one who said the nastiest things, the one who went the furthest with the torment.

• he wishes he could take all his darlings pain away. because one wrong word, one accidental touch, could send him over the edge. a world without his darling is what scares him the most, above everything fucked up in the wizarding world.

• so he treats m/n like a single bump would shatter him. it's difficult, mattheo isn't exactly the super soft type, but he tries, he knows if any of the slytherins caught m/n looking upset around him they'd end him.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• enzo underestimates the readers condition, until he finally see's it for himself one day when snape had called m/n a freak, and he exploded. safe to say, it terrified enzo.

• he's under the impression that if he loves m/n enough, the obscurus will go away. deep down he knows it won't, but it helps him justify the heap of affection he doses his darling in. his heart breaks when he's pushed away and he knows pushing back could result in the worst.

• lorenzo is the readers number one caretaker. he always reminds them to eat and get sleep and not to stress about anything. he tries to treat them as normally as possible but it gets difficult when the obscurus mentality kicks in and m/n starts talking about killing them all.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco isn't quite sure how to approach his dear darling after finding out he's an obscurial. draco is overcome with guilt for the hand he had in it, and abominably frustrated he can't just force the reader into doing what he wants.

• when he becomes a death eater he begins to fear for his darlings safety, he hears what the dark lord says about his plans including m/n, and it scares him. there's no regard for m/n's safety or survival, the dark lords only goal is to set m/n off when he takes hogwarts for a quick and easy victory.

• draco tries to get closer to m/n by playing the dependent rich boy, who doesn't know how to do anything for himself. draco figures that if m/n starts to feel responsible for him, it'll be harder for him to leave or say no.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaises mother told him to stay far away from m/n when she found out. if it were anyone else he would take her advice, but this was his darling, and he could never abandon him over a small imperfection.

• he's the easiest to be around among them all, he doesn't feel the need to always been touching or talking to the reader which is usually what sets him off.

• blaise tries to help m/n settle back into normal life (normal meaning non socially isolated endlessly tormented), but years of torment has taken it's toll in more ways than one. sometimes m/n will accuse blaise and the others of the strangest things, but they all have to take it in stride, or else risk an outburst.

[luvring]

HE'S NOT SPECIAL

suna x gn!reader | won’t lie. was Fully thinking of miguel o’hara while writing this. i left it vague so u can project anybody though. LOL

suna’s been glaring at you wrapped in a blanket on your phone for the past 10 minutes.

a blanket in one of your favourite colours that you love that he—your boyfriend, he comments to himself—bought for your birthday.

a blanket you’re now kicking up every 15 or so seconds as you loop edits of something, someone, that’s caught your attention more than him in his time of need.

“babe.”

“hm?”

you don’t turn to him when you respond, you don’t pause the video or even lower the volume. rintarou huffs before climbing under the blanket with you.

his arms wrap around your stomach, and he rests his forehead against the back of your head. for a second he could almost forget you weren’t paying attention to him, until he hears you make a noise—a squeak? squeal? giggle? at a new edit you’ve found.

this time, instead of ignoring it, rin lifts his head to watch with you.

“this is who you’ve been posting recently, right?”

he knows he’s right. he pays attention to everything you talk about.

“yeah, isn’t he so handsome? oh my god when he says—” the character’s voice line cuts you off, and you let out another noise before slightly rolling forward and kicking the blanket again.

your boyfriend debates whether he should be offended or find your reaction endearing. (in an offensive way.)

“i could do that.”

“do what?”

“say the thing he said.”

you don’t respond for a few seconds before breathing out a confused laugh. “...okay?”

“he’s not special.”

this time you really laugh. “okay?”

“why don’t you kick your feet when you watch me?”

“what—hey, you don’t know that i don’t,” you protest, finally turning to look at him. “are you pouting?”

“no.”

he is. he has been the entire time, he notes, as he forces himself to stop. you put your phone down and jokingly coo, reaching to squeeze his cheeks. “aw, you’re jealous—”

“no i’m not. that’d be dumb.”

“my rin’s jealous,” you sing-song, and rintarou almost hates how his heart jumps at the way you call him yours. he glares at you while you squish his face together and you laugh again. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i’ll stop watching edits now.”

still smiling at him, you let go of his face and hug him back. then you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips and rin relaxes into it, fingers ever so slightly pressing into the small of your back after successfully getting your attention back.

you pull away to murmur a few inches away from his lips. “just for the record, i’d still pick you over him.”

rin huffs warm air against your skin before nuzzling into the crook of your neck, content. “good.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

[rootbeerworshiper]

Normal (part 1)

pairing: fem!character + matt sturniolo

summery: Abigail and Matt have been best friends for years and practically grew up together. the two hiding their feelings for one another, until one stupid drunken dare changes things.

warnings: swearing, suggestive parts, drinking, slight mention of abuse but not too much detail.

this is the first fic i’ve ever written but i actually like it a lot and @sturnswrites convinced me to post it

no idea where this story is going but for now, enjoy!

pt 2 pt 3

love, sienna <3

the first time i saw him was my first day of grade 4. i was new and incredibly anxious. i had always been an anti social child and for the most part i was okay with it, preferring reading books over introducing myself to others. but for whatever reason, it no longer felt okay. i struggled to see all the groups of girls laughing and eating lunch together, for whatever reason it stung.

i was fully prepared to sit by myself, walking over to an empty table with my lunch bag, but that’s when i heard something. well, heard someone.

“hey!” a boy yelled from behind me. after pausing for a moment, i assumed he wasn’t talking to me and picked up where i left off, back to the empty table.

“Chris you’re so dumb how is she meant to know you’re talking to her” another boy said, this one wearing a power rangers shirt

“oh… right” the boy with the longest hair replied, thinking momentarily

i finally arrived at the table and began opening my lunch kit, also looking for my headphones. i liked to drown out the voices of others, focusing on the lyrics of my favourite artists. i grabbed the wired headphones and untangled them before beginning to eat my sandwich.

i thought about how lonely i felt, how stupid i probably looked, eating the sandwich my older sister packed for me in a room surrounded my kids with food from the cafeteria. these thoughts consumed me until all of a sudden i felt a little less lonely.

looking to my left, my brows furrowed. a boy. sitting next to me.

he didn’t say anything at first, opening his lunch kit simply and taking out his snacks for the day. eventually though, he mustered up the courage to speak. “are you listening to black eyed peas?”

i shift in my seat, stomach immediately filling with anxiety “oh um yeah i am” i said quietly biting my lip, looking at the boy for any sort of emotion “im sorry i’ll turn it down i-“

“can i have a headphone?” he says. i wasn’t sure what to do in this moment, is this how you make friends? would he hate my music? did he think i was a loser? i try to shake the thoughts out of my head and focus on the boy facing me, who is now opening up a bag of my favourite fruit snacks.

“only if you give me a fruit snack” i smile, taking out a headphone from my ear and holding my hand out.

“deal” the boy replies placing two orange fruit snacks into my palm and grabbing the headphone. “what’s your name? i haven’t seen you before”

i cant believe this is happening, like at all. “my names Abigail but most people call me Abi” i reply, tilting my head back and throwing the two fruit snacks in my mouth.

“i like that name. Abigail. it has a good ring to it” he says before thinking for a moment. the feeling in my stomach is replaced by butterflies. i place my hands on my cheeks, attempting to hide the blush that’s tinting them “i think i have a better nickname then Abi, how do you feel about Bee?”

a confused look makes it’s way to my face. “like the bug?” he nods his head excitedly. “sure, you can call me Bee” i smile. “what’s your name? you haven’t told me yet” oh god that sounds weird, i’m so awkward i should just get up and go while i can-

“i’m Matt. well technically i’m Matthew but no one calls me that, it’s too formal” he smiles back, taking a bite into the sandwich that his mom made for him.

“well now i need a special nickname for you” i say, biting my lip as i try and think of something. i fidget with my fingers for a moment before i think of something. “how do you feel about Matty?”

“hm it’s okay.” he replies, mouth half full. i feel so stupid he probably hates it “but only you can call me that” this immediately brings a smile back to my lips.

“sounds like we have a deal Matty”

“sounds like we do, Bee”

since that fateful day, i had a friend and well, unbeknownst to me, the friend i made came with two others, Chris and Nick.

the three boys made me feel so much better about starting at a new school, made me feel seen at times where i’d normally feel invisible.

my home life wasn’t great, to put it bluntly it was shit. my mom was working all the time and i barely ever saw her and my dad, well i saw him more than i’d like. he was never physically abusive, and it took me many years to refer to anything he did to me as abuse, but really that’s what it was.

he would constantly remind me that i wasn’t good enough, saying that him and my mom wished i was never born. as you can imagine, it hurt like a bitch. but i always had my older sister there to pack me lunches and write me notes of encouragement. looking back on it, i feel more bad for her than i do myself because she had to endure all that shit and she didn’t have an older sister to cry out to.

when she went off to college i was heartbroken, not that i would ever show it to her.

the sudden absence of a family figure in my life made me closer to the triplets then i has been before.

i was always close to Chris and Nick and they were like family to me, really. but something about Matt always set him apart.

every time he’d ask me to hangout my heart beat would speed up, or when he puts his arm around me and i suddenly feel the same feelings in my stomach that i did in grade 4.

him and i understood each other on a different level, we helped one another in many ways. whenever i had a problem, i always had someone to turn to, and he had the same.

another important thing to mention about Matt is that he was my first kiss.

it was in sophomore year, and Chris had gotten us invited to our first real party, although there wasn’t more than 15 teenagers there, it was still a big deal.

Matt never liked the idea of drinking, said he didn’t wanna lose control. i didn’t like it either, my dad did most of his yelling under the influence of beer, and every time i smell it it’s like he‘a breathing down my neck all over again.

everyone else at the party drank, but it didn’t bother me because i had Matt by my side.

“we should play spin the bottle!” Chris suggests, already 3 drinks in and somehow more confident than ever before. i knew he only wanted to play because his crush was there, so i went along with it.

“sure, could be fun right?” i look to Matt who is internally freaking out. he just nods so i grab his hand and we head to the middle of the dim lit basement.

the drunk teenagers all eventually form a circle on the rug and place an empty beer bottle in the middle.

“who’s going first?” Nick asks, sipping on the random sweet cooler in his hand. “dibs out” he laughs with Alahna, another friend brought to me through Matt.

“i’ll go” the long haired triplet says, running his hand through his hair and leaning into the middle of the circle to spin the bottle

i just laugh and whisper to Matt “i wonder why that is?” Matt just shoots me a shocked look but ultimately joins in on my laughing

Chris ignores us and spins the bottle, landing on Alahna. “bro” he groans, placing his hands over his face

“wow you really know how to compliment a girl Christopher, i’m so flattered” she jokes, earning a snort from me across the circle

“no not like that-“ he begins to defend himself but ultimately gives up “whatever” he sits up and leans across the rug, giving the girl a peck on the lips, both of their faces becoming engulfed in disgust.

“Matt you’re next” a random guy from across the circle says, causing Matt to rub his hands over his face

i put my hand on his knee and speak just loud enough for him to hear “you got it Matty” he just groans and leans forward to spin the bottle

it feels like an eternity has gone by when the bottle finally lands.

on me.

it’s not like i haven’t thought about kissing him before, but this was so… real.

a blush creeps it’s way onto my face which i cover with both of my palms, internally freaking the fuck out.

Chris had his fun teasing us, but eventually something needed to happen. i looked up from the floor to the boy next to me. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’s just a dumb game” i explain, trying to avoid the awkward feeling forming in my stomach from the way he looks at me.

he thinks for a moment before shrugging. “i’m down if you’re down, just a game right?” he doesn’t know how that sentence makes me feel, my heart doing literal backflips inside my chest.

“okay” is all i say when he suddenly leans in, finger making its way to my chin to guide my lips to his.

the kiss is short lasting, but sweet. i didn’t realize i was craving the feeling of his lips on mine until i experienced it.

he pulls his lips off of mine but keeps his hand on my chin for a moment longer, remaining eye contact with me until Nick speaks again.

“okay that made everyone uncomfortable please get a room” he jokes and the game continues on for a while, drunken kisses being shared throughout the group.

but i can’t get my mind off of the way my best friends lips felt on mine, how right it felt. at least to me, it was just a dumb game to him, right?

After that night, Matt and i never mentioned kissing each other again, and everything went back to normal.

other than my feelings for him that i gained that night. i couldn’t get my mind off of his lips, how soft they were, how they fit like a puzzle piece onto my own. it felt like a dream.

but again, we decided to go back to normal.

however, normal, became well, not normal.

stolen stares became more common, and soft touches were now intentional.

unfortunately this didn’t stop him from dating other girls, and i mean why wouldn’t he? he kissed me once in some strangers basement, it’s not like he fell in love with me on the spot.

as his best friend i helped him get girls, telling him all the right things to say and do, constantly wishing he would do those things for me.

i knew i was torturing myself but he was my best friend and losing him was not worth telling him how i felt. so i kept it to myself. for years.

it wasn’t too bad at first. somehow i was able to keep him off my mind for the most part and i tried my best to find other potential suitors, but as you can probably imagine, nothing clicked.

when nick came out to me in junior year i was obviously thrilled, because it meant he trusted me and it was something that brought us together. but i also couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being honest about how i felt about his brother.

so i told him.

“no fucking way” he says, hands rubbing his eyes as if he just saw something traumatizing. i bit my lip, a bad habit i haven’t been able to shake, as i looked to him, awaiting a reaction. “you’re in love with my brother and i’m just now finding out?” he didn’t sound overly mad but he certainly wasn’t happy.

“i wouldn’t say in love” he just rolls his eyes. “i’m sorry! i just didn’t want you to be mad at me and it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen anyways so i didn’t think it was relevant” i ramble, fidgeting with my fingers anxiously. if Matt were here his hand would be placed in mine to calm me down.

“i’m not mad, i don’t think.” he thinks for a second, furrowing his eyebrows before speaking again “when did it start?” he asks

“sophomore year. in the basement” i feel so incredibly uncomfortable but i know that it’s only fair for Nick to know.

he’s confused for a moment before realizing “well shit” he contemplates in his head for a moment longer “i actually see it” he’s smiling now as he looks to me

“see what?” that’s all i can muster up the courage to say, still incredibly awkward saying these things out loud

“well like, i see it. like you guys together, i never thought about it before but it actually makes so much sense” the last thing i needed was Nick feeding into my delusions.

“yeah right, you don’t have to lie to me, i can live in peace knowing it’s a one sided thing that’s going nowhere” i reply, and it’s true. i came to terms with Matt not liking me back a long time ago.

“i’m not lying, i mean he’s definitely too stupid to realize what’s there but i fully believe that there is something there” nick says and i don’t really reply, now fidgeting with the ring Matt got me in freshman year. “but i’m glad you told me, now we can help each other, you find me a boyfriend and i get my brother to like you back”

i audibly laugh “i’ll definitely find you a boyfriend but you don’t have to worry about Matt and i, i’ll move on eventually”

3 years later and i still hadn’t moved on.

i mean it was definitely more of a repressed feeling, but still a feeling nonetheless. at this point it was a little embarrassing.

i tried dating around, but usually i got bored and gave up. i also tried casual hookups but it gets pretty boring having bad sex all the time.

and all of that brings me to tonight, at yet another “get together” with the all of the triplets friends and i can’t help but feel extremely out of place.

other than Nate and the triplets, i’m not actually friends with anyone here, and it doesn’t help that majority of them are influencers. so although i normally don’t drink, i needed to do something to get rid of the anxious feeling in my stomach that brews the longer i stay sober.

some rap song that i’ve never heard of is blasting in the back round and i get lost in my own thoughts for a moment. “you’re drinking?” Chris asks, now standing next to me as i lean against the kitchen counter. before he gets an answer he grabs the solo cup from my hand and takes a sip.

i roll my eyes and take the cup back. “you could not be less obnoxious if you tried Chris” i take another sip, if i could leave now i would, but i promised Nick that i’d stay.

“wow aren’t you just a bundle of joy right now” Chris fake smiles and goes to the island to pour himself a drink. “what’s got you in a bad mood?” he yells just loud enough to be heard over the music.

i’m not entirely sure how to answer the question. oh you know I’m just in love with your brother and he’s talking to three girls at once in the corner! yeah not happening. “nothing really, i just don’t love parties” i say, finishing my drink now to make room in my cup for another.

“mmm sure” Chris rubs my head and messes up my hair, same thing he’s been doing for years and it pisses me off every time, well except for now. i’m too preoccupied with literally anything else to care. “i think they’re starting a drinking game over there now if you care to join”

i look to the group of people who are now in the living room. normally i’d say no right away, especially with what happened last time i played a drinking game, but the alcohol is getting to me and the triplets are definitely not the only attractive guys at this party. “sure why not”

“that’s my girl” Chris smiles, dapping me up and we walk towards the living room together. i try my best to avoid looking at the girls drooling over Matt on the couch.

i’ve never drank before i definitely feel more confident as i sit next to some “influencer” i don’t know the name of, but he’s hot and Matt currently-

has his hand on some girls lap.

awesome!

“okay i think what we’re gonna do is like, truth or dare but if you don’t do either, then you take a shot” Nick explains “any objections?” he looks to me subtly but i choose to ignore him “alright, hm.. Nate truth or dare?”

the boy just smiles and sits up from his previously comfortable position on the couch. “i’ll do truth for now, i’m not drunk enough yet for dare” he jokes, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“okay let me think” Nick replies, eyes darting upwards as if he’s looking into his head. “where was the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

the room is filled with laughter and cheers momentarily before he answers. “alright i don’t even have a weird place because i’m not a freak like Chris over there but probably just the car” Nate explains

“i feel targeted right now” Chris says, holding his hands to his heart as if he’s been shot.

i continue to sip on the drink in my hand for a few more rounds before my own name is called by Chris. “okay Abi truth or dare?” he smirks, assuming I’m going to play it safe.

“dare”

my thoughts are confirmed when everyone in the room shares the same shocked expression as Chris. “alrighty then i need to pick a good one” the long hair boy rubs his head, attempting to think of something good. “oh i have one” he smiles and i know it’s gonna be something crazy by the way his eyes glimmer. “i dare you to give a hickey to the hottest person in this room”

my jaw literally drops. as much as i’d rather not suck on someone’s neck in a room full of people, i know that if i take the shot now i’ll never live it down. “bet” i smile, trying to come off as confident although i am literally shitting myself. i look around and of course i make eye contact with Matt.

normally, i wouldn’t do something so irrational, but i’m 4 drinks in and feeling the need to prove myself.

i make eye contact with him again after looking around and i swallow my pride and place myself on his lap. “this good?” i ask him quietly. he just nods and well i get to work, placing a few teasing kisses along his jaw before picking a spot and sucking until i pull away and see a mark. “there all done” i pat him on the head and sit back in my original spot.

“well fuck okay then” Madi laughs with Nick from across the room, a few more rounds go by, some of them literally causing me to piss myself laughing, when abruptly, Matt stands up and literally b lines to his room. everyone makes their remarks on “tuff guy” Matt but i can’t help but feel bad. i’m not sure why i feel guilty, i don’t think i did anything wrong, but i can tell he’s upset and i’d hate to be the cause of it.

just as i’m about to get up Chris’s hand places itself on my leg. “don’t worry about him, trust me he’s fine. you deserve to have fun” he looks at me with a sort of seriousness in his eyes that causes me to slouch back down into my seat.

the rest of the night is filled with my own thoughts about Matt.

was it something i did? was he angry? sad? why didn’t he say anything? where is he? what is he doing right now?

as his best friend i know i should be in there comforting him the way he had done to me countless times but for whatever reason, what Chris said stuck with me, so instead i sat and watched a bunch of dumb 20 something-year olds play truth or dare at 1am. not my idea of a fun time.

authors note: next chapter will be very similar to this one but by chapter 3 there will be fun angst trust🤞

[hollowtakami]

THE BIRD’S BOOKSHOP

BANNER ART: KADEART

Keigo Takami x GN!Reader

CONTENT: bookworm keigo x bookworm reader, pure fluff, keigo has bird mannerisms + is the cutest hopeless romantic

WORD COUNT: 447

AUTHOR NOTE: thank you so much for 100 followers!! i appreciate every single one of you, every single interaction! i loved writing this one, im thinking of making it a fluff miniseries? for now, be safe, friends! you are so loved!

In one universe, Keigo Takami is one of Japan’s  top heroes. He’s saving lives everyday, constantly on high alert. He’s a marionette on a string, the puppeteer the HPSC - they raised him, made him into a “hero”. 

In another universe, Keigo Takami spends his days with his face in a book, sipping his favourite sweet, canned coffee. 

He adores fantasy novels, he gets lost in them for hours. Losing himself in the pages, with every turn comes with it a new discovery. Keigo is captivated by the mystique, the weird and wonderful creatures bound by ink and paper. 

He reads of unlikely heroes, pilgrims, sorcery and witchcraft, dragons and humans with wings; those are his favourite characters, he loves seeing himself in them. 

If he’s not at a locally-owned cafe, Keigo will be at the bookstore. When he’s not clocked in at the library, he’s at his second home. He spends hours scanning the shelves, reading blurbs of books he found interesting, re-shelving them with careful fingers. 

All the employees know him, they love the charming, golden bird that always walks in with a smile and stars in his eyes. 

He’s tried local book clubs, but found that they thought his incessant rambling - or, chirping - about his latest reads to be rather irritating. 

At times, Keigo felt erroneous, a dusty, tattered thing among a freshly-printed paperback. 

That was until he wandered again into the bookshop, and saw you sauntering around the fantasy section - his place in the bookstore. 

He didn’t feel territorial, as a bird of his stature would. Instead, Keigo Takami found himself besotted by the stranger gazing at the spine of one of his favourite novels. 

He has to fight down an excited chirp as he sees your hands fold over the book, you slip it out and read over the blurb. Though, his wings flap audibly and catch your attention, the soft breeze tickling your face. 

You look over and smile at the sheepish bird in front of you, an awkward smile plastered on his face, redder than his wings. 

“Sorry-! Uh, I couldn’t help but notice you’d picked up some of my favourites!” 

You can hear the excitement in the bird’s voice, and feel those emotions repeated in the beating of your heart. 

You beam, “Yeah! They’re one of my favourite authors, actually,” 

The bookstore staff watched as you enamoured over each other, discussing your beloved fantasy novels; the best parts of ongoing series, plot twists and your favourite characters. 

They smiled. 

Keigo Takami had finally found someone who shared his love for the world within pages of a book. Little did he know that you’d been searching for the exact same thing. 

[madeinparadis]

NIGHTLY SORROWS | THOMAS SHELBY

pairing: thomas shelby × reader

tw: grief (reader is dead), angst

word count: 724

masterlist: all characters

a/n: this is more of a drabble, just a little something i wrote before bed. italics signal a flashback/memory.

Far into the winter, all of Birmingham was covered in fog and cold. The houses were dimly illuminated by the bleak sunshine during the day, then engulfed by darkness in the later hours, and Arrow House was no exception, looking and feeling particularly gloomy. Despite all efforts done by staff to make it warm and hospitable for its owner, the most important part of it was lost forever, and could never be replaced- you.

The clock on the bedside table read one o'clock. Tommy sat in what was once your shared bed, now only his. His mind was playing tricks on him yet again, clouding his conscience with visions of you, the feeling of longing and regret leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

No matter the circumstances, Thomas Shelby wouldn't ever say he is an emotional or sensitive man. With all the horrors he's seen, all the men he's brutally murdered, the business he leads, there was just no space in his life for feelings. Even so, that doesn't mean they didn't plague him- in fact, they took over his mind at every given chance. Every time he let himself breathe and relax his muscles, he was taken there, to a place where you exposed the thoughts and emotions buried the deepest in his consciousness.

"Tom?" you called, a smile painted on your face. Oh, this was one of his favourite memories. "Look, I want you to see this." your request caught his attention, making him glance up at you, taking notice of the new garments on your frame. "What do you think?" you gestured at your outfit. "The seamstress finished it earlier today. I'm thinking of wearing it the charity event next week."

If only he didn't take you to that ball...

"It looks perfect. you're always beautiful, love." Tommy replied, watching you change back into your nightgown, joining him in bed- back when it was still both his and yours to share.

"Fuck." he spoke in a low, tired tone. He had to get his shit together, stop reminiscing, he thought to himself. Well, perhaps later he would- for now, he wanted to keep you around, in whatever way possible.

The hours went by as Thomas drowned himself with work in the office, a poor attempt to drown out the thought of you. He got up from his chair, dragging his tired self to the cabinet and pouring himself a glass of whisky. Sitting behind the desk again, he drank up the contents of the glass in one uninterrupted take, setting it on the wooden desk quite harshly.

For a second, his head was empty. Then, there you were- the vision of your ghost like an oasis sighting to him. You took a step closer to him, standing behind the office desk as you rested your hands on his shoulders, earning a relieved sigh from Tommy, who leaned into your touch almost desperately.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Your voice was like medicine to his soul, making the pain drift away while he heard it- except it made his heart ache even more after, when he was reminded you weren't truly there anymore.

"Everyday, love." He replied with a tormented tone.

"You know you can't keep living like this, Tom. Our son needs a father." You spoke softly. "He needs you."

"There's no joy in this house without you, (y/n). Charlie misses you just like me, everyday."

You remained silent for some time, offering comfort with your touch rather than words. Tommy accepted every gesture of yours, taking every second he could get with you.

"It's not your fault, Tom. There was nothing you could do to prevent that bullet from reaching me." You spoke up again, kneeling down until your lips reached his ear. "Do you remember my last request to you, just before I died?"

"To be good to Charlie, take care of him." The expression on his face was pained as he answered your question, reminding him of your last moments on earth.

"Exactly. Have you gotten him a horse yet?"

"Yes. I bought him one for Christmas, a good breed."

"That's good. Be patient with him, Tom. He's got a strong-willed spirit like yours."

Tommy felt your lips on his cheek, looking up to see your face. But just like that, you were gone once more.

[look-at-the-soul]

Hi! I'm new to the Peaky fandom and am in need of some Tommy fics because he's my favourite character! If your requests are open, (if not, there's no rush!) may I pretty please have a drabble or imagine -- whatever is easier -- with this gif?

*A little spice is okay, just nothing explicit. Also, my pronouns are she/her, but a gender neutral story is totally okay, too! :)

Thank you in advance!

Hello Jessyca! 🥰 Thank you so much for sending this gif!! I decided to make it part of Adele challenge using one of my favorite songs! (Lyrics in italics) 🔥🥰 edit and welcome to the fandom!! 🥰 I forgot to reply this sorry! I hope so far you’ve found incredible stories and lovely mutuals around (I’m always reblogging stories I really enjoy reading 💖)

🔥🔥🔥although the gif is extra hot, you’ll find nothing but fluffiness in this little story…

Women like me

By the corner of your eye, you found Mr. Shelby trying to catch his breath. Resting on his back against the pillows, he was looking at the ceiling completely lost in his own thoughts, his thumb rubbing absently between his brows.

You're driving me away, give me a reason to stay

I want to be lost in you, but not in this way

Don't think you quite understand who you have on your hands

How can you not see just how good for you I am?

In silence you started the same routine you knew by heart now; get up, get dressed and sneak out of his bedroom in silence, head down.

Ah, yes you were almost forgetting about his generous payment in between.

I know that you've been hurt before, that's why you feel so insecure

I begged you to let me in, 'cause I only want to be the cure

You could still feel his seed dripping down your legs, but tried to pick up your clothes scattered on the floor as gracefully as you could to get dress in the corner.

You’d been serving him for several months now, rumor has it Lizzie Stark wasn’t his mistress anymore because she got pregnant, so that was your job now; being Thomas Shelby’s whore.

Complacency is the worst trait to have, are you crazy?

You ain't never had, ain't never had a woman like me

But tonight there was something different, out of place. Mr. Shelby was still in the same position, his chest was now moving at a more normal pace. Looking at the floor, you felt embarrassed to ask for the money so you decided to pretend to fix your hair to see if he got the hint.

But he didn’t.

So after he longest seconds of your life, you decided to walk out without anything, feeling disappointed because you really needed to money to support your family. Perhaps he’d pay you double the next time, you thought to yourself but as you reached the door, his voice stopped you.

All you do is complain about decisions you make

“Y/N…” Your mouth hang open, surprised to hear him say your name.

“Is there a chance for you to stay all night?”

“I-I don’t know Mr. Shelby.” You stammered nervously, the instructions were clear; let him do whatever he wants, pick up your stuff and leave.

“You can call me Tommy… is there somewhere you need to go?”

Your eyes found his briefly, but you instantly dragged them down. “No, it’s just I’m not supposed to stay for the night.” You answered in a low voice.

“Why not?”

Feeling more embarrassed than ever, you didn’t want to point out the obvious, but as his intense blue eyes stared at you, you didn’t have another choice.

“Sir-Tommy,” you corrected yourself, “I’m just a whore.”

We come from the same place, but you will never give it up

It's where they make you feel powerful

That's why you think I make you feel small

But that's your projection, it's not my rejection

You knew that’s what you were, anyone could tell without even knowing you. But calling yourself that, hit you differently.

“Come here,” he extended his hand at you, and you didn’t have any other choice but take it and climb into bed again. “How long have you been coming here?”

“Six months.”

I put my heart on the line for the very first time

Because you asked me to, and now you've gone and changed your mind

But loving you was a breakthrough

You saw his head moving up and down slowly, but he was still oddly quiet.

He was still trying to organize the thoughts inside his mind as he saw you absently picking on your stockings. How could he put into words the way he felt about you?

“Y/N over the last couple of months, you’ve been the only one willing to spend some time with me, when everyone else finds an excuse to walk out the door, you’ve been the constant of my days, or nights for the matter.”

I saw what my heart can really do

Now some other man will get the love I have for you

'Cause you don't care, oh-oh-oh

Was he going to ask you to stop coming every night? You couldn’t speak, terrified of saying something that would piss him off. You had fallen for him secretly, blame it to the intimacy, the frequent late night calls, the way please took over him, but you did and deep down you knew it was all wrong.

“You’re not like the others, you don’t take and leave. You fill my glass with whiskey before you go or you pick up my clothes and fold them… you’ve listened to all my shit without judging me.”

Confused, you gave him a long look. “Tommy, what are you try-”

“I’ve feelings for you, Y/N.”

“That can’t be true, I’m a whore… men like you don’t fall in love with women like me.”

Consistency is the gift to give for free, and it is key

To ever keep, to ever keep a woman like me

“Women like you?” He was suddenly kneeling in bed in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks. “Who says that?”

“Everybody knows that.”

This was just a fantasy, a dream. You were worthless, the worst of the worst.

“Just so you to know, I’m not so different than you… we just sell different parts of ourselves, Y/N.”

His eyes fixed on you, his intense gaze penetrating every layer, tearing down every single wall. And as he realized your guard was coming down, he pulled you in for a kiss, breaking the only rule you set when you first walked into his bedroom; no kissing.

That first kiss felt totally different to anything you’ve experienced until now, because men usually take what they want and leave right away, but Tommy took his time to explore your lips, the way they molded to his, tentatively, switching his pace and tilting his head from time to time as if he didn’t want to leave a single spot unattended.

He broke apart allowing you to take a deep breath, your head was spinning.

“Beneath, there’s a good woman, I just know it.” His knuckles carefully caressed your chin. You wanted to believe him, but you had been used in the past you no longer knew who you were.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes, so he took your hand and placed it over his heart. “Y/N I’m not going to hurt you, I genuinely fell for you, for he woman you are, for the little things I know about you… for the way you allowed me to be myself when the door is closed.”

He had been fighting it for so long, but with you he was allowed to strip down not only from his clothes, but from the heartless cold bastard he had to be in front of everyone else.

“Will you give me the chance?”

Looking down you fought against the lump that formed in your throat. “But how will you deal with my past and all the burden I’ve?”

“I’m not going to erase it, just like you can’t delete mine,” his fingers sunk in your disheveled curls, “but we can look forward and take it from there, together.”

As a single tear slid through your cheek, his thumb came to wipe it away, right before he crashed his lips once more and you believed him with all your heart because deep down you knew he was right.

A woman like you wasn’t so different than a man like him.

***

Master list

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a while now, guess it was time to post it, and I apologize because although I absolutely adore the concept I have been feeling a bit down and I’m not sure I was able to portray what I intended to…

Like always I’m so grateful if you decide to share your thoughts x

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