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uramilf · 1 year

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The Record Shop - Chapter One

A/N: Surprise!! It wasn’t bedtime after all

Warnings: SMUT. Oral (f receiving), weed mentioned, alcohol consumption, Matty being a bit too hot to handle also how cutesy is this gif

*Penny’s POV*

“Can I help you with anything darling?”

I opened my eyes wide at the sight of the beautiful boy in front of me. He smiled at me, and I blinked, pulling myself together.

“You can, actually,” I nodded. “I’m just looking for some Jeff Buckley?” He grinned. “You like him too, huh?”

I smiled back. “Yep, do you have Grace?”

“Of course, let me go grab one from the back.”

He left for a moment or two, and I heard him rummaging about through the back of the store. When he returned, he was holding a Grace vinyl. “I swear this is one of my favourite albums of all time.”

“Oh totally, it’s amazing,” I smiled back. He stood there for a moment, looking at me with those deep brown eyes. I looked back, meeting his gaze. We were quiet, but it somehow wasn’t awkward. It almost felt like I was meant to walk into his store.

After a moment or two, he broke his gaze and cleared his throat. “Sorry, do you need anything else darling?”

I shook my head. “No thanks, it was my first day at a new job today so I thought I would come treat myself to a record. I usually go record shopping after something big like that, you know?”

He looked surprised. “New job, huh? Where are you working?”

“Attitude hair salon, just down the street. I’m a hairdresser, just moved up here from London though.”

“Oh hey, my friends girlfriend gets her hair done there,” he replied. “She got it cut there last week and she’s been going on about it ever since.”

I grinned and he made his way behind the counter and scanned my record for me.

“I’m Matty, by the way. Oh sorry, you probably already saw that. Name tag. Duh.” I could tell he was getting slightly nervous, so I smiled at him again.

“I’m Penny.”

“That’s a pretty name, love. You mustn’t know many people here if you’re from London, then.”

“Nope, pretty much nobody, apart from the girls at work. I met them when I came down for an interview.” Matty nodded slowly whilst putting my new record into a plastic bag for me. I handed over some cash and he put it into the register, handing me back my change. Our fingertips brushed slightly and I saw a ghost of a grin on his lips. I could tell I was turning red.

“Will you wait here for just one second, darling?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Um, sure.”

He disappeared into the back of the shop once more and I heard him talking frantically to another man, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I definitely heard my name, along with ‘London’ and ‘doesn’t know anyone yet.’ I blushed a bit. I didn’t want him thinking I was pathetic for having no friends in Manchester. However, when he returned, he was accompanied by a man quite a bit taller than him, who had fair curly hair and dark eyes, with the same logo on his t-shirt: the word “fusion”, which was the name of the store, and a little embroidered vinyl record, and his shirt was dark grey instead of black.

“Penny, this is George. He’s my best mate, we’ve been working here together since we left school.”

George stepped forward and shook my hand.

“Hi, George, lovely to meet you.”

He returned the sentiment, smiling confidently. I have to say, it was turning into the strangest interaction I’d ever had in a record shop.

“So basically, George is having a party tonight, and all our friends are gonna be there. I thought since you haven’t really met anyone down here yet that you could come along? Don’t feel pressured to say yes, of course, but it could be nice for you to get to know some people in the area.”

I felt overwhelmed by their kindness and nodded eagerly. “That would be amazing, guys. Thank you so much.”

“No problem, Penny. Why don’t you gimme your number and I can send you my address?” George asked. Matty looked panicked.

“Actually Penny, if you give me your address I could always pick you up and take you. You know, that way you could have a drink without worrying about getting home.”

I laughed to myself. “Thanks Matty, that would be great.” I gave him my number and scribbled down my address quickly, before grabbing George’s number too in case of emergencies. I thanked the boys again, taking my record in the plastic bag and leaving the store.

“I’ll pick you up at nine, Penny!”

—————

I looked in the mirror one last time. I had opted for a tight black dress that reached my mid-thigh, but had a slit that went up my leg and left little to the imagination. My makeup looked good, some dark eyeshadow and a red lip making me look quite bold, a feeling a wasn’t used to. I was wearing black strappy heels that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk in after a few drinks, but I supposed I would just have to chance it. My phone buzzed and I checked to see a text from Matty: “I’m outside your building love x”

My heart fluttered at the message, especially the “x” at the end. I shook the feeling off. I had just met this guy, and he was really only inviting me out because I had no friends. Super romantic.

I grabbed my keys and headed out of the flat, getting the lift down to the ground floor. Stepping out the main door of the building, I shivered slightly at the cold air against my bare arms. My eyes fell on Matty, standing against his car.

“Hi darling. You look stunning.” He was in a similar pair of black jeans as he had been in earlier, but he was now wearing a white button-up and a leather jacket. He shrugged the jacket off when he saw me shiver and made his way to me, draping it round my shoulders right away. Holy shit. That was fucking hot. He even opened the car door for me, as if we were on a date. I tried to shake that thought from my mind. Of course we weren’t on a date. We had just met. It was just a party. I didn’t know anything about him - fuck - did he have a girlfriend?

Matty shutting his car door and switching on the radio pulled me out of my train of thought. Arctic Monkeys was playing - Fluorescent Adolescent. The song seemed to fit Matty. He must have been must older than me but he had a kind of boyish air about him, like a teenager constantly in trouble, but in a cheeky way that you couldn’t help but find funny. He turned his head to look at me. “You ok love?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You look great, Matty.”

He began to pull out of the car park, smiling at me.

“Thanks darling. I meant it when I said you looked stunning. You really do.”

My stomach was churning now. Even my ex boyfriend Alex had never made me feel this way, and I dated him for three years.

“Thank you Matty,” I said quietly. He eyed me again, for longer this time, until he had to look at the road again.

“Really, Penny. I know we’ve just met but if there’s something wrong, you can tell me. If you’re not comfortable hanging out with us this quickly it’s ok.”

I shook my head and giggled.

“No, Matty. It isn’t you. Honestly I’ve never been as glad to meet someone as I was to meet you, I thought it was gonna take me forever to get to know people.”

“So what’s up then, love?”

“I was just thinking about my ex. Our breakup was kinda the reason I moved, to start over. Me and Alex were together for three years, and it ended pretty badly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that lovely, I’ve been there.”

His hand crept onto my knee and gave my leg a reassuring squeeze, before placing his hand back on the wheel. My breath caught in my throat. I don’t think he knew how attractive he was without even trying.

—————

We arrived at George’s house at a quarter last nine, and there seemed to already be quite a few people around. I spotted George almost as soon as I walked through the door, wearing faded blue jeans and a button up similar to Matty’s. He strode over to me, wrapping me in a warm hug. George was someone I couldn’t help but like, even having only met him once very briefly before.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Penny! You look great.”

“Thanks George, great house,” I said, looking around. The house was small but, much like myself, he had made it beautiful. I noticed a photo of him and Matty hanging on the wall above the stairs and smiled to myself. It had clearly been taken years ago, when the boys were teenagers. Matty’s hair was longer and curlier, and George’s was less blonde. They stood at a similar height and had their arms around each other, grinning into the camera. They were both in shorts and Newcastle United shirts, and their arms were stick thin and bare of tattoos. In front of them was a little boy with light brown hair and a grin similar to Matty’s, who was clinging to one of George’s legs.

“That’s a nice picture,” I commented.

George looked up and laughed. “I think that was taken about 7 years ago now. We were only 17. That’s Matty’s little brother Louis in the picture, he was only 5.”

George led me into the living room, where most of the people were. A girl around my height came running over excitedly. She had long, black, straight hair which tumbled down her back and moved beautifully when she moved. I found my weird hairdresser brain thinking about how much I wanted to touch it. She slung an arm around George’s waist, barely coming up to shoulder height on him.

“Oh my god, you must be Penny! George said he met you earlier.”

“Yeah, that’s me!”

“I’m Charli. It’s so nice to meet you, babe. Let’s go get a drink.”

With that she stood on her tiptoes to give George a kiss on the cheek before linking her arm with mine and pulling me towards the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Charli introduced me to Adam and Ross, who were apparently some of Matty and George’s closest friends. Adam worked in a bar down the street from my flat, and I promised to call in next time he had a shift. Ross worked in a place a few streets over that did tattoos and piercings, and told me he had done most of his friends’ tattoos. Adam called his girlfriend Carly over to meet me, and she embraced me warmly much as George had when I arrived. The boys left to go for a smoke and I was left with their wonderful girlfriends.

“So Penny, George said you’ve just started at Attitude. We both get our hair done there,” Charli remarked, whilst pouring me a vodka lemonade (which seemed like a lot more vodka than lemonade, not that I was complaining.)

“Wait, really?” I took a sip of my incredibly strong drink. “I hope I get both of you when you next come in, I always prefer customers I know.”

After a short conversation with the girls about work (and how much I loved their hair), Matty appeared in my peripheral vision and draped an arm around my shoulder. “Sorry girls, do you mind if I steal Penny for a bit? I wouldn’t want such a beautiful girl to leave without me getting to know her.”

Carly raised an eyebrow. “You’re such a flirt, Matty. Give the girl a break, you just met her for god’s sake!” I giggled, unable to resist walking away with Matty, after catching Charli give me a knowing look.

—————

George had a small balcony attached to his bedroom which Matty and I had ended up on, sharing a blunt. We were sat side by side on the cold ground, the night air cooling us down. The weed hadn’t kicked in yet, but we were chatting away with no awkwardness whatsoever.

“So how old are you anyways, Matty?”

“24, you?”

“21.”

“So it’s totally ok for me to do what I’m about to do then.”

I snapped my head up to look at him. He gently cupped my jaw and pressed his lips to mine. I was shocked but kissed him back. Our lips moved together for a few more seconds before he pulled away. “Shit, love, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I did that.”

“Hey,” I whispered, lifting his chin so our eyes were aligned. “I wanted you to.”

Matty’s smile could’ve lit up a thousand cities. “I know we only met today, and we know virtually nothing about each other, but I want to know you. I just have to.”

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, taking the blunt from his hand and inhaling deeply. I put out the blunt in the ashtray next to me and snaked one hand around Matty’s neck, the other resting on his cheek. I pressed my lips to his and exhaled the smoke into his waiting mouth, where he inhaled it and breathed out the excess.

Matty stared at me for a moment, before leaning back on his hands and patting his lap. I swung a leg over his to straddle him, before crashing my lips to his again in a much more desperate kiss. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip and I opened my mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to enter my mouth. He tasted of weed and smoke and mint. My hands crept up to play with his hair, fingertips grazing against his shaved sides which seemed to be growing back a little. I was glad. Mullets were definitely not my thing.

Matty’s hands were venturing up and down my sides and my back, sometimes coming up to tangle themselves in my carefully curled hair or cup my jaw. I pulled away to catch my breath, and Matty used the time to press small kisses onto my neck and jawline. He began to get a little more cocky, sucking a bright red mark into the skin of my neck. I giggled; usually I would be a little annoyed but the weed was beginning to kick in and everything he did felt perfect.

“Hey, Penny?” Matty pulled away from sucking on my collarbone to speak. I took his face in my hands and whispered “what?”

“I just smoked weed and I drank a bit so I probably shouldn’t drive. Do you wanna get a taxi?”

“To where?”

“My flat. If you want.”

I couldn’t have thought of anything better at that moment, so I rose from his lap and pulled him along with me. I went to slide open the balcony doors, but Matty pulled me in for one last kiss, even dipping me back slightly in his strong arms. How could a stranger be more romantic than my ex-boyfriend of three years? I felt like I was going insane. I couldn’t even believe I had kissed him within only a few hours of knowing him, never mind going home with him. Maybe it was the weed talking, but I trusted Matty.

—————

Matty and I managed to get a taxi fairly quickly. He slid into the back seat beside me and told the driver his address. As soon as we started driving, his lips were attached to my neck again, kissing the skin gently. I turned my head and placed a hand on his cheek, pressing my lips to his. His tongue entered my mouth once more and I could still taste the weed in his mouth, along with some red wine he had downed before we left. I started to feel bad for the taxi driver and broke the kiss, resting my head on his shoulder and reaching for his large, calloused hand. He continued to press soft kisses to the top of my head and stroke my hand with his thumb for the remainder of the short taxi drive. It felt odd to be so intimate with a stranger. I had hardly even felt this close to past boyfriends. What was it about Matty that made me feel so safe?

When we arrived at Matty’s apartment building he paid the taxi driver quickly and basically pulled me out of the car and all the way inside, pressing the lift buttons frantically. I laughed at him, placing my hand on his jaw and pulling him down to look at me. “Chill out Matty, we have time.” I kissed his cheek as the lift doors opened and he pulled me inside, barely waiting until the doors had closed to pull me into another deep kiss. He bent down slightly to wrap his hands around my thighs. “Jump,” he whispered with a grin. I jumped up and he caught me, pushing me against the cold metal wall. I moaned into the kiss as his hands made their way to my ass, squeezing gently. The doors began to open again but Matty didn’t put me down, instead running down the corridor with me in his arms, until I was screaming with laughter and begging him to drop me. He lowered me to my feet when he reached the door to his flat as he fumbled with his keys to open the door.

No sooner were we through the door than he slid his jacket off his shoulders onto the ground and kicked off his shoes, connecting our lips again. “Please, Matty,” I whispered into his mouth, and he ran his hands up and down my back a few times before finding the zip of my dress and pulling it down. As the dress fell to the floor, he devoured me with his eyes. I had gone braless to the party and my nipples were rock hard with the cool air and anticipation of what was to come. My lower half was barely covered by a lacy black thong which seemed to attract Matty’s attention. He was already hardening in his jeans, and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I stepped forward to start unbuttoning his shirt. He yanked it off and threw it behind him, before pulling his jeans off and kicking them away from himself. He stood in a pair of black Calvins, eyeing me up and down and smiling. “How did I get this lucky? It’s not often girls as perfect as you come into the shop, babe, never mind me taking them home on the first night of knowing each other.”

I blushed, before saying “get a move on, Matty. I’m not standing here all night.”

He lunged towards me, tackling me onto the sofa and attacking my nipple with his tongue, making me cry out between bursts of laughter. He sucked a few dark red marks into the skin of my breasts, to match the one he had given me on my neck. He scooped me up, making me giggle, and carried me into his bedroom, throwing me down on the bed before stripping himself of his boxers and pulling off my thong, dropping to his knees when he saw my exposed pussy. He looked up at me for permission. “Can I?”

I nodded. He started by licking the whole way from my hole to my clit, making me cry out in pleasure, before settling on my clit and sucking, licking, grazing it with his teeth. I was dripping now, and one of his hands crept up and was catching some of the wetness on his fingertips. He inserted two finger into me, thrusting them in and out, curling them to hit my g-spot, while he kept licking my clit over and over. I screamed his name and clutched at his dark hair, nearing the edge. Him sucking my clit again and thrusting his fingers into me faster than before had me cumming over his hand and mouth, my arousal dripping down my thighs. He retracted his hand and placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of my wetness. I lay panting, heart pounding, legs shaking.

“Fuck, baby. You’re incredible,” he whispered, as if I was the one doing the work.

He crawled up to hover above me and kiss me, the taste of my cunt on his tongue.

—————

Matty had tucked me under his duvet with a kiss to my forehead, crawling into bed beside me and pulling me tight to his chest. We had decided not to take things any further that night, realising that despite the feelings that had obviously generated extremely quickly and the connection we seemed to have, we didn’t want to rush into anything. I knew we were both drunk, both high. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning and think I had made a mistake. I rolled over to face him, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin of his cheek, before tucking my head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, and drifting off to sleep; our hearts beating in sync and our breathing matching each others.

—————

A/N: First chapter! Lemme know what you think PLEASE I’m begging give me feedback. Hope y’all enjoyed. Btw in the future when a few more parts are out I would LOVE to take requests for Record Store!Matty blurbs. We’ll see though 🫶

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy smut #the 1975 smut #smut #adam hann #george daniel #ross macdonald #matty #matty healy x oc

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solarpunkpresentspodcast · 6 months

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Links Roundup

Here are some recent links from the interwebs that Ariel has been chewing over.

Rethinking Masculinity: Teaching Men How to Love and Be Loved

I have the softest soft spot for this sort of content, I’m not going to lie. As a girl who was taught to fear men (not just from being raised in Toronto during the height of the Stranger-Danger zeitgeist, or having my primary bullies throughout my life being boys, or having to be a teenager in the grossly regressive early 2000s, or attending youth group during the rise of Evangelical-style purity culture in my denomination), I kind of love the idea of not having to run through an internal safety checklist each time I meet or interact with a man and decide whether or not it’s worth the risk to engage. This is warped thinking! But it’s what I was taught to do to survive, and old habits are hard to shake, but knowing that there are men out there who are actively rethinking masculinity in an inherently feminist, decolonial way gives me hope that can change, and that future generations of little girls won’t have to dodge quite so much structural shittiness, and that future generations of little boys will feel much more comfortable with who they are.

Degrowth as a Concept and Practice: Introduction

I admit I’m actually not really knowledgeable about degrowth - like, sure, I know it’s a philosophy/proposed economic policy/theoretical concept / thing, and I like to think it’s pretty obvious in its aims from its very moniker, but I’ve never actually sat down and read up on the details of degrowth and what it would entail. Or talked to anyone knowledgeable about it, for that matter. So this article series is very nice as a primer.

Degrowth advocates argue that we need to transform our everyday practices to respect and work with the fragile, limited, yet bountiful Earth on which we rely to exist.

Sounds pretty solarpunk to me. But just because something sounds good doesn’t mean it’s actually good, so this series really helps dig into the details, especially if you’re not a policy wonk (and are more of a yes-okay-there-is-a-forest-but-let’s-pay-attention-to-the-tree-species person) like me. I think, however, that a lot of smaller projects that solarpunks are working on (such as makerspaces, community resiliency, and local production of goods/food) fits pretty well under the umbrella concept of “degrowth” even if that label hasn’t been applied to them.

The Animal Feed Industry’s Impact on the Planet

This is a fascinating article on the ramifications of the land-use needed for “making animals the caloric middlemen” in the human food chain. This is an aspect of meat-eating that I’m a little embarrassed to admit didn’t actually occur to me until university (when I learned about it from fellow students). City girl, what can I say? We all have blind spots.

Which is why I like that this article exists, because while I think it’s easy, knowing what I do now, to roll my eyes and go “pfft, coulda told you that for a nickel,” there are people out there, many of them I’m very sure, who probably haven’t encountered this as a concept before. CW, though, for the middle bit of the article. This isn’t a happy topic.

Population can’t be ignored. It has to be part of the policy solution to our world’s problems

I was ready to tear this article apart just on principle, as I am so used to encountering this type of thinking in the green movement as a signal for eco-fascism. “There are too many people” translates, in most cases, to “there are too many poor brown people”. This is repugnant ideology as it lays the groundwork for racism at least, if not outright violent massacres. However, this article is written by an Australian professor who makes it very clear that in so-called developed (aka white settler) nations, there is simply an amount of people that puts undue pressure on the natural environment, and our ability to feed ourselves. I wish there was more discussion of this in general, to combat the insidious eco-fascist narrative that overpopulation is an issue because of “those people over there”. That’s really not it at all.

Paradigm Shift: Part 4 - What Might a Sustainable Lifestyle Look Like?

This is part four of a series talking about living sustainably - and this particular article uses the author’s life as an example. I sort of love this kind of media - even though since she lives in the Pacific NorthWest in America, a lot of what she talks about is really not applicable to me - because it helps me to develop my imaginative tools. When faced with an issue in my life where a necessity clashes with a solarpunk value of mine (eg, getting around on my own vs not buying into automobility), I’m better able to think of alternatives (carsharing, transiting, using an electric or non- bike, etc) because I have a “rolodex” of examples in my imagination that I can shuffle through.

Plus it’s very hopeful and inspiring to read these sorts of stories. Yes, “carbon footprint” is a problematic concept and etc but there’s something to be said for carefully considering your lifestyle and deciding to do the difficult things in order to be a better neighbour to the flora and fauna around you. Which is nice.

#links #internet #gender studies #population #degrowth #animal feed

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hughiecampbelle · 2 months

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hey!! i saw ships were open and i wanted to request one. i go by she/her pronouns and preferably a male ship. other than that i have no preference. if you don’t want to do it that’s totally okay, but if you do thank you in advance. :)

currently i’m in college currently majoring in government. i’m still not completely sure what i want to do but i am considering political consulting or political journalism, eventually i do want to take a few years off to have kids though. looks wise im 5’1 with dark brown hair, dark brown eye, and pale skin. my mom used to call me snow white when i was younger, if that puts it into perspective. i’m an enfp. as for personality i’m talkative, smart, kind, motional, and loyal. i’d say my loyalty is my best trait, i will never turn my back on someone i care about and i’m always willing to help them. yet, i’m not patient, i try to be but its just so hard. also, i hate when people underestimate me. it is so fun to prove people wrong and show them how smart i actually am. i would say one of my more annoying traits is that i walk around the house singing most of the time. most of the clothes i wear are like brand names that i try to find on sale because i like them but i don’t have a lot of money. i love to spend time with people i care about and i hate to be alone. yet, i don’t need to interact with someone at all times, being in the same room is enough. my free time is mostly spent watching tv shows, i really like comedies, or playing video games, like calm farming sims. i typically date people that are opposite of me, more logical and serious. i wouldn’t say i need a lot of reassurance but it is nice when the person i’m dating calls me pretty or smart. some dreams of mine include going to greece because i love the architecture and having a family one day because i would love to be a mom.

Hi my love! I ship you with: A-Train!!! He loves your looks. Reggie definitely jokingly and affectionately calls you Snow White. He loves to ask if the birds and woodland creatures are going to help you do your course work or clean up. You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile. He also loves your loyalty. Being in The Seven for so long, watching and realizing how unstable relationships and alliances are, it's hard to believe anyone is loyal these days, let alone would be loyal to him. He has a lot of fears that the people he loves and that matter the most to him are going to leave him. They'll figure out he thinks he's a bad person and come to that same conclusion. Being with you lessens hose anxieties though he has a lot fears. You love how he's changed. A-Train had a lot of issues when you met. Over time, he's become a better, kinder, more caring person. He wants to be the hero he's been pretending to be. He wants to protect you and his brother and nephews. He wants to show that he's still capable of being a hero, being worthy of The Seven. He wasn't always willing to show this side of him. It wasn't welcomed or valued in an environment like The Seven. He was doing a lot of bad things and hurting so many people in the process. With your help and a lot of self reflection, he's working to be better. He's working to make up for all that's happened in the past. Your relationship is complicated. Despite loving and caring for one another deeply, Reggie is still involved with The Seven, he's still involved with Homelander and The Deep and Firecracker. When you are together he's dressed in civilian clothes and tries to hide his identity as much as possible. As far as anyone knows at Vought you're just a friends, if they even know you exist. He really wants to keep you a secret for your own safety. It complicates things, but the more he tells you about how dangerous Homelander's become, the more you realize this is out of necessity. When you're together you watch TV and play video games and it's actually more relaxing and chill than you'd expect. Your first date is pretty casual. You order takeout and watch TV. Reggie doesn't want to risk getting caught in public just yet considering your relationship is still very new and it would just put a target on your back by Homelander. You've seen his press conferences and interviews, but he's a completely different person in front of you than he is with the cameras. He's sincere and introspective and thoughtful. He laughs easily and is actually pretty funny. He doesn't want to scare you, but he wants to be up front with you from the beginning: being in a relationship with him comes with a lot of baggage and danger. If you want to stop seeing him, for whatever reason, he's more than understanding. But you like him too much to let him go like that and you're more than capable of facing a little danger. Relationship Headcanon: Just like how Reggie wants reassurance, you do, too. This is a big part of your relationship: reassuring one another. Neither of you mind, you both personally know what it's like to be eaten alive by insecurity and worry. He tells you how smart you are a lot, but truthfully he's blown away by your mind. Your area of study is not easy and yet you make it look effortless. He loves reading your papers and hearing your thoughts. He tells you every time he sees you how attractive you are. You get embarrassed, but he means it. You're like a princess. He considers himself lucky just to be in your presence.

Hope you like it my love!!! Xoxoxo💜💜💜

SHIPS ARE CLOSED

#hughiecampbelle-ships #a-train #a train

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bugbearsims · 2 years

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AMALTHEIA WALLACE

Half-human, half-fae, Amaltheia has always felt out of place. Too kind for the fae. Too cold for the mortals. Her sharp tongue is less cutting than it is cunning, a mere product of growing up among those who relish in cruelty, but it’s enough to keep most people on edge, weary—no matter her intention. That is to say: Amaltheia has always been alone. That is to say: nobody has ever been willing to come close enough to change that.

INTERVIEW

Amaltheia, how old are you? 386? No, maybe 387. Oh, this is embarrassing. I don’t know for sure. The fae are more likely to track their age by centuries, if they keep track of it at all and—well. It feels very silly to celebrate your birthday on your own, doesn’t it? Let’s say 387. Seven’s are lucky, aren’t they? How would you describe yourself? These questions are difficult. Do I have to describe myself at all? I think it’s much more interesting to get to know someone on your own. What would you say? Do you think pleasantries and mere words are enough to capture someone in their entirety? AMALTHEIA WAS REPRIMANDED FOR INTENTIONALLY FLUSTERING THE INTERVIEWER AND, WHEN PRESSED, WROTE DOWN HER ANSWER WITH THE EXCUSE “I DON’T AGREE WITH THIS, SO IT COUNTS AS A LIE.”. AMALTHEIA’S TRAITS ARE: LOVES THE OUTDOORS, FAMILY ORIENTED, AND MUSIC LOVER.

Alright, well, what are some things that you like? Oh, this is much more interesting. Singing and dancing, though I doubt you’ll find a fae that doesn’t, so it’s not very unique. But I can play most instruments, actually, and that’s more uncommon among my court. Not that it impresses anyone—the Fair Folk are not meant to demean themselves with something like a cornet, but I find it quite fun. The color brown, the color orange. Green, too. I like plants. My… My father’s estate has a lovely garden. I spent much of my time there, as a child. And I think human food is intriguing. That might be the novelty of it, more than anything else. Anything you dislike? Ugh, wearing only white. How do you keep it clean? And tulle. It scratches. I’m not the biggest fan of sports, either, now that I think about it, and I simply don’t have the attention span for those handcrafts. Knitting? Is that what it’s called? I suppose that. Of course, like any fae, I don’t like ill-mannered people. I’m not going to go pulling anyone under the hill about it, but, well. We’re creatures with long memories and longer grudges. That means something.

HISTORY

The unfortunate truth about the Fair Folk is that, unlike humans, they are not social creatures. Of course, they partake in their parties and their revels, their games of mischief and murder. They interact with each other. But they are violent, cold creatures, and even their socialization is not so much a matter of interaction as it is entertainment. It is fun to hurt one another when you are fae. The unfortunate truth about Amaltheia is that—unlike the fae, and agonizingly like the humans—she is a social creature. She aches for it: to exist around another creature, and to do so kindly. It’s not easy, to be raised by the fae, knowing that mortal blood is worthless and that she had it, filth in her own veins. If it could have been ignored, it would be easier, but it could not be ignored. Amaltheia, young, with cat-eyes glinting—eyes that were a warm, human green instead of the swirling, iridescent shades of her peers—scooping a baby bird to her chest and crying instead of breaking its fragile neck. Amaltheia, maturing faster than her peers, with her heart in her throat, unable to watch the tournaments without being sick in her father’s viewing box. Amaltheia, different. Amaltheia, worse. Amaltheia, so heartbreakingly human. And so heartbreakingly fae. Just enough to make her an outsider when she stepped foot anywhere but the court. Just enough to ensure that everyone held their breath when she was near; just enough to ensure that she could never truly fit, not anywhere. But she is still… kinder, than her peers. And as much as the fae dislike her, revile her, detest her mortal blood and her gentle heart, they dislike the mortal realm more. So when courtesy calls—and it does call, because to fail to invite the fae to a gathering is to instead welcome bloodshed to your door—it calls for Amaltheia. It’s almost a win for everyone. The Fair Folk stay out of the human realm, which they hate so viciously. The other occults get to avoid the fae, except for Amatheia, who is cold instead of cruel. And Amaltheia gets to be around people. She is a social creature, after all. There is something to be said for being the most tolerable, even if you are only tolerated. But often, in the warmth of the Christmas parties at the Goulding hotel, Amaltheia feels... more than tolerated. For that reason, she looks forward to it each year.

ADDITIONAL

Amaltheia has two "looks". Meaning, there is an expectation for how she should look among the fae and as a representative of their court, and then there is how Amaltheia likes to look. There's a clear difference, so I won't over-explain it, but below is Amaltheia's Fair Folk look and some extra outfits.

Also, I did a couple edits of her with her slightly older version—please ignore any discrepancies, but I think they're fun, so I'm throwing them in too! [concept: you've woken up in an unfamiliar forest, subject to an impossible creature's concern]

[concept: an old photo taken by a friend lost long, long ago.]

For @wildmelon

#martina lafb #amaltheia #again im so sorry this is so much info. i have problems

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dumdumsun · 1 year

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Wax and Wane Sneak Peek ("Break and Mend" Sequel)

A/N: HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, BABES!! Yes, it is I, Sun. I have returned from... hibernation. Or whatever I've been doing to cause this hiatus. Believe it or not, I actually have been writing. As of rn, I am two chapters away from finishing Wax and Wane. Just need to edit and then you all will have your weekly updates.

It would've been so cool if I posted the first chapter today since... y'know... season 3 takes place on the 4th, but... that didn't end up happening. SO! Instead, I decided to give y'all a sneak peek of Chapter Two! I would've chosen something from Chapter One, but Dustin is hardly in it, so I wanted a whole Party interaction to show y'all what I've been working on.

Just a heads up, there is a hetero relationship between Doc and Will, that will change throughout the story, since there was confirmation of his sexuality. I know I've said that many times, but I just thought it needed to be said again. Anyway! Good to be back! Love you all and enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of death, also unedited so sorry

Word Count: 712

—————————————

Sneak Peek

When Dustin had told the lot of them that they needed to set up his Cerebro, they didn’t think they’d need to hike. Mike and El had long since passed the equipment they held off to Max and Lucas. This was just so their hand-holding wouldn’t be interrupted. This also meant the two of them would be less tuckered out than the rest of the group. Dustin happily and excitedly led them all up a very, very high hill. The trip wouldn’t have been as tiresome had the sun not been beating down on them and their arms not being weighed down by the equipment.

“Dustin, I think I’ll drop dead soon.” Doc groaned. Just like her friends, she was beginning to sweat through her clothes. Though, she feared more for her outfit than anyone did theirs. It was brand-spanking new, a lavender shirt tucked into a brown corduroy mini skirt. Brenda picked it out especially for her and she was excited to wear it for the special occasion, but now she was sure she’d have to worry about sweat stains.

“Just hold out, we’re almost there.” He looked back at her with an encouraging smile.

“Aren’t we high enough?” Lucas huffed out.

“Cerebro works best at a hundred meters.”

Max sighed. “You know, I’m pretty sure people in Utah have telephones.”

“Yeah, but Suzie’s mormon.”

“Oh, shit.” Lucas widened his eyes. “She doesn’t have electricity?”

“That’s Amish, Lucas.” Doc corrected.

“Oh.”

“Then what are Mormons?” Will questioned.

“Super religious white people. They have electricity and cars and stuff, but… since I’m not Mormon, her parents would never approve.”

Doc frowned a bit. “Awe, I’m sorry, Dust.”

“Nah, it’s alright. It’s all a bit… Shakespearean.”

“Shakespearean?” Max raised a brow.

“Yeah. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Right.”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

“I got it.”

From a few feet behind them, Mike’s voice called out, “Hey, guys!” and they all turned around to see the great distance between them. “This is fun and all, but, uh…” He tapped his watch to indicate the time.

“I have to go home.” El explained.

“We’re almost there.” Dustin frowned.

“Sorry, man,” Mike shrugged. “Curfew.”

And with that, El clasped hands with Mike and giddily followed him back down the hill. The Party watched them with narrowed eyes and shaking heads as Dustin checked the time. “Curfew at four?”

“They’re lying.” Lucas informed.

“It’s been like this all summer.” Will shook his head again.

“It’s romantic.” Max shrugged.

“It’s gross.”

“It’s bullshit,” Dustin cut in with a sad tinge to his voice. “I just got home.”

Doc watched the couple scamper through the grass without a care or thought to how their friends would feel about them ditching their time together. And while Doc was unaware of how much room she did not have to talk, she knew that nothing would pull her away from their day dedicated to Dustin. No friends, mall, pool or boy could keep her from that.

Turning her head, she gave Dustin a one-shoulder shrug and a smirk. “Well, their loss. They won’t get to see Cerebro in action and they won’t get to meet Suzie, right?”

At that, a smile slowly graced the Henderson boy’s face. It was small and a bit trying, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Right. Onwards and upwards!” He cocked his head farther up the hill. “Suzie awaits!”

Max and Lucas threw their heads back with groans before following Dustin. Doc chuckled and adjusted the equipment in her arms, jogging a bit to catch up with them. Will was about to be right behind her, but he felt it again.

At first, it was the goosebumps. He reached behind his neck to feel the prickling there. But that presence that he felt at the mall was back. It had never really left, it just lingered all the other times. Now, though, it was here with them. It was somewhere hiding within the grass or maybe it was right in front of him and he just couldn’t see it.

“Will! Come on!” Doc called from farther up the hill. With a start, he flinched and turned around, running up the hill and catching up with them. Grinning brightly, Doc grabbed hold of his hand and continued their hike to Suzie.

—————————————

Taglist: @yurtletheturtlehenderson @crybabyalexxx @sapphicsyn @alexa-j-f @nailbatbitch @that-one-multifandom-chick @ariyabella @lonelywitchv2 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @frogserotonin @mymomsdisappointment @hewwofriends @billieissad @get0ut0fmyr00m @daylightsana @kaz3yo @satsuri3su @sassygentlemenjellyfish @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @unordinary-simp @raquel12 @roman0ffsheart @jjjennyxii @hereiamhereigo @wizardsgrace @meowiemari

(if you've changed your username or got a new account plz lmk! It's been awhile...)

The date for the release of "Chapter One: Suzie, Do You Copy?", will be announced soon!

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #st #st fic #st x reader #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #will byers #eleven #jane ives #max mayfield #will byers x reader #lost and found #break and mend #wax and wane #sneak peek

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king-maven-calore · 2 years

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Mareven “I was waiting for the bus in the rain and you drove past and soaked me in water. Now I’m at a coffee shop and hey look who’s here”

I had so much fun with this one! thanks for sending it love 💞

Mare had done everything right.

She'd showered with hours in advance, done her make up and picked out her outfit, left her apartment on time. She would not be blamed for when this date went to shit, just like all the others. Her friends didn't believe her when she told them she was cursed for dates. No matter how much chemistry she seemed to have with someone, the moment they arranged for a date, things went to shit in an instant.

Poisoned food, getting catfished, getting stood up, someone's crazy ex showing up. All things that had happened to her. Of course, there were the usually shitty dates in the traditional sense, where the person just wasn't her type after all. Her type being: anyone that did not have a foot fetish, spent more than ten minutes posting where they were and what were they going to eat on social media, or "kindly" suggested she should change some aspect of her personality or how she looked. Her eyebrows were a crowd favorite, since super thin brows were back in vogue. Those requirements wiped out 70% of Archeon's dating pool.

And speaking of pools, her boots were already flooded by the time she made it under the shelter of the bus stop. She had clung to her umbrella for dear life and her outfit of ripped jeans, crotchet crop top and a vintage jean jacket (cute as hell, in her opinion) was miraculously intact.

Because today's curse was: the freaking weather. It was fine, she supposed, if it meant that the universe was toying with her in the arrival, rather than the date itself. Which could only mean this was going to be a big one. Today, she might meet the love of her life. She snorted at her ironic excess of positivity.

With a pleased smirk, she closed her umbrella and fixed her gaze on the approaching bus.

She was too focused on reading the bus route to notice the sleek black Lexus that maneuvered itself in front of it maniacally fast. It fled past her, drenching her from head to toe with a tsunami wave of murky water.

🚘💦

Coffee. Maven needed Italian coffee this very second or he would commit arson. He hated days like this, where it felt like the universe was conspiring to make him hate life more than usual. He'd spent the entire night awake, going over a case, only to lose today at court. And it was raining, and his mother had invited him for dinner at their house. His father would give him shit about losing, despite the fact that he never lost, and Cal would surely announce he'd discovered the cure for cancer or some other great feat like that.

His hands were shaking by the time he made it to the counter of his favorite coffee shop. The smell of roasted beans already started soothing his volatile mood. He shoved a generous tip in the jar simply because the girl at the cashier didn't use an obnoxiously chipper voice or try to make small talk. Thank fuck for people who kept human interaction at a necessary minimum.

While he waited for his order, a dog started peeing on his leg. His head slowly turned in that direction, ready to skin the creature alive... but it wasn't a dog and it wasn't pee.

There was a tiny woman squeezing water from her long ponytail onto his shoe. What the fuck?

"Excuse me?" he sneered twisting away from her.

"Oh? you don't like having filthy water thrown your way? Well, guess what, piece of shit ghoul, nobody does! Don't drive around town splashing pedestrians! Were you raised by wolves?"

She was standing on her tiptoes to bark in his face (or as close as she could get with her stature). Wet tendrils of brown hair clung to her blotchy red face, her pupils dilated as she raged at him. She was so unapologetically angry, it was a delight to watch. Something warm started seeping in his chest, and he wasn't even drinking his coffee yet.

He quirked a brow and asked in a bored tone. "Didn't you have an umbrella? It is raining, in case you didn't notice."

Her pretty face went from blotchy angry to completely twisted wrath.

"I did- I do, and I’m going to shove it up your ass!" she pressed her umbrella menacingly against his throat.

"As entertaining as these dramatics are," Maven remarked, pushing the tip of the umbrella away from his neck with a finger. "It would be in your best interest to keep your voice down."

"Or what? You're calling your lawyer?" She mocked him eyeing his suit and (rightfully) guessing his general economic status.

He surprised himself with a genuine chuckle. What was this woman's name again?

"I am one, but no. Because you're scaring away that guy who was waiting for you." He jerked his chin in the direction of the guy that had been scurrying away to the door without taking his eyes of her.

Confused, she turned around just in time to meet the guy's terrified gaze before he shot for the door.

"Ah fuck," she fervently whispered facing Maven again, but not really looking at him. "Not again."

If that had been her date, he could not be happier about having splashed her with his car.

"Let me buy you a coffee," he found himself offering. "Anything you want."

Her wrath subsided, leaving a skeptical annoyance instead as she considered him carefully.

"Anything? I eat a lot, lawyer boy."

"Maven. And yes, I'll pay."

"I am very hungry," she pressed his offer, daring him to back down. "Being wet and cold and abandoned does that to a girl's appetite."

Now he was grinning. Oh he was developing an appetite too. Food first though.

He'd never done this but it couldn't be that hard if lesser human beings did it all the time. Bracing himself, he asked her on a date.

"Great. Dinner then?" He sounded a bit aloof, but at least he didn't stutter. Good enough.

The woman's demeanor cooled down completely as she was taken aback by the invitation. She blinked slowly two times, as if she was changing the lens through which she observed him. Finally, she shrugged in a dismissive way.

"What the hell. Sure. Let's do that."

Maven made sure not to splash any more people as he drove them to the restaurant.

#Mareven #red queen series #RQ fanfic #ask #my fics

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scribe-cas · 1 year

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HELLO HELLO I AM OFF WORK AND HAVE QUESTIONS ABOUT COUTEAU

Okay so trying to be ~normal~ now, but it sounds like Couteau and I are super similar so I want to ask things. I’ll include my own answers as well for comparison.

Eye color? One of my coworkers showed me a picture and it looked like he might have dark eyes?? But I couldn’t really tell at the moment because I was admittedly very tired from work. Mine are brown.

She mentioned that Couteau is a bartender, so does he have anything particular he likes about that? Favorite drinks? Customers? Tricks? I do flair bartending but don’t really know how to explain my favorite trick. Flips, basically. Favorite drink is a piña colada, but Cars gives me a hard time about being “basic” :(( /lh /w love My favorite customer is a really nice old lady who shows me pictures of her 12 !!!!! cats and always orders either hot chocolate or apple juice

What kind of world does he live in? Modern? Fantasy? Etc?

Aside from apparently eating people and bartending, what does he like to do? Does he have any hobbies or special interests?? I used to LARP back when I lived in Colorado, but gave it up when I moved to the east coast, so now I mostly read and play D&D in my husband’s campaign

What is Couteau’s sexuality?? Because maybe we’re similar in appearance, but not that? Idk. I’m aroace! My husband and I are technically ?? in a qpr and just decided to get married because I never want to go without him ever again and he’s the best and this is absolutely going to turn into me rambling about him so I’ll stop here

HELLO HELLO!! ITS ALMOST MIDNIGHT BUT LETS TRY THIS AGAIN tumblr will pay for deleting my first iteration

First of all, /gen do not worry about being normal. this is tumblr. Who here is even normal one percent about anything. /v lh

If you’re as insane about couteau as i am, i Take it as a compliment. Feel free to pick him up, shake him around, put him in a jar or use him as a squeaky toy and chew on him mentally as you wish. I promise he doesn’t mind, I do it all the time. he’s like a little feral animal that I have to socialize before I unleash him upon the public /w love /lh

BUT TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS.

Eye color: it’s blue! He’s got blue eyes, although I will admit it’s hard to tell, because I actually draw them darker depending on how depressed he is. However I have been considering giving him brown eyes in a redesign, and haven’t made a solid decision for the books yet. Considering giving him brown eyes before he died to signify how death changed him, or giving him blue eyes in life and brown after death to signify that loss of “light” and humanity, but that’s for me to ponder at three am even though I also have to work tomorrow

HE IS A BARTENDER! YES! He technically owns the bar as well, but prefers to work the counter for the chance at social interaction. He likes doing party tricks and listening to the chatter, he’s a people watcher. While he’s got a lot of favorite parts, from the karaoke, to the ability to play whatever songs he wants, to the fact that he doesn’t have to manually hunt down dinner (he totally eats the mean/abusive drunks), to the ability to watch someone’s eyes go wide when he flips a bottle, his favorite aspect is his coworkers. It’s essentially a gaggle of young girls (because. They’re all young to him. They’re babies. He’s three hundred years old) in their twenties that he’s adopted hired. He trains every new bartender in himself, and it’s made him the Dad of the group, essentially. He makes sure that the till is correct and that there’s a ride home if they’ve been doing shots while working and that they have a place to stay the night if their life goes haywire and that they and their things are safe, on and off the clock. And, in return, they pretend not to notice when he comes in looking whiter than a ghost, with a new scar that looks like something no person would’ve been able to survive, let alone heal that fast, they let him fall asleep on shift when he looks exhausted, and they give him a hug and a drink whenever he stares into space for a few minutes too long.

The girls have definitely recorded him “drunk” but the “blackmail” is all in good fun and he still forces them to work their shifts despite it (I’ve written a scene about this specifically it’s so fucking funny. ‘Drunk’ Cou is a delight. It’s in quotes because while he really doesn’t get drunk by drinking, there’s something else he can come in contact with that achieves a similar effect :>)

About every 3 weeks this happens though /lh

“Mister Profane you can’t make me work I have blackmail.”

“Sandra, if you think I’m going to cancel your shift over the fact that you caught me being cute on camera, you’re a few tools short of a shed.”

He’ll give them time off if it’s for a reason, but if it’s just “because I don’t wanna”, he still has them come in. It brings me to hysterics though because whenever they give a shitty excuse of why they don’t wanna go in and they ask him if he’ll work instead, his favorite response is “Over my dead body. xx”

One week, after he’d been playing the knife game on the counter for shits and giggles, one of them ended up firing back with “You’re literally a walking corpse”, and he literally couldn’t not go in and work. What are you even supposed to say to that. BECAUSE SHE’S NOT WRONG, BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW SHE’S NOT WRONG. So he just took the L and tried not to laugh.

His favorite drink has to be a Manhattan Cocktail, mostly because it matches his aesthetic and he has the excuse to eat the cherry garnish. He actually isn’t much of a drinker, because alcohol actually doesn’t get him very drunk? Like, he could drink a whole bottle and be a little buzzed at most. Near no intoxication, but full force migraine the next day (because hangovers yay). He goes for sweet bourbons if he’s craving alcohol, because he likes the caramel/vanilla undertones. He likes anything cherry flavored though, because one cherries slap and two he likes mixing blood with his liquor, because what little effect alcohol could have on him is automatically canceled out by the nutrition buff that drinking blood gives him. Darker cherry wines are really good for hiding that deep red color and he thinks it makes him look fancy. To just have a drink that he holds. Red is his favorite color if you couldn’t tell /lh

I’ve actually never had a piña colada, so I have no idea if he’d go for those, actually- but it gives me something to put on my list to try, although if it’s fruity he’d probably like it.

He loves any trick that requires a little sleight of hand. He just enjoys seeing the looks on people’s faces when they realize he can do that.

I don’t think he has a favorite customer! He enjoys everyone who comes in for what they are, and even if they bore him in one way, he’s good at digging up passions, and he likes listening to people talk about what makes them happy, so his “favorite” varies from day to day and who has the most fascinating interests in his opinion

I’m pretty sure I answered the world one but just in case- i think of it as kind of an extension of ours! Not a completely separate time and place but a “well, i mean this isn’t likely, but if we let our imagination take over, this could be possible here”

I weave his world in and out of ours like a needle through fabric. They’re not the same but they’re connected. They intersect, in some places more than others, with a few key differences but at the end of the day they kinda make up a whole.

It’s really funny you mention that- he’s actually a big reader. Reading, dancing, contortionism, and games/magic. He’s a playfully curious guy, and he loves messing with people. Learning how to use his demonic abilities is one part of that, but he also practices psychology tricks, mind games, mentalism, street magic- he studies horror and fear and acting, and he likes illegal street racing (and he thinks he’s hilarious because he goes “drag racing”(street racing) while dressed in drag. It’s peak humor to him he thinks he’s so funny.)That’s just off the top of my head, there’s probably more. He’d be super intrigued by D&D if he ever got to see it, but he’d definitely want to try being a DM. LARPing would feel a little strange to him, but he’d love the chance to explore other dynamics with people once he got into the swing of it.

Couteau is also aroace!! He’s just very… ehhh relaxed? About relationships etc. He honestly radiates bisexual disaster energy despite being. Aroace. And he’s ambiamorous. He’s given it a shot, but on some level he knows he experiences it differently than most people. However, this doesn’t stop him from wanting to experience it, he thinks it’s really neat, and even if he doesn’t experience sexual/romantic attraction, there are other things about the situations that he does like, which makes it worth it to him to not turn down some of the offers when they arise. He really doesn’t seek it out, but when an opportunity shows up, he’s like “oh alright. Okay cool :)” and gives it as much of a go as he’s comfortable with.

It’s like going to a themed restaurant because it was nearby, and then noticing you like the food. You don’t go to it for the same reason most people do, but there are things you like about it!

He’s kind of in a QPR relationship with his roommate, Gambit. QPR is the best way for me to…. Try. To explain what on earth their dynamic is. Because in truth it changes, but that’s how they like it. They consider each other different things on different days, and don’t operate outside of their comfort levels when it comes to the relationship. Some days, they kiss, other days, they literally cannot stand to hold hands. And both of them are chill with this! They’ve spent a lot of years together so it’s always fun for me to write them interacting because they know each other pretty well, and you can watch their little dynamics shift as they register where the other is at for the day, and I think that’s really neat and also wished “idk what the fuck they are but like. I love them. Can’t tell you what kind of love it is cause it changes and sometimes it’s all of it and sometimes it’s only one, but I fucken care about them” was more acceptable as a relationship label /lh

ANYWAYS ITS ONE AM FUCK YEAH GO ME AND I STILL HAVE-

7? Maybe 8 hours left to sleep?

BUT HERE ARE THOSE ANSWERS TY FOR ASKING AAAAA

#bists #blood is sweeter than silence #couteau my beloved go back into your box #shit my morbos say #coutalk #castalk #i talk about him. so much.

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sammylovesmine · 11 months

Text

15 questions and 15 mutuals!?

I do not have 15 mutuals but oh well

no real idea why I’m doing this but wooooo

Tagged by @elgascreamslikehell

1. Are you named after anyone?

-Nope! My middle name is from my grandmother but my first name was my brothers idea

2. When was the last time you cried

- Literally 30 minutes ago lol. I am not doing so hot rn I will not lie-

3. Do you have kids

- Nope, but I’d like to have some when I have a stable job in a nicer area

4. What sports have you/ do you play

- I used to play softball, volleyball, and I kinda did basket ball. But as of right now the only “sport” I’m a part of is a marching band, idk how many of y’all would count that though-

5. Do you use sarcasm

- What??? Who would ever use that?? (I love being sarcastic it’s so fun-)

6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone

- How they interact with people close to them compared to new people. Like how does their behavior change, and how the people around then reacts to the changes in behavior. Shows how the person true is if it’s a big surprise for them to be nice or smth

7. What’s your eye color

- My eyes are brown! I think they’re kinda pretty, but I’m not too sure. A kind of light-ish brown though, not deep deep

8. Scary movie or happy endings

- Scary movies all the way! I love horror with a passion, especially psychological horror! So funn

9. What are your talents

- I’m not a bad singer but I’m also quite good with math and other school related things

10. Where were you born

- A hospital somewhere not in my home state (gasp, she’s American)

11. What are your hobbies

- I like to crochet, draw, read and run around like a dumbass. I also like baking and cooking, takes my mind off the world for a few hours

12. Do you have any pets

- Yes I do! I have a dog and I love her very much. I got her as a rescue some years back, she’s my little baby even though she’s getting old

13. How tall are you?

- 5’1 or so lol. I’m a shorty. I haven’t grown in years so I think I’m capped out

14. Favorite subject in school

- Aside from my music classes, it was usually math depending on the teacher. Always loved my English teachers though, but hated writing

15. What’s your dream job

-Something with stars maybe, or I would like to be a child’s therapist. Either something helping people or getting to look into space for hours on end

Tags! No pressure, hell idk if I did this right-

@spencerslove @belovedbuddie @carrierofthepaperclips @princehattric

#mutuals #15 questions

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hollyshipsboys · 2 years

Text

Ok guys I need to address this because I feel it is getting a bit out of hand.

Please, read until the end before judging, please!

In byler fandom I often see claims that older fans are sexualising teenage characters, and this happens every time 30+ year-old people say something that is seen as more than platonic. Of course some times it does happen that these comments are inappropriate and it’s absolutely legit to be upset about them.

But, there’s a but, and I hope you read this because this is important.

The post that prompted this very post is this one by @magalaga-buckley, which is about, and I quote, “30-year-old interviewers […] wondering how good the underage actors are at kissing”, referring, I believe, to Millie Bobby Brown lie-detector interview, in which she’s asked if Finn Wolfhard is a good kisser and if he’s gotten any better over the years.

First thing to be said is: it is a polygraph interview, the format is designed to ask questions that put the person interviewed in an awkward situation (I’m not saying I agree with this kind of things, mind), no one behind this interview actually gives a crap if Finn is or isn’t a good kisser, it’s all about Millie’s reaction really.

My second point is slightly more elaborated and definitely longer, but I beg you to read it, as it is the core of this post.

I know how as a teenager one may feel grossed out every time a grown-up mentions something related, even vaguely, to sex and sexuality, all the more so if it regards a teenager. I clearly remember cringing every time my mum made a comment about which one of my friends she thought was the most attractive.

And I get it, ok?! When you’re a teenager, sex is this new, scary (and possibly exciting) thing, so everything suddenly revolves around it. But in reality it doesn’t.

I’m a grown-up now (?!) and I’m a high school teacher so I interact with teenagers daily, and they some times come to me to talk about sex, due to me being a very soft, open and welcoming person by nature, around whom they feel comfortable (which is something I’m very proud of) – one of “my” kids even came out to me and said I’m the only person they discuss their queerness with (they’ve got quite the bigoted family, so I think this is so important for them and I’m happy to be there for them as long as they need me).

This is to say that it happens that I ask question of the “are they a good kisser” sort, and not because of some morbid interest or something, just because it’s part of the conversation and because I want to provide good advice that may help my students feel more comfortable in their relationships.

This little preamble seems very unrelated to fandoms, but in the end it is not. Let me explain.

Every adult was once a teenager and most of us recall that time as the best of their lives (ofc when I was a teenager myself I couldn’t believe it when grown-ups said this to me). And sure, it is complicated and unsettling and confusing, and so many things are happening and you get overwhelmed by things that to adults are just so silly, but they’re true to you and that’s all that matters. Overall, a very chaotic time. Nonetheless, the most beautiful in a way that one can understand only when they’re out of it. It’s the first time in which we discover ourselves as independent from our families and in a more complex social context (because attraction changes everything).

I’m not saying this to be the classic grown-up that lectures you on life and stuff, but to make you understand the general nostalgia around teenage years (which is one of the reasons, I believe, as to why there are so many teen dramas in media).

So, as an adult that enjoys teen dramas to the greatest extent (me being inherently nostalgic and relating to teenagers on a daily basis), I want you all to understand that the curiosity and fascination we experience towards teenager lives is not, in fact, morbid (I’m not excluding this may happen, but it surely isn’t the rule, more like the exception really). It is a way of reconnecting to our inner teenager, that part of us that lived the biggest excitement (ofc I’m not saying that after teenage years life is dull, it has its beauty, but kind of lacks the novelty, at least that’s what I experienced/am experiencing).

Now, this also concerns fan work, especially smut fics. I know this fandom, on this platform, is very sensitive to the subject, and I won’t blame anyone that, after reading this post, decides to block me, even though this will be the one and only time I talk about this topic, because I’m here for the fluff and the fun and I’m not interested in starting any drama/discussion (even though, ofc, if you feel like you want to comment on this, pls feel free to do so).

I was saying, fics. Mind that I don’t like any sort of problematic themes (as long as one doesn’t consider sex between consensual teenagers - no adult involved - problematic) and tropes (even though if someone has a kink that they want to transfer to fictional characters, or whatever the reason it is to fantasise around certain topics, I won’t bother them, because this isn’t who I am). For reference, I think that 50 shades of grey is a) very poorly written, b) extremely problematic (but one of the reasons why I believe this is that it is a fuc*ing best seller, so it reached a very wide audience that can take a very wrong message about love and relationships from that piece of shit book; I believe people that enjoy fanfictions to be smarter than 50sog general audience 🤷🏽‍♀️). I stay very clear of anything I don’t like and fortunately tags allow me to do that.

That said, for me, very sweet, romantic and respectful sex between teenager characters is enjoyable to read because it sends me back to those days of joyful, thrilling discovery. I was a very sexually active teenager (I had a lot of casual sex, sorry not sorry 🤷🏽‍♀️), so sex was a big part of my experience and that’s why I enjoy reading smutty fics, as much as I did back in the days (it was drarry at the time – and it taught me so much!), because they take me back, simple as that. I see myself, no one else.

As it is for the majority of smutty fics readers, they revisit and some times exorcise (this may be the case for some problematic fics) their experience. Nothing of it has anything to do with sexualising, or being attracted to, kids.

This very long post is to say I UNDERSTAND teenager fans may find adult fans’ interest in teenagers’ sexuality upsetting, because they experience this through their lenses and feel sexualised themselves, and I respect this, and indeed this is the first and last time I’m addressing this topic here, but I assure you on the other side there are, usually, very respectable people that are not interested in the slightest in sexualising them or any other teenager they interact with (I can assure you I DO NOT sexualise my students!), but are simply re-living their own experiences in, frankly, a very harmless way. And these now-teenager fans may very well experience this themselves when they reach the very age they’re demonising.

Last but not least, we millennials are indeed kind of weird, in the sense that we don’t really wanna grow up, so anything that keeps us in contact with happier easier times is very much welcome 🤷🏽‍♀️ please let us enjoy it.

I feel like I digressed from the original point of the post, but, well, I went with the flow. I hope this may be useful to anyone that wants a peek inside a 30+ yo fan’s head.

#byler #please read this #holly speaks #holly rants #fandom #teenager characters #ships #fics

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popculturelib · 1 year

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Bamboo Girl (issue #8) is a zine by Sabrina Margarita Sandata (also known as Sabrina Margarita Alcantara-Tan), a queer mestiza Pilipino* writing about her life in 1990s New York City. The zine emphasizes Asian & Asian-American and queer experiences, containing interviews, mythology, articles, letters, and reviews. Frustrated by a lack of representation of Asian women outside of infantilizing and fetishizing magazines, Alcantara-Tan started Bamboo Girl to fill the gap and talk about her own experiences being queer, mixed, and punk. A transcription of the text is below the read more.

*The terms "mestiza" and "Pilipino" are taken from an article Alcantara-Tan wrote for Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies in 2000 describing "The Herstory of 'Bamboo Girl' Zine." You can find it on @jstor at this link.

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States. Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

Magandang Araw!

(That’s “Good Day!” in “You’ll-have-to-create-a-gun-to-conquer-us” Pilipino)

Since the past issue, I’ve been living bone dry, and trying to suck money out of rocks. I don’t want any violins playing in the background or anything, I’m sure things will be changing with the new year! But that’s what prolonged me to get this baby to you.

I thought I’d share that I got hitched. Yes, you stronghold dykes, to a guy. He’s a good person, and it’s an interesting lifestyle to have after being in “obvious” dykeness and queerdom beforehand (just because you get married doesn’t mean that your queerdom evaporates like water or was never there in the first place – I write more about this later, I’ll shut up about it now). The reason I introduce this is because it affects my life (duh), subsequently my writing, and has already changed my “status” within certain lesbian “pro-queer” circles. Let’s just say I’m really learning who my friends are and learning more about my own perceptions of what queer means – like, if you still are after getting married. To me, that’s a redundant question, because if you are to begin with, you still are when goin’ down that runway.

For a change, I actually didn’t mind spending the xmas holidays with my parents. It was the first time that we actually had fun while opening presents – before, it felt so superficial, such a “let’s pretend were a happy family although we really hate each other” feeling. Forcing smiles into the camera. When I was younger, I was always jealous of the “All-American family” lifestyle, where your mom is like Mrs. Cleaver, your dad plays ball with you in your backyard.

In contrast, my mom and I hated each other (we still have differences, but it’s better now) and my dad was never home. Now, older and more aware of cultural differences between how my parents brought me up vs. being in a “typical” White American household (whatever that means), I have a better idea of where my parents came from. Not to say I agreed with it, but at least I understand.

Also, for the first time, I pushed myself to interact with others at a xmas party so that people would feel better. My mom had guests over, and everyone was pretty quiet because there was really nothing to do and some of my mom’s friends were dealing with some heavily family problems. So I dragged out karaoke machine out of the basement (practically every Pinoy family had one, yes we do!) and started belting out melodies with my un-warmed-up voice. Then I had people take turns picking stuff to sing. Oh Christ, we were laughing because a good majority of us sucked.

It was funny too, being that this was the first time I was spending time in Pittsburgh as a married girl. I was expecting my mom to say to my counterpart, “go sleep in the spare room,” like she used to whenever I’d visit Pgh. with ex’s. But she didn’t this time. And I was like, “Of yeah. That’s right. I’m married now. She can’t say anything!” I laughed to myself for a while after that.

I also learned a lot about my personality while staying with my parents. I had all our Hi 8 movies, the ones my mom and dad took of my bro, sis and I, transferred to VHS. I forgot I had it done until I saw the title in our drawer and stuck it into the VCR late one night. I had my parents join my dude and I. One thing I found out was how evident peoples’ personalities are so early on in life, and how they’re not so different to how you [page 2] turn out. My baby brother was quiet and had no emotion on his face, except when he freaked out once smiling so much he drooled. In contrast, I was always aware of the camera, my playmates, hyper, active, waving, giving attitude, smiling and running around. Damn, I don’t remember being so happy at that age. Either that, or I was already aware of the “look nice” conditioning my mom was into. It was pretty funny, seeing my mom with her long ironed hair (it’s naturally curly), and my dad with his sideburns and black rimmed glasses, looking like cool Bruce Lee.

As usual, I’ve been sticking my finger into many pies, and having fun doing it…

Performance art and speaking at colleges, which is always fun – I love hanging out with college kids, they’ve got a lot on their minds, are really proactive and ask questions.

Making video shorts. My most recent one where I was taught how to set up camp at a jungle survival training course in the Philippines, led by an Aeta (the indigenous Pilipinos); this was part of my footage taken while on my trip to the Philippines in Subic (before Dick Gordon got ousted.)

GOODIES FOR THE BAMBOO-ETTES AND BAMBOO-INOS THIS ISSUE:

I’m really lucky to be able to have the following peeps contribute such stuff to this issue… ENJOY!

Interviews with:

Musician/artist/creator extraordinaire Joey Ayala! Yes, the one and only!

Bagong Pinay’s webstresses Elke Aspillera and Perla Daly talk about creating the first interactive website that talks about the New Pilipina – OUTSIDE of the context of mail order brides (hold onto your hats!)

Dr. Zieba Shorish-Shamley, Director of Women’s Alliance for Peace and Human Rights in Afghanistan (WAPHA)!

And articles by:

Cookie H. on a personal experience of mental illness; Christine and Amy, 2 Korean adoptees of White families speak frankly about her experiences growing up.

Love and in the struggle,

[Signature of Sabrina Margarita Sandata in cursive, dates 1/99]

Sabrina Margarita Sandata

(Sandata is the Tagalog word for weapon, and commonly refers to bolo-looking knives that are used for regular around the house chores, but are also effective for lopping peoples’ heads off, depending on your inclination)

P.S.>> No Tagalog For the Novice this Issue, but look for it in Bamboo Girl #9! Wahoo!

Good things:

Reel Wild Cinema

Performance Fleece commercials

Kajagoogoo

Kimora Lee of One World

sleep

Scary Things:

80’s music is now “retro” (boy do I feel old!)

[next page – all text in lowercase unless otherwise formatted]

Table of Contempts

Interviews:

9 joey ayala

30 bagong pinay

70 dr. zieba shorish-shamley

14 hetero hell or being a video extra

44 married & queer

19 2 korean adoptees by while families tell their stories: christine & amy

18 the acculturation of asiatic tattoos by non-asians

47 many more silences to be broken by cookie hiponia

42 million youth march angers asian americansby (sic) doualy xaykaothao

8 rally against street beat sweatshops!

26 resource list for puerto rican political prisoners and prisoners of war

24 real-life inspired by jen sun

29 things lola (gramma) taught me

74 pinay beauty gone berserk

46 greedy bisexuals illo by rachel house

13 compilation by & about asian/american women

17 sexeh illo of allison (deep lust) by jane

75 being a “person of color” at rutgers freshman orientation

27 southern justic (sic) prevails: black panther activist returned to solitary confinement

43 anti-homosexual hate crimes letter/gay pride at Pinoy independence day parade d.c.

25 working our world by painting it

6 random illo on period gore by rachel house

50 denny’s update

52 neo-nazi thugs offer their services to pauline hanson

54 fellow asian thoughts

55 something I got at the festival of resistance

67 suggested reads

7 terrorific mythology from the philippines

23 angst column: why asians are all either f.o.b.’s or “pass as white” and other lies

73 stupid stereotype #8

76 martial arts: tools for everyday martial arts / postings by guros on bogus pinoy martial arts teachers

68 bamboo shoots (getting the word out)

56 letters

80 reviews

5 calling all asian brothers & sisters!

#bgsu #bamboo girl #queer #pride month #zines

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character! ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it! after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you.

– He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

– After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you. But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

– His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

– He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

– His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him. He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

— Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

— There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time.

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.” Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

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duskholland · 3 years

Text

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date. or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact. a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3 +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot.

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland smut #y/n #self insert #smut #mob!tomfic

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