#idhrenniel: my writing

[idhrenniel]

Anytime Soon II | Sirius Black

➴ Summary: He had a chance to change, why did he discard it? Part II (Final).

➴ Pairing: Sirius Black / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Angst, cheating, underage smoking.

➴ Wordcount: 1K.

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting​ @jj-maybnk​ @figlia--della--luna​

➴ Author Note: Thanks for the request! Look at me writing. Unbelievable.

A few months have passed since she first discovered Sirius cheating on her with Marlene. It’s now Christmas and she’s packing all her things to go home, forget the burning hell she has been put through by the two people she had once loved the most.

You know, the rumours, the whispers and stares, it was all too much at first. She tried to hide in corners until people had passed and then she would go to her class. Too ashamed to face the classmates that pitied her. Until she realized there was nothing to be ashamed of, or to be pitied for. She hadn’t been the first girl to get cheated on and she wouldn’t be the last. It had happened and she needed to learn how to move on, ignore people around her and focus on herself. She took baby steps, with Lily and Alice always with her, and slowly but surely she had grown out of it. Now she can finally say she’s happy and over it.

Sirius, on the other hand, is like a dog that wouldn’t let go of his favourite bone. Rumour has it─and by rumour she means Remus telling her everything─that he hasn’t been with anyone since she broke up with him. Marlene tried to approach him a couple times but was rejected, and with the entire school knowing what she had done, it was safe to say she wouldn’t be dating or befriending anyone anytime soon.

She sighs, turning around on her heels and walking up to her closet to grab the last piece of clothing left. There’s a knock on her door.

“Come in!” But no one enters. “Come in!” She screams again, thinking the person behind the door has not heard her.

When her door remains closed and the silence falls upon the room, she lets out a frustrated sigh and walks up to the door, opening it wide to see what’s going on.

Her scream is loud enough to have alerted the entire castle─but she hopes no one comes─.

She grabs Sirius’s fur and pushes him inside, scoffing when he lets out a whine. After checking the hall’s still empty she closes the door and turns around, almost letting out another scream at the sight of Sirius’s naked body.

“Put something on, asshole!”

“Well, fine. But unless I’ve grown a third nipple, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Before! When I wanted to see it, Sirius! Now I don’t, so put something on before I kick your ass out of the window.” She can’t believe she needs to explain this again.

Sirius taps her shoulder a moment after. Not knowing what she was expecting, she has to laugh. He has covered himself with her sheets. This man is unbelievable.

He clears his throat: “can we talk now?” She sighs.

This is not the first time Sirius has tried to talk to her about how much he has changed.

But she didn’t want to hear it the first hundred times and she doesn’t want to hear it now.

What can she do? Tell him to go? There’s a chance he won’t. Just give him five minutes, let him explain once again and ask him to leave. It’s worked before, it’ll work now.

“Fine,” she tells him while walking up to Alice’s bed and sitting down. “Speak.”

Sirius sits down on her bed─good thing he’s using her sheets, now he can’t get too far from her bed─and once more clears his throat as if it’ll make his words more believable.

“You’re going home for Christmas?” He asks, confusing her. Before she can answer his mouth is moving again and more and more words leave his throat: “Remus told me because Alice told him. It’s not that he tells me things! It came up in the conversation we were having so please, don’t get upset with him.”

She blinks one, two, three times. Unsure of what’s going on, she takes a couple seconds to take in his rambling and making out the meaning behind it. She is unable to make it make sense and the little patience that she has is growing out.

Is it her fault? Should’ve she told him to fuck off? Perhaps it’s because she keeps giving him the chance to explain himself although she knows nothing is ever gonna change. Is she leading him on? That’s the last thing she wants to do. Hurting is not in her nature. It’s never been.

“Sirius,” she calls his name while running her left hand through her hair. She inhales, gives herself time to think about her next words. It’s time to let things turn clear as water. “You didn’t go through all the trouble of morphing on school grounds, sneak around the castle and up here to ask me to not be mad at Remus. So tell me, what was the actual reason?”

She has taken him off guard, being so blunt, her voice so calm. She’s not upset with him, or resentful, she’s at peace and holds no grudge against him. “I…” he begins, the sound of his voice lingering in the room for a couple seconds before he finishes: “To be honest, I came here to ask for another chance…”

“Sirius─”

“...No, no. Let me finish. I came here to ask for another chance because I thought that to fix all of this mess all I had to do was change. But, that’s not it, right?” She shakes her head. “I made a mistake, now I can’t ask the girl whose heart I broke to risk it being broken again. So if it’s not too much to ask for, I’d like for us to be friends, like before. Because whether it’s as my girl or my best friend, I don’t want to find out what life without you is like.”

“We can’t be friends like before, Sirius. Before is gone. I’m not the person I was then. I like to think neither are you. But I’m sure we can work something out, as long as you promise to not come naked into my room ever again.”

“Oh, no I can’t promise that.” Sirius grins, tilting his head right.

She laughs. “Yeah, of  course you can’t. Asshole.”

[angelaiswriting]

THE YEAR OF THE BITCH / THE BITCH PROJECT

This is not a writing update, but a personal update. So let me introduce you to THE BITCH PROJECT!

TL;DR: 2020 is the year I finally change for the better and if you want, you can join me on this journey, too. Feel free to share.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while now. It’s about time I posted it.

Also, if you don’t mind, I’m tagging a couple of people because this could be an idea others could be interested in, too. But if you’d prefer to not be tagged in my personal posts, just let me know! 

Somehow I’m terrified of posting this

2019 has been quite the year in my personal life. I’ve been through many things, many changes, have faced a few challenges. There has been one thing in particular that has affected me quite a bit and only very few people know about this -- and they probably don’t even know all I’d like for them to know about it.

“The Year of the Bitch” is how I decided to call 2020 a couple of months ago because I want to make it my year. I want to make changes to my life and I want to be who I am without fearing what others would think or say, and I want to do the things I truly want to do. I want to learn who I am and I’m dead set on this. 2020 is the start of a new decade and, for once, I want to be true to myself for my own sake.

Someone close to me just came home for a couple of days, so that weekend allowed me to think and reflect about a few things. I’ve always prided myself in being brave and unbothered by what others’ reactions or thoughts could be, but I’ve always been kind of lying to myself, y’know? Sometimes you tell yourself things even though you know the truth is the opposite and you’re just sitting there suffering silently inside while putting on a smile as if nothing was.

AND THIS IS TOXIC.

I’ve spent quite a lot of time in 2019 just thinking. I had just graduated from my BA and was in a sort of ‘hibernation mode’ in January and February because shit had just gone down at home and I wanted to find out who I wanted to be in life -- answer: I don’t know yet, but I’m working on it. Then, I decided to go back to uni, both because I couldn’t find a job and because I just knew I had to continue doing something I love. Uni is stressful, and anybody who goes to school or even works kind of understands what I’m talking about. But between the end of September and the beginning of October (ish, I don’t remember exactly) I almost jokingly came up with this “Year of the Bitch” thing when I saw the picture above (Salem, te se ama 💛) and eventually the joke turned into a “why not?”

A few friends already know about this (and I’ll forever be grateful to them for listening to me rambling about stuff), and @idhrenniel​ has already joined me on this preparation journey for the actual journey. And now here I am, telling y’all to go out there and be BDE bitches.

jk

I’m mainly doing this for myself because I have this terrible, terrible habit of always putting everyone else before my own person when it comes to priorities, even when it ends up hurting me one way or another. I want to re-learn how to put myself in the first place when needed, and not in some egocentric way. I want to do this for myself because if there’s someone I’ll always have to live with, that’s me. I want to do things for myself, truly adopt the philosophy of the “chissene fotte” -- I don’t give a fuck about what others think. This means that I’ll do things for me despite what others think, I’ll say no when I want and need to say no, and I’ll say yes to get out of my comfort zone. I’ll take paths others disregard because sometimes that’s what we have to do, and I’ll finally ask for help when I need it -- because sometimes the only thing stopping us, is us. And I’ve been stopping myself quite a bit lately, taking on shit I want to have nothing to do with and telling myself ‘no’ because I’m a proud person -- and being proud isn’t always something to be proud of.

So, 2020 is the ME year. The year I become that bitch (because sometimes we just have to be that bitch, am I right?). The year I do things for myself in spite of whatever kind of judgment could come my way. The year I become strong enough to finally stand up for myself when I need to. And the year I stop being a doormat for anybody, even for those I consider or that consider themselves my friends.

I thought this was quite a positive philosophy, so I’m here sharing it. Being A Bitch doesn’t mean being a cunt nor does it mean pushing people under the bus because I aM tHe MoSt ImPoRtAnT pErSoN eVeR. Being A Bitch means becoming mature enough to say enough when it is enough, to say start when it’s time to start, and stop when it’s time to stop. It means becoming a better version of ourselves, NOT the best version because too much stress is detrimental and striving for the best doesn’t always work for everybody. I know, I’ve been through it, and I’m still not even the better version of myself.

So, if you’re down with making yourselves justice for once or if you’re just looking for the chance or a sign to embark on a self-improving journey, we can do this together and have each other’s back. We can learn together how to be better and set priorities and make the Year of the Bitch a lifestyle we’ll still follow one day. I know for a fact that That Bitch is who I want to be so that when I’m old and dying, I’ll be thinking back about my life and I will be proud of who I was and the things -- major or minor they might be -- I accomplished. And I won’t regret a thing because every little thing leads us to where we need to be.

We could do this alone, but doing things together as a team can be better sometimes. Let me know what you think of this idea.

Angela x

@sweetvengeancee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @kellydixon01​ @kind-wolf​ @thethyri​ @themazeskies​ @idhrenniel​ @vvigilantes​

[idhrenniel]

Anytime Soon | Sirius Black

➴ Summary: He had a chance to change. why did he discard it?

➴ Pairing: Sirius Black / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Angst, cheating, underage smoking.

➴ Wordcount: 1.2K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting​ @jj-maybnk​

➴ Author Note: No, I’m not in a Harry Potter phase. I am simply posting unposted fics while I manage to finish new ones. You may call it lazy, I call it genius.

Out of all the times Sirius could’ve chosen to cheat he had to do it first week of school. As if walking in on Sirius and Marlene making out in the Common Room hadn’t been humiliating enough, now she had to put up with the gossip, gazes and laughs for ten months. Fantastic.

She scoffed, drawing a long breath of the cigarette between her lips and breathing out the smoke short after, watching it disappear into the wind and fixing her gaze on the moon. Most of her friends warned her about Sirius Black, but she didn’t listen. She thought his intentions were honest, that he had changed and was worth fighting for; in that moment she realized she had been an idiot, a puppet he had used to have some fun and prove himself irresistible. But that wasn’t the worst part, no. She could get over a heartbreak; most people did through their lifetimes. No, the worst part was that Marlene had been her best friend - hell, she even considered her a sister. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she had been expecting Sirius to pull something, hell she even had been surprised it took him so long, but Marlene? 

Was she supposed to expect her best friend to betray her like that, even after been friends for ten years? She didn’t know where she went wrong with them, if she had been so horrible to deserve such pain. But one thing was clear, it hurt like hell.

“Enough,” she said out loud, hoping if she did so she’d follow her advice and let it pass. She couldn’t keep thinking about it. She wouldn’t find an answer because there wasn’t a question. Sirius must had been tired of being in a relationship and Marlene must had been a liar all along but she hadn’t noticed. Letting herself fall back against the grass, she finished her cigarette and killed it, throwing it to the side. She had pitied herself enough, now it was time for people to do it - which, she was sure had begun.

It wasn’t as if those two treacherous bastards had thought about backstabbing her in secret to spare her from the public humiliation. She had been one of the last students to go into the Common Room after classes, she was well aware she hadn’t been the first one to see them.

It would be fine, she told herself. Ten months wasn’t that long of a time and before she knew, it would’ve passed. She’d graduate and she would leave Sirius, Marlene and the pain behind as if it never happened in the first place. Yes, it was going to be hard and she would have to put up with a lot of shit and it was going to come from friends, other students and even some of the professors (she was sure Minerva would give Sirius detention twice as much as a form of revenge for hurting her), but there was nothing she could about it. Even if it was going to be fine in the end - and she knew it would, the path there was going to be painful.

She heard footsteps coming from her side, but she didn’t bother to look up to see who it was. It was stupid, weird even, she knew he didn’t care about her feelings - that much had been proved, but she also knew he would look for her to apologize because he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone thinking he was a horrible person for the wrong reasons.

He sat down next to her, looking forward. He seemed tense, nervous even. She couldn’t bother herself to hide the pleasure his discomfort brought her and allowed a humourless laugh to escape her lips. He sighed next to her, forcing his gaze up to avoid looking at her.

She didn’t know when the tears had started to fall, she just knew she didn’t had the strength to wipe them off her face and so, she let them run hoping that he wouldn’t notice.

“I,” he started but stopped right after, the words getting caught in his throat. She couldn’t look at him even if she wanted. He took a deep breath that came out ragged right after. “I came to apologize, and if I have the chance, to explain what happened.”

“You were gonna shag Marlene when I walked in. That’s what happened,” she explained for him. It came out as harsh as she felt the words and he winced. “You can apologize now.”

Sirius turned around, the moonlight was right behind him and so it was difficult to distinguish his features, but even in that moment, from her position on her back she could see the storm that were his eyes, and the redness around them; as if he had been crying too.

He took a breath before speaking, clearing his throat to get rid of the soreness. “I don’t know how it happened and I didn’t want it to happen. It was a mistake and I am, believe it or not, sorry. Marlene had been flirting with me since school started again and then this morning I was in the Common Room waiting for James and Remus and she started talking about how she loved me first and it wasn’t fair that we weren’t together; next thing I know she’s all over me. I know the damage is done but, that is the truth and you had to know.”

His voice came out ragged, sore. He had wasted his throat out prior the conversation. It was for a moment she doubted, until she heard him sniff; that and how he pursed his lips together told her all she had to know. Indeed, he had been weeping as well. She cried for a lost love, for a friendship that had meant nothing, but what did he wept for? What had he lost?

No, she thought. It couldn’t be, even if the thought made her skin tingle. Sirius Black didn’t, and had never loved her. If he had done so, then he wouldn’t have done her like that.

“Now I know,” she said while nodding, breaking apart from her thoughts. Her own mind driving her insane. Her voice cracked and it made Sirius aware that she was sobbing. He tried to touch her but she stopped him, slapping his hand away. “Just leave.”

It was a simple request. Leave. He had broken her, it was painful enough to know she had to see him in the halls, in class, in the Common Room, the last thing she needed was for him to pester her until she forgave him. She couldn’t, not in that moment. The wound was fresh, her heart was ripping apart and she had trouble breathing.

She wanted him to leave, but he didn’t. She sobbed out loud, shaking. It was in that moment she knew, she had reached bottom. It was one thing he knew about her sadness, another to show him how her hopes and dreams for them had died.

Sirius wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing the exposed skin.

He wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

[idhrenniel]

Lost Him? | Sirius Black

➴ Summary: Sirius promised to take care of baby Harry, but things can never go accordingly with him.

➴ Pairing: Sirius Black / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Language(?)

➴ Wordcount: 1K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting​ @jj-maybnk​

➴ Author Note: Requests are open until the 15th.

If she killed Sirius but didn’t use magic, would she still go to Azkaban or to a muggle prison?

Azkaban was a horrible place and she wouldn’t risk being imprisoned there - although he was making it difficult to think about the consequences, but a muggle prison? She wouldn’t think twice before kicking his ass into the afterlife.

“You’re not listening to me, huh?” She was. Much to her own despair, she was.

Grunting, she got up from the couch and walked up to him. Sirius felt her anger and it scared him enough to make him walk backwards until he hit the wall.

Standing at arm length from him, she cleared her throat. “So, let me get this straight - James being the idiot he is thought that to make our uncle-aunt-nephew night more interesting, it would be fun to use the cloak for hide-and-seek?” Sirius nodded. “And I dared to leave for a second to get some water, so instead of using his actual blanket to wrap him up and put him to sleep- like I asked… You wrapped him up with the cloak and… lost him?” Another nod.

Even if it meant going to Azkaban, murdering him sounded like an appropriate response. But first, she had to find the four months old running through her apartment… being invisible.

Sirius didn’t lose him on purpose, alright, but he still did. He was old enough to understand that giving a child a cloak that would make him invisible was not a good idea at all but there she was looking for an invisible kid after his parents entrusted them with his well being.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s split. You look through the kitchen and living room and I will check the bedrooms and bathroom. Be careful while walking, use a stick or something.”

Before he could agree or disagree - which he wouldn’t, she left for the master bedroom.

She walked with caution through the room, taking steps so small it got her wondering if she was moving at all. She wanted to see the comical part of the situation, imagine Harry running around and the two of them searching like idiots - it did sound fun, but it was also dangerous and what scared her the most was that, it didn’t seem like Sirius understood that. He was so used to be reckless, to not think about the consequences of his actions that sometimes he’d put other people in danger without realizing. Of course, Sirius didn’t want people to get hurt, but he needed to start thinking before he acted, otherwise it wouldn’t be long until he found himself in a dark corner, with no escape option whatsoever.

Kneeling down, she checked under the bed but all she found were her sneakers. Since she had checked the rest of the room, she got up from the floor with a long sigh. After exiting the master bedroom, she went into the guests’, carefully opening the door and stepping inside. Repeating the same process again, with no sign of Harry there either. Now, even more worried than before, she sat down in the bed and tried to think. Where would have Harry possibly go? Their apartment wasn’t big and all windows and doors were locked with magic and locks to ensure their safety with the ongoing war. He couldn’t have gotten far, right?

She looked towards the crib Sirius was supposed to put him to sleep and then a thought entered her mind. What if? Oh, Merlin! She scolded herself for not thinking about it earlier, then she ran towards the living room, where Sirius was still searching through for the child. Upon seeing her running around, all colour disappeared from his face.

“Be careful! You could step on him!” He caught her in his arms, forcing her to a stop.

She had the gift to laugh at the most inconvenient of times - hell, she couldn’t attend funerals because she would laugh the pain off. However, this time as she fell into his arms, shaking as she laughed and laughing even more as she watched Sirius’s confused face, she had a good reason. All the time she had worried Sirius had lost Harry, however, she had missed one important detail. When was the last time he saw him?

“I can’t believe I’m being the mature one but… I don’t think this is a laughing matter.”

“Sirius,” she shook her head and took a breath before continuing: “when was the last time you saw Harry before losing him?”

He thought about it for a moment, then replied: “when I wrapped him with the cloak.”

“And where was that?”

“In the room, where his crib is.”

She nodded. “Right, and now explain to me how could a four months old jump from his crib without us noticing? Or at least without me noticing?”

She waited for a few seconds and then, boom! Realization hit him right in the face and he let go of her and sprinted towards the room. Still giggling she followed him, a bit slower though. She had run enough for one night - and one life as well. When she reached the door to the room, Sirius had Harry in his arms - the baby was still asleep, unaware of the mess his uncle had just created for a simple distraction. Sirius was relieved, kissing him on his head and whispering words she couldn’t hear from where she was standing.

It got her thinking… She was sure as hell going to wait until he grew at least one brain cell before having children. Next time - and she was sure there would be a next time, he’d end up losing him for real. It was bad enough it was happening to her nephew but, her own kids? Oh, hell no, then she would murder Sirius without thinking twice and then her babies would grow up without parents because she would go to Azkaban. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Love!” Sirius called her out of her thoughts, smiling at her. “I didn’t lose him! You should have a little bit more of faith in me from now on!”

You know what? No children also sounded good.

[idhrenniel]

She’s Not Afraid | Sirius Black

➴ Summary: Based on the One Direction song “she’s not afraid”. 

➴ Pairing: Sirius Black / fem!reader (3rd pov).

➴ Warnings: None I can think of.

➴ Wordcount: 1.1K

➴ Requested: Yes. By anon.

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting​ @jj-maybnk​ @figlia--della--luna​

➴ Author Note: I can’t believe an anon forced me to listen to a 1D song but you know what... them lyrics was good. I hope you like it, it’s angst as fuck for some reason.

Sirius Black watches from a corner, drinking something he can’t remember the name of, but that is strong enough to make him forget the pain growing inside of him.

She dances and laughs, and spins around with people she has never met before. She makes the room gravitate towards her, as if she’s the light those people need to live. Men and women stop in their tracks to look at her, smile and speak as if an old friend was.

She doesn’t fear the attention. She’s not afraid of this, no.

When she’s tired, all she does is look towards the corner Sirius spends most the night in. She has tried to get him to dance before but he refuses, because he knows she doesn’t want people to know that when the night ends, he will be the one taking her home. This is their secret.

Sirius is the first to leave the place, walking a couple of streets to where he parks his bike. He is often tempted to show her what it can do, but he can’t expose himself and his magic like that, no matter how much he trusts her. He just can’t.

After a few minutes, she sneaks up behind him, kissing his neck and laughing. She spins around like she’s still on the dance floor.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She whispers against his mouth. 

I want more, he thinks, but never again will he speak those words. He knows the consequences.

He shakes his head, “nothing.”

Another laugh, one kiss in the dark that gets her moaning, and she’s against his back on the bike passing the streets of London like… magic. He can hear her breathing and feel it fall against his neck. She moves a little bit closer to him, making his heart go wild.

He isn’t sure for how much longer he’ll be able to take it. Almost afraid his heart will give out. She is killing him each time she kisses him, each time she welcomes him to her house, then closes the door on his face after he asks for more...more...more. He should know better.

There’s nothing she’s afraid of, except for falling in love. Sirius can see the fear present when he holds her hand, when he hugs her after climax. When he tells her that he’s in love with her, begs for a chance to prove to her their relationship is fate, all she has to tell him is…

…”No. It’s not real. Come back to the real world. Goodnight.” 

Sirius turns off the bike and she gets off. She runs up to her doorstep and opens the door, going in. She leaves the door open for Sirius to come in after her.

He could turn on the bike and go home. He’s tired of showing her he knows her worth and he’s not with her for a game. What more can he do? How can he stop this madness from occurring if this madness is keeping him alive? He’s weak. He can’t help it.

He goes in tonight. He’s fallen again.

_______________________________________________________

“I think it was her friends. Told her that I’d break her heart and she doesn’t want that to happen.” Sirius tells James while the two are shopping for the summer vacation.

James, who doesn’t know and doesn’t bother to learn how to hold back, laughs at his friend. It’s not an uncommon thing to see… not since Sirius met her. “It’s not her friends. Just like a month ago she was not testing you to know if you knew her worth. You’re a fool, mate.”

Sirius shoves James, but he knows his friend is right. He’s done all he could to be there for her and take that fear from her heart but nothing’s worked.

“I can’t help it, James. I love her. Nothing’s going to change that. Each night she calls and tells me all of her dreams and I know I want to be there with her when she makes them happen. But, I also know that she won’t let me. It’s killing me, James.”

He turns his face when he sees the pitiful look that Prongs is giving him. “We can tell. Mum tells me about the late night calls. She also told me the phone has not rung in almost a week.”

Sirius nods, sighing and letting his head fall down. It’s his fault.

A week ago he again told her he loved her, he hasn’t talked to her ever since. He misses the late night calls and the talks of hopes and dreams. He misses her, plain and simple.

“We’re in the middle of a war,” Sirius whispers all of a sudden, “and I’m here, worried about some girl that will never love me back. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Love is complicated, would it not be, I know a few hundred thousand artists who would be out of business.” James tells him, grabbing a box of cereal Sirius hates. “Even if we weren’t at war, she still would exist. You still would be hurting over her. This has to end, Sirius.”

Sirius watches as James goes to the checkout. He runs up to him, “I’ve got something to do.” As he receives approval from James, Sirius takes off.

It’s past midnight during mid-winter, London is covered in snow and the golden lights that illuminate the streets reflect upon it, making it seem as if the ground and the top of the houses are glowing. This is such a beautiful sight that Sirius needs to take in, forgetting for a few moments what he’s going there, and the war, and all the pain.

“Sirius?” It’s her voice that brings him back. Making him turn around in surprise. Some people walk past them, some have tears running down their faces. Sirius looks behind her and sees the cinema closing up, with a big poster of a new horror movie at the front.

She loves horror movies. She’s not afraid of them. No, she’s not afraid.

He clears his throat. “Was it a good movie?” She nods, smiling. He fights himself to not get lost on that smile and let his lips speak the words his mind is begging him to speak.

“I can’t keep doing this. I know I’ve said this before, but I can’t.”

She’s holding his hand before he’s gone, because each time he’s told her he can’t do this, she’s been back at his door.

She’s kissing him before he can’t react, but when he does, instead of pushing her from him, he brings her closer to him.

She’s so afraid of falling in love...

[idhrenniel]

BLINDED BY THE GLOW.

➴ Summary: feelings last, even when the hollywood sign blinds you.

➴ Pairing: JP Cappelletty (Rook) / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Angst, 18+: sex.

➴ Wordcount: 1.8K

➴ Tagged: Homie as usual @angelaiswriting​

➴ Author Note: Hi! I’ve opened up a Ko-Fi page. If you like my content and would like to support me, you will find the link to it in my bio. You can also search my name (renmartell) up on the Ko-Fi page. Thank you!

(Y/N) doesn’t know where she is. In some loud club in downtown LA that is giving her a headache. She can see Joan somewhere in the crowd, dancing with strangers… Martha is long gone. She sits in the bar and waits for the night to be over so she can return to the hotel and sleep what’s left of the trip.

It’s not that she’s ungrateful, she’s just… tired. When Joan told her she had planned a weekend in LA before the wedding, (Y/N) had thought it meant sunbathing and shopping at rich people’s stores, not a tour through all of the clubs this shithole of a town has to offer. It’s been a long time since (Y/N) gave up this kind of life for a more tranquil, domestic one, and not once has she regretted her decision. Not as much as Joan has in her behalf, at least.

A weekend isn’t much: that’s what she tells herself as she turns around to order a drink. She can do it. If she lets go a little bit, she might even like it. What’s the worst that can happen, right?

“(Y/N)?” An old, forgotten voice calls from behind her.

Oh, the voice in her mind exclaims right before it starts to panic. (Y/N) freezes on her spot, drink on mid-air as she blinks in confusion. “What’s the worst that can happen?” she repeats, mocking herself and cursing whatever is up there that has chosen her to be tonight’s Sims game.

“(Y/N)!” He calls again, closer to her ear this time. Close enough that she can smells him.

She turns around, feigning confusion. As if she has not recognised his voice… which, after so long she shouldn’t have (but that’s not something she’s going to think about tonight). She gives it a couple of seconds, one good look at him and then…

… the act begins. “JP? JP Cappelletty?” She exclaims, laughing as she tries to ignore how the side of his mouth curves downwards for a split of second at her words. Not what he had expected, for sure, but all she has to offer after so many years and a lot more than what he deserves.

He’s quick to recover, laughing and opening his arms. “That’s me!” He engulfs her.

She wants to die. She wants her life to end in this exact moment. Because then, she won’t have to let go of him again.

As he pulls back she finds herself missing the contact. She almost grabs him to pull him back against her… but when she lifts her hand the ring glows under the club’s lights and he is quick to catch on it.

JP smiles through a tornado of emotions. “Congratulations.” All happiness is gone from his voice. She nods, lowering her hand and accommodating it in her back pocket.

“Thanks.”

There’s nothing that can make this conversation return to normal (or as normal as it was), but sure as hell he’s going to put through the discomfort and keep it going. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“No. How could you?”

Her words were innocent… right? Yes! No… she isn’t sure. It’s the truth: she met him in college and the last time she and JP saw each other was in high school. So, how did the truth sound so mean?

JP sighs, dropping his facade and sitting in the stool next to hers. “Ouch…” he laughs. “I guess I did deserve that one, huh?” She nods again. “I waited for a call… it never came.”

“Oh, was I the one supposed to call? I thought being the one still in school and with a decent schedule I was supposed to wait until the rockstar was free to be worth of some words. My bad, I guess.”

(Y/N) shrugs her shoulders and takes a sip from the now watered-down drink she forgot she had. If he is going to drop his facade and talk the real talk she’s going to do the same, and he ain’t gonna like it.

Not one bit. “And since we’re at it. I did call, but I never got a response. I even went to a concert back in Cleveland.”

He frowns, his pose becomes more rigid and he grabs the stool until his knuckles turn white. “What?”

“Yes,” she turns her head back to the crowd, looking for Joan to get her out of here. “Saw a couple of girls headed towards the bus and one of them threw herself at you. You said: “I’ve been waiting for you baby.” And got into the bus with her.”

(Y/N) lets the drink in the bar, sighing. She has turned herself towards him and is now looking right into his eyes. She had forgotten how pretty they were (and she curses herself for thinking so and for the way her cheeks redden at the sight). She rises a brow, waiting for a response. Coming from him, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she never got one.

JP swallows, looking regretful. He tries to speak a couple of times, but when nothing comes out he gives up and orders two new drinks. “I was young and stupid.” It’s his excuse.

Young and stupid doesn’t mean heartless or cruel, no matter what people might think. He was old enough to go around touring with a famous rapper… he was old enough to cut things and not let her hanging from a string of hope like an idiot.

“I was seventeen and pregnant, Johnny.” And you left me alone throughout the process, she wants to add, biting her tongue to avoid doing so. No point in remembering a painful past when she has a future waiting for her at home. Right?

“We decided on not having it.”

“We also decided on not leaving me alone at the abortion clinic.”

Their drinks arrive. JP empties his in less than a second. (Y/N) takes her a small sip of hers and puts it down, not losing sight of it. You never know… people aren’t good. She has to be cautious.

With each passing second, JP becomes more and more nervous.

Whatever he’s holding inside him is asking─no, begging─to be let out. It also looks as if he wants to throw up (which she can’t blame him for, giving how much and how fast he’s drinking).

(Y/N) tries to change the conversation to a lighter one. It doesn’t work. He keeps going back to their past and his mistakes and her fiance. She’s not sure she wants to know what’s going on in his mind.

At last, he rubs his face and then faces her. “I fucked up. But not a second has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and the life we could have together. And believe it or not, I still want that (Y/N).”

In all seriousness, this is the most serious she’s ever seen him. Even when he drums he likes to fuck around and not give it importance… but now, now the truth is out there and he’s laid his cards.

Hers? You want the truth? Well, here it goes: the truth is that she wants to beat him up as much as she wants him to take her to the bathroom and fuck her until she forgets her own name.

He’s a lot stronger than she is… so she scratches the first option and grabs his hand, leading him away from the bar and into the back of the club. She opens the door to the bathroom, making sure no one is in there, then closes it and pushes him against the door.

His lips feel familiar and their bodies move in flow. As if nothing had changed. Just the two of them rushing to become one. JP turns them around so that now she’s the one against the door. He unclasps his belt and then presses himself against her. Her dress going up by the second.

“Wait─I don’t have a condom with me.”

“You clean?” He nods. “Me too. Now shut up.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

(Y/N)’s hands find the hem of his trousers and the pushes them down alongside his boxers. His, at the same time, are pushing her dress up to her waist and discarding her panties somewhere in the floor. Not that she’s going to need them (or retrieve them, to be honest. Her dress is long enough to cover). JP grabs her waist with one hand while the other grabs her face and he forces her to look at him as he enters her. (Y/N) tries to bite down her moans but it’s impossible, as her walls stretch to accommodate him, she pleas and curses and wraps her legs around his waist so he can reach deeper inside her. She can’t feel but pleasure, the guilt that tried to make her reason is now gone, not even buried, just gone. Right now it’s him and how he’s moving to pleasure her. How he feels as if he belongs where he is. She moves her hips in sync, kissing his lips as he murmurs words she can’t or wants to understand. Faster, harder, deeper, the sounds emanating from her throat echo in the bad-lighted bathroom. Johnny lets himself grunt, sometimes a moan escapes his lips as well and she clenches at the sweet sound. He trembles, her legs lose strength. It’s not long until he finishes inside her, making her back arch as she herself lets go and feels the wave of pleasure take over her, cumming all over his cock.

He remains inside her for a couple more minutes, until he softens and she’s able to maintain herself on place without falling. His semen now runs down her legs, but she makes no deal out of it.

(Y/N) lowers her dress and brushes her fingers through her hair. She tries to fix her makeup to no avail and then turns around to face Johnny. He’s got his trousers up now and is ready to leave. She had expected him to be gone… but he is waiting for her.

“I’m getting married next Friday.” She walks up to him and gives him a kiss. There’s something in her that’s begging her to not let go. She doesn’t listen to it. “It was nice seeing you. Goodbye, JP.”

As she leaves the bathroom, she notices a pain in her stomach that she can’t ignore. She walks, walks and keeps walking. She doesn’t even stop to tell Joan. If she stops, if she looks back, there’s no way in hell she’s leaving without Johnny. No matter the tears that fall, the weird looks, or the way she can’t hold back her cries, she can’t look back…

… or can she?

[idhrenniel]

why are you here.

➴ Summary: based on mgk’s song “why are you here”, he and the reader end up in the same club after lying to one another, and choose to let the coke speak for themselves.

➴ Pairing: Colson Baker / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Angst, 18+: sex and drug use (and abuse).

➴ Wordcount: 2K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: Angie and I dared each other to write a fic based on this song. I like how it came out! Hope you enjoy it.

Colson is used to this pace, this world. It’s where he belongs. For her, she needs an extra help. A bit of stardust to let go and not feel out of place when she feels the blast of music running through her veins and she sits in the laps of men she doesn’t even know for the night. Waiting until morning, when shame creeps up through her spine and shakes her like an infant a doll. It is no use to make up excuses if she can’t even remember what she’s excusing to begin with.

John─Jake, Jordan, whatever his fucking name is─squeezes her side, smiling up at her. Snow, she observes him for a moment, taking him in: tall, even though he’s sitting their height difference is obvious, dark hair and skin so pale she is tempted to call him Dracula. J─at least she’s sure his name starts with a J─is a friend of Colson she had never met before, but hardly as interesting or entertaining as the ones she has, or Colson himself. J is a nice dude, used to a different environment, and she is almost sure it’s the first time in his life he’s done coke.

She almost feels bad for using him. Smiling, she lowers her head until her lips are pressed against his ear and she leaves a soft kiss. As she’s to speak, the words get caught in her throat. Her gaze following someone behind J, walking into the club with a redhead at his side and a blunt hanging from his lips. It’s almost comical how, as if sensing her, he turns his head in her direction. She can see the colour leaving his face, his jaw clenching as the blunt finds home between his fingers and he presses his lips together.

Colson, still grabbing the redhead's side, begins walking towards the lounge she and J are, not once breaking contact with Snow. Though she sees the colour returning to him, the fire that is now starting on his eyes, she feels no shame in her lies as he probably doesn’t on his.

She was supposed to be alone, he was supposed to be at home. Yet here both of them are, not a single soul on the club knowing what’s about to go down.

“Jordan!” Colson’s voice is heard over the music, and Jordan─see? She knew it began with a J─looks up at him, laughing. He stretches his hand, keeping his legs still to balance Snow. Colson shakes it and proceeds to sit on the couch in front of them. His date right on him, even though he isn’t even looking in her direction. Colson keeps on looking at Snow.

Jordan, still with her on his lap (and he seems in no rush to get her to move), lights up a blunt. He nods at Colson, exhaling the smoke with ease. “It’s good to see you man. What’s new?”

Snow becomes bored ten minutes into the generic conversation of two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while but have no actual interest in changing it. So she does what she does best: piss Colson off. Her hands grab Jordan’s hair and shirt and she takes her sweet time murmuring in his ear and making him chuckle. Her lips press against his skin more often than not and from the corner of her eye she can see Colson tensing up.

It’s not wrong to have a little revenge on him, is it? She’s right to be pissed. Yes, she lied as well but, what else was she supposed to do? Their relationship─if she can even call it that─is a rollercoaster of highs and lows, of fighting and laughing, their screaming sometimes mixing in the night and not even themselves can tell if it’s a fight or sex, or both. She wanted a night to herself, to be with someone she doesn’t want to murder and hold at the same time. A night of hectic peace that surrounds her in darkness.

She sighs, defeated. Colson wants the same. It’s becoming too much for them to handle. Yet, it is not in her nature to give up and, given how he follows her movements, neither it’s in his.

“You men are boring,” she speaks over the music, getting up from Jordan’s lap and offering Colson’s date her hand, “let’s dance.”

Eve (Colson’t date) is nicer than she expected her to be when she first saw her. A New Yorker having the time of her life in LA, she moves like the club it’s her natural habitat. Snow has a hard time following, her brain wanting to shut off due the alcohol she had been taking, but as Eve grabs her hips and brings her closer, her hands going down to Snow’s ass, she lets herself go again. She wraps her arms around Eve’s shoulders and follows her movements, turning them around so that she can look at Colson and Jordan, looking at them like hawkes a rabbit. A voice in the back of her mind is telling her to stop, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. This is the life that’s left for her after all, whether she likes it or not...whether she wishes to not spend it alone or not. She better make the most out of it before it ends.

So she dances: twirls, twerks, jumps, laughs. She has the time of her life while the person she loves sits in a couch observing her, right next to her date. At some point she’s sure she and Eve have made out as well. It’s not long until she needs a refill.

She winks at Eve and, without stopping to tell either Colson or Jordan that she’s leaving, she walks over to the bathroom she knows it’s free─since she’s the only person to have a key─.

The music begins to fade, her thoughts are louder with each step she takes. She has to grab her head and pull on her hair with light force to recover; a loud ring on her right ear makes her want to scream. She sighs. It’s like this all the time: fun to be high until the drugs are wearing off and her brain wants to punish her as much as possible. She knows she deserves it, she’s not going to fight it. Just a bit more to make it through the night, that’s all she needs.

She pushes the door open, walking inside. As she’s going to close it, a hand stops her from doing so. Startled, at first, she pushes harder, until she hears his voice.

“It’s me.”

No. She should tell him no, close the door, do her own business and go back to dancing. It’s the right thing to do, the sane thing to do. But, which one of them is sane? Neither. That might be the fucking thing about them: the craziness, the jealousy, the toxicity that threatens to kill them every day but that both of them hold onto. It’s insane and they love it, and they can’t have enough of it.

So what does she do? She opens the door, lets him in. Watches as he closes the door and turns the lock on. Last thing she sees from the outside is the digital clock in the wall: 12:05.

Colson turns to face her, takes one, two, three steps forward, forcing her backwards until she hits the sink. She feels his hands grabbing the back of her thighs. He lifts her without issue─which, considering his physique it’s surprising─and sits her on the sink. She wraps her legs around his waist, he gets closer. This moment tastes like heaven and hell on Earth and she almost swears she could get high off it alone.

She grabs his chin and he presses their foreheads together, inhaling. His lips are so close she can’t help herself and runs her thumb along them, trembling when Colson catches it on his mouth and sucks. Her womanhood pulsates, sending pleads all throughout her.

“I told him we’re old friends,” Colson whispers, kissing her earlobe.

She laughs, tilting her head to the side. She replies: “We can never be friends.”

Her next words die in her throat, with Colson sucking and biting her neck and his free hand between her legs, she has trouble forming a word, let alone a sentence. Colson understands her like no one has before: he knows where to touch her, when to touch her, if it’s too much or not enough, she never has to tell him (except if he wants her to beg). He knows her limits and she knows his, and this connection is something she needs to live. She needs it─him.

And she needs fucking coke. Right fucking now.

She grabs Colson’s hand from between her legs, “wait, let’s have some first.” And although she can see him swallowing hard, clenching his jaw and the forceful nod that he lets out and is all but convincing, she doesn’t stop.

This thing: snow, coke, Tokyo, flour, it has had so many names she can’t remember them all, it’s fucking her up, but so is this world and she isn’t going to give it up.

Colson takes the bag from his back-pocket. He doesn’t move from between her legs; as he opens it, he looks at her with a worried expression that makes her heart sink.

“It’s the last time.” He’s serious this time. “You don’t need this shit.”

She scoffs, moving to take the bag and stopping dead in her tracks when Colson puts his arm up and the bag out of reach. She looks at him, upset for a second and then...with an unreadable expression that seems to take a toll on him. “Neither do you. Yet here we are.”

“So…” he leans in until his mouth is against her, but he doesn’t kiss her, he goes on: “this is the last time we do this fucking shit, ‘right?”

Nodding, she seals a lie with a kiss. Colson, who knows this isn’t the last time the two are going to find themselves in this situation (and, knowing them, together), opens the bag and dips in, taking a small amount on his finger. He takes it first, with her caressing his hair as he does and kissing his face. He feels the rush less than a second after and her touches become more and more. He repeats his previous acts, this time placing his finger under her nose. He observes as she inhales it, watches as her pupils dilate and the rush kicks in. He closes the bag and discards it somewhere in the ground.

She’s the one to lean in this time, her kiss is harsh and desperate and he wraps his arms around her in an attempt to feel her even more. His hands find trouble getting rid of her corset and she laughs, but he manages to do it. As it falls to the ground, she moves and helps him with his shirt. Then, her jeans, and his, their underwear, and Colson finds himself between her legs: his cock touching her wetness and begging to go in. He’s kissing her neck but she keeps on grabbing his face and forcing her to look at him.

Colson gives her a quick kiss, chuckling when she follows his mouth. He takes a step back, helps her get down the sink and turn around, bending her. There’s confusion in her face for half a second, until he’s back against her and this time he does enter her pussy. She lets out a loud, long moan and grabs the sink until her knuckles turn white.

She feels his fingers tangle in her hair, a soft tug and she’s staring at him through the mirror. He thrusts into her at changing pace, but not once dares to break eye contact. When he goes slow, she wants to cry and scream at him. Yet, when he goes faster, she wants him to slow down and let them savour this moment. He leans in, kissing her neck. She’s tempted to turn her head and kiss him but that’ll anger him.

No, she tells herself, he wants to see her; her tears, her moans, and the ugly face she makes when she cums.

It’s all right for it to happen, so long as it’s the last time.

[idhrenniel]

Someday (I’ll Catch Up)

➴ Summary: In which Tommy has to wait to catch up with her.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Angst, rape and abuse mentions, death.

➴ Wordcount: 2.9K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: Proof-reading is for the weak. Enjoy!

Act 1: Childhood.

Thomas is no older than six, that makes her five. Like his shadow, she’s found behind him at all times; silent and reserved, it seems no one can make her live but him.

She holds his hand, scared of the great beast that, tall and proud, stands before her holding her stare. Horses are beautiful animals and she has a fascination for them, but their size (and teeth) scares her. Thomas has been helping his uncle with them, so laughs, squeezing her hand. There’s no need to be afraid, so long as he’s there with her.

“It won’t eat me, right?” (Y/N) speaks in that soft voice that’s so characteristic of her it makes Thomas blush. He shakes his head, no. She places all her trust in him, taking a step towards the horse and raising her free hand to pet it, not once letting go of Thomas.

She feels the soft fur under her hand; she caresses him as Thomas has taught her: using slow and confident strokes, and tons of respect. At first, she’s nervous - it’s too tall an animal that can kill her with a simple kick, but it allows her to touch him, even lowers with head (which makes it a lot easier for her, given her stature) and she soon relaxes and laughs, daring to kiss him. The horse (that she learns is named Ironheart), nuzzles against her head.

Behind her, Thomas observes and studies her; the delicate features that come to life with a simple smile, no matter big or small, how she scrunches up her nose when she’s rapturous. He isn’t able to express how it makes him feel, still too much a kid for words of devotion, but hopes that time will teach him to do it. As in now, all he knows is that there’s both calm and excitement on his heart when he does so little as think of her, and that’s a feeling he has no desire to ever let go of. Thomas relishes the happiness she brings, the same one he wishes he makes her experience.

It’s impossible in their minds that this moment - this feeling, can ever end.

(Y/N) turns around, the sunlight strokes her cheek and makes her hair shine. Before he thinks of what he’s doing - even if he does, what can he do? He’s a child, and it’s just a touch- he’s mimicking the sun, the softness of her skin makes his hand tremble.

“Can I…” Thomas sentence dies almost before it begins, his voice lost somewhere in the back of his throat as (Y/N) melts into his touch.

However, she somehow knows what he wants and nods, swallowing the raging butterflies at the pit of her stomach that are making her tremble too. She straightens her back, takes a step towards him. Thomas is close to fainting- her everlasting touch is all that can calm him down in this moment. Her mother often tells her a kiss is a sign of love and affection, and that when she’s older she will be kissed. It is, though, while she’s still a child that it happens; Thomas takes a step forward, his hand falls from her face to her hips and, as he’s seen his father do rather often, he lowers and tilts his head. (Y/N) takes a breath before their lips connect; as she exhales, his touch is gone, leaving her in confusion and satisfaction, and with the hope he’ll dare to kiss her more often.

(Y/N) covers her mouth, even though it is impossible to hide the smile that threatens to rip her skin apart. Her face is red as if she had just run from the hills down to the canal, just as breathless too, but still smiling, still standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in gratitude.

She lets go of his hand, then, running outside. Thomas is forced to follow her laugh; her frame gone before he can even react. He laughs, shaking his head before he runs after her; knowing he can catch up with ease but giving her the advantage she wants, and he does this because he’s being taught to be a gentlemen, let women win and respect them, and because he knows in his heart that no matter how fast she goes, he’ll catch up with her.

Always.

Act 2: Teenagers.

It’s a cold, late-October night; the skies are dark and threatening, some lightning illuminates the streets as the storm approaches Small Heath. Thomas tightens his coat and fastens his pace; his left hand going into his pocket to find shelter from the cold - and to ensure the small, green velvet box is still in there. His breath condenses as it leaves his lips, creating a cloud of white smoke so thick it is difficulting his sight. 

None of that matters, though, because tonight is the night his life is going to change forever and he can’t contain his happiness. A weak voice in the back of his head prepares him for a rejection he knows will never come, as he reminiscences the previous night; the heat of her skin against his, the wetness, the sounds, the elation as he emptied himself inside her. Just the thought of it makes it difficult to walk, his cock twitching on his trousers as hard as his heart is beating against his chest.

Thomas takes a breath and steadies himself, raising his fist to knock on her door. He can hear her parents arguing, some furniture being hit. His thoughts change trail when she opens the door; gown too thin for autumn but that allows him to see underneath. Thomas swallows, hoping she hasn’t noticed how his gaze has roamed her entire frame, spending a little longer at her breasts. (Y/N) has, of course, noticed, however she’s a lot better at hiding her feelings as he is, and she drowns her satisfaction and pride. She smiles at him, for him, stepping outside and throwing herself at his arms. He catches her, wrapping his coat around her frame, shielding her from the cold wind that hits.

Perhaps he should’ve chosen another night - a night in which her father isn’t drunk and upset, but if he had to wait for that, then he’ll never do what he’s come to do.

“Something wrong?” Her voice calls him, soothes him, ensures him.

He shakes his head, “no,” he tells her. Nothing can be wrong when she’s here - but that’s something he thinks to himself, smiling as he leans down to kiss her.

“(Y/N),” her father calls at the door. He’s not upset, just worried. It’s cold, too cold outside, in her nightgown she’s asking to freeze to death. “Hello, Thomas. Please come inside.”

Thomas shakes her father’s hand, letting her go in first and keeping a respectable distance. It doesn’t matter if he’s seen them kiss; (Y/N) is still his daughter, this is still his house, and Thomas is still the man that hopes her father approves of.

Once inside she sits next to her, with her parents sitting on the couch across, doing their best to ignore the fight that was taking place mere minutes ago, though still looking upset and uncomfortable of being so close to one another. It gets Thomas thinking; none of his thoughts positive. He remembers a time the couple in front of him were the happiest, even his mother had been jealous of their happiness. All of that seemed to be gone now, vanished in resentment and growing hate that tears their household apart. He looks at (Y/N), soft frown decorating his face, making him look older - is that their fate, too? 

Thomas can’t imagine a future in which he doesn’t worship her, but the fear is now there. It’s there and it’s strong, and he’s starting to think he’s made a mistake coming here tonight. His hand finds itself inside his pocket again; Thomas can’t help but notice how the weight of the box has increased and it’s almost forcing him to sit in place.

His fear increases when she turns her head to look at him and smiles - her smile is turning sad and broken and insincere. Although he knows it’s all in his mind, it’s provoking his heart to skip beats in an unnatural, unpleasant manner. A hammer hits the back of his head, a voice is telling him to run if what waits for him is a limited time of happiness and an afflicted life. The memories of the previous night are no longer strong enough to keep him sane, and he’s letting go before he has the chance to stop himself.

(Y/N)’s mother is the one to break the uncomfortable silence that’s formed, forcing him to turn his head towards her. “What brings you here tonight, Thomas?”

As his hands find rest on his lap, all thoughts of making her his wife are gone, the wind carries them somewhere else. “I was helping Charlie with the horses, preparing them for the storm, and thought I could take a few minutes to see (Y/N).” His answer pleases her parents, but she’s seen right through him and his lies.

“I must be leave, though. Aunt Pol will be upset if I don’t arrive before the storm breaks.” One truth, isn’t that enough?

(Y/N) walks him up to the door, opening it for him. Thomas does kiss her, makes it last. Her touch almost makes him react and be brave. Almost.

Thomas never thought of himself as a coward, but tonight he’s discovered a new side of him.

Act 3: Gone.

It’s during a warm summer morning that he receives the news. He’s walking with Greta when John and Freddie appear running, screaming his name. John’s face is red and swollen, with tears still running down his skin and meeting the ground within seconds. Freddie is doing his best to appear tougher, hoping this might help John calm down.

A knot has formed at the pit of Thomas’s stomach; it’s boiling hot and expanding, like iron. He hears the words before his friend can speak them.

Thomas lets go of Greta’s arm, walking - running, past all three of them. He isn’t thinking, but he doesn’t need to to know where he has to go. His feet take him to (Y/N)’s house.

Ada and Finn are outside: Pol and Arthur inside, speaking with a copper. Thomas sees that (Y/N)’s husband is surrounded, six coppers circling him, guns in hand. Ignoring the different and numerous voices that ask him not to, he steps inside; last time he did it, he was going to ask her to be his wife, and left her house as a coward.

She’s on the floor, blood all around her. Her stomach is open, a knife lies next to her. He can see some of her nails are missing and her right leg is broken, like her dress and underwear. Her skin is pale but it has bruises all over it, the biggest one decorates her cheek. She lies on her back, looking at the kitchen’s window, seeing nothing. Her eyes are made of dull, old glass that doesn’t let the light pass through, and her half-open lips welcome no air.

Thomas kneels besides her, afraid to disturb her peace.

Peace, is that what he’s calling it? She isn’t at peace, she’s fucking dead.

She lies dead before him and it’s all his fault, and not a single part of him can bring himself to realize he’s not the one that’s killed her, he would’ve saved her if he could. However, that’s what is burning him from inside out - he could’ve. If that night he hadn’t let the image of two old, resentful people cloud his mind and judgment and instead of leaving her house in a rush he had asked his father permission to propose, if he had proposed right then and there, then she wouldn’t lie dead on the floor right now. She’d be on his arms, laughing, telling him how much she loves the sun and begging him to walk just for another five minutes. Instead of that he left her house, and the next morning he was fucking Greta and two other girls. He might have not been the one to stab her, but the bastard that has had the chance to do it because Thomas gave it to him, served in a silver plate.

“Thomas,” Pol calls him. Her voice is soft and delicate, and she rests her hand on his shoulder as she does so. “Thomas… the … she has to be taken now.”

“What happened?”

Neither Pol nor Arthur answer him, but coppers are not as smart and one of them - the one that seems to be in charge, explains the situation to him.

“Her husband beat her up, broke her leg and a few ribs. Bastard bound her to the floor, then raped her. After he was done, he stabbed her. He claims she was pregnant with another man’s child, but our doctor has found no traces of such. He’s going to the rope for this.”

Rope? No, Thomas is not going to give him that chance.

Arthur is supposed to stop him but he doesn’t - he sees his little brother doing his best to not fall apart and, instead of reasoning with him, he asks the coppers to give him room. Thomas, that has never been a violent man before, once again finds something new about himself as his feet take him outside her house, and his fists fall over and over again against the face of the bastard that has taken her from him, his laugh haunts him, it echoes in his head, hand in hand with his words.

His bloodied mouth doesn’t stop him from winning a battle Thomas didn’t even know he was fighting in the first place. “She called for you, hoping you would save her. Where were you, Tommy? Where were you?” 

Where were you, Tommy?

His laugh is still heard, even after Thomas has blown his head off.

Act 4: Home.

Nothing can save Thomas now, no one can ask him to live. He has made their lives difficult and sad, this is the right choice. He pulls the trigger.

He wakes up and expects to find Grace waiting for him - and he’s almost sure he can make out her figure in the distance, but there’s someone else blocking the view, someone he still dreams of even when he’s awake.

“You feel better now, after abandoning them?” (Y/N) speaks, nodding somewhere behind him.

Thomas turns around - Pol, Finn, Arthur, Ada and Lizzie, and his children, all are in a waiting room. It breaks his heart to see his children cling onto Lizzie for dear life, the tears difficulting their breathing. Arthur is shaking, keeping it together. Pol comforts Finn, and Ada tries to find comfort on her son’s arms.

“Come, we don’t have a lot of time.”

He doesn’t hesitate and follows her. Walking from his mansion to the canals the two would spend hours at, (Y/N) walks in front of him. She’s as beautiful as he remembered - and he’s thankful she doesn’t look like the last time he saw her.

Thomas calls her name, but she doesn’t stop on her tracks. He has to pick up his pace to catch up with her. He does, though, catch up with her.

“Shouldn’t we have all the time in the world?”

It’s a stupid question - perhaps she means he’s going to hell, as he deserves, and she has to return to her place in heaven. However, if that’s the case, then she’s come here to greet him, to see him. Thomas wants to wrap his arms around her, hold her, and as selfish as it is, bring her to hell with him, if that means spending a thousand eternities with her.

(Y/N) laughs, though, at last stopping at the cut. “No, we don’t. You’re going back.” Is he? He doesn’t want to. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not about what we want, but what we have to do. You have to go back, fix the things that are broken and care for them. Arthur, Finn and Ada can’t lose another brother, Pol can’t lose another nephew, and those kids can’t lose their father. If I had to bet, I’d bet Lizzie can’t bear to lose her husband, either, no matter how much of a dick he might be to her sometimes.”

“Alone?” Oh, there is it. It’s so sweet and terrible at the same time. It begins in the back of his head and travels to his eyes; he never thought such burn would bring him so much joy. It is sooner than he expects that he’s crying. However, in front of her, he allows himself to.

She nods. Of course he must return alone - she’s been gone for more than a decade, she is nothing but bones that rest underground now.

Her arms fall around his shoulders - she’s a head shorter than him still, and has to tilt her head back in order to look at his face. Thomas wraps his own arms around her waist, feeling as if he’s reminiscing one of his memories. She’s not upset, she’s not resentful. She exudes an aura of love and forgiveness he doesn’t deserve, but he lets himself drown in it. Then, he is apologizing: for being a coward, for letting her go, for not saving her. He apologizes for things he never even did to her, and she listens, and nods, and comprehends.

“You’re forgiven, Tommy.” He feels her lips, he breathes in the air she gives him. “I love you.” 

Thomas lives from now on with the hope the next time he sees her, it’s the right time to catch up with her.

[idhrenniel]

Poison / Thomas Shelby

part two

➴ Summary: Tommy knows she’ll be the end of him, but the heart wants what it wants.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: +18. This is pure smut, read at your own risk. It also contains mentions of cheating.

➴ Wordcount: 1802.

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: I’m thinking about writing a part 2 of this, let me know if you’d be interested in it!

Thomas was still a kid when he realized he wanted to get married to her, and that desire had not subsided as he grew into a man. His heart might have belonged to others in that time, he might had slept with countless of women, but his mind and soul were hers. And she knew. It was something she took advantage of more often that not, and although Thomas knew that no part of her loved him back - he even doubted she was able to love sometimes, there was no changing it. She had bewitched him and he danced around her fingers in whatever tune pleased her. It was a life he was content with, no matter how much it hurt.

Pol had tried to reason with him enough times for him to lose count, even Arthur had tried to put some sense into him. Nothing worked because he wasn’t blind; he had seen the marks other men leave on her when she’s in his bed, had heard the people whispering about them. He had seen her leaving with men as she gave him a kiss and a smile to pass the night.

She was a poison he had become addicted to, so when she left Small Heath he almost died. It was his desperation for touching her that made him irascible, Thomas woke up missing her kisses and her laugh, even the pain she inflicted on him with her adulterous life. He went from one to another, as if he could replace her. As if she wasn’t the one in his mind when he emptied himself in someone else.

And then one morning, she wasn’t in his mind. It was a few weeks after he and Greta started to take their relationship serious. His siblings and Pol loved Greta, and although it was a bit soon for him to know, he did believe he could love her as well. But he was soon met with the truth. Love her? Could be. Worship her? Never.

Thomas learnt his lesson that night in the canal, when he was waiting for Greta but it was a different voice that made it to his ears. Just the sound of her voice and he was trembling.

“Isn’t it cold to be outside tonight, Tom?” Tom, he wanted to laugh. No one ever called him that, just her. It was special, somehow. In her twisted mind, it sure was.

He didn’t turn around until she was right next to him, in that moment he couldn’t stop himself. It had been seven months since the last time he saw her - she looked the same, a goddess. She had her hair down, making Tommy fight the urge to run his fingers through it. Her face was a bit red because of the cold, but stunning nonetheless. As she turned around to look at him, Thomas let out a shaky breath that caused her to smile. It was witchcraft, his mother had once told him: how she was able to be a different person through her eyes. Innocent if she was talking to Pol, daring if it was Arthur, dark and promising if it was Tommy.

“No,” Thomas said at last, after gaining enough courage. It made her chuckle.

She got closer to him, their lips were almost touching and her naked hand had found home in his hair. “I am.” It was a low whisper, but to him she was shouting. He bit his lip, thinking.

Greta didn’t cross his mind for a second. Not as he connected their lips, or as he wrapped his arm around her waist to bring her as close to him as it was possible. Not when he felt her smile against his lips and he growled out of frustration because he was hers but she wasn’t his. Perhaps he’d think of her in the morning. But not in that moment.

Thomas pressed her against the rail, lifted up her skirt and then pressed himself against her. She could feel his growing erection through the fabric of his trousers and didn’t bother to hide her amusement as her hand grabbed it. Tommy hissed as his lips moved down to her neck and sucked, bit and kissed the exposed skin. He wanted to mark her as men had done before in an useless attempt to claim her as theirs. At least she’d remember him, he thought.

“Oh, Thomas-” she moaned against his ear. “I’ve missed you.” And there was no trace of lies in her voice as she said it, which made Tommy look up at her and kiss her. Those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, the ones he had been begging for since he was a kid - but it was far more than he had ever received and he held onto them as a drunk does to a bottle.

Thomas grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him. “Don’t leave me again.” He sounded controlled, so sure of himself, but she saw right through it and into the mess that his heart and mind were. Without words, she gave him an answer. As her hands found his belt and she grabbed it, pushing him towards her. She undid his trousers, then used her legs to lower them down to his knees. He felt her hand once again against him, this time as she took his cock and scratched it with her nails. A shameless moan left Tommy’s throat. She had spoken enough, he could have her or he could let her go.

He entered her in a swift, hard motion.

Fucking in a public area, against a rail was, well - wasn’t the most comfortable thing ever. He had to grab her so she wouldn’t fall back into the river- and in return she dig her nails on his neck and scalp, looking at him with a knowing smile dancing around her lips. She bounced up and down his cock in such a natural, effortless way one might think that’s where she belonged. She felt like heaven against him, her fluids going down his thigh, wetting his pubic hair everytime he thrusted inside her. Even the sound it made got him harder. She pressed him against her chest, that Tommy had previously uncovered to mark. He breathed against her skin, warming it up. She sure as hell wasn’t cold now, was she? Tommy thought with a chuckle as he thrusted into her once again, his free hand colliding against her ass cheek at the same time. She let out a high-pitched scream that soon turned into laughter, throwing her head back she contracted her walls against his cock and moaned his name out loud.

At this point, Thomas was a panting mess, but she wasn’t better. She was in his ear, asking - begging him to cum inside her. Be good for me, she had whispered, biting his earlobe after. She loved to be in control, even if he was the one with the cock he’d kneel and eat her out in church if she fucking asked for it. All she ever had to do was ask for it. Thomas’s thrusts were getting sloppier, and to make up for it he brought his hand against her clit and moved his fingers fast and hard, like he knew she liked it. The more painful it was for her to walk after, the better. He bit down on her chest, his eyes looking up at her through his lashes. She caressed his face and combed her fingers through his hair and nodded, then his name left her lips like a prayer and that’s all it took for Tommy to cum. His hot seed milked her walls. He kept on thrusting until she told him to stop. Both of them hissed as he took his cock out.

Some of their cum had gone down her thighs, he was going to offer a napkin when she took it in her fingers and licked it off of them. The sight got him hard again.

She looked down and saw, chuckling. “Let me take care of that, Tom.” He nodded.

Kneeling before him, she opened her mouth, taking him all in one swift motion. She moaned around his cock and he had to support himself on the rail. He hissed and moaned and asked for more - he was still sensitive from his previous release but he wasn’t going to miss the chance of feeling her mouth. She sucked on it while her hand fondled his balls, scratching as she did so. Even on his cock, she let her teeth roam his length before taking him in again. When his cock was against her lips, she pressed her tongue against the tip, but he loved it best when he was deep inside her and she closed her throat to add pressure. She moaned in that moment as well, sending vibrations all over him. Thomas couldn’t stop himself when he grabbed her hair, his hips moving forward on his own. He had expected to get mad, after all she was the one leading, but all she did was grab his hips with her free hand and bob her head in sync with him, repeating her movements until he spilled his seed on her throat. She looked up at him through watered eyes; her lips in a playful smile as his semen ran down her chin and neck, falling into her chest. She opened her mouth to show him he was still in her mouth, then swallowed all of it. What was left on her face she licked. Then, she got up.

Her head was tilted. “Help clean this up, will you? Can’t go around looking like this.”

Tommy didn’t need to be told twice: in a instant he was licking and sucking his own seed from her neck and chest until all that glistened was his saliva.

In the aftermath, Tommy realised his actions. Still wasn’t enough to make him regret them. He leaned against the rail, lighting up a cigarette. His clothes were disheveled, but at least his cock was back in his trousers. She had just finished fixing her skirt when she spoke.

“That was fun. Goodnight, Tom.” He felt a kiss against his cheek and saw her leaving.

She was gone again the next morning, it made him wonder if he had just dream it. But the marks she had left on his skin reminded him it had been real, the encounter, at least. He had to avoid Pol and Greta for a few weeks. Everything returned to normal after that.

Tommy still slept with Greta and planned a future with her, while thinking of (Y/N) and hoping that one day she’d win against her demons and came back to him, this time to stay forever.

[idhrenniel]

Someone Else | Tommy Shelby/Michael Gray

➴ Summary: Michael can’t help his feelings, and Tommy needs to remind him his place.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV) / Michael Gray.

➴ Warnings: Violence.

➴ Wordcount: 1.5K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: I’m so pissed at Michael that this request gave me inhumane pleasure man.

(Y/N) was sweet, kind and caring. It was in her nature to take care of other people. So, when Michael came back, no one was surprised she took it upon herself to help him fit in. She became his confident, even when things with John went down and she had to interfere, (Y/N) was there for Michael; made him tea, helped him with his worries and problems and slowed Thomas down when she felt he was being too harsh on Michael. (Y/N) never thought twice of it, neither did the rest of them. She was a mother of two, plus Charlie, and had been a nurse during the war. There were no hidden intentions for her behaviour, except helping Michael adapt to his new life and reconnect with his family. However, as time passed, Thomas noticed how Michael’s face would light up when (Y/N) was mentioned or walked into the room, he made excuses just so he could visit her more often and he didn’t talk to her like he should - as her cousin. Michael even asked her for dinner- and innocent as she was she cooked for one more that night. It didn’t come as a surprise, either. Thomas fell in love with (Y/N) for the same reasons Michael did, but it was out of place and the last thing he needed to deal with in that moment.

Thomas went to talk with Pol that morning. He could’ve told (Y/N), sure, but the poor woman was so oblivious to what was happening that he found it hard to break the news to her. She was excited to be able to help Michael and, if she were to know Michael had mixed her intentions she’d be devastated. Of course, Thomas wouldn’t let that happen. Pol had to put an end to Michael’s behaviour.

Knocking, Pol opened the door and smiled upon seeing him. Thomas returned the smile, walking in. As he did so he noticed a familiar figure in Pol’s kitchen, sitting down in front of Michael, laughing. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, turning to face his aunt. “What’s going on?”

Pol looked at him confused. “(Y/N) came for tea. Michael invited her. What’s wrong?”

(Y/N)’s laugh made him turn around again, and he saw his wife covering her mouth, and Michael - in a sly way, moving closer to her until he was right to her side. Michael grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, and it was the last straw for Thomas. He had put up with Michael flirting with (Y/N), asking her on dates, sending her flowers and getting her things he couldn’t even afford if it wasn’t for Thomas. But Michael had crossed the line. And he knew. He knew when he saw Thomas besides him, pulling him up from the chair and sending him to the ground. He took it too far, but he couldn't help it. Because he loved her.

“Thomas!” (Y/N) gasped, grabbing her husband’s arm before he could punch the young kid. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She screamed. Pol helped Michael to his feet and he charged against Tommy, grabbing his torso and pushing him back until the older man collided against the wall. “Stop!”

Michael didn’t stop and neither did Thomas. (Y/N) was too innocent to realize that Michael’s intentions were corrupt, even as he punched Thomas’s face over and over again with an unexpected rage. Pol tried to stop him but, even his mother was afraid in that moment. Thomas didn’t fight back, which was a surprise to (Y/N) - he could take Michael in a blink, but he let the kid punch him. He wanted her to see what Michael was willing to do to have her. (Y/N) ran to her husband, stepping in between the two supposed men and bracing herself for the impact. But it never came. Michael stopped in the moment he saw her and the fear in her face. She didn’t give him time to apologize as she started slapping and scratching him - her anger made her curse, but she’d feel bad about that later.

(Y/N) slapped Michael. “You, mad bastard!” Again. “You’re insane!” Again. “Monster!” And again.

Not with her hands - Michael didn’t feel those. But he felt her words. The hate that left her lips as she took Thomas’s face in her hands and cradled it, kissing him and sobbing as he winced. Thomas tried to smile through the pain and he wrapped his arm around her waist. He whispered something in her ear but Michael couldn’t hear it. He was mad, his heart racing.

Pol grabbed his arm to force him to step back, this time he did so but he still spoke, not easing the tension created because of the fight. “What does he have, (Y/N)?” She turned around to look at him, surprise, confusion and anger all mixed together. “What’s someone so pure, innocent and good doing with someone as poisonous as him?” Michael was in the verge of tears. He shook in his spot.

“What?”

“You deserve a lot better than him!” Michael’s voice broke. He swallowed a sob as his mother hugged him from the side. (Y/N) looked at Thomas with a frown.

Thomas looked at Michael. “Go on,” he nodded at the kid. “Tell her.”

Before she could speak again, Pol interjected. “No. This is stupid. He’s a kid, Thomas! He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You’re a grown man, act like one!” 

Michael broke from his mother’s hug and took a step forward. She felt Thomas tensing behind her but she grabbed his hand and got closer to him, not wanting to be near Michael and far from Thomas. What if Michael lost his mind again and hurt Thomas? She couldn’t see that happening.

A sobbing Michael spoke. “You’ve been so… nice and caring towards me. Ever since I arrived, when I had no one. I’m aware Thomas took his claim first, and that’s fair, but that never stopped me from falling in love. You deserve someone that cherishes you and wants to spend every second of the day at your side. Someone good and young. If you accept me, I know I can be that man.”

Thomas didn’t hide laugh, and Pol didn’t bite down the curse that left her lips. But (Y/N), (Y/N) did hide her confusion, for a moment. Instead, she showed surprise, compassion… and offense.

Michael’s confession came as a surprise. All she had done ever since he arrived was being a good older cousin to him because she, too, had been an outcast in the beginning. It was never her intention to make Michael fall in love with her, much less for it to end in a fight with her husband and a proposal like such. He had no shame! And no respect for her whatsoever. But he was still a kid, Pol’s kid, and the last thing she wanted was to break his heart in a million pieces, however… given how hopeful he looked at her, with those big eyes smiling through the tears. She knew he wouldn’t understand it if she let him down gently. Not that after taking a look at Tommy’s face she thought he deserved it.

She took a breath. “First of all… Thomas took his claim? I’m not a horse to claim. I’m a human, I can’t be claimed, Michael. And I apologize if I ever acted out of line, but nothing I’ve ever done was with the intention of… of this outcome. I love Thomas - I am in love with Thomas, and he with me. He’s good, compassionate and brave!” She grabbed Tommy’s hand as she spoke, finding the power of her voice as she saw Michael break in front of her. Poor kid. “There’s no one else in this world I could ever love or desire. I am his and he is mine. For a while now,” she pointed to her ring. “You’ll find someone good too, Michael. In the meantime, don’t get anywhere near me.”

Thomas and (Y/N) left the house, Pol didn’t seem too mad but neither of them cared at all. All she wanted was to get home, fall in bed and sleep in her husband’s arms. He couldn’t wait - it had been a rollercoaster of events. He felt bad for Michael, but at the same time he had tried to take his wife from him so there was so much Thomas could let pass. He needed to rest and things with his cousin had to cool down before business could get back to normal. And there was, in the back of his mind, that pride and happiness that made him smile through a bloody mouth; to know that she would never choose someone else over him. How did he get so lucky? There weren’t enough gods in the world for him to thank them for her existence, and her love.

[idhrenniel]

Speak Now... | Tommy Shelby

➴ Summary: Thomas has one last chance to make her love him.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Same as ever, people - not proof-reading.

➴ Wordcount: 1.2K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting 

➴ Author Note: Ok, I know the end is me being a b!tch but, a part of me wanted one end, the other wanted something else... so, I added both. Hope you enjoy!

Her mother was helping with the veil, so long it covered the entire length of the dress’s tail. It was a tad eccentric she had to admit, but it was a gift from her soon to be mother-in-law and refusing to wear it would be a huge offense. At least it was beautiful. (Y/N) took another look at herself in the mirror, admiring the dress her mother had made for her. She almost couldn’t prevent the tears, if it wasn’t for her mother’s stern look from behind her.

Right, it wasn’t the moment to weep. That’ll come, when she was at the altar with her fiance, when the priest pronounced them husband and wife, when she exited the church a married woman to a wonderful man. She’d have time to weep then, after it was all done. Right now, she could focus on her nerves. Calming herself down, thinking about the life that was waiting for her. She had grown up in a loving household, her mother and father had been married for almost four decades and were as in love as in the beginning of their relationship. (Y/N) hoped her marriage would go like that, too. However, things were different. Her mother had never loved another, while (Y/N) had been in love before - harder and more passionate, she dared to think, and her mother was never involved in illegal activities or delinquents, while (Y/N) had a gang leader-turned-politician chasing after her like a cat chases a mouse.

Oh, the thought came with a pang and she avoided looking at the dress now. She had said over and over again she wouldn’t think of him; not as she put on her dress, not as she rode to the church, not as she said I do to someone who wasn’t him. Each time she had failed. It was something she couldn’t control, and she wasn’t sure if it was because the guilt of breaking his heart or because she felt as if hers was breaking too.

For a long time now, (Y/N) had been aware of Tommy’s feelings towards her. She’d lie if she said she wasn’t flattered, and for a time she thought she could grow to love him, but as time passed she realized she couldn’t see him as more than her best-friend. This never stopped him from doing the most to turn her platonic feelings into love, which did nothing but create distance between them. After his marriage, (Y/N) had hoped their friendship could be fixed, but it turned out their lives had grown to be too different for them to fit together again. It was a sad truth she caught herself thinking about more often than she should, and it came with a pain she didn’t want to feel. Life, as it turned out, had diverged into two paths: she had to take one, and he had long ago taken the other.

“You’re thinking about him again?” Her mother’s voice brought her back from her thoughts. It would be of no use to lie to her, so (Y/N) nodded, sad smile dancing on her face. Her mother shook her head with a soft laugh. “I have to be honest, I thought it would be Tommy.”

(Y/N) frowned, turning around to look at her mother: “What?”

“You were so close growing up, and all the things he’s done to make you fall for him. I don’t know, I thought one day you might love him back… again.” She whispered the last word.

(Y/N) had heard her, though.

It was something she almost never spoke about: once, she had loved him as well, but he had been with someone else at the time and it couldn’t be. She had moved on, just to have him turn the tables when he came back from the war: she was dating the man that was now to be her husband, and Thomas was in the background, bringing the stars down to make her love him like he did her. It would be hilarious, if it wasn’t heartbreaking.

Sighing, (Y/N) was about to answer when someone knocked at her front door. With no one else but she and her mother at the house, her mother was forced to go downstairs to check who it was. (Y/N) thought it might be her father, but he was at The Garrison with her fiance’s father and brother, so the idea left her mind. There was a knot forming in her stomach, her ears rang for a second and her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be... He wouldn’t dare.

Who the fuck was she kidding? Of course he would dare.

Steps caught her attention. She realized it wasn’t her mother going upstairs, to the room she was at, but a man. And she hoped, pleaded, it was her fiance, or her father, or her cousin, or God himself. But not Thomas. No, she couldn’t take it being Thomas. He couldn’t do this to her hours before her wedding. Please, she thought. Not him.

When the door opened, she wasn’t surprised it was him, but she didn’t hide her despair. He looked as handsome as ever: a coat more expensive than her entire house, clean and shining shoes and a hat she had to admit looked too good on him to be true. A bouquet of white roses on his right hand, the other one clenched into a fist. (Y/N) knew what his words would be before he even had the chance to think about them, even though he had been thinking about them since he woke up in the morning. This was his last chance. Win or lose.

She hated to admit she wasn’t a hundred percent sure of what the outcome would be.

“You look…” he looked her up and down, taking in the tiniest of details, fearing he might forget her if he didn’t. “... astounding. No one else can compare.”

Don’t do this to me, the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She tried to speak with her silence. But Thomas had a lot to win and nothing to lose. He had come this far, giving up wasn’t an option. Not when it came to his love for her.

He cleared his throat. Approaching her. “Forgive me,” he said. “It’s out of line to show up without notice, but I feared you wouldn’t have agreed to meet.” He was right.

(Y/N) couldn’t speak; she let him take her hand in his and shuddered at the touch, his fingers wandered her skin. He didn’t stop, not even after he felt her ring. She almost said his name.

Almost.

She felt him tremble and he chuckled. “As if I’m a kid again, eh? Can’t help being like this. You turn me into a mess.” (Y/N) smiled. “I love you, I always have, I will always do. You know, better than I, or someone else do, that I can be a selfish, arrogant prick. I am a great deal less than perfect. But for whatever it is worth I believe I am my best self, my truest self, when I'm with you. That is all."

(Y/N) felt the burning in her chest, the sweat in her hands. She swallowed the lump in her throat and breathed in. Her next words would seal their fate.

“Tommy, I…”

[idhrenniel]

Heads or Tails. | Tommy Shelby.

➴ Summary: Tommy makes all big decisions with a coin, this one can’t be different.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: None. Maybe some arguing in the beginning. Me not proofreading.

➴ Wordcount: 1.4K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: Can Tumblr stop acting up and post when I ask it to post?

Small Heath, Birmingham.

1906.

Freddie and John ran through Small Heath’s streets, leaving (Y/N) and Thomas behind doing their own thing. Which in this case, was arguing. This was no unusual picture, however their argument seemed heated up and, somehow, important. It was important. To them, at least.

Thomas sighed, coming to a stop. (Y/N) was reluctant, but after a few steps she too stopped, turning around to see him standing there, frown in his face. “What?” She asked.

“What? You agreed to go out with that fuckin’ bastard! That’s what!”

See, that same morning a kid, a bit older than them, had asked (Y/N)’s father for permission to take her to the fair - it was stupid, no one had given it importance. Except for Thomas. To her, it was nothing but a chance to go to the fair (which she fucking loved), for him? It looked like it was the end of the world. (Y/N) sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“So what, huh?” Her voice raised up above his. She walked up to him, arms at her sides. He almost took a step back but fought the urge to. “At least he got the balls to ask! You threaten to beat up every man that looks in my direction, yet you never claim me as yours! What do you expect from me, Tommy? That I wait around until your cock doesn’t itch anymore?”

Thomas opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, not knowing how to respond. It wasn’t as if she was wrong - he had been doing so since he was old (and strong) enough to beat people up, but she had never complained about it before.

She scoffed, turning around. “Right, that’s what I thought.” Before Thomas was able to react, she was gone. He let out a sigh, feeling the guilt creep up his heart.

Freddie and John were walking up to him. Freddie was the one to speak: “You don’t go after her now, that English bastard is gonna have her. Don’t be a fool.”

Thomas didn’t want to admit Freddie was right, but he was. He sprinted in the direction she had taken- which led to the canal. It wasn’t long before he caught up to her.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” She didn’t stop, forcing him to run faster until he was besides her. He caught her arm and stopped her, grabbing her face with his free hand, he noticed the tears.

She sniffed. “I don’t want to hear it.” She saw Thomas grabbing something from his pocket - a coin. He took a step back, but none of them broke eye contact.

He sighed, rolling the coin through his fingers. “Heads: you’re mine. Tails: I’m yours.”

Thomas tossed the coin in the air, letting it hit the ground. He and (Y/N) looked down.

Small Heath, Birmingham.

1920.

Pol and Ada had helped her get into her wedding dress and were now helping her get out of the house without a single scratch, otherwise she would raise hell. Ada was squealing like a little girl, excited for the big moment.

“Took him long enough!” Ada said, earning her a reprimand from Pol. “What? I’m right! How long the two been together for, Pol? Fourteen! Fourteen fuckin’ years.”

She wasn’t wrong, but in their defense a lot had happened during that time. Her mother died, causing her to look for a job since her father… well, her father forgot he had a daughter. It took Thomas six months of hard work, but he ended up convincing her to move in with him. Then, it was Thomas’s mother who died. It was a hard blow for him since his father had walked out on them not long before. (Y/N) got pregnant, lost the child, then the war. It had been a rough decade for them, but things were falling into place.

“At least I’m getting married. You’re gettin’ old alone!” Ada gasped, causing the other two to laugh out loud. It was a meaningless joke, (Y/N) was well aware of Ada and Freddie’s affair, but it still made Ada slap (Y/N)’s arm. “Ouch!”

Pol sighed, “that’s enough! Let’s get to the Church before I die of old age.” Ada and (Y/N) almost, almost, made the joke, but a single look from Pol and their mouths shut like a zipper.

In their walk to the Church - because (Y/N) had refused to take the car, people who had seen both Thomas and (Y/N) grow up waved from their doorsteps. Some children ran next to her, but were careful to not stain the dress. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was out. Not an usual picture for Small Heath, but to her it was a sign from heaven. Their mothers were looking down at them, smiling. She knew that much.

Finally, the Church. Ada ran inside first and took her place besides Finn in the first row. (Y/N) had asked Pol to give her away. With her mother gone and her dad missing, lost in some low-cost brothel God knew where, and the closest thing she had to a mother was standing next to her, grabbing her arm and smiling proudly. She was finally going to be (Y/N) Shelby, although she had been known as such for the last decade. When she and Thomas exited the Church doors, it would be official. Pol was as excited, if not more than her. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) nodded and two of Thomas’s friends opened the doors and they walked inside. The music started sounding as she set foot on the sacred grounds.

Going up to the altar, Arthur and John looked at her with a big smile. Lizzie Stark - who was her cousin and best friend, was doing her best to avoid the tears, and besides her was Freddie, who also tried to hide his happiness but failed at doing so. And next to Jeremiah - who was so excited to be officiating the wedding, there was her Thomas. Dressed up in a black tuxedo, biggest smile she had seen on him since his return from the war, shaking in his spot like he was a kid getting his life dream coming true. His back was straightened with pride; his hands felt warm as Pol laid (Y/N)’s hands on him and (Y/N) took her side besides him. Yes, she thought. That’s right where she belonged.

Jeremiah raised his hands, the Church fell into silence after the people sat on the benches. It had been so long, and so much had happened. Being there together was a promise for the future ahead of them. It was going to be hard, she knew. With Thomas growing the business, things were about to be dangerous, but Thomas did what was best for their family. As long as they were together, though, nothing would ever be too much.

“Ladies and gentlemen. We have reunited here to celebrate the union of Thomas Shelby and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - finally,” he noted, making people laugh. “After fourteen years, Tommy has grow the balls to give (Y/N) his last name, something we’re all grateful for. Specially the men that had tried to flirt with her and had ended up in the hospital.” (Y/N) blushed, looking at her friend like he was summoning Satan, then at Tommy who was just laughing. Behind him, John and Arthur were almost on the floor.

If she didn’t love them so much, she’d beat them up.

Jeremiah went on: “It’s been a hard path for these two souls, but both had overcome what life threw to them. Together. Now, as their friends, we’re honoured to be here and see them become man and wife and spend the rest of their lives together with God’s blessing. So, the rings-” Arthur gave Thomas the ring, and Ada walked up to her to give her the other. “Good, now… Thomas Shelby, do you take (Y/N) as your wife, for the best and the worst, in health and illness, in wealth and poverty, until death does you apart?”

“I do.”

“And (Y/N)...”

(Y/N) wasn’t listening when Jeremiah gave cue to the kiss. All she saw was Thomas leaning in, pressing his warm lips against hers and the smile she let out as he did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her close to him. She heard the cheers, the applauses and whistles, but it was an echo in her mind, ecstatic to belong to him once and for all. As the kiss broke, Thomas still held her close enough to whisper: “Heads, you’re mine.”

“Tails, I’m yours.”

[idhrenniel]

Poison II / Thomas Shelby

part 1

➴ Summary: Tommy knows she’ll be the end of him, but the heart wants what it wants, even more when she comes back to him.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: +18. Smut, smut and more smut. It contains mention of cheating and PTSD signs. Sex in a church.

➴ Wordcount: 2.4K

➴ Tagged: @charmedevans @angelaiswriting 

➴ Author Note: Here’s the second (and final) part of Poison! I hope you like it and let me know what you think of it! 

She had a gift. A gift to reappear in the less convenient of times.

It was the morning of Thomas’s wedding, his goddam wedding. He didn’t know what got into him but he found himself going to church. It felt strange to be there, after so long, with the intention of confessing. But he went nonetheless. That’s when he saw her.

He couldn’t believe himself at first. Last time was that night at the canal, a decade ago. Ever since, all he had known of her had been the gossips. It was said she had married a rich businessman from Wales and that she had had a child, however he knew better than to trust people’s words. When he approached her and sat besides her, he knew she wasn’t a dream.

“Never thought I’d find you here.” He said. It made her laugh.

Thomas hated himself. Grace was at home, getting into her wedding dress. Her relatives in town as well, excited for the big moment. Yet all he wanted was to throw (Y/N) on the floor and take her until she cried his name. What the fuck was wrong with him?

She let out a sigh before sitting back, turning her head to look at him. “I’m praying for my late husband, so he doesn’t get lost on his way to hell.”

He couldn’t remember the last time his laugh was so real and free, but it felt good. Her smile also felt sincere, unlike the ones one would expect to see from her. Something about her had changed and a spark of hope ignited in Thomas’s chest. However, as bad as he felt about it- given the fact that he was promised to another and supposed to tie the knot in a few hours, it also felt like a sip of water after a decade of thirst. And fucking hell, he had been thirsty.

“Ya got married, I heard. Had a little one too, eh?” She shook her head. No.

Thomas saw her throat going up and down before she spoke. He noticed how she got tense. “Got married, aye. A bastard, few years older than me. Sadly he passed away-” her tone as she told him about her husband’s death was more than enough for him to know that age was not what killed him, “-but he put no little bastard in me.” (Y/N)’s hand combed through the top of his head. A smile on her lips. “You?”

He wanted to tell her the truth. “No.” But he didn't. It wasn’t because he didn’t love Grace, he was almost one hundred percent sure he did, but he loved (Y/N) more. Thomas couldn’t stop himself nor his feelings, as much as he had tried to for the longest time.

She raised a brow, giving him a chance to be honest. Nothing she hated more than a liar, he remembered with a sigh. He looked forward. “Engaged. No children.”

“Does it feel good?” (Y/N) said, climbing up Thomas’s lap and getting comfortable. Leaning in she grazed his lips before moving to his ear. “Being inside her, does it feel good?” Thomas swallowed, fighting the urge to grab her hips. “Does it feel the same, huh? When she calls your name, when she kisses you, or do you think of me? Tell me, Tom.”

Thomas couldn’t speak. He had tried to forget her for so long… First Greta and Lizzie, then Grace. Still, it wasn’t enough to get rid of her- the feeling of her nails scratching his skin as she drove him over the edge, the smell of her perfume in the morning. Fucking hell, he even remembered how she liked her tea. It was ridiculous. But she kept the game on and he kept on showing her his losing hand, becoming a trembling mess under her touch. She won, not in that moment, no: she won long ago, the first time she had him in her bed and allowed him to keep going back- this was one of the reasons he believed he was special to her, (Y/N) had rules about repeating men, but with Thomas she had made an exception. She welcomed him into her bed numerous times before she herself went to his, then kept on appearing to visit him. Perhaps Thomas was sore about losing the game, that his mind still thought she’d chose him if he kept following her rules. But following the rules was what made him lose in the first place. She raised up victorious, his broken heart under her.

And still, he was willing to let her crumble it once again if it meant feeling her close to him. A sick bastard, that’s what he was. A sick, obsessed bastard who couldn’t let go. She loved it.

“No,” he spoke. It was a low whisper, she almost couldn't hear it. She didn’t need to, though. He answered when he grabbed her hips and pushed her down against his crotch. It wasn’t a lie- it wasn’t the same. Grace was spectacular, Thomas loved her. Didn’t mean she stood a chance against (Y/N). No one could. “It doesn’t. She doesn’t.” He sounded quite desperate, his mouth searching for hers in the dim light of the Church.

(Y/N) grabbed his face, then kissed him. She spoke against his lips: “good.”

Thomas tried to unknot her dress, but it seemed to be quite complicated and decided to tear it apart instead. It made her gasp, a soft laugh leaving her lips afterwards. She returned to his mouth, her hands working on his belt and trousers once she had gotten rid of his vest and shirt. She roamed his torso, digging her nails just enough to make him sigh in pleasure. It never ceased to amaze her how a man as powerful and prideful as Thomas could become so obedient under her - perhaps that’s the reason she kept returning to him. He was hard, the sight of his cock made her mouth water but she had other plans in mind. She sat next to him, opening her legs and leaning back, getting as comfortable as it was possible given their location. Thomas kneeled, moving between her legs. He grabbed them and rested them on his shoulders. He heard her sigh before he dipped in, his mouth working on her lips and clit at a fast pace. It was difficult to contain the moans, but the sacred ground had been stained the moment their first kiss was shared, so neither Thomas nor (Y/N) cared about being seen. She grabbed the hair at the top of his head, tugging at it - a gentle tug at first, but as his lips progressed and her abdomen tightened so did her hold. She pushed her hips up at the time her hand pressed his face against her womanhood.

It was an involuntary reaction, truly. One thing Tommy had gotten used from fucking her was that, no matter what, she had to be the one in control. She could be in her knees, sucking him out while riding her own fingers and still be the one in charge. It felt safer like that to her and Thomas- and every other man she had ever slept with, had always respected it. So, when she pushed him against her- something she had done countless of times before, and his hands went up against her flesh to push her back down, it wasn’t something he wanted to do, but a reaction born from his survival instinct. When Thomas realized what he had just done, he straightened his back and looked at her with an apologizing gaze, but she spoke before he even had the chance to form a thought.

“Fuck Thomas, I didn’t mean to-” she stuttered. She sat straight, her hands found his face as she grabbed it with care, caressing his cheekbones, “-didn’t mean to force it. I’m sorry.” Her smile almost made it all disappear, but something still bugged him in the back of his mind.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew that the man who had come back from the war wasn’t the same one she left on that canal a decade ago. Thomas used to like dance around her tune, both in and out of the bedroom. Before he even went down on her, she could tell he was not the man he used to be, the man that would let her be the dominant one, pushing and controlling him. War had changed him, the scars no one but him could see had damaged the trusting part of him. If he wasn’t in control he was in danger. She understood that. She respected it.

Which made Thomas feel safe, but also concerned. What happened to her, to make her understand his pain? Who scared her like that? He wanted to kill them.

Thomas covered her mouth to silence her, however the scream she let out after being picked up all of a sudden could still be heard. Now, she was on top of him once again and he sat, relaxed and carefree, on the bench. His cock rubbing against her thigh. Thomas brought his hand to her face, brushing some loose hair back. He had leaned in until he could touch her lips and pressed them against hers. Thomas wanted to protect her. She would never let him.

“Go ahead.” He said when their lips separated. (Y/N) looked at him perplexed. Sure, she did know Thomas wanted to have some control over the encounter, she could allow that - it was the sudden warmth in her abdomen that surprised her. “Ride me. Or don’t. Your choice.”

Damn that man, she thought. He almost was as good at reading people at he believed to be. Yet he kept losing on a game she didn’t even follow along. Sighing, she grabbed his cock, moved up so the tip would be against her entrance and, looking at him the entire time, she started to descend upon his cock. She bit down her lower lip, savouring the moment. Tom’s cock was the best she’d had - and she’d had quite a lot. Or perhaps she just liked him better than the rest. Who knew, she wouldn’t bother finding an answer to that question.

As she went up and down, Thomas wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her chest. He put his arms around her, thinking that’s where he belonged, and he never wanted to leave. Spending the rest of his life on her arms, that was a dream. A beautiful one, but a dream nonetheless. And that voice in the back of his head, the one that tried to keep him grounded, it was silent, because all he could hear was her moaning his name, the sound of her wet cunt against his skin and her ragged breath. It was the most beautiful song he’d ever listen to, forever engraved in his memories so he could return home in times of need. Oh, she was going to be the end of him, eh? But what a pleasant end, Thomas thought. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t leave me. Not again.” He found himself pleading. She ignored his request.

Her mouth felt forceful against his but he welcomed it with a moan. Thomas felt her walls tightening around his cock, that was about to explode. He put his fingers against her mouth and she opened it with a smile, sucking on them just as good as she would his cock. When his fingers were wet enough to not hurt her (not that she would mind some pain) he rubbed them against her clit, causing her to groan. It must’ve been a hundred degrees in there, or at least that’s how he felt it. Her skin was wet, he also had sweat and blood running down him. Her beautiful hair was now a mess, but her smile remained sinful and promising. He wanted to cum inside her, perhaps if she had his child she would remain there with him.

“Can I?” (Y/N) asked him, her hand close to his throat. Thomas nodded, but that didn’t seem to be enough for her to he agreed out loud. She pressed her hand against his throat, enough that he’d feel it but not enough to cause an instinctive reaction. He moaned at the feeling, his free hand slapping her ass as hard as he could.

It wasn’t long until she came undone, moaning his name for the whole town to hear. Fuck, he wanted them to hear it. He wanted them, up until the last bastard out there to know it was him she went back to, it was him she had a soft spot for. It was him, him… that’s what his mind told him as he thrusted his hips up once more, cumming inside her. Thomas didn’t stop until both their orgasm had subsided and she winced, moving to sit besides him again. Their clothes were all over the floor- hers torn apart, and the bench was wet with sweat and cum. It was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Thomas lighted up a cigarette, offering her one but she denied it, thanking him. She put her dress over her head, making it as presentable as possible before she moved on to straighten her hair and fixing her makeup. He was still naked, sitting on the bench and looking at her.

Words flew through his mouth before he could stop them: “please, don’t do it.” He was being so weak, it made her feel bad. No self-confidence, no pride whatsoever. This wasn’t the man she knew he was, but it was the man she made him be.

She gave him one more kiss and a smile. That would have to suffice. “Until next time, Tom.” Her words felt like a knife to the heart that was killing him and bringing him back to live at the same time.

“Until next time,” he replied, accepting his defeat. As she walked from him, again, she didn’t see the tears that run down his face.

This was their game and once again she had won another match. The winner takes it all: his heart, his pride and whatever honour was left in him. And he was left standing there next to a pool of cum, getting married in a few hours...  waiting for the next time.

[idhrenniel]

The Ghost of You | Thomas Shelby

➴ Summary: Tommy’s love is so strong that not even death will keep him from her.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Death. Suicide mention. Ghosts I guess.

➴ Wordcount: 1.4K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: I’m so sick someone end me.

In the end, it wasn’t the war, or his enemies. It was himself. He craved for a peace he could never find on Earth, and decided to search for it somewhere else. Thomas never thought of the consequences of his actions, if she would be alright on her own, if their children would wake up in the middle of the night asking for their father. He thought about himself and she couldn’t blame him for that. She had seen him slipping through her fingers for so long, it was a matter of time before he lost that battle. But this acceptance didn’t stop the pain and the tears, and the feeling that he was, somehow, still there with her.

It began with a gush of wind when the windows were close, the feeling of a cold hand on her face while she slept. Sometimes, she swore, she could see him in the reflection of her mirror, but when she turned around he was gone. At first she thought it was her own grief making her see, feel, things. She talked to Pol about it and she had agreed, claiming something like that had happened to her when her husband died. Because of this, (Y/N) had tried to move on and ignore her shakiness when she was alone at home.

Until that night.

That night the children had gone to Ada’s house for a Halloween sleepover. The house was silent and, if a mouse were to walk around, she’d hear it without problem. (Y/N) sat on the couch, reading a book she had forgotten the name of. She mindlessly turned the pages, reading but not even close to comprehending. Something was off. More than usual. She knew he was there. (Y/N) couldn’t help to look up towards the door frame he used to lean against to watch her read in the late hours of the night when the two of them were alone. Then, he would grab her hand and drag her to bed, both laughing like teenagers in love. (Y/N) clenched her fist, reminiscing the feeling of his warmth, his kisses, his voice. A tear run down her face. Someone was quicker than her to wipe it off.

Her book fell on the floor as she jumped, screaming at the top of her lungs. She pressed her back against the wall, next to the window. Because of the lightning, his reflection could be seen on the glass. She brought a hand to her mouth, silencing the sobs. Thomas knelt on the ground, his hand high up in the air where her face had been moments ago. Hurt and lost, he got up, searching for her in the room. When he found her, (Y/N) sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Darkness was better than facing the ghost of her dead husband. Even if she knew he’d never harm her, even if he had never, not once, tried to scare her. This was a little too much for her. Her heart beat against her ribcage so fast it hurt.

“(Y/N).” Her name echoed in the house, hitting the walls and doors and windows until it came to her. She shuddered. She had never been able to hear him before, what was different?

She pressed herself even more against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting. It was the night of Halloween. “Thomas?” She whispered, her voice quivering and weak.

Thomas looked as surprised as her, taking a step back. As the clock struck midnight, his… form, because she couldn’t find other word to describe it, became clearer.

He didn’t looked alive, still had a white aura around him, but he did look complete. (Y/N) had expected him to be see-through, because that’s what she had learnt from the ghost stories she was told of as a kid. But he looked, aura aside, as if he had come back home from the afterlife… from the fucking afterlife. Oh God, how was this happening to her?

Thomas moved and his steps were heard. (Y/N) frowned. He looked down at his own feet, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Now, that’s a surprise, eh?”

Could she slap him? She wanted to slap him. But she was too afraid to move, she’d lose it if she touched him. “What…?” (Y/N) couldn’t finish her sentence, loss of words.

“It’s Halloween. Tonight, I can be whole again. Alive, almost. It’s just tonight, though. I will be gone with the first light of the morning.”

(Y/N) shook her head. No, he wouldn’t be gone. She just wouldn’t be able to see him. He had died months ago and she had ever since felt his presence in the house, in her car, even when she went shopping or took the children to school. He was there all the time, with her. It was not as comforting as she had once expected it to be, but rather frightening.

Another step. She looked up to see him approaching her. She couldn’t scream, her voice lost somewhere in her throat, but God, she wanted to. This was not a film about true love where death can be defied and nothing can go wrong. (Y/N) craved his touch, but not like this. She couldn’t even think about that thing in front of her being her Thomas.

He stopped. “You’re afraid.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating a fact. She was on the floor, hugging her knees with tears running down her face. “You’re afraid of me.”

No. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t him she was afraid of, but it would’ve been a lie. Could he blame her, though? Seeing ghosts was not a common human trait. Although the look on his face broke her heart, she couldn’t bring herself to speak or comfort him. Or move, at all.

“When I did it, I heard the shot,” he began, sitting in the couch she had been on. “And then, a voice. Your voice. At first I thought that someone had found me and I was in a hospital, but it all felt too cold and the voices were mere echoes. You, the kids, Ada and Arthur. I could hear the voices but never get too close to them. Until you called me, asked me to come back.”

(Y/N) listened to his words, taking in what he said. For a long time after his death, she had called his name in the darkness, weeping as she wished for him to come back. But she had never expected him to do so, much less like this. It was so much to take in. Her voice was still shaking as she spoke. “Not like this.” And she repeated those words over and over again, sobbing as she did so. So weak that not even when Thomas knelt before her and took her hand she reacted. Not like this, she said to herself, then out loud again. She wanted him back, of course she did. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her waist at night and in the morning, feel his kisses and hear his laugh. He couldn’t give her that now, could he?

Thomas spoke again. “I know.” He sounded hurt. Not because of her words, though. He was hurt because of what he had done and what that had caused. “But I can’t leave.” Before she opened her mouth to question that, he continued: “I left once, I can’t do it again.” He took her face in his hands and she was surprised at how warm it felt. “You will never be alone. You might not be able to see or hear me, but I will be here. I swear.”

As he wrapped his arms around her, and she was able to lean against his chest, a coldness crawled up her chest and attached itself onto her heart. This didn’t feel right, but the bliss of him was clouding her mind. Their love was so strong she was able to summon him from the death, and if for one night he could be back… (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, taking in the feeling of peace that emanated from his frame. Something was screaming at the back of her mind, but when Thomas brought their lips together, it shut down. And like that, it all went black. There was no more fear or anger, just peace. Only for one night, she’d let herself be haunted by the ghost of him.

[idhrenniel]

Engorgio! | Sirius Black

➴ Summary: Sirius is one of the most talented wizards she’s ever met, he’s also the dumbest teenager she’s ever met.

➴ Pairing: Sirius Black / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Sexual implications at the end, nothing specific. Language.

➴ Wordcount: 1.4K

➴ Tagged: @charmedevans @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: I’m moving all stories to this new blog, hope you still enjoy them.

“Listen, it seemed like a good idea. I mean, it’s a charm made to make things bigger. No one could have known it would go so wrong,” Sirius defended himself.

To her disappointment, Remus caught her before she could smack him. “Someone with half a brain would’ve known. A shrimp would’ve known, dumbass!”

As Sirius whined, she turned around with an exasperated huff. A part of her was so mad that she wanted to punch something -or them, if possible, but the other side was worried sick and hoped that Professor Flitwick would arrive soon.

The engorgio charm was designated to make inanimate objects or even food bigger than their actual size; it was a cool trick to use during a feast or get more butterbeer for less gold. It was a safe, non-harming charm. But all magic had risks if used wrong, and using it on their dicks was, without one single doubt, a wrong use of it.

So, three idiots friends and a too responsible during exams one later, The Marauders were at the hospital wing, with their dicks growing and in pain. If she hadn’t loved Sirius so much, she would have laughed her ass off. Perhaps she would still, once the situation was fixed.

“(Y/N)”, Sirius called. She ignored him, but he kept calling her name in a soft voice and she couldn’t help but oblige and turn around, approaching him. “Don’t be worried, please. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but it is done. It won’t ever happen again, I promise.”

She touched his cheek. “You don’t believe a single word of that, Black. And I know it.”

He smiled and she was thankful that Remus wasn’t able to catch her before she smacked his head that time. Although Sirius whined, she knew it was impossible he had felt the hit. One, because she didn’t use the force she wanted to and two because the situation that was going on between his legs was too painful for his brain to function.

“What in Merlin’s name happened here?” Professor Flitwick spoke as the doors opened and he, alongside Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore walked in.

James and Sirius looked at each other, their faces even paler than before. McGonagall was going to give them the worst punishment she could think of because of this one.

“Two assholes,” she said, pointing to James and Sirius, “had the idea of using the enlarging charm on their dicks, and the third asshole,” this time she pointed to Peter, “followed them.”

Flitwick turned to Remus. “And Mr. Lupin?”

“Mr. Lupin let them do it because it’s exams period and he has better things to do than to go around making sure these idiots don’t waste their shared braincell.”

Remus nodded at her answer, while Sirius, James and Peter complained.

Professor McGonagall tried to hold her laugh, but when Professor Flitwick started laughing, it was impossible to hold back. Even she let out a soft, long laugh. In the distance, she heard Sirius call her out on it, but she didn’t care at all if he was offended. Not in that moment. He had done something stupid and she had worried about it since she found out, it was good to let out for a moment and see the comical side of the situation. She did hope his dick wouldn’t explode, though. It would be a greater loss for her than for him.

Sighing, she wiped off a tear and straightened her back, walked up to Sirius and sat besides him. He was in such pain he couldn’t focus, his hand tried to reach her but it missed. She, so he wouldn’t feel alone, grabbed it with all the strength she could muster.

Idiot, she thought. He was going to end up hurt for real if he continued down that path. Sirius and James didn’t think things through when doing a prank. It still escaped her how the two of them could be so intelligent and so stupid at the same time.

Professor Flitwick took a breath and moved over where Peter was. It seemed he was in more pain than the rest, but in her opinion he was just scared. Sirius and James, although it had to be painful for them too, knew nothing was going to happen. But Peter was ever the soft spoken, scared little kid. Helping him first seemed obvious. Also, it had been Padfoot and Prong’s idea. Torturing them a little longer wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Finite Incantatem!”

Professor Flitwick moved from Peter to James, and then to Sirius. She guessed it was done, but all three of them were still in pain and it seemed their penises weren’t going down.

“It’s going to take a few hours for it to go down. I have stopped the spell to stop the growing. Drink this potion,” Flitwick motioned to them as Madam Pomfrey handled them a cup. “It has a sour taste, I must warn. But drink all of it to recover. It’s better to spend the night here, just in case something happens.”

Professor McGonagall thanked Professor Flitwick for his help and he left.

She had to help Sirius drink the potion. For the look on their faces, it tasted like hell, and hell was what all three of them deserved. Behind her, Remus was chuckling.

“Ten points from Gryffindor.” McGonagall spoke.

Remus turned around to complain, but she was quick to shut him up. “Your friends could’ve of died, Mr. Lupin. I believed them smarter than this. And as comical as the situation might be for them, or for the rest of us, it was a misuse of magic in non-academic hours. I should take more than ten points, but given their state, that it punishment enough. Rest now.”

She and Remus watched McGonagall leave, upset for the points but knowing it wouldn’t be too difficult for them to earn them back.

Headmaster Dumbledore let out a soft sigh and spoke at last: “Mr.Lupin, there isn’t much to do here. Return to the Common Room and keep studying.”

Remus looked at her and she nodded, then he said goodbye to his friends and left. Soon after, Dumbledore left as well. She didn’t, though. Had decided to spend the night with them.

And when night came, and James and Peter were deep asleep, she smacked Sirius in the chest. Not harsh, though. Just enough so that he’d know she was still upset.

“I apologized. What more can I do?”

“You can not be an idiot.” She sighed, looked up to him. “I don’t understand. You are one of the smartest wizards I know, talent aside. Yet at the same time, you’re the dumbest person I have ever known. How’s that possible?”

Sirius chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess?” She heard him sigh. “Just because I am a smart wizard doesn’t mind I don’t get to be a stupid teenager. I make mistakes, I have fun because of them. Yes, I fucked up on this one, but it was bound to happen some time.”

“Yes, should’ve see it coming, huh?” She laughed with him. “Just be careful next time, I don’t want that dick to explode without having impregnated me first. I’d be devastated.”

“Well, we can start working on it now. James and Peter are asleep…”

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Black.” Madam Pomfrey interrupted. Where she had come from she didn’t know, but she almost had a heart attack. “The potion should’ve made effect by morning, but it’s going to be at least two months until you can… normally. Any intercouse before that could cause severe damaging and pain. Now, go to sleep. This is a public place.”

Sirius swallowed the knot on his throat as he watched her leave. “Two months?”

“No,” she scolded. “At least, two months. You do something stupid near that dick again, and I swear on Merlin this pain would be nothing compared to what I will do. Understood?” He just nodded, scared. “Stupid. Enlarging his dick, as if he needs it.”

Outside the hospital’s door, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall shared a laugh.

“I thought you were going to give him detention for a year.” Madam Pomfrey confessed.

“Oh, I was going to,” McGonagall nodded. “But I thought this would be a greater punishment. At least to Sirius. The other two, I’ll come up with something. Goodnight, Poppy.”

“Goodnight, Professor McGonagall.”

[idhrenniel]

Farewell | John Shelby

➴ Summary: The bullets meant for him hit someone else, now John has to learn how to live a life without her.

➴ Pairing: John Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: Violence, death, depression signs.

➴ Wordcount: 1.2K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting @sweetvengeancee

➴ Author Note: Esme doesn’t exist here at all! No cheating involved. It’s also shorter than what I usually wrote but I felt that extending it was forced. Hope you like it.

“You can’t be mad at Michael for wanting to fit in, John.”

(Y/N) had sighed, leaning back in her chair. He could tell she was hurting. She had been arguing with him since earlier that morning and it was going nowhere. Knowing him, it was something she should’ve seen coming, but she was a little bit too hopeful sometimes. Would she still be there with him, had he listened to her? John could still dream.

John, stubborn as a mare, had refused to give in. “It’s not that I’m mad about, (Y/N).” He had told her - which was true. But it had fueled the fire, making her groan and get up, hands in the air. As he tried to get her back in the chair, he had heard a car outside. John had grabbed his gun, (Y/N) had scoffed at the sight and returned inside the house. Somewhere she’d be safe.

Somewhere she shouldn’t have moved from. Just the thought made John shake with rage.

It wasn’t the mafia at his door, though, but Michael. As if (Y/N) had summoned him. John had to bit down his tongue to avoid cursing. It wouldn’t have been out of character for her to have done so, if that would have forced him talk to his brothers.

Before he had the chance to open the door, (Y/N) had stormed outside, pushing Michael as she did so. “We can take care of ourselves! It’s Christmas! Christmas!” She had kept on repeating. It had been somehow comical at the time. “And he can’t even take the time to come himself?”

(Y/N) was grateful for Thomas’s protection - the two had grown up together, been good friends, even closer than she and John ever were as children. But people change with time - Thomas’s change had been too much for her to cope with, and she and Thomas had distanced themselves, which had brought her closer to John and ended up with their marriage. Deep down, though, she still hoped Thomas had come to his senses and amended things with both of them.

Had Thomas been the one at their door that morning, would she still be there with him?

“It’s the mafia, (Y/N)!” Michael had screamed. Afraid, worried. He was a kid thrown into war, even if he tried to act like a grown man.

John had chuckled, he could remember that. “And we’re the Peaky-fucking-Blinders.” (Y/N) had given a proud nod, her smile soon turning into a frown as Michael kept talking.

“No, we’re not. We’re not the Peaky-fucking-Blinders unless we’re together.”

(Y/N) cursed in shelta, slapping Michael’s shoulder with enough force to make him tumble. John had laughed, until he heard the cart. Yes, he remembered hearing the cart and being confused. It wasn’t normal, he couldn’t recognise the man leading it. It shouldn’t have been there.

After that, it was all a blur for John. He could remember cocking his gun, telling her to get inside. She couldn’t fucking listen, could she? No, she had to be stubborn to the end. John swallowed a sob. Her stubbornness had been one of the things that made him fall for her and it was the thing that took her from him. It was as ironic as it was cruel, and John fucking hated it.

John thought about it - the gun, the shots, Michael screaming their names - he had tried to get (Y/N) inside the house without success. And a shadow in front of him, shielding him from the bullets meant for him. It was him those bastards were after. There was no other truth. (Y/N) was dead and it was his own fault. He fell to his knees, grabbing a cold, rigid hand that was once full of life and warmth and love. Now it was nothing. Her blood had dried on his hands, it felt wrong to hold her like this. She didn’t deserve such a gruesome end.

He could keep begging to a God that had forsaken him so long ago and still she wouldn’t be back to hold him at night, sing songs to their children and laugh at the most simple things. No kisses or hugs, John would have to worship memories from now own.

(Y/N) gave them the time to send the Italians off, but doing so caused John to miss her last breath. He had called her name, over and over again until he realized she could no longer hear him. He had fallen to his knees, cradling her lifeless corpse in his arms and sobbing into her neck. She was wet on her own blood - he remembered it being on her clothes, her face and the hard, cold ground she had fallen against. An injured Michael watching him break down.

All she had to do was go inside; take the children, go and let him be the one to die. Children needed their mothers more than their fathers, and her life without him would’ve been much easier than his was about to be. John had grown used to having her, to love her, to the point he couldn’t conceive a life without her in it. His pain was too much for him to be able to go on, not even the thought of revenge was enough to get him on his feet. It wasn’t just her he had failed, but their children as well - four children that had grown to love her as if she was their mother, and two that would grow without her in their lives. John didn’t want to imagine their pain as he slid on the floor until he laid on it, staring up at a white ceiling that made him wonder if she could see him now. See him walking and breathing but not alive.

Arthur had been the one to separate him from her corpse. He remembered that, too.

“John.” At the sound of his name, he looked towards the door. It was Thomas stood there with Michael. Michael was shot in the encounter, had to get the bullets out of him before he ended up in a table next to (Y/N). John couldn’t find it in himself to be glad, or mad, he couldn’t feel other than pain and he found it ridiculous. He should be mad. He should be raging - not sobbing like a child, but outside, searching for the bastards that had killed his wife and sending them to hell in the most painful way possible. He now understood Tommy, to his sorrow.

“Go.” His voice was a whisper that got lost in the echo before it could reach his brother. Perhaps he didn’t want Thomas to go at all. What if he needed his brother? It had been his same childish fight that made them be separated and caused (Y/N) to die. “Yes?” John said this time, voice a lot stronger than he expected. He tried to get on his feet but fell, then he felt a pair of strong arms on him and felt Thomas’s chest against his head. And he cried. Cried like a child that needed for his big brother to protect him, because he had been weak to do so.

John screamed, kicked the ground. Grabbed Thomas’s arm hard enough to break it, but not once did his older brother let go of him. As he did so, a voice echoed in his head.

“John, it’s Christmas… call them.”