#little sad tonight lads

[cosmic--static]

"you looked cold" (i love you)

[fantabulousfelix]

man it's bad tonight huh

[propertyofwicked]

"it'll grow back" - LN

v short. just expressing my sadness for the loss of beard lando </3 it's been a rough day lads

tried a little bit of social media au stuff so lemme know if that works <3

“hey ba-”

“you are in so much trouble,” you announce as he picks up the phone, pacing around the airport waiting for your layover flight to join him in australia.

“wha-? why?” lando says, his voice wavering slightly in panic, trying to remember everything he’d done in the last 24 hours that could anger you.

“how could you? how could you shave before i got to say a proper goodbye?” you whine down the phone, exaggerating your sadness at the loss of his facial hair.

“im sorry ba-”

“no i dont wanna hear it. firstly - i had to find out through twitter! AND my flight lands in 5 hours - you couldn’t wait till then?”

“if i waited you would’ve talked me out of it!” he argues back in jest.

“precisely!” you argue, the phone line falling silent, asides from max laughing in the background, and lando clearly trying to stifle his own giggles.

“max you’re a traitor! you promised me you would stop him,” you say, knowing he can hear you. max says nothing in response, just continues to laugh until he’s wheezing.

the announcement of your flight boarding was probably well timed, alerting you that you need to leave before the argument get serious.

“get on your flight angel, ill be at the airport to pick you up when you land.”

“you better be, you owe me.”

-

when you finally spot him in the airport, your pace quickens to meet him and his embrace. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms moving to rest on and behind your shoulders. your head rolls backwards slightly to look up at him, as sigh escaping your lips when you see the lack of facial hair in person.

“12 seconds!” max exclaims from behind him, holding up his phone timer, “it took you 12 seconds to make a remark about him shaving!”

“hey! i didn’t even say anything,” you argue back.

"debatable."

“it’s ok y/n - it’ll grow back,” lando says, grinning at you before looking down and kissing your lips. the lack of scruff touching your face is unfamiliar.

“but now it feels like i’m kissing a 13 year old boy.” max snorts at your response, lando just keeps smiling down at you.

“when did you last eat?” lando asks, moving the conversation along, as he grabs your suitcase and starts walking to the car, you and max stood either side of him.

“erm, on the first flight - so i don’t know but i am starving.”

“let’s go get you some dinner. i’ll pay, call it an apology.”

“lan, you’d insist on paying whether i was owed an apology or not,” you retort, moving to sit in the car.

“i’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, smirking at you. you had almost forgotten max was there till he started making fake vomit noises at lando’s comment.

“i’d love to see you try.”

[goldenstring6123]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNXxJ8TM/

THIS IS SO CUTE PLS I CAN SO CLEARLY SEE THE LADS MEN DOING THIS 😭 and the comment section had me dying where is evb finding these MEN 😔🙏

Lnds: Sleepy time!

Warning: No warnings, afab!reader, fem!reader

Authors note: Fluff (not a lot of it) and a bit of domestic stuff.

Sylus:

It had been 30 minutes since you left the bedroom. Sylus was already well on his side of the mattress, reading the news while waiting for you to come back. He thought you were just up and about doing your normal routine of drinking herbal tea and doing skincare, but it was taking you far longer than usual.

He settled the tablet down on the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom. He searched for you in every room he passed by, and when he arrived at the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, there you were, perfectly tucked in under the unused duvet.

You were curled into a ball and too engrossed in the video you were watching; you didn't even notice the black fuzzy threads wrapping around your weird curled-up position. You lifted off from the bed, and when you came to, the view was of Sylus' back as you involuntarily made your way back to his bedroom.

"So you're not going to put me down?" you asked, paying attention to the video again. "Are manners not a thing anymore?"

The brooding man didn't spare you a glance. "I'm not open for discussion. You're supposed to sleep in my bedroom. Our bedroom."

"I just wanted a bed all to myself," you uttered. Here you were, planning what to watch and what to eat for the whole night, and this guy managed to foil it.

"I don't share the same sentiment, sweetie. You have the bed every time I'm overseas on a work trip. It's even infested with your colorful pillows," he opened the door to the bedroom and reeled you in, gesturing to your side of the bed which had vibrant pillows and bed 'pets,' as you like to refer to them.

"You really can't sleep without me, can you, Mr. Big guy? Afraid that someone's under the bed or something?"

"I'm more afraid that you're going to ravage my food pantry when you're not in my line of sight."

"The guest bedroom is nowhere near the pantry and I don't ravage it—I simply take a few snacks," you clarified. "Greg would be sad if the food spoils."

"Either way, you sleep in my bedroom or my couch, nowhere else, sweetie."

"Admit it: You like my company, don't you?" You gave him a cheeky grin.

"Yes, yes," Sylus agreed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You make a good meat shield when we get attacked in this bedroom."

"Oh wow. Reduced to a shield." You rolled your eyes in return and slipped under the covers. "That's Onychinus' leader for you."

"Right. Are you done now? I still have an early schedule for tomorrow."

"Alright, alright. I'm heading to bed now. You can sleep."

"Good. Now come here." Sylus opened his arms and you found yourself huddled right into it like it was the perfect mold. You shifted a bit and could feel his muscles relax against your back.

"Why did you feel the need to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Sylus asked under his breath.

"I was planning on reading comics all night. Tara recommended a new romance comic which I like, but knowing you, you'd probably take my phone away."

"Then it looks like I will be the bad guy tonight."

"Maybe. Until you fall asleep." You shrugged.

You hear the handcuffs being pulled out.

Shit.

Xavier:

3:02 AM, it says on the clock. You weren't on the bed. It was cold and it was proof that you never went on it, which was odd considering you told sleepy little Xavier that you were going to stay over. Poor little tired hunter was exhausted after a day's work and couldn't help but doze off while watching you do your little night ritual of moisturizing and doing a facemask.

Xavier sat on the side of the bed, letting out a big yawn. He didn't know where you were, but all he knew was that he didn't like being alone. From his palm, a faint whirlpool of light emanated, enough to guide him through his dark abode. His first thought was maybe you were watching in the living room. You weren't there. He then headed to the small bedroom right beside his, a spare one for guests, but it went unused when you both shared the same bed now.

He tried his best to quietly open the door. There he saw a little bump on the mattress and it made his heart squeeze; you were adorable and looked so small. Xavier tiptoed and folded the blanket away from you. He took a deep breath and lifted you up bridal style, pressing you against his chest.

"hm?…Xavier?" you slurred, vision dark and blurry.

"I'm moving you to our bedroom," he kissed the top of your head and continued his journey to the other room.

"You were sleeping," you paused, looking for the word. The drowsiness didn't seem to go away. "didn't want to…disturb you."

Xavier wanted to say something, but he and you both arrived at the side of the bed. He gently laid you down and placed a pillow between your limbs, which you automatically hugged. Xavier crawled to his side of the bed and yanked the cover over the both of you. Though you both weren't exactly touching, the little hunter's heart eased at your presence.

Gladly, he went back to sleep, hoping to maybe see you in his dreams.

Zayne:

Zayne's house was far too quiet when he arrived. It was only 7 o'clock, and by then you'd usually be in the kitchen, peeking your head out with a ladle in hand. There was no "welcome back" nor a simple "hello," but what did he expect? You were mad at him.

It's a shallow fight, really. Zayne decided to put you on alcohol time-out and took your hidden beers that you were so ready to drink after a grueling day at work. Zayne's judgment was far better than yours because when you get drunk beyond mental capacity, you tend to make a mess of the house, and you turn into a rage-filled, feisty lady. Moreover, you'd been chain-drinking for the whole week, and Zayne was getting concerned because you kept having hangovers.

His hands twisted on the knob to the little library of his house, where he would always find you on nights like these. There you were, curled in the lazy boy sofa and turned away from him. You were awake, but you didn't want to look at your lover.

"I'm home," Zayne declared.

"Dinner's in the fridge. Heat it up," you responded and closed your eyes. Zayne's footsteps grew closer and closer to you, and you felt his palm land on your shoulder.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep in that position."

The sofa might look soft and admittedly it's pretty comfortable to sit on for a long period of time, but with the curled-up position you have, it was bound to hurt when you fall asleep.

"I'm perfectly fine," you replied.

"Don't be stubborn." Zayne decided to pick you up. You wanted to thrash and get out of his grasp, but then you would look childish.

"I don't want to be with you tonight."

Zayne kept his lips in a thin line. He's more than aware that you're saying that because you're mad, but still—It hurts to hear it from you.

Gently, Zayne settled you in the middle of the bed. "I'll sleep in the living room. Stay here," he whispered and tucked the blanket over your shoulders. It was dark in the bedroom, so you couldn't exactly see him. You rolled over to face away from your lover and patiently waited for him to leave.

1:34 AM. You couldn't sleep. A can of beer would do you some good, but your tongue wasn't craving the bitterness of it. Instead, your mind looped over to a few hours ago when you said something that you didn't mean. It was harsh now that you think about it.

Now Zayne is keeping his distance from you. The owner of the house is sleeping on the couch.

With two pillows and a blanket in hand, you made your way down the flight of mahogany stairs. The living room was in full view, and Zayne was fast asleep on the couch. You nudged the two ottomans to the space between the coffee table and the main sofa. Then you threw the pillows and spread the blanket wide, letting it flutter down while you made yourself fit on the ottoman chairs.

You left a few spaces between you and Zayne, one that was filled by the cold pillow.

2:46 AM. Zayne stirred awake and found a blanket draped over his body. Beside him was his supposedly angry lover, clutching the hem of his shirt. He stared up into the chandelier above and took the pillow that was bordering between them, used it as his own, and pulled you closer, nudging the blanket over both of you even more.

Rafayel:

He's standing by the doorway, tapping his foot while a plushie was tucked under his armpit. He was frowning, and you could even see it through the dark.

"What?" you asked, shining the phone his way.

"So you're going to leave me alone tonight? Is that how you're going to play?" He was mad-mad, but that's why you were confused.

"Hey, drama king—you were complaining earlier in the day about my bad sleeping habits—I'm giving you the bed now so you can be at ease, but now you're mad at me again. Do you want me to sleep on the floor of your bedroom or something?"

"Duh? Of course not. I'm just complaining because it's true, but I never said you should sleep in the guest room."

"Then are you going to be alright with my sleeping habits?"

"No."

"Then sleep alone."

An audible gasp could be seen on the expression of the Lemurian. He looked so offended with the end of the conversation, but you weren't having it, so you plopped back onto the bed and hid under the covers, hoping that he'd go away.

The moment you peeked back out, you were rapidly crushed under heavy weight, making you sink to the bottom of the bed. Rafayel lay spread out on top of you, keeping you in your position and crushing you underneath him.

"Get off me! You're heavy!" You struggled underneath the blanket, nudging him and kicking him, but he pretended to be a dead body floating in the water. Rafayel kept still; if verbal convincing won't work, then he'll have to make you change your mind.

"Fine! Fine! I'll sleep with you!" you screamed. He rolled to the side, propped his elbows up, and rested his head on his palm. You just wanted to rub that triumphant grin off his face. He happily scooted underneath the blankets and hogged your side of the bed, wrapping his hand around you and shutting his eyes.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it further and decided to head to bed as well.

You were stirred awake by a strain in your neck. The lids of your eyes lifted at the electrifying pain that traveled to your head. You squinted, barely able to process the faint blue outside the window. Your body was spread out again, and nearby you could see Rafayel making use of the awkward space he was left with.

Guilt washed over your tired body.

Without much thought left, you held onto two pillows and let your body slip down to the carpeted floor. You hugged the pillow and placed another one under your head, liking the furry texture that brushed the side of your bare arms and legs. You closed your eyes again and let the tiredness wash over you.

It was cold for a summer morning. A large yawn escaped your lips and you patiently waited for your eyes to focus, and when they did, your eyes widened immediately at the beautiful sight of a sleeping Lemurian. Rafayel, too, was now on the floor, using his own arm as a pillow.

You tapped on his shoulder, and he just pulled you down back to the floor. "Five more minutes," he groaned, burying his face in your collar. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and you didn't have to go to work. You could indulge him in the meantime.

Author's footnotes: lol the tiktok was very cute, something that you'd see in a rom-com enemies to lovers sort of romance story. It would be a pretty redundant snippet if every situation is the same for the love interest so I took the liberty of changing things a bit.

Layout by me, using Canva Premium | Do not repost

[iluvzaddies]

drunk confession

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight nsfw

summary: thomas shelby walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night and confesses his love for you.

you awoke from your slumber after hearing the door to your room suddenly open in the middle of the night.

you felt your heart pound through your chest, scared that it was one of billy kimber’s men, ordered to harm you as a way to get back at the peaky blinders.

but you needn’t fret for it was only thomas shelby.

thomas was the leader of birmingham’s renowned gang, the peaky blinders, and the second eldest son of the shelby family.

you knew him when he was a young lad. he used to be a troublemaker, always bringing trouble everywhere he went. he laughed a lot too.

you, on the other hand, used to be a loner. you didn’t have a single friend whatsoever. you were always alone, a sad look plastered on your face as you watched other kids getting along and playing with each other. young tommy felt bad for you, therefore, offered to let you play with him and his siblings. from then on, you became close and formed a bond, not only with him, but with his siblings too.

it was sad how much things have changed after the war in france.

the horrors of the war had changed him drastically.

he became a soulless, empty shell.

but there was one thing that didn’t change, and that was his feelings for you.

he always felt a sense of peace whenever you were around. you were a breath of fresh air and a reminder of his childhood days, where he hadn’t gone to the war yet, where he didn’t live a life of crime, where everything was normal.

he didn’t want to admit it, though. he was never good at expressing himself…

…until tonight.

“tommy!” you gasped. “why are you here?”

“because i can.” he said nonchalantly.

“just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” you huffed in frustration.

he shrugged.

“how did you get in my house?”

“key under your doormat.” he drawled, approaching you drunkenly.

you let out a squeak as he collapsed on your bed, nearly crushing your legs.

“okay, congratulations for knowing where i keep my house key, but that doesn’t give you the right to just barge in my house.” you looked at the clock on your wall, checking the time. “especially at three in the morning, you dimwit!”

“‘m sorry… it’s just… i’ve been thinking about you.. a lot– actually, an unhealthy amount. i couldn’t help it. i just wanted to see you again.”

“what?” you blinked.

“you heard me.”

“yes, i did, but…” that was unexpected. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

“by god, woman.” he sat up and you flinched when he started to yell. “how fucking oblivious are you? i’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake!–“

you covered his mouth, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. you were already dealing with a drunk thomas, who barged into your home uninvited, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with noise complaints from your neighbors.

“please, quiet down, will you?”

he grabbed your wrist, prying your hand off his mouth and guiding your hand to his cheek. he closed his eyes, sighing in bliss, reveling in the warmth of your touch.

“tommy.” you muttered under your breath.

“i mean it, (y/n). i love you. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids.”

was it true?

was it really true?

well, you were aware of the saying: “drunk words are sober thoughts”

and that made your face heat up.

“i–“ you gulped, trying to build up the courage to confess, so he didn’t think it was one-sided. “–i love you too, tommy. i’ve loved you ever since you offered to let me play with you when i had no one to play with.” you moved your thumb up and down his cheekbone. “you may be a dangerous gangster to the world, but you’re just tommy to me. my tommy. you think you’ve changed, but deep inside, that innocent, kind-hearted little boy is still there.”

thomas’ lips curved up, a genuine smile on his face.

you widened your eyes.

it had been so long since he smiled in such a way that you had forgotten just how beautiful it was.

he leaned towards your face and connected your lips together. you were caught off guard, but happily obliged and kissed him back.

he tasted like a mix of cigarettes and whisky. nonetheless, it was amazing.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. he entwined your fingers together and with his other hand, he pulled your body against his.

he proceeded to gently place you on your back, with him on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

“fuck, i love you.” he said in between kisses. “i love you so much. i’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life.“

he roamed his hands around your body whilst you raked yours through his hair.

he pulled away just to get a quick glimpse of your messy appearance before reconnecting your lips.

he slithered a hand under your nightgown and you moaned as his fingers made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing it through your undergarment until a wet patch formed.

he moved your nightgown up to your stomach, fiddling with the elastic band of your undergarment, and yanked it off. he reached down to touch your bare pussy, inserting two fingers inside. with how wet you were, he was able to put them in with ease.

your moans were becoming louder each time he thrusted and curled his fingers against your walls, so you clasped a hand on your mouth to prevent any more noise from spilling out.

he stopped and demanded, “no, let me hear.”

“my neighbors–“

“if they even think about coming here and ruining this, i’ll fucking send them six feet under.”

he scooted backwards, placing his head in between your legs. you could feel his hot breath hitting your core and your core clenched. he darted his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your clit, before attaching his entire mouth onto it. he sucked harshly, eating you out like he was a man starved, making your eyes roll back at the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.

your vision turned white as the coil inside of you intensified into a powerful ball of energy. and then it bursted, the ecstasy setting all your nerves ablaze.

it felt good, so so good.

he crawled back on top of you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself.

then, he pulled away once more to admire his work.

he loved the way you looked beneath him.

how swollen your lips were.

how breathless you were.

how red your cheeks were.

he loved knowing that your current appearance was caused by him and only him. rightfully so.

“all for me, eh?”

his deep, sultry voice sent shivers down your spine.

“all for you, tom.”

note: help, my unexperienced ass doesn’t fucking know how to write nsfw content. this is so bad.

[knightjpg]

analgesia

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet.

tags: dubcon, johnny/reader, alcohol mention, unprotected piv (wrap it up kids)

“Fuck's sake, Johnny, keep your feet—!”

Johnny just laughs and leans all of his weight on your shoulder again, making you squeak and scramble for balance. 

“Le's dance, bonnie, c'mon, we gotta go dancin’,” he slurs in your ear. 

A laugh bubbles up your throat before you can help it. You're tired and annoyed and exasperated, but it's just so damn hard to stay angry at Johnny with his big blue puppy eyes and the way he's always smiling like a little boy caught doing something he shouldn't have. 

Dancing... Ridiculous. He can't even walk in a straight line. 

“No,” and you try to sound firm through your smile. “We're going home, and we're getting you a glass of water. You stink.” 

Johnny answers you with a full-on whine, burying his nose in your shoulder and scratching against your skin with his stubble. “Why're you s'mean. Why d’ye hate me.” 

"If I hated you I’d dump your ass at a bus stop and leave you to sober up by yourself.” You hoist his arm more securely around your shoulder while you walk, thanking every higher being you can think of for wearing sensible sneakers tonight. Johnny's leaning into you so hard you have to lean back an almost equal amount just to stay upright and keep shuffling forward. 

And so when he suddenly stops you almost fall face-first on the hard stone pavement. “What—” 

You can see Johnny turn pale even under the dim lantern light, and he presses a hand to his mouth before doubling over— 

“No no no please don't throw up—” 

...and retching his guts out in the gutter. You allow yourself a deep sigh and watch your breath turn into a puff of cloud while listening to Johnny heave the alcohol out of his system. It's so dark out you can even make out the flicker of some stars when you look up, winking in and out of existence as the opaque curtains of cloud drift by. 

When he's done you look down and wince at the stains on his shoes. He's shivering, and pity has you rubbing a hand over his shoulder. 

“Ah dinnea feel s’good,” he mumbles. 

“I can see that. C'mon, big boy. It's gonna be okay.” 

He unsteadily lets you help him to his feet again. He's been feeling off all night, and you watch him with a mixture of worry and sadness. 

It's not the first time he's got himself skunk drunk when back home on leave, and part of you resents his decision for joining the military. Clearly that has to be the reason for him living it up like it's his last goddamn night on Earth at every opportunity, right? 

You're more familiar with his sloppy cheek kisses and wandering hands while you get him home than you'd like, but such are the burdens of best friend privileges. It's Johnny—harmless, familiar. A little stupid and a lot sweet. 

But it's never quite felt like this. He was all smiles tonight until... 

Until when? 

You don't know what set him off. You were with the usual crew, old friends. Everything seemed fine—Johnny'd been playing darts with some of the other lads and you'd been with the girls, gossiping over dates and breakups and relationship advice. 

You'd shyly told them the bloke you'd gone out with last week called you back asking for another date, and were hounded afterwards for details. You'd been having fun until you weren't. Or rather, until you were too distracted by Johnny slamming back drink after drink with tense shoulders and tight eyes. 

You sigh again when you reach your apartment. You had plans for tomorrow, but... You glance at Johnny. His head's slumping forward till his chin is almost touching his chest. You don't want to leave him feeling sick by himself. 

Johnny's drunkenly mumbling to himself while you fish around your bag for your keys with one hand. One of his arms curls around your waist, making it harder, and then his hand wanders high enough to grope at your breast. 

“Chrissake, Johnny,” you smack his arm. “Play nice. I'm trying to—” 

“Love ye s’much, bonnie,” he mumbles against your neck, hand not moving an inch even with your nails digging into his skin. If anything it makes him cling to you more tightly, and you're worried he'll fall and break his thick stupid head if you push him off you with more force. 

“Yes, yes, love you too. Idiot. Now let go, I want to get out of the cold...” 

Somehow you manage to move around his iron grip and click open the door. You put up with his slobbering against your neck because it makes him a lot easier to deal with getting up the stairs and then, fucking finally, you're in your apartment where it's warm and cosy. 

You shuffle over to the bedroom because it's closest and there's just absolutely no way Johnny's going to fit on your couch. You've tried. It's not worth putting up with the complaining about back pain the next morning. 

Johnny flops onto the mattress and just when you think the finish line is in sight, his hand snatches yours so quick it's a blur. 

“Dinnea leave...” 

“Have to get you a glass of water,” you tell him gently, trying and failing to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

“Dinnea want ye t’fuckin’ leave...” his voice breaks in the middle and you stop short for a second—is he crying?  

God, how drunk is he...? You'd hoped throwing up would have counted towards sobering up, but apparently not. 

“Shush, it's okay, it's okay. We'll get you some water and you'll sleep it off, alright?” 

Johnny slurs something you don't catch and you take the opportunity to slip away and get him a glass. You make him drink it all, even manage to get him to rinse his mouth. He does as you say without fuss, wavering between stubborn as a rock and pliantly obedient as always. 

“You're a handful and a half,” you say, but without any real heat to it. You brush back strands of brown hair—his mohawk's been growing out. He'll probably ask you to cut it again before he returns to base... 

When he starts to slump over again you quickly take the glass from him and set it on the bedside table, and push against his shoulder to get him to lie on his back. “Christ, what are they feeding you,” you mumble to yourself. He's got to be bigger every time you see him—you don't think you could fit two hands around his arm. 

When you pull back to get Johnny a blanket he grabs at you again, and this time you're too caught off guard to keep your balance. You fall half on top of him with an ‘oomf!’ and narrowly avoid kneeing him in the groin. 

“Give me a fucking break,” you huff when he takes this as the go-ahead for a nice cuddle. Those thick arms immediately wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Love ye s’much,” he slurs again, mouth tucked just below your ear. Every time he moves his lips it's like he's kissing you, and despite everything you have to suppress a few shudders. “So fuckin’ bonnie. Was lookin’ at ye all night. Wanted t’go dancin’ with my girl, take ye home...” 

You flush. It always takes you by surprise, the drunk ‘my girl’s, to the point where you asked him about it one time. Johnny just laughed and shrugged. “You are my girl. Known you the longest since forever, aye?” 

You pointed out that's not quite what it means, and the only reply you got was that he wouldn't call you that if it bothered you. It's a promise he forgets every time he goes out, though... 

“You're drunk,” you tell him. 

“M'not,” he says, breath hot against your neck. It's followed by something wet, and you jolt in his arms. 

“What’re you—Johnny, gross, what the hell!” 

He licks at you again, and the twitch that follows is involuntary. Your neck is sensitive and, well, so what if it's been a while? The guy you're planning to see next week was going to fix that. Not Johnny. He's not... He's not supposed to be— 

“Taste s’fuckin’ good,” Johnny groans against your neck. The bed shifts and creaks, and this time there's a graze of teeth.  

“Wait,” you gasp, voice suddenly thin and airy and so distracted by Johnny biting at your skin it takes more than a few minutes for you to realise the bed is creaking because he's humping your thigh. 

An embarrassed heat zaps through you right to your core, and the intensity of it makes you break out into a sweat. 

“Johnny, Johnny, wait—” 

He outright moans when you say his name, hands squeezing your waist before sliding down to cup your ass and angling your hips to slot his own into. “Make it so good for you, kitty, need ye s’bad...” 

Jesus Christ. Mortifyingly you can feel yourself getting wet. Just—the proximity, the heat, the electricity running up your spine every time his big hands slide over your thighs. You feel trapped, suffocated, almost, and unfortunately the fact that you can't get away from him even if you try makes the dizzy feeling in your stomach spin harder. 

When Johnny sucks at your neck and roughly tugs up your shirt to knead your chest through your bra there's a few seconds of white-out bliss, and you seriously consider giving in and just— 

No. He's drunk. Probably barely has any idea what he's doing—never remembers what he said or did the next morning. You can already imagine the apologetic hugs, the huge pleading eyes. He'd feel terrible. 

“You're drunk—you're drunk, c'mon, Johnny, we can't, we gotta...” you cut yourself off to muffle the moan that threatens to slip when Johnny ducks his head down and starts giving your chest open-mouthed kisses.  

“No,” you protest weakly, unsure if you're telling him or yourself, because despite your good intentions you really don't want him to stop. Would it be so bad? Would it be so bad if you let Johnny make you feel good? He won't remember, will honestly probably pass out before anything actually happens, and... and... 

“We gotta be—gotta be smart, Johnny, oh—” his name comes out as a sob when he flicks your nipple with his tongue, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Say my name, bonnie, sound s’fuckin’ pretty for me... Gonna make ye sing, make ye feel so good,” Johnny pants against your skin. One of his hands worms its way down, almost rips the buttons off your pants, cups your core right through panties. You shake from just that, back arching, hips stuttering away and then back towards him because this is unfair. Isn't drunk sex supposed to be shite? Why is he making it work? What's wrong with you? 

Johnny moans loudly, unlike you completely unashamed and uninhibited and very happy to let you know that you're “So fuckin’ wet for me—tha's for me, aye? All mine? Fuck, tha's good—Sweet little cunt...” 

You push at his shoulders with less and less conviction. You try tugging at his mohawk to get his attention, desperate not to have to be the voice of reason here, but all that does is make him shudder and bite at your tits. 

And neither gets him to take his hands out of your pants, though he very quickly decides just feeling you soak your panties isn't good enough. With a lot more alacrity than you should reasonably expect of him he pushes aside your underwear, starts flicking your clit, and sticks his tongue down your throat to eagerly drink down your sounds of pleasure. 

“Missed ye so much, miss my girl all the time,” he whines into your mouth. You can feel his cock thick and erect through his jeans, still rubbing against your hip, and you shiver, because Johnny's stupid big fingers are working you to completion at a rollercoaster pace. But when you start to tremble, breaths coming short and quick and needy— 

He stops. 

“No!” you whimper, sounding as pathetic and desperate as you feel. If he falls asleep now you're going to kill him. 

But Johnny hasn't fallen asleep. When you crack your eyes open you look right into his, glittering in the half-dark of your room. When he speaks his voice is husky, low and tight with desire coating the edges. 

“Tell me y’need me, aye? Wee lil’ cunt need me so bad?” 

To punctuate his question he flicks at your clit again, and when your hips jolt in response his free hand presses them down into the mattress. Keeping still. 

There's a split second of doubt, the voice of reason rearing its head in the back of your mind. This isn't right—he's drunk. You've just started seeing someone, kind of, not quite dating yet, but it wouldn't be fair—right? 

You can't quite catch Johnny's expression in the low light, but the edges of him seem to sharpen when you don't answer right away. In one fluid motion he pushes himself up to hover over you, knee nudging your legs open wider, and presses his forehead against yours before starting excruciatingly slow circles on your clit. 

You gasp and pant and can't do anything except lie there and let the weight of both his body and his gaze pin you to the bed, helpless and mortified at your own body's response. Because even though it's slow you are soaking him, him and yourself. Your jeans are ruined; your underwear is a joke. You're pretty sure if Johnny pulled away now his hand would be wet up to the wrist. 

And you don't want him to pull away. You almost cry in relief when he speeds up his rhythm, so glad you don't have to make a decision after all and can simply receive whatever the alcohol in Johnny wants to give you... 

Until he stops. Right on the edge, mean fucker, and this time tears slip past your lashes. “No, no, please, please, you can't—please, Johnny...” 

“Tha's better,” he says roughly, the hand on your hip travelling up to pinch at your nipple until you try to wriggle away from him. “Love ye so much, kitty. Tell me you love me, c'mon.” 

“I—” you swallow, mouth feeling dry despite all of Johnny's slobber. This feels like more than it should be. You love your friends. You love Johnny. But— 

“Y’want it?” One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance without ever really entering, and the promise of relief so close is what breaks you. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it. Please. Please...” 

Your reward is one thick finger slowly entering you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and sob at the sensation. It's almost—almost—everything you've ever needed. Johnny's breath has gone ragged above you, eyes glued onto your every expression. 

“Y’need me, aye? Say it. Say you need me.” 

“I need you,” you manage to stutter out, the last vowel of which transforms into a drawn-out moan when it gets you a slow crook of his finger inside you. It's so fucking slow, Jesus H., but it's something. If he stops now you're going to lose your mind. 

Your desperation along with your evident arousal softens Johnny, and he coos at you while he fingers you. “Don't hav’ta go anywhere, jus’ stay right here with me, give you everythin’ you need...” 

It'd almost be sweet if you could think straight, and you should be, you're supposed to be the one keeping a clear head, but it's really hard to think anything at all when Johnny's messily kissing you again. 

“Pretty girl,” he groans when you squeeze around his finger. “My pretty girl. Ye love me? D’ye love me, bonnie?” 

Your stomach is tightening and with a spike of panic you rush to answer this time: 

“Yes, yes, Johnny, love you—” 

How unfair that that makes him stop. He looks at you, eyes big and wild, cheeks flushed, like a kid opening a Christmas present he was told his parents didn't have the money for. And then he pulls away entirely to rip your jeans off. By the time it catches up to you, you barely have the wherewithal to raise your hips to help him. 

His own clothes follow suit so quickly you fear for the fabric, and then realise it's yourself you should be worried for. You had an inkling of Johnny's size, have woken up to it pressing against your ass too many times to count, but... 

That's not going to fit, you think wildly, and Johnny must see some of the panic on your face, because while he lines his thick leaking tip up to your soaking cunt his other hand pets at your cheeks, lingers on your throat. “Doing so good, bonnie, gonna make ye feel so good, fill you up so nice...” 

His moan fills the room when he slides in another few inches, bounces off the walls and ricochets inside your head. It doesn't hurt, thank God—you're drenched and desperate and at this point frankly impatient. 

Johnny slides in deeper and tugs your legs around his waist, makes you keep them there when he bottoms out and lets out a wild groan from somewhere deep in his chest. You can feel it in your own, pressed against you as he is. 

“Perfect girl,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then slamming them back into yours. “Fuckin’ mine—all f’r me.” 

This time you're not sure who leans in for the kiss first. It doesn't matter anymore. Your moans and whimpers steadily grow in volume until you're crying under Johnny, clinging to him while he fucks you following a rhythm too quick and wild to try to meet. 

When he presses his thumb to your clit again it barely takes anything to ignite the fire again, wild and hot and ready to boil over. Johnny coos at you again when your mouth drops open in long, silent cry, cunt clenching around him hungrily. “Tha's it, bonnie, feel so good, aye? Pretty kitty feelin’ so good? Fuckin’ made for me, gonna fuck ye so full—” 

It doesn't take long for him to do exactly that. You can feel his cum filling you, hot and heavy, long spurts accompanied by Johnny's desperate moans and whimpers. 

You whine when he collapses on top of you to give you more lazy, open-mouthed kisses—“You're heavy, Johnny, get off”—and try to catch your breath in the two seconds of reprieve you get before he's pulling you into his chest. 

You're spent. Sweaty, flushed, and boneless. The sheets are no doubt disgusting, but it's so late and you're too fucked-out to care. You file it away for tomorrow, just like the hundred other things you're going to have to talk about somehow... 

Johnny lets out a deep, contented sigh, tucking you under his chin and pulling your leg over his waist like he's rearranging a doll. You don't have the strength in you to protest. It's only when you feel his cock prodding at you again that you jolt away from him and try to remove your leg, but Johnny frowns, clicking his tongue like he would at a disobedient pet.  

“I want to sleep, Johnny, 'm tired...” 

Johnny tuts softly, keeping you still with a firm grip while he enters you again. “’S just for keepin’ it all in, bonnie, dinnea fuss. See? ‘S nice all full like this, aye? Wake ye up all nice ‘n proper tomorrow.” 

You wriggle in his grasp with a soft whine—Johnny's cock is girthier than any other you've had before and you're sore from being used like a battering ram, even if it felt mind-numbingly good. But Johnny's arms are iron, and the more you try to move around the tighter he holds you to him. 

Eventually you give up and give in. Sleep is tugging at you insistently, and when you relax around him it's not so bad. Johnny kisses you when he feels you settle, his hand running soothingly over your bare skin. 

It's enough for you to be lulled into sleep. Before you drift off one last thought surfaces: 

Isn't Johnny supposed to be good at holding his liqueur...? 

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I have the most random and oddball question... What would be some expletive type language in Welsh?

I'm playing a dragon in my D&D group who is from this fantasy world's equivalent of Wales and I want to add some flavor when he is fighting that he starts using bits of his mother-tongue instead of Common.

It's easy enough to find a random list of words, but without cultural context I have no clue what would be a proper equivalent of, for example "fuck off you asshole"... I probably am putting "too much" thought into it, but I'm a cultural anthropologist, so it bugs me to not think too much about it.

A funny quirk of Welsh is that we actually tend to swear in English when we need to - because one of the social arenas it survived in was through the chapels, the closest you'd get are things that in English you'd probably associate with your granny saying, or those sad little Christian youth camps in America. One of my favourites is Nêfi blŵ, which is literally just the Welsh transliteration of the words 'navy blue' said in a Welsh accent. Why is this a swear? Unknown. I presume someone somewhere hated the colour.

However, there are a couple:

Sweary

Sguthan/ysguthan: this is probably equivalent to 'bitch', it's certainly gendered the same way and has similar weight. Except much as 'bitch' literally just means a dog, sguthan means 'woodpigeon'. Why is this a swear? Unknown

Cach i fant: fuck off. 'Shit off', literally. Tbh though I don't actually know anyone who would actually use this. Mileage can and will vary wildly (keep an eye on the notes for other Welsh speakers chiming in), but this one always felt a bit like a sheep's eyeball to me, to use a Pratchett-ism. Like something Golwg would use to Appeal To The Youth. But, it is real, and does work.

Dos i ffwcio dy hunan: go fuck yourself. Now THIS one I use

Twll tin bob ____: Every ____ is an asshole. Naturally, the phrase in Wales is 'Twll tin bob Sais', but substitute Sais for the group of your choice.

Cêr y diawl: go to hell. Literally, 'go to the devil', with devil there being a reasonable stand-in for any devil you wish, not just, like, Satan.

And of course, Wenglish can provide:

Be'r ffyc 'dy hwnna: what the fuck is that

Pwy'r ffyc 'dy hwnna: who the fuck is that

etc

Non-Sweary

Bois bach a mawr: okay listen this is going to sound like I'm joshing you but I swear this is real. It's used by an older generation, admittedly, but even younger generations will say 'Bois bach' sometimes. It, uh. It literally means "Big and little boys". Or just "little boys". Just a sort of general mild exclamation. Or what you say when you sit down and your knees complain. Um.

Ych a fi: gross. Can also be Wenglished to 'Ych a ffycin fi' which is, you know, fucking gross.

Be' ti 'di 'neud?: what have you done?

Be' sy'n bod 'da ti?: What is wrong with you?

Cô ni off, bois!: Off we go, lads (gender neutral)!

There's probably a million I'm forgetting and will think of as I try to sleep tonight, but hopefully these will tide you over. Keep an eye on the notes, I expect others will chime in with further suggestions!

[propheticbride]

Lamb to Slaughter Ⅳ

𐙚 Aegon and Aemond's personal war over you escalates as the truth of Aegon's crowning becomes true to you.

𐙚 Aegon x Reader/Aemond x Reader (tw: incest mention)

(AN- remember when I said lamb is gonna start getting her own personality... ☝🏻)

“I feel sad about Jaehaerys.” Helaena mumbles. You hand her back the small boy’s toy. A wooden dragon styled after Dreamfyre, Helaena’s personal mount. “Mm, but I ought not to, I think. People die all the time, especially babes.”

You nod, “They’re so little, so they’re taken so easily.”

She glances at you as you respond. “Sadness is a condition of motherhood, or so mother thinks. When you were born, she cried so much holding you.” Helaena speaks in a pained tone. “She could not care for us much when you were brought into the world. She loved you so.”

“There’s naught to be gained from it.” you shake your head.

Helaena does a rare thing, she reaches for you, and holds eye contact. “That horrid procession where the smallfolk all stared at me. I warrant they thought I had no more right to grief than they do. Surely they lose their babes more than highborn ladies.”

“No.” you shake your head and take a deep breath, holding her hands back. “The Stranger comes for us all…queen and commoner alike. You have as much claim to grief as anyone.”

“And you?” she asks.

“I loved Jaehaerys, but my concern has been for you. It broke my heart to hear what they put you through.” you insist. “Helaena, I…”

“I forgive you.” she breaks the physical contact and walks away, quickly glancing back at you.

“What?”

“I said that I forgive you.” she nods, a faint smile on her face.

“For what?”

“Sleeping with Aegon.” she spits out. She looks dazed for a brief moment, almost like she cannot fathom the words she had just spoken.

“Helaena…I haven't-”

“Mother told me. Weeks ago. After Jaehaerys was murdered…I heard Aegon had taken someone new to bed, but I did not imagine it would be you.” Helaena saw things, you knew it, but even she couldn't have seen this coming.

“I don't know what to say.” you admit.

“Do you feel sorry?” she asks.

“No.” you shake your head. “Helaena, his heir was murdered, and unless you are able to provide another, there is not much to secure your place beside him.”

The words simply bleed out, you’re not sure if you mean them or not. So much is happening so quickly and you cannot deny it. You have become Aegon’s lover, and he wasn't shy about finishing inside you. So where did Helaena fit into all of this?

“That was mean.” she grimaces.

“I am sorry, but I only speak the truth.”

✮⋆˙

“Drinks for all! At the pleasure of the crown!”

The entire brothel roared for Aegon, his little men following close behind.

“Woo! At the pleasure of the crown!” someone shouted.

“Sit down. Sit yourself down.” Aegon demands Ser Martyn’s squire. “Drink the wine, boy. Drink it now!”

“So what did your little queen say when you told her where you were going tonight?” Martyn sips his alcohol.

“She does not know?” Leon Estermont asks after watching Aegon’s smile spread into a wide grin.

“Why would I tell her where I am going…she does not tell me when she fucks my brother.” Aegon laughs.

“She's sharing both of your beds?” Martyn questions, a little confused on the way the Targaryens work.

“Oh I let her have her fun, she can not be glued to my cock forever can she. If she wishes to use that hound as a toy, why should I complain?” Aegon tries to convince himself that jealousy isn't there. That Aemond doesn't stare him down in the counsels or the halls when they pass. Oh well.

“Did I, did I tell you I came here as a lad?” Aegon asks the squire again. “It’s, mm, a little tame, but a good a place as any to get it wet. I know just the tutor for you, my boy.”

“Is it your toy?” Leon jokes.

The joke stabs at Aegon, but he simply laughs it off. “The blood of the dragon is not for…lesser men.”

His knights burst out into laughter as Aegon grabs the young squire and begins dragging him around room to room.

“She’s worth three times the price.” Aegon states cheerfully. “Her name is, uh, Sylvi. Or Selyse or, I don’t know, something like that.”

Aegon violently pulls apart two curtains, the white hair of the man looks familiar and follows Sylvi immediately lying up.

“Your grace.” she says.

Aemond shoots up and turns around, color leaving his face.

“Aemond, the fierce!” Aegon giggles out, he is the only one. “You have come so far, and, and yet you still lie with your very first.”

Aemond lays his arms on his knees, keeping his gaze strictly to the bed. He's embarrassed. More embarrassed then when he found out you had taken to Aegon’s bed following your first night together.

“Did you fuck her like a hound?” Aegon asks, following barking like a dog at his brother.

Both the knights and Sylvi were quiet, only glaring at Aegon and softly glancing at Aemond’s huddled form.

“Does she know you spend your time here? Oh do you think she'd fuck you again if she knew you spent time with your whore?”

“Again?” Aemond questions.

“Oh save it brother, I am well aware you have touched our little lamb, but that does not matter I do not care.” Aegon assures him. “But do you think she would share your bed if she knew where you spent your time? Do you think she would have even entered mine, if you had just stayed in hers?”

“This isn't about-”

“Oh yes it is you stupid dog.” Aegon laughs. “Why is it that you give me looks, and that you cannot make eye contact with me. You do not attend dinners anymore, nor does the lamb see you often. Of course it is about her. Would you even be with this whore if it weren't for your feelings of our lamb?”

“Our lamb?” Aemond is angry now.

“Yes, our lamb.” Aegon laughs. “You see, I do not exaggerate. Such is the madam’s prowess, that even now my brother will not sample another. Even my little sister is left bedded alone. Hard luck for your squire, though! As you can see, she…she’s now very much occupied.”

Aemond stands, his body in full view. “Your squire is welcome to her.”

Aegon glances up at him.

“One whore is as good as another.” Aemond steps off the bed and disappears into the brothel.

✮⋆˙

“Fuck.” Alicent breathes. “Fuck!”

“Mother?” you enter her chambers.

She looks disheveled, as she's tearing apart her private room.

“Rhaenyra’s dragons are restless. They smell battle.” Alicent cries. “Perhaps we will all die and none of this will matter anyways.”

“Mother?”

“Rhaenyra. Aegon. Fuck.” she immediately plants herself in the cushioned seat, her head in her hands.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Where is Aegon?” Alicent looks up.

“Out, he said he was partying with his squires.” you reply.

“And where is this partying taking place?”

“I do not know.” you admit. “Aemond is gone as well.”

“Helaena?”

“Asleep. You told her that Aegon has taken me to bed. Am I not your baby no longer?” you sound hurt.

“My love-”

You sheethe away from her touch. A pout splays across her face, she looks hurt that for the first time, you have denied her affection.

“You said you loved me but you immediately ran to my sister to tell her of my doings! You knew that and in confidence perhaps you have betrayed me.” you shake your head. Who could you trust?

“You do not-”

“I will tell Aegon.” you say.

“You cannot.” your mother shakes her head, protesting.

“Yes I can. I have his ear. And I have his bed. Those are two positions of power you are not granted.” you remind her. “As Queen you were powerful perhaps. But now you are the King’s mother. There is not much power there I’m afraid.”

“I saw Rhaenyra.” she admits.

You look at her, as if she was a stranger. “You’ve done what?”

“My love-”

“Do you betray him at the very last? Aegon is your son, meeting with the enemy could be considered-”

“Treason, I am aware. She was dressed as a septa, she snuck into the sept-”

“And you did not scream for the guards? Are you without a voice?” you demand. “Are you?”

Tears swell in Alicent’s eyes. “I have made a grave mistake.”

“What mistake do you speak of?”

“Your father did not change his mind.” Alicent spoke codly. “He did not want Aegon as king-”

“Be quiet.” you say.

“But-”

“Stop!” you shake your head. “You have committed treason at the highest of offenses. Meeting with the enemy, and now you speak that Aegon is not the true king?”

“The Prince That Was Promised.” Alicent whispered.

“What?”

“He…spoke of the Song of Ice and Fire. This prophecy with Aegon the Conqueror.” Alicent nods to you, watching you take in all of the information.

“There’s been a mistake?” you ask.

“There’s been no mistake.” Alicent speaks coldly. “A terrible war is looming, and even victory may be so bloody as to be counted a loss. Cole is on the march, and Aemond…he is a monster and even you know this. You will continue to occupy Aegon’s bed, make him happy and perhaps maybe you will keep his ear. It will be needed in this brutal war to come.” Alicent kisses your forehead. “I wish for us to stay on the same side, our desires and beliefs as one. It was wrong for me to go to Helaena, you are my baby still. I hope you can forgive my transgressions, and keep this between us. If your brother found out.-”

“You mean when my brother finds out?” you pull from her hold.

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

Been thinking about doing this for a while, and about writing all the lads. But Leo comes to me the easiest, I guess?

Lowkey vent session!

Leonardo × F!Reader w/ Nightmare Disorder

Bad Dreams

He couldn't sleep.

Leonardo was endlessly tired. His eyes closed. But he was stagnant. Just laying here; thinking. Fretting. Totally unable to drift off.

The days events had been stressful, and he was overwhelmed with new information. Leo's mind raced with tactical strategies, leads, and contingency plans- wishing to handle the multitude of new problems NOW. But unfortunately, nothing was going to be solved anytime soon.

Which was all the more reason Leo should be asleep. No gear. No mask. No more new information. Everyone was gone. Asleep.

Leaving him ansty.

But he stayed here. Silent in the dark. The only thing keeping him in bed- fighting the temptation to walk around- was her.

Leo reveled in the warmth radiating at his side. The extra weight on the bed brought him a peace he was still getting used to; listening to her quiet, even breaths. He knew she was staying tonight out of sympathy or worry for what today had wrought- Leo wasn't sure.

She rarely stayed in the sewers for long. Let alone overnight. When he met her, it had bothered him. A flare of indignation and protectiveness would burst in his chest at the fact sometimes, and he had fought to ask why.

But she soon told him the real reason why she never stayed; told him while they were curled up on the couch. She was slumped against him, exhausted and upset, eyes red from crying.

Leo's heart had broken over her tired, nonchalant confession. And even more so at the graphic and horrible details. It got worse and worse, and he had almost asked her to stop.

Which was why now; Leo wasn't surprised when something in her changed.

It was still pitch dark in the room. But her peaceful breathing shifted. Just slightly in the silence. Quickening just enough- to click Leo into high alert, and he blinked his eyes open.

She wasn't awake, but he lifted his head quietly just enough to look at her. His nocturnal eyes could see her clearly, where she was curled away from him. Leo watched her back. Her sides.

Her torso was moving in tiny jerks with her small huffs. Her hand, the one bundled up close to her face holding the blanket, twitched.

Leo watched, saddened. The condition wasn't as dramatic as he had first thought. Always subtle, just like this. Nothing like his night terrors, which would wake him up in a cold sweat, leaving him so paranoid he'd sometimes get up to check on his family. He wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

Hers were so quiet that most of the time, it didn't even break his sleep; that alone being a miracle.

Leo was still watching.

She had explained that it is normal- and they happened every night. A life-long chronic issue, dating all the way back to her first memories. Haunting her night in and night out. Though sickness and in health.

Leo didn't have to wake her every time. She'd even explained that sometimes it was worse to jerk her awake. That it was even more disorienting to have an actual person grabbing and shaking her.

It was always going to be there, she had whispered, and Leo had actually believed her. His critiques, his suggestions and easy fixes dying on his tongue at the way she had been looking at him- like she was sad and resigned. Studying him. Watching for his reaction. Waiting for him to leave.

But Leo was here now. He hoped he always would be. His hand hovering over her arm, in the middle of the night, witnessing just another little fit.

Leo decided he couldn't wait. Couldn't watch.

"Y/n." He whispered. "Y/n, baby." He wiggled her shoulder just a little before he got up, bending his legs, resting on a hip and hand while he leaned over her. "Y/n?"

She blinked her eyes open, then suddenly grabbing for the pillow, squinting in confusion. Leo was there in a heartbeat, petting her back and brushing her hair away from her face. "It's me, it's just me. You're okay."

She sighed, eyes closed again as she slumped back onto the pillows. "Did I wake you up?" She whispered weakly, that pretty voice rough and broken.

"I never fell asleep." Leo moved again, scooting closer and switching his supporting hands, leaning even further over her form. Giving him room to comfortably pet her face and neck. To look at her. To sheild her from the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah." she said easily, eyes still closed.

Leo learned early on that prying for the details of a nightmare would only exhaust and hurt both of them. Sometimes, it even scared Leo, though he would never admit it.

"Need me to keep you up?" Leo offered instead.

She twitched, as if not expecting the question. She opened an eye, and Leo gave her a small smile, still petting her face. "I can keep you up."

"You sure you're not tired?" She asked.

"Yep." Leo whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'm right here. C'mon. Turn around."

She did as told, scooting around as he fell back into the sheets. This was always Leo's favorite part. They slotted together with practiced efficancy, and Leo buzzed with satisfaction at having her curled up under his chest and arm. Like perfect puzzle pieces. A position that allowed comfort for both him and the shell. And unlimited nuzzles and kisses to her head.

"Want to hear what's keeping me awake?" He asked.

"Yes, please." She muttered into his chest, then rested a hand over his collar bone. Pressing lightly there. "Thank you."

Anything for you. Always.

Leo pressed one last, sad kiss to his girlfriends head. Then he relaxed into her and the mattress, filling the dark with his quiet voice

[moxfirefly]

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

With bay donnie or Mikey pls? Some cute nervous fluff <3 thx thx

Gonna go with my lad Mike, boy deserves more love.

Rated Tooth Rotting Fluff

The voices in the apartment were loud, your friends had decided to drop by unexpectedly which had cause your evening with Mikey to be cut short.

Expertly he had scattered out of the window and you had followed with a quick excuse about not having service for your phone. While your friends dropping by wasn’t unwelcomed, tonight it really wasn’t the vibe when you knew in your gut that Mikey was just starting to tell you something.

Something that felt like a confession.

He was just about to go down the stairs when your whistled at him, kneeling as much as you could away from the window, Mikey crouched and climbed up a bit of the way to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry about this, these clowns really had some timing, huh?” You smiled apologetically, crushed with his little sad smile and shrug.

“It’s alright girl, we got another day filled with 24hrs we can choose from.” Mikey heard your name being called, felt a little tug at his chest.

He had spent the better part of the day trying to hype himself up to do this, to talk to you, to tell you something very important.

His nerves were rearing their ugly little heads, taunting him if he left now, that would be it. His window was gone.

“I know you wanted to talk, maybe I can call—“

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay? Just…Just let me kiss you.” His eyes searched your gaze for any negativity, any shape of the word ‘no’.

He found his ‘yes’ in your lips meeting his own. The soft meshing, a gentle collision that melted every self doubt going down the drain.

Mikey turned his head, lips a little more sure of themselves as he kissed with more determination. When his hand found your chin and a little love sick sigh found it’s way into his throat, if it hadn’t been for your name being called again, he would’ve had you pinned down on the couch.

Regretfully he detached himself from the closest he’s ever gotten to heaven.

But your red flushed skin and smile only told him that next time meant this again.

That he’d get to kiss you again.

[galactickle]

Jealousy

James Maguire x reader

Summary: reader is jealous of james and katya, and becomes really good friends with david donnelly, but james thinks david and the reader are something more.

Masterlist

“Who is this?” Katya asks, her accent thick.

“Oh, that's just James,” Erin replies.

“You are handsome,” Katya says, “and also sexy.”

Everyone in the room was shocked by this revelation.

“Is her English not great?” Michelle asks.

Katya looks James up and down before getting up and kissing him.

The girls continued to make comments as you all watched them kiss, but you heard nothing they said. You had been secretly crushing on James for a little while, unbeknownst to your best friends, and the sight of him kissing the Ukrainian had you seeing red.

~~~

You were at Brennan's eating lunch with the gang. The girls were all fighting about something or other while you picked at your food silently, when Jenny showed up with her Ukrainian lad.

“Listen, I have a feeling Artem and a few of the others are a bit homesick,” Jenny explained, “It'd be nice for them to spend some time together. So I’m having a soiree at my place tonight. It's going to be great!”

Just then, Erin’s longtime crush and a good friend of yours, David, walks in. You were closer to David than the other girls, as your parents were friends with his.

He looks around the restaurant until he sees Jenny. “Hey, do you have the playlist for tonight then?” he shoots your group a smile and a nod.

Jenny hands him a piece of paper, “I'll need the sound system set up by 7.”

“Is your band playing at this thing?”

“Oh no, I just do a bit of DJing on the side.” he laughs and heads to order some food.

“On second thought, I think this party might be good for Katya,” Erin says to Jenny.

Just then you look up to see James and Katya making out right in the middle of the restaurant. You look down at your food in disgust, then excuse yourself to go to the washroom.

~~~

At the party, the first thing you saw when you walked in was David at his DJ stand, you waved hello to him before going to find your friends.

You mingled at the party a bit before you got tired of Erin freaking out about Katya taking James’ virginity. You found yourself hanging out with David, talking and drinking beer. David was cool and you enjoyed talking to him, it got your mind off of James for a bit… until you all heard a commotion upstairs, you followed David and the others to the stairwell, only catching the end of the argument.

“--How dare you? I am poor Ukrainian, so I must be prostitute!” Katya yells. You raise your eyebrows in shock.

Erin comes to address the crowd forming on the stairs, “Hear me out, first she comes on to James here. What would possess her?” you roll your eyes, “Financial gain, that's what!”

“He attractive boy, Erin.” Katya reasons.

“He's English, Katya.” Erin replies offhandedly.

“I have no problem with this.”

“You should,” Michelle butts in.

Erin continues yelling about the condoms in Katya's bag, and the money the Ukrainians have been giving her all evening.

“How the hell do you explain that?” Erin asks Katya in regards to the money.

“I organize, how you say it, whip round. We like to buy Jenny present to thank her for nice party.” Katya explains in her normal, but angry voice.

“Ohhh, you guys!!”Jenny replies sweetly.

Erin is left speechless, as is everyone else.

“So not only you insult me, but you've also spoiled Jenny’s surprise!” Katya adds.

“I think you should leave,” Jenny states. you sink back behind David in the crowd, not wanting to associate or even be seen by your friends. You could feel their eyes on you though, as they passed by in shame.

“You can still hang with me for the rest of the night,” David offered, you smiled slightly at him and nodded.

You spent the next little while drinking and talking, but David could tell you were a little off.

“So what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, taking a swig of your beer.

“You seem… distracted, sad even.”

“Nah, it's nothing,” you try to brush it off.

“Obviously it's not, so spill.”

“I… I.. have a wee bit of a crush on James…” you say with a pained look on your face.

David nods and hums in agreement. “So the whole Katya thing…?” he trails off.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.. that sucks, well, if it's any sentiment, he's gotta be into you too, because like every guy in Derry is into you,” He nudges you shoulder.

You laugh, “Yeah, OK.”

“It’s true!!” David chuckles.

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” you look around at the dwindling party, “Well… I should probably get going,” sigh, getting up from your spot on the floor.

“Want me to walk you home?” David offers, getting up as well.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks,” you smile at him as he sticks out his elbow for you to take.

The walk home is full of drunken giggles and nonsense.

When you reached your house, you turned to David to say thank you again, and, unbeknownst to you, James was looking out his window watching. He had been waiting to make sure you got home alright, after he realized you hadn't followed the group out of the party.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at David.

“No problem,” he replied, “we should hang out more.”

“I agree,” you laughed. You leant up on your tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Goodnight, David.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked into your house, David yelling ‘goodnight’ after you.

~~~

The next couple weeks, James didn't talk to you, which you didn't mind because you had been ignoring him before anyways. Plus now you were in a good mood due to your blooming friendship with David. It’s not that you had romantic feelings for him, but you did really like him, although you would never do something to hurt Erin.

The whole friend group watched in confusion as you and David became closer friends. After a couple weeks of silence James finally blew up.

“Why are you hanging out with him?” You were at Michelle’s house, you and James were alone in the kitchen getting drinks.

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“David, why do you keep hanging out with him?” James repeated.

“I don't know, he's nice and fun to be around..”

“So are we!” James countered.

“Fine. Why did you let Katya kiss you?”

“I--I..”

The girls had heard the commotion and came into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Erin asked.

No one said anything for a second..

“I saw Y/N kiss David Donnelley!” James exclaims. You gape at him.

“What?” The girls gasp.

“No! I didn't! I kissed him on the cheek-- which is a totally different thing! I was just saying thank you for walking me home!”

“How could you Y/N?” Orla asks, cradling Erin's head.

You shake your head, then turn and leave. James follows you outside, “So what? You're just gonna leave?”

“Yeah! Well, it doesn't feel like I’m welcomed there anymore!” you yell back, exasperated.

“Y/N!” you could hear a change in tone in James’ voice, was that desperation? “Wait! I've been a dick, I’m so sorry!”

You slowly turn towards him, “Yeah, you have been.”

“I’m sorry I just.. didn't like seeing you with him,” James reveals.

“How do you think I felt about Katya?” you say quietly.

James looks at you, confused, for a moment, “Wait-- you mean?” you nod in a response, smiling crookedly.

James runs forward, enveloping you in a hug, “I’m so sorry,” he whispers in your shoulder.

“Me too.” And your lips collide in the most beautiful kiss either of you have ever experienced

[bisexual-apocalypse]

Stressful Situations

Hello! The fic below the cut was written by the lovely @suueeeeeee ! They messaged me asking if I would be willing to edit and post this for them and after reading this delightful fic I had to say yes!

To the 2 people who requested fics! They are in the works but may take a little longer as I'm leaving for the weekend! Thank you so much for the love and support y'all!!

It was yet another day, another rehearsal and another stressful session of Andrew and the band trying their best to make sure they’re all set for today’s concert.

Ever since (y/n) had started to accompany Andrew on tour, she’s been nothing but a delight in everyone’s eyes. She made sure they all ate, stayed hydrated, and well-rested and genuinely cared for them as if she was their mother.

She sat down on the side watching them with those eyes that said ‘I’m so fucking proud’. She enjoyed every part of this tour, everything about it made her happy. She loved Andrew and therefore watching him do what really makes him happy tickled her insides and made her all giddy.

She noticed how on edge he was today, and how he was taking it out on everyone else. She felt bad for everyone but she bad for him specifically. Poor lad’s been extremely tired and exhausted. Anyone would be the same if they’d been touring nonstop for almost 2 months now, and having to put so much energy into shows every couple of days.

She felt bad for Andrew but also for the band, they were trying their best but for some reason something was messed up every now and then which resulted in Andrew cursing loudly, not at anyone in particular but just out of frustration.

She sighed and got up, heading towards him. She placed a hand on his back, stroking it softly.

“Love, take it easy, don’t stress yourself much, it’ll be okay.”

She says with a soft smile attempting to comfort him and calm him down a little bit. She felt a vein was about to pop in his forehead and he’d get a headache from frowning so much. He looked up at her with a blank expression.

“(Y/n), please. The last thing I need is distractions. Don’t tell me what to do, we have shit to get done.”

He snapped at her and this was the first time within their 9 month relationship that he had done something like this. She was taken back a little. This attitude definitely was weird cause Andrew never behaved this way even in times he was stressed out the most. She gulped and nodded her head, fighting off the tears.

“Yes yes, of course. I apologize, ehm- I’ll just wait in one of the dressing rooms, sorry guys.”

She looks at them with a sad smile and Alex turns to Andrew with the angriest glare.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

Alex spit at Andrew and slung off his guitar then followed her immediately. They weren’t particularly close but he appreciated her taking care of Andrew and of the whole band. The woman was sweet and kind and it hurt him to see Andrew speak to her that way. He ran after her and he could see her shoulders shaking which confirmed his thoughts that she was crying.

“(Y/n/n), wait.”

He calls for her by her nickname and places a hand on her shoulder. She turns around to look at him with teary eyes and a wet face. She wipes her eyes quickly and sniffs not wanting to seem weak or like a crybaby. He just takes her in for a hug.

“He didn’t mean it, you know he’s crazy about you, but he’s just stressed. It’s not an excuse though. You have every right to be upset just don’t take it to seriously, okay? I’ll kick his ass.”

She pulls back, chuckling a little then nods her head with a sigh.

“I know, Alex. I’m not upset with him, I’m just upset for him. He’s been so exhausted and it’s starting to take a toll on him. I’ll just give him some time. Maybe after tonight’s show he’ll feel a little less stressed.”

Alex blinks at her and wonders how the fuck someone could be this peaceful and kind. Now, Alex was 10x angrier with Andrew for hurting her feelings and he intended to give him a piece of his mind but after tonight’s show. He softly rubs her shoulder.

“Just go get yourself something to drink and don’t think about it much, I’m sure he’ll apologize in no time.”

She nodded and thanked Alex and walks away, but it was obvious she was still upset. He sighed and walked back to the main stage area to find Andrew still strumming the guitar with the same frown except it was now deeper. The tension was too thick and the vibes were really bad unlike how it would normally be. He picked up his guitar again and when Andrew noticed they started rehearsing again.

———————————————————-

One time while performing, Andrew finished his water bottle and he kept on looking around for someone to refill it for him but for some reason everyone was busy with technical difficulties going on so she took it upon herself to get him another water bottle. She didn’t think much of walking on stage as she just wanted to get Andrew his water cause poor thing’s vocal cords must’ve been screaming for help.

When she walked on stage, everyone was confused, including Andrew himself. She handed him the water bottle, took the empty one with a smile. His heart exploded at that moment and he instantly reached out and hugged her which caused her to blush deeply. He was openly hugging her in front of everyone, which was something she wasn’t used to, which also caused the fans to go crazy for that moment. After he let go, she ran backstage, but ever since that moment, (Y/n) made an appearance every concert when handing Andy his water bottle which was always thanked by a side hug.

Andrew was thinking to himself, would she do their ritual tonight even though he was a total ass towards her? He openly admitted to himself that he was mean and rude towards her, but his energy lately had been so low. He’s starting to get exhausted from the constant traveling and performing. Therefore, he decided to get her some flowers and take her out for dinner after they’re done with the show. However, he was upset at the fact that there’ll be no water bottle from her tonight which will get the fans talking and it’ll just create a hassle he’s in no mood for.

Much to his surprise, amidst his performance, he heard loud screams and cheers which confused until he felt someone place a water bottle down on the floor in front of him and he looked and saw his beautiful partner. She looked up at him with a tight smile then walked back. At this point, his heart exploded with so much love for that woman and his love for her grew a million times.

——————————————————-

The show was an absolute success, the vibes were very nice despite everything happening prior to the performance and everyone was happy with how everything came out.

Everyone was putting their things back in place and was making sure they’re all set to retire to their rooms to relax after a long, stressful and emotionally draining day.

Meanwhile, (y/n) was in the tour bus, packing a small backpack to spend the night in a hotel. She kept reminding herself that he never meant it and it was his tired mind talking but she just couldn’t accept the fact that someone spoke to her that way in front of the whole band. Had they been alone, she would have just ignored it, joked about it and teased him until he became less grumpy but the fact that he snapped at her like that, for some, reason felt humiliating.

She walked out of the tour bus when Alex was going in. He saw her bag then frowned.

“Where are you going? It’s late.”

He asked her, feeling genuinely worried. He started thinking the worst. Is she going to leave Andrew? Is she going to fly back to Dublin for a break? She was the one mostly keeping their times fun on this exhausting tour leg and particularly keeping Andrew’s strength to keep going despite the exhaustion.

She sighs, looking away, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m spending the night in the hotel around the corner, Alex. I don’t think I could be around Andrew tonight. I might say something I regret and make things worse.”

“Did you at least let him know?” He knows he can’t change her mind but he also thought this was a good solution cause as chill as they both seemed to be. When they get angry, they’re monsters.

“Well- that’s going to be your job. Don’t you dare tell him where I am, Alex. Just tell him I’m fine. Let me torture him a little.”

She grins evilly and Alex lets out a laugh. That was her typical behavior, managing to make fun and humor out of dark situations.

“Alright, but let me know when you check in and come back first thing in the morning.” He pulls her in for hug then lets her go before watching her walk away.

————————————————————

She got settled in and changed into her night shirt, getting into bed. She decided to scroll down through instagram for a little, seeing that Andrew posted snippets from today’s concert as he does every time. She liked them but it was obvious to her that he wasn’t really in his normal state. She pouted, starting to feel guilty for leaving him when he’s feeling like this. She was supposed to support him through everything and the first time he does something like this, she reacts like this? Then again, he was rude towards her in front of other people. Her mind was racing with thoughts and she was feeling as if she was drowning in this dilemma when she heard knocking at the door.

She curses to herself, knowing it’s probably Andrew, cause Alex couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Deep inside, she was hoping he’d come to her. When she peaked through the door, it indeed was the one and only Andre Hozier-Byrne. She sighs, opening the door and steps to the side, nodding for him to come inside.

He walks in silently and she sees the flowers in his hands. He got her Verbenas, her favorite. He clears his throat and hands them to her.

“Ehm- I got you these.”

Truth be told, he didn’t know what to say, as the situation was awkward and it was the first time they'd dealt with something like this. They both were really chill and peaceful, when they disagree about something they just leave it and agree to disagree without forcing their own views on each other or anything like that. They both always treated each other with respect whether they were alone or with other people. She accepts the flowers, placing them on the bed next to her where she sits as he takes a seat in front of her on the small sofa.

“Love, I’m incredibly sorry. I know what I did was wrong, but I’m just so down, exhausted. I don’t feel the best. I know that this isn’t an excuse and you have every right to be mad, but please, don’t leave me.”

She could hear the desperation in his voice and she looks at him, surprised.

“Andrew, are you insane? Why the fuck would I leave you? Yes, I’m upset. I understand your point, but still upset. For you to apologise and acknowledge your mistake is more than enough. It’d take much much more than this for me to leave you. You’re stuck with me.”

She grins, sitting next him and taking him into her arms. He cuddles against her, resting his head on her chest, enjoying the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair. This was the only thing he needed. To be alone with his beloved after a long day, wrapped around each other.

[pacifierbby]

~ LONDON

Summary ~, you've been living in London since you were born. That's how you met Mason in a small coffee shop but when mason gets a chance to play for his dream team. will moving to Manchester be the right move?

A/N ~ hello my lovelys another story alert this won't be parts just a long imagine you can say? Hope you enjoy it but once again please leave feed back

Warnings ~ sadness, slightly fluff mase

Pairing ~ Mason mount x reader

Location's ~ London, Manchester

Word count ~

Taglist | navi | masterlist

~ no town does it quiet like my home, so take me back to London

London, that was where you and Mason grew up since you were both little. You never dreamed of leaving this town it was your home , and your whole family was here. You even met Mason here 3 years ago.

You and Mason met in a small coffee shop. You turned around way too fast, bumping into masons, figure spilling,hot coffee all over his top Yeah yeah very cliche fanfic story, but it stupidly happened even though you felt guilty. You, of course, asked if you could buy him a new top, but Mason, being the kind soul he is just laughed and said it was okay.

And here you are now 3 years on both of you living together In your house In London.

Mason attended his training session tonight. However, for the third night this week, he came home and didn't seem to be himself. He went straight for a shower, got into bed, and didn't greet his family with hugs, hellos, or even kisses. Fortunately, you had a day off today and went to a family meal where you discussed your concerns with your sister while your parents were out. Unfortunately, she dismissed it as stress.

Quietly sighing, I started wiping down the counters after milk had splashed out of the cup. Suddenly, I heard the jingle of keys as the door opened, and I walked over to see Mason looking sad once again. However, he just walked past me as if I was a ghost to him .

I walked into the living room, turning on the TV. It felt like we were strangers living in the same house. After 30 minutes, Mason slowly walked down the stairs and came into the lounge, where he sat down next to me, pulled the throw over his legs, and rubbed his face. I watched his every move, trying to understand what was going on In his own mind.

"What's wrong, Mason?" I whispered quietly, looking at him with concern. He looked so drained that I wondered if it was even him anymore. "I'm fine, my love. Just another stressful day," he replied. I sighed, knowing that I would never get the full and honest answers. I looked back at the TV and watched the movie that I had put on ages ago, not following the story since I was so lost in my own thoughts. Abruptly, Mason said, "I might be leaving Chelsea." He spoke so fast that my mind struggled to keep up. "Pardon?" I said, looking at him questioningly. He sighed and took my hands softy into his"I might not be fully honest with you, please don't hate me," he said. My mind instantly going into the worst "Chelsea doesn't need me anymore. It's been so hard in training. I'm never on the pitch anymore; I'm always benched. They're finding so many ways to what I feel like getting rid of me. However, there have been many football clubs that have been contacting me. One of them was Manchester." He stopped talking my mind instantly relaxing . "I know you've been here all your life, so have I, but Manchester has been my dream club since I was little. I've dreamt about it, and I don't want to turn this down."

I understood what Mason was trying to say. He had been dreaming about this since he was a young lad, and he was right. But when I looked at him, all I saw was confusion. Confused about what's the next step but of course you was going to move to Manchester if everything goes smoothly however you couldn't keep that thought off the back of your head

"I'm happy for you, Mase, but what about us?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

Mason quickly let go of my hands and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. "Nothing will happen. I promise you'll be coming with me," he said, exhaling quickly.

"But that means moving away from London, from our family and friends," I replied, my heart heavy. You weren't really worried about leaving London it was more of the fact you have to leave your mother,dad, and sister behind knowing the fact that they wouldn't be around the corner if you wanted a chat

"I know, but we'll get through it together, you and me, like we've done before," Mason said, pulling away from me slightly and kissing the top of my head.

" So when does it start?" Mason, shuck his head."I don't know, my love. A phone call will happen tomorrow after training. I'll ring you straight after. " You just nodded. Staying downstairs for a few more hours the TV in the background you and mason cuddled up on the couch for what seemed like two weeks since you've both had. A moment to yourselves

Both of you gotten up from your couch, turning the TV off by the remote, placed it back on the coffee table mason, turning the lights off in the kitchen, make sure the doors are locked, and secured while you are drawing the curtains. Walking into the hall, making sure the doors were locked while Mason turned the lights off in the living room.

Both of you slowly walked up the stairs and into your guy's room. Stepping inside the bathroom, going over to your sink, turning the taps on putting the toothpaste on your toothbrush, mason copying your actions, both of you doing your nightly routine in silence. Not the silence that was intimating but the silence that you know someone was their If you ever needed to talk

Getting inside yours and masons bed the moon shining through the blinds in the windows making a reflection on the walls behind your bed turning over turning the light off on your side rolling back on your back mason crawling in right after "well pull through this together" kissing your lips lying on his back pulling you a little bit closer "goodnight i love you mase" Letting sleep overtake you just about hearing mason saying I love you back.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the open curtains that you forgot to close the previous night. Mason had already taken a shower and left for another day of training. Moving to his side of the bed,taking in the scent on his pillows. You procrastinated about getting up, thinking of many reasons to delay, but unfortunately, nothing seemed to come to mind. And to be honest, lying in bed alone with your thoughts didn't really help your anxiety. Eventually, throwing the quilt aside and stepped into your bathroom to start your daily routine..

Stepping inside the kitchen. turning on the kettle and grabbing a cup from the cupboard. While waiting for the water to boil, you checked your phone, hoping to hear from Mason. Once the water finished boiling, you poured it into the cup. Adding the milk and the sugar quickly stirring it up.

Walking back into the lounge opening the curtains letting the light hit the living room.

sitting on your couch, taking the TV remote from your coffee table, and putting on any TV shows. When your phone buzzed on your lap you looked down to see your sister was calling you "Hello" you answered softly "Hello lovely just checking in to see how you and Mason are" "It's just everything with training at the moment" you replied not fully wanting to go into full detail what's happening. Not having the gut to even tell her about the moving process if it happens

You and your sister talked over the phone until your sister's husband came home saying goodbye to each other before making plans when to next go out. Hearing mason walk through the door that odd I thought he was gonna be at training till late and will call me if there was an update "hello babe" you stood up from the sofa walking towards him mason automatically bringing you into a hug "I've had the phone call today" you looked up at him "that's good" kissing his lips knowing that time in London is going to end soon " we need to go down on Thursday to sign everything and look for houses" mason brushed the piece of your hair. "We can invite your family tonight to tell them?" Mason finished already knowing how hard it is for you to leave your town. You nodded, agreeing."I'll have to tell them one way or another this isn't the most easiest thing to hide. " You knew for a fact that your parents would be over joyed for the both of you, having a fresh start for the both of you may do you good

Finishing the last bit of the meal prep for yours and masons parents. Hearing the door knocking mason and you looking at each other then at the door "come on then" you said tiding yourself up a bit walking towards your door seeing yours and masons parents "hello" you said happily pulling them into a hug once they stepped in "hello my darling" Debbie smiled then looking at mason bringing him into a hug "hello my love shall we go into the kitchen" Debbie looked over at you knowing that you wanted to have some time alone with your family once your mum stepped inside you automatically brought her into a hug "hello" you said your mum kissing the top of your head grabbing your hand "Let's go into the kitchen and have our meal don't want your house to get cold" laughing a little letting your mum fully step inside before closing the door.

The dinner was going well you and mason sharing a few laughs about your relationship and the memories that you shared knowing the time was coming up to tell them looking at mason grabbing his hand under the table when you got his attention he knew it was time "so mum, dad" mason started grabbing your hand a little " me and Olivia want to tell you something" everyone looking at you both making you a little nervous

"I'm signing up to play with Manchester United on Thursday. I've had the phone call this morning. This is why me and Olivia wanted to bring you here for dinner, but there's a but we have to move to Manchester. " Your mum and dad looked over to you smiling."Oh sweetie, is that why you've been so nervous we are always here if you need us I know London is your home but sometimes new journeys are more exciting" mason squeezed your hand smiling down at you. "Thanks ma" letting go off mases hand walking around the table where she stood giving her hug.

Thursday couldn't come quick enough. You, jazz,Debbie, and Tony were making your way to Manchester. Mason was already there since he traveled up the night before to get the clear from his test. "How do you feel love?" Debbie said quietly in your ear, "nervous for him, to be honest, it's a big step. A big step for the both of us I mean we officially move here on Sunday night" Debbie grabbed your hand " we may be in London my love but me and your parents will always be beside yours and my sons side please don't forget that" . Masons and your parents have been a god send this past week helping you pack away your London home, ready to move to Manchester. "Thank you, Debbie, for everything," you replied back, smiling down at your hands, grateful that you had a second mother like her. Unfortunately your parent's couldn't come to masons signing today because of work but they did call him this morning and sent him his best wishes, looking up at the car window to see you was pulling up at the stadium

You and masons family stepped out of the car paps already surrounding the area trying get a glimpse of masons family and masons himself not giving you any room to even move

Walking towards the stadium doors seeing Mason through the glass standing next to the desk talking to the resorption lady opening the doors mason having a good line of sight automatically opening his arms so you can run into them.

this was the first time you've slept alone for 3 years. You've always said good morning and good night to each other. Of course, you've had phone calls last night and this morning for updates before you arrived, but you've never slept apart. Letting Mason go so he can give his family a warm welcome.

Seeing Mason sign his contract was the highlight of any moments you both shared together. Even though it's gonna change Mason's life, it's gonna be yours, too. I had a few photos with Mason as well as his family. We also had a few photos on the pitch.

Of course, Mason made sure he added his niece summer in the photos and videos. Some where she was in his arms and some where she was running in front of mase and it was adorable to watch them two together having their special moment. You filmed and took some photos just for yourself

Once Mason finished his photo shoot, it was time to say goodbye. Walking outside of the arena, the taxi was already there waiting for them, exchanging hugs and kisses they all got into a taxi, of course. You and Mason left the best till last summer. It will be hard leaving her she always stayed with you and mason every Friday, but when you and Mason settle here in Manchester, you knew that there will be more memories will be made, helping summer into the taxi. giving them one last wave.

you and Mason watching the taxi leave the area. Grabbing your hand, "Come on, my love, let's see our new house" you nodded walking towards the car that was parked behind the stadium.

Manchester was a big place not as big as London but very close enough however the people here are more apologetic. the hellos are more welcoming people just instantly want to talk to you even if they don't know who you are. people rushing around the city center trying to go places to places. people sitting outside the pubs talking to their friends or other people you sometimes did wish people was like that in London but however your town is more of a tourist city Manchester is a homely town and for what you hope will be forever.

driving up the gravel road. the trees covering up the road the sun shining through the holes of the trees making marks in the middle of the road. "here we are" mason softly said stopping the car outside of the gated house. a lady waiting outside of the house we a clipboard in her hand. getting out of the car shutting the car door softly looking up just about seeing the top of the house because of how high the fencing is. making you instantly secure you knew mason moving to Manchester will be a big hit. the paps will try and turn up trying to get picture of mason

"shall we look inside" the lady said looking at you and mason once you approached her making you both nod. mason grabbing hold of your hand walking into the front garden

the garden big enough for you and mason and the family having little summer running around. many flowers leading up the front door. a small little fountain placed in the middle of the garden. you knew instantly this will be your little place. a peaceful place what may calm your anxiety.

the lady opening the front door walking inside leading into a big open space . a chandelier hanging from the ceiling above. the front door being faced to face with an open kitchen stepping inside. your dream kitchen being face to face with you was honestly was a shock you just wanted to tell mason that this was your forever home but you knew you couldn't do that sadly it was masons home too and you needed to make the decision together.

walking into the living room furniture already placed inside.a big TV on the opposite an LED electric fire underneath the carpets fluffy and silver the new interior that people are going for nowadays which you don't mind. You loved the grey interior ideas in fact you always like the pages on Instagram that has grey themed in. Making you love the home a lot more.

Turning around to see Mason with a smile plastered on his face the same exact smile your wearing right now "do you like" speaking softly in your ear rubbing your back softly which you automatically nodded "its a beautiful house up to now" looking around the living room one last time then back at mason which he agreed "Shall we go upstairs?" The lady asked interrupting yours and masons small conversation.

Standing next to the railing the chandelier next to you the beads hanging from a small thread making a lovely reflection on the doors opposite.

"This is the master bedroom," the lady spoke softly, opening the door and stepping aside, letting you and Mason in together a king-size bed placed in between two windows and draws on their side. A door that leads into a bathroom on the opposite wall, the shower big enough to have a party of ten inside. Each has a sink with drawers underneath like your London home. A big mirror fills the wall. With LED lights glowing behind it. Another open spaced room for a walk-in wardrobe. Not hearing mason coming behind you his arms sneaking around your hips "come on lovely the lady wanting for us in the foyer" kissing the back of your head letting go. Grabbing your hand leading you out of the room.

walking into the foyer. the lady standing near the front door that has frosted glass surrounding it letting in a little of low light "i'm hoping you enjoyed this house and all the small features that comes with it" the lady began with a smile on her face " ill leave you guys for a few minuets while you decide. Mason really didn't give her any chance to walk out of the door "well take it," shocking you and the lady. throughout the tour, Mason really didn't show any facial features, but maybe that's because he was too into the house, you thought. don't take it as you wanted him to show expression because honestly you were really happy that he loved this house as much as you did.

signing the last few paperwork made it even more real. this is your house now. moving from London to Manchester is an actual go-ahead. The lady left an hour ago giving you guys the keys and bottle of champagne with a congratulations.you never thought that at the age of 26, you'll be living in Manchester. you always thought London would be your forever home. your boss wasn't that thrilled when you told him about the move on such short noticed but he was more than happy to transfer you to his offices here in Manchester, which you were delighted about. Your family still comes by every other month so does Mason's.

You're getting used to Manchester life and everyone living here. The Manchester United girlfriends and wives are really lovely, but they sometimes go out to eat on weekends even though you miss London. Manchester is your new home and a different adventure for you and mason.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Starting us off bright and early and wishing everyone a great day! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

Although we do have the sad banner today lads.

From chapter 4 of I Was Thinking About Your Mouth, coming Sunday:

“I think I’m going to skip dinner tonight. I’m not really hungry.” He sounds nasal and faraway and Carlos is standing here, looking at him seriously, but all he wants to do is hold him tight and let him cry into his chest.

“You always say that and then you end up eating at 2 am.”

TK winces with irritation but still politely responds, “I just feel like being alone tonight if that’s okay.” Doesn’t really have the energy to argue.

“No,” Carlos tells him, “It’s not okay. Get up. I mean it.” Risky, using this tone. Sometimes TK is highly amenable to being bossed around. Sometimes Carlos pitches it all wrong.

But TK does get up – softly sulky as he humors Carlos and heaves himself off the bed. He follows Carlos with obvious reluctance, although Carlos is confident he’d have been coaxed anyway by the scent of heating tomato and mozzarella, like always. He knows details about TK that nobody else could ever know because they’d never care enough, except for Owen and Gwyn as his parents. Now one of the people who knows the most about TK is gone forever, and it occurs to Carlos then about the loneliness of it. Every time someone who loves you falls out of the world, they take a part of you with them. They take the facts and the secrets they’ve been privy to, the little details and quirks that they found relevant and charming for reasons of their own. When Carlos told TK he wants all of his pieces, he meant it more than even he realized at the time. He wants not just the addiction and recovery-related aspects of TK’s experiences and emotions – he wants everything that Gwyn took with her when she went. “Send it all back to me and I’ll do it for you,” Carlos prays to her silently, “Send all your love for TK back to me.” 

Open tag and tags below

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If you want to share! No pressure ever! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

[star-rie]

when your servant is a little shite

-----------------------

Then Merlin looks at Gaius, who’s sitting there, eyeing him as if he knows what Merlin is going to do.

‘Merlin, no’

‘Merlin yes’

or

Merlin tests the limits of Arthur’s patience.

-----------------------

alternatively, ao3 link

original prompt

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6 (you're here)

-----------------------

After the thing with Arthur’s crown and the princess, Merlin decides that enough is enough. He already tests his theories out with varying outcomes. There’s no need to further embarrass both Arthur and his own reputation.

He just doesn’t want to drag Arthur with him, he doesn’t really care if people think he’s mental.

It was another feast. Royals sure do love feasts, Merlin thought as he poured the wine into a noble’s goblet. Tonight, they’re celebrating Sir Alexander’s ascension to knighthood.

A bright young lad he is, aspiring to protect Camelot and King Arthur. Merlin likes him already. In fact, Merlin praises the knights. They’re very loyal to Arthur, even following him to death. The knights are the only nobles worthy of their title.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” Modred said beside him, He takes that back, he forgot this rotten thing is actually a knight.

Merlin immediately scowls, looking at the gremlin up and down. Mordred is probably already planning for Arthur’s next death trap.

"Yes,” Merlin said tightly, shifting away from him. Go away, please go away.

Mordred frowns, his face sad. “Do you still hate me?”

Merlin scoffs, “Why would I hate you?” he said as he aggressively takes Mordred’s goblet and pours him water. Obviously, Merlin is not giving alcohol to a child, but if he turns away for a second, maybe Merlin can–

“Merlin!” The sun of his morning sky himself comes to greet him, enthusiastically putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Is that for me?” He asks, taking the goblet from Merlin, Damnit, now he can’t poison the drink!

“That was Modred’s sire.” Maybe if he can get it out of Arthur’s grasp…

“‘Tis mine now! Sorry Mordred” Modred nods, pretending to be the good boy he is. Damn it, poison is out of the window then. Hmm, maybe if Merlin can somehow create a mass hysteria right now, then he can kill him.

Merlin stares at Arthur’s sexy throat, swallowing water like a sexy person. He feels warmth radiating from the arm draping over him.

Nah, not worth it.

“Go join the other knights, boy,” Arthur told him from his sexy lips.

"Okay,” Mordred said, joining the rest of the knights.

“So Arthur, you-OW!” Merlin cried when Arthur smacked him.

“You know, Merlin, your hostility for that boy is really getting abnormal,” Arthur said, gesturing to his empty goblet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, pouring wine this time. Arthur sighs.

“Merlin, Mordred is a good boy; can’t you see how sweet he is?” Arthur directed his hand towards Modred and the knights, who were gaping over Percival’s muscly arm. But all Merlin saw was Mordred’s vile smirk and evil face, trying to craft a plan for Arthur’s demise.

“He’s clearly evil, sire. Look at his face!” Merlin gestures towards Mordred’s chubby features.

“You’re delusional”

“Am not!”

So Arthur and Merlin spend the next 10 minutes arguing about Modred’s chubby cheeks and how he’s secretly sorting out an evil plan behind that sweet smile. But then he saw it—the dagger coming at Arthur’s face. Behind him, the same mother from that trial a few days ago, Merlin, was sure she was executed, but she looks alive and well.

Merlin would move himself in front of Arthur. He really would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shield him even if the dagger might pierce his heart. But he had no time, the blade was already an inch from Arthur’s face, one more second, it would be stuck to his head. Merlin’s heart beats frantically, he has no choice.

Focusing his energy on the dagger, he stopped it right as it touched Arthur’s head. He immediately turns the knife and redirects it to stab the woman at the end of the hall.

She cries painfully, her hand clutching her stomach. And then she falls, blood running from her body. The court is silent, saved for Merlin’s harsh breath.

He knows now, Arthur knows.

He slowly looks at him, frightened of what he will see. Arthur is staring, particularly at his eyes. Merlin presses the ring that was on his finger.

Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me, please–

“Magic is legal now." he meant to declare it to the court, but he ended up saying it to Merlin instead. The court was silent, it was Merlin instead who questioned him, “What...”

“Magic is legal now." Arthur repeats, staring at his eyes. Merlin shakes his head. “You can’t mean that; you’re supposed to hate me; magic is evil; it’s—”

“I mean it!” He shouts, silencing him. And he goes to grab Merlin’s hand, the one with the ring, raising it so the court can see.

“You see this?” He asks, pointing to the ring on Merlin’s hand, “This man has already become a part of Camelot’s royal house; he saves my life more than I can count, but most importantly, he always puts Camelot before himself; he stays as my servant even if magic is illegal. Believe me when I say we won’t stand if he’s not here.”

He said, before looking fondly at him, “We owe a great debt to you."

And then Arthur turns to address the court “I will write a decree tomorrow. Are there any objections?” He asks, and Gwaine starts very slowly, "Um, is it just me, or it’s very obvious that Merlin had magic since, like, I don’t know, before Uther?”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Me too”

“No way”

"Wait, what do you mean? This is old news? this is new to me!”

And the court is now competing over which person discovers Merlin’s magic in the first place, which becomes very funny as the discussion gets more complex. Merlin looks at Gaius and Lancelot, who just shrugs. Merlin is perplexed.

“Wait..so you all knew that I–”

“I did say, Merlin, that you can’t keep a secret, even if your life depends on it.” Arthur cuts him off while Merlin is reeling over the fact that even Arthur knew.

…

ARTHUR KNEW HE HAD MAGIC!?

Arthur then smiles at the court and says, "Well, then continue on while me and my not-so-magical manservant—" Arthur held his hand tightens when he said that, which means that Merlin is in very serious trouble. “Clean this corpse from the room! Let’s go, wizard! Been dying to use that one." Arthur drags Merlin to the corpse, and they both carry her out of the hall.

Once they were far enough, when Merlin’s brain stopped short-circuiting, he started to chuckles at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, that was a—“ he starts, but is caught off guard when Arthur roughly pins him to the wall, trapping him under him.

“Arthur what--“

“Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Arthur spoke, grip tightening on Merlin’s jacket, “I had enough of you, trying to make a fool of yourself to the royal court; you think I didn’t notice, didn’t you? Your silly stunts of sitting at the throne and the time you sat at the table, and—wait, you’re doing this on purpose!” he realizes, shouting accusingly at Merlin.

"No,” Merlin said, avoiding Arthur’s eyes.

So he had noticed.

"Oh, stop lying, Merlin, you can’t even lie about your magic.”

“Well okay only some of them, the rest is because of the situation” he sighs, wiggling under his grip. When Arthur made no indication to move, Merlin finally voices the tiny thought that had been echoing in his heart.

“So you don’t hate me?” Merlin asks, not looking at him. Arthur had the right to look offended.

“Hate you?? Of course not! Why would I? No! Merlin! I’m mad at you!” Arthur said, pushing him further. “What if the court didn't agree with me back there?! What if they didn’t know about your magic?? What if they think that a king-servant relationship is not normal like my father? What then?? What if they separated me from you?!” Arthur asks frantically, and it finally clicks—all the things that Arthur did for him.

"Oh,” Merlin said, “I thought,“ and Arthur kissed him hard, awkwardly, their teeth clanking. And Merlin melts into it. Finally, he thinks, as he puts his hand on his hair, finally he gets to kiss him. And then they pull away from each other.

“Are we good?” Merlin asks

"Yeah,” Arthur said, before kissing Merlin again.

[humanpurposes]

Just for a Moment, part i

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Words: 3800

A/n: Me? Starting another series to avoid updating ongoing fics? No wayyyy. This is going to be a 4 part mini series and their song is When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, just so you know. Also available to read on AO3.

Tom Bennett had always had a talent for getting under people’s skin.

Kitty knew it when they were kids, when they’d run around the streets of Longsight and the alleyways behind Slade Grove. He would rile anyone up, regardless if they were older or bigger than him. He didn’t even do it for a reason, he just liked to get a raise out of people.

He used to tease her too, for all sorts of stupid reasons, because she was a year younger than him, because her mother used to dress her in shirts and shorts that used to belong to her older brothers, because when they’d buy bags of Yorkshire mix from the shop, she would only eat the red ones. Every Sunday after Church, they’d sit in the park or on the front step of the Bennetts’ house, and Tom would pick out every sweet he knew she liked, and keep the rest for himself.

When Tom was eleven he moved to the big school, where Kitty’s brothers all went, Eddie, Art and Stevie. Eddie was a prefect. He used to come home with all sorts of stories of Tom Bennett, ‘from over the road’. Tom talked back to his teachers, disrupted assemblies, picked fights with other kids, every offence Kitty’s mind could imagine. 

It only got worse when his mam died.

Thursday 12th July, 1928

Kitty had never been to a funeral before. She had a new dress and a black overcoat for the occasion. It was cold in the church graveyard, overcast and windy. Mam had held her hand so tightly she wondered if she’d ever get it back. 

The Bennetts stood together, on the other side of the grave. Lois’ hair was braided into a messy plait that stuck out on one side, the ribbon at the end tied into a knot rather than a bow. She was trying to hold her father’s shoulder as he cried, but she couldn’t quite reach. Tom stood a little further away from his father. His hair was messy, his knees scabbed and bruised, his shirt skewed and the buttons done in the wrong places.

Kitty kept her eyes on him, all through the service, the burial and the wake back at number 27. Tom didn’t cry once.

That night, when she should have been asleep, she lay awake in her bed, listening to her brothers whispering and in the next room as they always did. Sometimes she felt sad to be left out of their antics, but tonight she was glad to be on her own, in her little box room at the front of the house.

Until she heard a tapping on the window.

She froze between her sheets. Was it too late for it to have been a bird?

And then it came again, tap, tap, tap.

With a determined little huff, she rose from the bed, smoothed her hands down the front of her nightgown and drew back the curtains.

“Tom?” she whispered.

He grinned when he saw her, perched on the windowsill behind the glass. 

Kitty raised the window and before she could invite him in he was crawling through it.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Tom shrugged and went to sit on the edge of her bed. He glanced around the room, at the little shelf of books, dolls and small wooden animals, the black overcoat hung on the back of the door and the drawings stuck to the wardrobe. He’d been in the Wheelans’ kitchen before, but he’d never been allowed upstairs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, far too loudly for Kitty’s liking.

She pressed a firm finger against his lips. She held her breath, waiting for one of the lads to notice, but they kept on chatting– whatever it was teenage boys chatted about.

“Keep your voice down,” she said.

Tom smiled against her finger and made a cross over his heart.

She sat beside him, swaying her legs while she tried to think of something to say.

Tom reached for a book on her bedside table and flicked through the pages. When he was bored of that, he grabbed her teddy. He tossed it about in his hands and ran his hands over the ancient and matted fur. It had been Eddie’s, back in the day. Every single one of her brothers had owned it before her.

“I don’t like seeing my dad cry,” Tom said.

Kitty frowned. “Why not?”

“I just don’t like it. He’s always been a bit…”

Dad had often mentioned the case of Douglas Bennett. They had fought in the same regiment in 1914. When Micheal Wheelan came back from war, he returned as a self-proclaimed hero. His boys loved to hear his stories and take turns wearing his medals. Douglas Bennett had returned to Manchester a far more troubled kind of man.

“And with mum he–” but he stopped himself with an irritated grunt. “Can I stay here?”

“What?” 

“Not forever, I just… can I sit here, just for a moment?”

Kitty took the teddy from him and placed her hand firmly in his. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

From then on, Tom made quite a habit of appearing at the window and hiding in her room whenever he was in trouble.

Saturday 2nd September, 1939

Being up and out before the boys are awake is a strange feeling, it’s the only time the house is so quiet.

It’s just before dawn. The sky is a hazy shade of dark blue but an orange glow is starting to appear over the rooftops. Mr Gregory wants her in the shop early to help with a delivery.

Something draws her eyes from her black leather shoes on the pavement, up to the end of the street. A figure makes his way down Slade Grove. She recognises the sway of his shoulders and the end of a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says when they’re in earshot of each other, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “What are you doing up so late?”

“It’s early,” she says. He’s in a jacket and slacks, and he has a dazed sort of look in his eyes. She can guess where he’s been but it doesn’t stop her from asking. “What have you been up to?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, taking another drag. He tilts his chin up and exhales the smoke above their heads through pouted lips. “Just been down the pub, nothing scandalous.”

A likely story. She’s seen the police knocking on their front door twice in four weeks.

“How’s your job in the shop going?” he asks.

It was supposed to be temporary, a little money to make ends meet after dad got laid off from the factory. Six months later and she’s still there. 

“Grand,” she says.

“Can you do me mates rates on a packet of Marlboros?”

“Yeah, if you promise to actually buy them.”

He clutches his chest and his face lights up in an ironic expression. “Of course, what sort of man do you take me for?”

The sort who used to sell cigarettes in the schoolyard— God knows how he got his hands on them in the first place. At that age he could talk himself out of anything. That’s what makes Tom Bennett every parent’s worst nightmare, he’s a troublemaker with pretty blue eyes and an infectiously charming smile.

“I should get going,” she says, taking another step until Tom moves in front of her. Her eyes meet with the collar of his jacket and the hollow of his throat. She can smell the musk of the pub on him, the cigarette smoke and the faded scent of his aftershave.

She looks up to his face and his expression has changed, not quite smiling but amused, smug and somewhat severe.

“What?” she says impatiently.

“Nothing,” he says, unphased, “have a good shift.”

The morning drags on at a gruelling pace. Mr Gregory’s getting on a bit now so Kitty has to do a lot of the heavy lifting, piling boxes into the storage room round the back, going through the stock in the shop, filling the shelves, flattening the boxes and bringing them to the bins outside. It feels like hours of work, but when she looks at the clock it’s not even 9. Eight hours until closing. Mr and Mrs Gregory live above the shop, so at least she gets a steady supply of tea, toast and bits of carrot cake.

By the afternoon she feels her eyes start to close. The morning rush is over now and business will dwindle for the rest of the day. She tries to stay awake, fanning herself with her blouse and nibbling on little mouthfuls of cake.

The bell above the door rings. She straightens her spine and smooths down her apron, ready to put on her best customer service voice, only for Tom Bennett to swagger in through the door.

He’s changed his clothes and donned a blue jacket instead of the earthy green she had seen him in earlier.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Kitty asks at the heavy look under his eyes.

He grins it off. “Packet of Marlboros please, Miss Wheelan.”

She fetches them from the cabinet behind the counter and places the packet in front of him. His aftershave smells a little stronger now. “Anything else?”

He drums his fingers against the counter, looking around innocently at the array of chocolate bars and the jars of sweets behind her.

“I’ll have a bag of Yorkshire mix,” he says.

She takes the jar down from the shelf. She can hear him breathing steadily through his nose as she scoops the sweets into a paper bag. When she turns back around he’s watching her.

“Nine pence,” she says, swallowing down a nervous feeling in her throat.

Tom counts through some change from his pocket and drops the coins into her hands, a sixpence and a thruppence. His fingertips brush over her palms and his knuckles are scabbed over. She dreads to think why.

“Nice one,” he says once she puts the payment through the till. “What do you make of this stuff going on in Poland then?” he says, popping a pear drop into his mouth.

She’s only been reading the headlines of the papers when she stocks them in the shop every morning, or hearing snippets from dad’s radio. 

“Since when did you start taking an interest in foreign affairs?” she asks.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a raspberry. “Been reading the news, haven’t I?” he says, holding it out for her. 

She hesitates for a moment before she takes it. She lets the sugar melt over her tongue. It tastes like summer afternoons after school and weekends in the park, tearing at the grass and watching the boys play football because they’d never let her join in.

“That’s where Harry is, isn’t it?” she says, “Lois must be worried.

Tom tuts and tucks the bag into his pocket. “Posh boys can talk their way out of anything,” he says. “Speaking of, I met Madge’s new man last night.”

“At the pub?”

“Yeah. Right ponce in’t he?”

She purses her lips in irritation. She hates it when he does this, poking fun at others until he feels better about himself. “He’s training to be a barrister.”

“Like I said.”

She shrugs. “I suppose there are worse jobs to have.”

“Is that what you’ll do then? Find some rich boy with a big house and stick up his arse?”

It’s not quite the future she has planned out for herself. Her friend Madge is a secretary in Manchester. There are all sorts of exams she had to pass, but it could be doable. Mam’s always tried to put her off it though. “Parents need their girls,” she says.

“I don't think I’m likely to find any of those in Longsight. Maybe I should ask Lois for advice?” she says, trying not to smile.

“Steady there, Kitty, I didn’t mean to get you all excited,” he says, leaning into the counter. His voice is lower all of a sudden, it sends an odd, jittery feeling though her chest and stomach.

He winks at her before he turns and leaves. The bell rings and the shop is quiet again.

Her feet feel heavy when she walks through the front door. Her bed calls her name but she’s unbearably thirsty. Saturdays are half days and the boys are already home from the factory. Mam’s started on dinner and the others are around the kitchen table. 

Dad waves a blue leaflet at her. “One of Douglas Bennett’s pacifist… things,” he says.

“Do you really think there’ll be a war, dad?” Kitty says, shrugging off her coat.

“If there is, it won’t be long,” he says with a determined nod, “no one wants another war.”

Eddie and Art hum in agreement. The oldest of the four Wheelan siblings, they were born before dad went away to war. Their faces are older and more stern, like they can still remember a time when they didn’t have their father around. They still call Stevie and Kitty “the babies,” which she thinks must make them feel more important.

Stevie’s in good spirits though. “Ran into Lois and Connie on the bus, and Connie personally invited me to their gig tonight!” he says brightly.

“Come off it,” Art grumbles, “she was just being friendly.”

“Kitty!” Stevie sings, waltzing over to her. He takes her coat from her hands and twirls her around the kitchen, to mam’s despair. “Come to the Fiddler’s Bow with me tonight, please.”

“So you can ditch me for Connie once their set’s done?”

“There’ll be other people there,” Stevie says, turning her around to face their brothers, “or ask one of these grumpy bastards to join us.”

“Stephen Wheelan!” their mother chides.

Eddie and Art share a pointed look and shake their heads, already backing away towards the front room.

In the end she decides she’ll just have to brave it. After eating, she changes into a flowy, white blouse and an emerald green skirt, pinning her hair up so it won’t go everywhere as she moves. She hides a tube of lipstick inside her purse. Mam and dad would rather die than let her leave the house with makeup. She only owns a lipstick because Lois Bennett had given her one.

Stevie brushes up well, in a white shirt and freshly shined leather shoes, his hair slicked back with wax. They run into each other on the landing and race downstairs.

Mam gives them the usual instructions. Home by 11 o'clock and not a minute later. One drink each. No smoking. No noise when they get in. 

Stevie’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket when they’re halfway through the front door.

And Kitty’s breath hitches when, for the third time that day, she sees Tom Bennett. He’s hovering in the doorway, putting empty milk bottles out. When he notices them, he smiles. “Off somewhere nice?” he says.

“Fiddler’s Bow,” Stevie calls back, “to see Lois and Connie play.”

“She’s down there already,” Tom says, his eyes flickering to Kitty for only a moment, “left half an hour ago.”

He’s in a white t-shirt now, that’s just a little too tight against his torso.

“Why don’t you join us?” Kitty says without thinking it through. “Stevie’s going for Connie, I’ll need a partner once he ditches me.”

Tom looks down at the pavement. His lips are thin and his hands fidget by his side. “I’ve um… got something else on tonight, ‘m sorry.”

Her heart sinks. Any lighthearted hope she had about enjoying the evening dissolves right in front of her. Right, of course, because why would he actually want to spend more than a few moments with her?

“Movin’ on,” Stevie says, steering Kitty down the road with a brief farewell to Tom. “He’s no good, you know that?” he whispers in her ear. “Eddie says he nicks scrap metal from the yard, sells it to all sorts dodgy fuckers.”

“Yeah, I know,” she breathes. Her chest feels tight and suddenly she feels like she wants to cry.

Stevie has a good time at the gig. Lois and Connie are first in the lineup and once their set is over, Stevie makes a point of cheering the loudest. The four of them spend the rest of the night dancing.

When Stevie and Connie disappear outside for a smoke, Kitty drags Lois to the bar, to catch their breath and down glasses of tonic water. Lois drones on about her Harry issue, but having three older brothers who presume every word they say is profound and worthy of note, Kitty knows where to hum and nod without really listening.

They walk Connie home first before the three of them make their way to Slade Grove. The houses are quiet now, save for a few lights in the windows, creeping through drawn curtains. Two policemen are standing outside number 27.

“Have you seen your brother?” one of them calls to Lois when she reaches the door.

“No,” Lois says, “but if you see him before I do, will you tell him he’s in trouble?”

Kitty meets Stevie’s eyes and he raises his brows.

“Piss off,” she grumbles.

Mam and dad have gone to bed, but Eddie and Art are playing cards in the front room— or they should be. Eddie is standing by the window, peering through the curtains. 

“Who are they after?” Eddie asks.

“Who do you think?” Kitty mutters, but she doesn’t stay to hear another rant about ‘troublesome Tom Bennett’, and slips her shoes off before she makes her way upstairs.

It can’t be said Tom doesn’t make an impression on the people he meets. Mam and dad still have a soft spot for him, though less so since he’s started getting into trouble with the police, and the lads seem to outright despise him.

She’d be lying if she said he didn’t find him irritating, to a certain degree. Maybe it’s because he’s cocky, maybe it’s because he used to be surprisingly sweet, or maybe it’s because nothing seems to phase him, but something about Tom Bennett makes her restless.

She wipes off her lipstick, takes out the pins in her hair and changes into her nightgown. Her eyes feel heavy, but tomorrow is Sunday, which means the shop will be closed and she can have a whole day of ‘freedom’, so long as that includes helping with the laundry and the dinner.

Dad’s snores are evident and the boys are still distracted downstairs, they’ve even put the radio on by the sound of it.

She’s about to turn off the light when she hears three taps on the window.

He knows it’s unlocked. The window slides up and Tom squeezes through it, slipping his boots off so he doesn’t make too much noise when he plants his feet on the floor. He goes straight to the bed, making himself comfortable over the throw with his hands under his head.

“Lois says the police have been round,” he says quietly.

She looks down at her hands, nervously playing with the fabric of her nightgown. “I saw.”

He turns his head to where she stands. The lamp hits his face like sunlight, catching the sharp features of his face, the point of his nose and the curve of his lips. 

She nudges him closer to the wall, making some space for herself beside him. Her body rests against his. He smells like smoke and fresh air.

“What did you do this time?” she asks.

He doesn’t give her an answer. In a way she thinks she’d rather not know.

His arm falls around her and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Nights with him are often like this, quiet, just two people existing in the same space.

He turns on his side to face her. “Can I stay the night?”

“Tom,” she whispers, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please, or I’ll have to sleep on a couch in the pub.”

“Are you mad? can you imagine what Eddie’ll do if he sees you walking out my bedroom in the morning?”

“Kitty,” he hums. He brings his hand to her face, gently stroking his thumb over her cheek. His eyes are wide and pleading. “Please.”

It’s in moments like this when she hates Tom the most, when her heart thrums in her chest and she wants nothing more than to lose herself in the feeling of his skin against hers. When their heads are so close together, all she sees are two blue eyes.

Each time she thinks she wants to close the distance between them, something stops her.

Neither of them ever dare to move closer than this.

She reaches to turn off the light and turns back to Tom. Her head falls into his chest and her arm settles around his waist. She falls asleep to the pulse of his heartbeat, the sound of his breath and the warmth of his body.

And by the time the sun shines in through the window, he’s gone.

Sunday 3rd September, 1939

She appears in the kitchen just after 11 o’clock. Her body feels heavy and her eyes are still tired. She shouldn’t have gone back to sleep after she woke up the first time.

Dad’s fiddling with the radio, Art’s pouring tea into six cups, and Eddie and mam are listening to Steive’s retelling of the previous night. He seems incredibly proud of himself, despite the fact the closest he came to kissing Connie was lighting her cigarette.

She helps Art with the tea. They all like it the same way. Strong, with one sugar and a little dash of milk. 

It might almost be a perfect morning, if dad were listening to something more uplifting than the news.

“How about some music?” she says as she hands him his cup, but he doesn’t take it. His eyes are fixed on the radio, and his hands are shaking.

“Dad…”

Art appears over her shoulder and turns up the volume. “Quiet,” he says, and the others fall silent.

A voice speaks through the crackles in the transmission, “consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”

Kitty looks at the faces around her, Eddie and Art glaring furiously, Stevie’s wide eyes and his lips fallen like a child’s, mam and dad’s haunted sorrow.

The transmission ends and she wishes it didn’t, it would save her from the grave silence in the house.

She decides to make herself busy. She washes out an empty milk bottle and goes to leave it by the door.

When she opens the door the two policemen are back, only now they’re walking out of the Bennetts’ house.

Her heart sinks. They have Tom in handcuffs.

His eyes meet hers across the road. He doesn’t make a fuss, or try to protest. He hangs his head as they walk him down the street.

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