#my tongue feels kinda scratchy too in the front and it’s positional so it’s probably just because of the soup lmao

[bother-blame]

I woke up with a migraine, and then panicked when i tried to eat something to take ibuprofen bc I realized I couldn’t taste anything in the front of my mouth. then I remembered I burnt my mouth on miso soup last night and that’s probably the reason why 🫠

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Idiot | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies— I wrote some flangst even though I have a billion other things that needed to be written. I really woke up and said “comfort character? I think you mean: Tony Stark” and then wrote a fic with no plot. It’s just sappy and sad and cuddly and kinda’ elusive as to the relationship. Might expand on this or might let it sit in the void like I am :) Enjoy

Description: Literally like zero plot, this was literally written today this morning because I am a heartbroken mess and I fucking hate real life men right now and I hate the military and I hate guys who tell you that you’re special when they don’t fucking mean it and I really need a Best Friend/Maybe More!Tony Stark cuddle

Pairing: Best Friend / Maybe More!Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Warnings: Like nothing, kinda angsty

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, breakups LOL

She wakes up screaming again. This is the ninth night in a row and she’s starting to think that the others are going to request to soundproof her room. She wouldn’t blame them. She would almost prefer they do that because at least then she won’t have to stop screaming when she wakes up. She can just keep going and finally run out of voice and then maybe— maybe— she won’t be able to say his name anymore.

She flips over, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, her stomach tossing like she’s on a roller coaster. She can’t tell if she wants to cry or throw up— she wants to scream at both choices. She wants to rip her hair out too but then she would be sad and bald and she can only do one of those things right now. She’s not deep enough in the spiral to chop it off yet— that’s a day twelve activity.

She settles on crying— like she even has a choice— and soon her room is filled with the sound of her heaving against a pillow that still smells too much like him. She tosses it— she whips it across the damn room and doesn’t flinch when she hears something shatter. It was nothing important, she knows that for a fact. She hopes it’s the picture of them.

She pulls her knees up, tucking them under her torso, praying the pressure will alleviate the bubbling in her stomach. It won’t— she’s only fooling herself. He’s not a cramp— it’s not food poisoning; it’s rage. It’s brain melting sadness. It’s every ‘Good morning beautiful’ and ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love—

No. Nope— not that one. She can’t think about that one. If she does then she might never stop— she might take a match to everything in this room, every piece of clothing in her closet, every mug in the kitchen that he ever touched. Where would she be then— stuff-less, clothes-less, and with every Avenger looking for a coffee mug pissed at her?

Yeah no— better to just not think about it. Better to just scream.

She squeezes her eyes closed— not like it matters, the room is pitch black anyway— and slams her fist against the mattress, letting the sting that rips up her arm ring louder than his name in her head. It only works for a moment before it’s back— louder and angrier than ever. Louder and angrier than her. His name in her head is a separate entity, haunting her skull like it’s a dilapidated mansion, trying to evict her from the endless halls of her own mind.

She bunches the blanket up, shoving it against her mouth and praying that it muffles the crazed roar that sheds from her lungs— like an animal being ripped apart, she can’t tell if she’s screaming for help or for something so much worse.

There’s a knock on the door and she freezes, her blood running ice cold. A few seconds tick by, her limbs and jaw glued into a tight position, tongue heavy and aching in her mouth. Her heart pounds hard in her chest— the entity knocking back to whoever’s at the door— there’s just no way.

“Would you open the door if I told you there are macaroons in my hand?” A collected, slightly sarcastic, familiar voice breaks through the wood barrier of her door.

Her shoulders drop, her throat closing slightly— it’s just Tony.

“I— erm—” she jumps off her bed quickly, stumbling in the dark until she finds the lamp on her desk, turning it on the the sight of her blasphemous pillow and the shattered remains of a purple mug— damn she overshot the pillow by an inch— “gimme’ a minute, ‘k?”

“You get five seconds — these walls are thick but Friday alerted me to the— and I quote— distressed wailing.”

Oh god of course she did— how could she forget about the damn AI? She presses her palms against her eyes, wicking away as much moisture as possible. She’s so tired— her bones feel like cement, her neck barely keeping her head screwed on let alone straight. She’s a mess and all she can do is chuck her pillow back on her bed and ignore the purple shards peeking out from behind her dresser. One thing at a time.

She pushes her lead bones to the door, trying not to wince as the light pours into her dim room. She blinks a few times, her eyelashes sticky and cheeks stiff, taking in the man in grey sweatpants and a worn MIT hoodie in front of her. She glances down and sure enough he has a mug of pistachio macaroons. A mug. How ironic.

She flicks her gaze to his face, blinking back another wave of tears when she sees the concern mingling with his coffee eyes. “Hey doll.”

She swallows, trying to clear her stinging throat. It doesn’t work, her voice still sounds like she’s been chain smoking since the ripe age of five years old. “Hey Tony.”

He raises a dark brow, eyes drawing down her front, and she shifts on her feet, wishing the hallway light would flicker out. She just knows her eyes are puffy and her hair a mess. Her t-shirt is definitely crumpled, hiding what she can only hope is shorts and not just a pair of panties, and she only has one sock on— she can feel it now, the hardwood like ice against her toes. Her face flushes with heat, fingers clasping awkwardly in front of her— she may as well have a sign flashing above her head. Heartbroken idiot.

For a moment they just stand there, eyes locked, daring the other to move or speak or do anything at all first. Finally Tony sighs, holding his arms out, shaking his head. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Get your butt over her— now.”

That’s all it takes for her to practically jump into his arms, throwing her weight against the man like a drowning woman would a life preserver. That’s kind of what he is. Her best friend— her life line. Any other time she would have been the one knocking on his door— kicking his door down is more like it— but he told her— he told her that he was no good and she didn’t listen. She wraps her arms around his neck, biting her lip hard enough to keep the tears from dripping down her face again. She missed him— she’s been missing him for months.

“He’s an idiot, doll.” Tony mumbles against her hair, arms circling her back and pressing her to him so tight that it feels like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together.

He smells like motor oil and coffee and her chest shakes from the contrast of the fire in her veins and the cool relief of finally going home. It feels like longer than months— it feels like years. She’s been walking on eggshells around him since she introduced her— now ex— boyfriend. They don’t fight— at least, they didn’t before. They’ve never had a reason to.

Not until him.

Warmth seeps from him, curling around her limbs. She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent ingrained in his hoodie. He’s been wearing it for a few days, she can tell. If things were normal she would be tugging at the pocket, slipping her hands in and tangling them with his, tracing his knuckles with her thumbs. She’ll settle for this though— she’ll take anything.

“I’m the idiot.” She mutters dejectedly, fingers tugging on his hood, trying desperately to distract herself from how much she wants to scream again. “I thought, Tony— I— god I’m so stupid.”

Tony stiffens, chest like marble and pressing against hers so hard she can feel his heart beating against her practically bare skin— deadly calm but beginning to pick up.

“Don’t you dare.” His voice is gravelly, grinding his words against her ear.

His hold on her loosens and she panics, her own heartbeat spiking rapidly in her chest— what is he doing? Is he leaving? No, no, no he can’t leave! She locks her arms around his shoulders as he bends down, shaking her head, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks, hot and angry and desperate. “No please— don’t go I’m sorry— I’m— please don’t leave me.”

She’s incoherent, not even sure that the words coming out of her mouth make any sense at all but she has to at least try. He can’t leave— not now. She can take a broken heart, she can take one stupid man, she can take having a sockless foot and a head that feels like its caving in— she can’t take her best friend walking away and leaving her in this obscenely bright hallway to fend the light off by herself. If she loses her home she’s done for. “Tony no you can’t— you can’t go.”

She’s sobbing, chest heaving, and she just barely registers the soft clink of the mug settling against the floor before one of his arms is slipping under her thighs, hauling her toes off the floor. His other arm remains anchored around her back, fingers digging into her side to keep her from falling. The sudden motion makes her gasp— a watery, broken noise— her legs pushing around his hips and clinging for dear life.

“Hey—” his jaw rubs against her temple, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, stubble scratchy enough to regain her attention— “I’m here, doll. Right here— you honestly might be an idiot if you think I’m leaving you.”

She chokes out a laugh. It sounds more like a whimper— like she’s scrounging for the last drops of happiness in her for his sake. Probably because she is. She tightens her legs around his waist, socked ankle crossing over bare ankle, sucking in a deep breath as his thumb rubs circles on her ribcage.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” She sighs and his hand stills. “You were right.”

“Trust me— I wish I wasn’t.” His fingers crawl up her back, curling around the back of her neck, pushing the hair from her clammy skin.

The warmth of his skin on hers is like heaven and she tries to ignore the fact that he’s touching her while she’s a complete wreck. “You should hate me.”

His hand clamps harder around her skin, the sharp inhale he takes making his chest rise and push against hers. His fingers slip into her hair and he tugs gently, coaxing her to lift her head from shoulder. When she does she meets his determined, narrowed stare and his minute frown. Her heart clenches when she takes in the rest of his face, her gaze landing on the off purple bruises under his eyes, the tell tale sign that her best friend hasn’t been sleeping. It’s her fault— she knows it is.

He shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling slightly. “God, baby, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Her lip trembles, her stomach squeezing— baby. “Tony—”

His forehead drops, his damp skin meeting her own, nose bumping against hers, drawing up the bridge and then back down— she can’t breathe. “You’re an idiot if you think for a second that I could hate you. For anything let alone something so damn ridiculous.”

He laughs a breathy, frenzied sound, nose drawing along her cheekbone. She must be dreaming. That's the only explanation as to the sudden lack of oxygen in the hallway— the only explanation to the way her veins are thrumming like guitar strings being plucked. This can’t be real. She feels like she’s going to wake up any minute now, throat raw and chest aching twice as much.

She opens mouth— she has to say something— but he keeps going. “An idiot if you think I wouldn’t follow you to the other end of the earth. Of the galaxy. Here you are thinking I hate you because you dated a moron? Because, what, I told you not to? Big deal— you tell me not to do things all the time. That’s what we do, baby. We tell eachother not to do stupid things and then we don’t listen.”

He pulls back enough to take in her face, eyes drawing over the curve of her nose and the slope of her cheeks before landing back on hers. His stare is intense— demanding, like him— she wouldn’t be able to look away if she wanted to. That’s impossible though; she could stare at this man all day and not get bored. She thinks back to all those days in his workshop, watching him fiddle with his suits. What she wouldn’t give to be there now, legs curled under her and his MIT hoodie— the same one on him now— pulled over her, singing along to their playlist and passing him screwdrivers. Her chest squeezes at the thought— she can’t remember the last time she did that.

His hand in her hair tugs again and she forces herself to stay in the moment, watching his lips form the words first and then letting her ears catch up. “He was a tool and you’re too good for that, alright? That has nothing to do with us. Point blank, whatever, he has no effect on us. Okay?”

She nods, her nose bumping against his again, and for the first time all night— all week— it feels like she can breathe. “Okay.”

His chest sags under her, the tension in his shoulders releasing under her fingers. “Good. Don’t say stupid things. That’s my job.”

“You’re right.” She cracks a smile, one that feels too foreign but entirely familiar. “You can have it back.”

Tony’s brows push together, head pulling back, his own smile beginning to carve over his lips. “Have what back?”

“The title of world’s biggest idiot.”

Just like that she’s giggling, throwing her head back and letting the laughter pour out of her. It’s cathartic— it’s natural. Like a dam breaking, it’s fast and dangerous and exhilarating. Before she knows it he’s laughing too, his forehead pressing against her shoulder, chest shaking, and she’s digging her fingers into his hoodie to keep herself steady. They’re definitely waking up everyone else in the compound but she doesn’t care. She only throws herself closer to him, hugging him so tight that she’s practically falling over his back, legs locked high around his stomach.

He turns his face against her neck, mumbling his words into her skin. “Missed you, doll.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, toying with the soft strands and sighing. “Missed you more.”

Groaning, he straightens, re-securing his arm around her. He passes her another smile, this one softer, more in control. She pulls at his hair in return, earning a half-hearted eye roll and the reward of him sinking his head against her hands. She scratches at his scalp lightly, scrunching her nose and trying not to giggle again. Now that she’s started she can’t stop— that’s his real super power; leaving her in stitches.

“You think you’re ready to sleep again?”

She sobers at his question, shrugging. She already knows she’s not. The thought of going back to her room and having to sleep without a pillow again, alone, makes her blanche. She would rather not sleep at all then do that. She may as well go make a pot of coffee if that’s her option. The answer bubbles in her mouth— no.

No she is not ready— but she has to be. She has to be a big girl. Even if it means sleeping with the window open so that she can’t smell her sheets, even if it means freezing because the windows are open and she can’t use her blankets, even if she would rather be tucked under the covers of Tony’s bed like the old days when things were normal and she was happy.

But she can’t say that— can she?

“I guess— you gotta’ put me down though,” is what she finally settles on, trying to keep the disappointment from her words. It definitely doesn’t work but for the sake of her sanity she pretends it does.

He frowns— fully this time— blinking at her like she’s grown another head. “Uh no I don’t.”

He says it sarcastically— like she’s crazy for even suggesting such a thing— his face incredulous. It makes her heart spike, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s missing something.

“Tony, what are you talking—“

And then he turns, starting down the hall, starting towards his room, and she shuts her mouth. She’s not going to protest— she’s not risking her chance.

She’s not an idiot.

[actress4him]

The Barn 4 - The Pole

(Prompt #1 for Summer of Whump)

Yes, I’m coming in at the last minute with one more Summer of Whump prompt, and yes, it’s prompt #1. Also, if you read more than one of my series I’m sorry that this one is kinda like that one chapter of In Irons...? But I actually thought of this one first, and yes, it was inspired by Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: captivity, restraints, dehumanization, references to beating, mild blood, starvation, dehydration, nausea, emeto, fainting, heat exhaustion/stroke, probably medically inaccurate

.

.

Stetson dropped Jacob’s foot, and another puff of red dust went up into the air, joining the cloud that his body had created as it was dragged. It would have been the perfect time for him to leap up and try to run again, but he couldn’t move. His everything ached.

A second later a leather-clad hand gripped his arm and yanked him upright. Jacob’s head swam with the swift change in elevation and his nose throbbed. While he was busy trying to get the world to stop spinning around him, Stetson roughly pulled his arms behind his back and started winding rope around his wrists.

Fantastic. He hadn’t even gotten to enjoy them being free.

Once they were thoroughly wrapped and the rope pulled tight, Stetson stood, taking the tail end with him and jerking Jacob’s arms backwards in the process. He cried out in surprise, and tried to get up. His legs only cooperated enough to scoot him back a few inches, but it was enough to let his arms rest against his back again.

Whatever Stetson was doing, he finished up and came back around to squat in front of his captive, arms propped across his knees and brown eyes studying him just as emotionlessly as ever.

“Maybe a few days of this’ll teach you some manners.”

“Doubt it,” Jacob immediately shot back without thinking. “My mom’s been trying to teach me manners for twenty-six years. I wouldn’t count on a few days making much of a difference.”

Stetson huffed very lightly, something that almost could have been taken for a laugh if Jacob wasn’t positive the guy didn’t know how. “We’ll see.”

Straightening with a quiet popping of joints, he turned and strolled away.

There was no way he was just leaving Jacob alone and able to run off. Craning his neck painfully around, he finally took a look at what was behind him. A post. A wooden post, probably coming up to around his shoulders. And the rope that was tying his wrists was looped through a metal hook in the top and knotted.

Okay, no problem. Jacob was good with his hands, he had nimble fingers from spending all day typing code. Struggling to his feet, he bent over forward so that he could reach and felt his way up the rope until he reached the knot, fingers fumbling around it, trying to get a sense of where it started.

Instead, he found a padlock.

Jacob let out a frustrated scream, the first time he’d actually had a chance to vent his feelings since this whole nightmare began. It felt good enough that he did it again. Then he ran forward, as hard as he could, as if he was somehow going to break the rope or pull the post out of the ground instead of nearly ripping his shoulders out of socket when he abruptly reached the end of his lead.

Tied to a stupid pole like...like a horse, or a dog. He was a human, dang it! Who did these people think they were, treating another person like this? The last…forty-eight? seventy-two? He didn’t even know how many hours anymore...had been completely flabbergasting, just seeing the sheer number of people who thought this was perfectly okay. And now he was stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with some psychopath who thought he was gonna what, train him? To do what, he didn’t even want to know.

Night was falling by then. Jacob was beyond exhausted, and resigned himself to sinking back down to the dirt, resting his back against the pole and getting as comfortable as possible.

The next day dawned with little sleep having been found. The sharp pains of yesterday had given way to stiffness and aches that made it hard to pry himself off the ground. His face was coated with dried blood and who knows what else, making him sticky and disgusted in addition to everything else.

He’d really never liked the outdoors that much. He was much more at home inside, in front of a computer. The outside had far too many things that could get you dirty, like, you know, dirt, for instance, like the kind of dirt he was currently sitting on and covered in. Most of his friends growing up had been your typical rough-and-tumble boys who lived for mud puddles and rolling down grassy hills, but Jacob had never been able to stand the feeling of being dirty.

Sweat was a thing encountered more often outdoors, too, and was just as bad as dirt. He could feel it, collecting underneath his shirt as the sun rose higher in the wide, blue sky. There was nothing in the way of shade in this field. Just dirt, dust, and more dirt, all surrounded by a wooden fence. A corral, probably. Meant for horses, not people.

The heat only grew more intense as the day wore on. There was no sign of Stetson, no indication that he would be bringing food or water or coming to untie him. Jacob hadn’t had anything to eat since this whole thing had begun, and no water since before the auction. His tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of his mouth.

He tried pacing around the pole, circling until the rope was tightly wound one way before turning and going the other way. His brain wasn’t used to boredom. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But now the only thing to think about was how absolutely screwed he was, and that wasn’t helping anything.

He tried pulling some more, too, not running this time, but turning until he could grip the rope in his hands and tugging backwards with all his might. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a lot. He was a computer geek, okay, working out wasn’t high on his list of priorities. The moral of the story was, pulling on the rope did nothing but make his back and arms ache even more.

The heat and the lack of stimulation made the day drag on and on forever. Jacob’s stomach moved from groaning to aching to roiling. If there had been anything in it, he was sure it would have been expelled. His head pounded something awful, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from heat or light or lack of water or having it repeatedly bashed in the day before.

By the time the sun finally started to sink beneath the horizon, his clothes were soaked with sweat, which was not only gross but also turned cold once night fell. He never thought that he’d actually miss the sun once it was gone. But now he was shivering, and the headache hadn’t gone away, and his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out, and he was pretty sure there was dirt in his mouth, and he was completely, totally, miserable.

Day two was somehow even worse than the first. Jacob tried standing up and stretching his legs, walking around the pole again, but he was so dizzy that he collapsed right back to the ground. Groaning, he dropped his forehead against the pole, grinding particles of dust further into his skin.

His...dry...skin. He didn’t know much about health and science, like, at all, but he was pretty sure not sweating in this heat was not a good thing. He almost felt cold still, like the chill of the night was clinging to his skin.

Hours dragged by. Every time he swallowed, it felt like nails going down his throat. Moving his head in any direction made the world swim around him, the blinding rays of the sun making spots dance across his vision. His stomach kept feeling worse and worse until he finally ended up folding over, retching uselessly again and again until every muscle in his torso was on fire and his head felt like it was exploding.

His only vague thought was, am I gonna die? before he fell face-first into the dirt and passed out.

A blast of cold woke him. He tried to gasp for air, but instead inhaled a mouthful of freezing water, sending him into a coughing fit that racked his sore stomach muscles. But the water just kept coming. It was harsh enough that he couldn’t even sit up against the onslaught, not that he was sure he had the energy to, anyway. The spray scoured every inch of his bare skin, leaving it stinging from both the pressure and the cold.

But it was water. Sweet, beautiful water. As soon as he stopped coughing he tried his best to gulp it in, letting the cold coat his scratchy throat.

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when the spray finally stopped. Bringing up weary, unbound hands, he wiped the drips from his eyes, blinking blearily up at Stetson, who dropped the hose and stared him down.

“You didn’t last as long as I had planned.”

“M-maybe…” His voice came out as a croak, and he attempted to clear it. “Maybe you should try some...food ‘nd water. Haven’t...had any of that in a while.”

Stetson continued to stare with crossed arms for another moment before walking over and grabbing onto his ankle again. “You just had your water. Maybe you can have food tomorrow. We’ll see how well you behave.”

Ignoring Jacob’s weak protests and attempts to fight, he dragged him away from the doorway of the barn and into a nearby stall. Iron bars reached from the half wall up to the ceiling, giving it even more of a prison cell feel. The only good news was that he didn’t bother to tie him up this time, just threw him inside and left, shutting the door with a deafening creak and an ominous click.

[obsessive-ego]

Coming home late

Someone asked me to do a thing where reader comes home late and beej is a worry wort

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Just something soft

Your whole life your father told you "with hard work comes reward" yes he was an asshole, but that wasnt important, what was, was that all your bending over backwards and non stop work has finally paid off, you were prompted at work to assistant manager, which basically you were one before hand, had all the responsibilities, but no power, no title, and more importantly no cash bonus. But your boss finally pulled their head out of their ass and recognized your hard work.

Leaving the apartment today you told beetlejuice youd be home at 7pm, like always, he wanted to hang around and mess with the old couple down the hall, you laughed, and told him to have fun.

Finishing up your shift, as assistant manager you had a tad bit more paper work then normal, not that it was difficult, just tedious. Unfortunately that extra bit of paper work caused you to miss your bus, as frustrating as it was, at least it was nice out, and you had a book in your purse, plopping down on the bus stop bench you begin killing time.

Back at home beetlejuice was pacing the floor, 7:05pm, trying to reason with himself,

'it's only been 5 minutes, maybe the bus is late'

Sitting down on the couch, he takes a deep breath not that he needs it, and trys to focus on something else, you'd be home in a bit, its fine.

7:25pm

Okay something is wrong, you were NEVER late coming back to him, something had to have happened, did you get lost? Or hurt? Did someONE hurt you? What if someone took you? Beetlejuice could feel his hair shifting colours, an awful mix of purple, white, and red. He begins pacing the floor again, ever so often glancing at the front door of your apartment. Where were you? He tried thinking rationally about where you could be, but he couldnt help but think of the worst case scenario, what if someone attacked you on the way home? Cut your tongue out, and left you for dead? The rational part of his rotten brain refused to look at it any other way.

Heading to your room, and crawling into your bed, he buries his face into your pillows taking in your scent in Hope's to calm down. It only made things worse, this was probably the last time he'd smell you, you were gone, and he was trapped, useless.

9pm

You unlock the door to your place, tai take out in hand, since your town's bus schedule is a joke, you had to get creative to get home, and since you finally got that pay raise you decided to stop for take out.

"Guess who got-" you stop, the apartment was pitch black, you know the power didnt go out, your wifi was working, you sigh, beetlejuice was probably planning to scare you.

Placing the food down on a near by table so it's not a casualty to whatever the ghoul was planning, you wander into your apartment, getting ready for whatever nonsense he has planned for you. Nothing, you've been home for 5 minutes and he's done nothing, you do a sweep of you apartment looking for him.

When you reached you're bedroom, you saw the rather large mound under the blankets on your bed.

Slowly approaching, you place a hand on top "beetlejuice?" You whisper

In a flash you were pushed up against the wall, in a bone crushing embrace, his face nestled in the crook of your neck

"Ah-" you squeaked out

"You're home" he croaked

"Yeah, sorry I was late-"

"You're still in one piece" his grip tightens

"What? Of course, I just missed my bus" you laugh

Beetlejuice pulls away from you, his hair was an awful mix of blue and purple, you can only stare.

"I thought I'd never seen you again, you're never late, what if you got lost, or murdered, how am I supposed to know?!" The demon practically shouts, you flinch at the volume.

Dumbfounded by his reaction of you being late, he has to be kidding right? "I'm a tough gal beej" you laugh "and you KNOW if shit ever gets really bad I'd call your name 3 times" you didnt understand why he was acting so upset, you've spent your whole life doing things on your own, so having someone worry about you was new and weird.

Beetlejuice grabs your shoulders forcing you to look at him "you had me worried sick y/n, how was I supposed to know you were okay? You're 2 hours late" it was never a good sign with Beej used your name, his eyes were wide, the moss on his face matched his wild hair in its purple hue, he WAS serious.

"I-I'm sorry, I didnt think you'd care" you stuttered out "I had some extra work to take care of, and i missed my bus-"

The ghoul cuts you off, pulling you into another tight embrace.

"Wouldn't care?, I know you're dense, but you're not that dense right?" He whispers

You frown, you wouldn't have guessed he'd be so sensitive about you, yeah you get how he doesn't like being alone thing, or being left behind, but you would have never guessed that he worried about you to this extent, nobody ever has. You return beetlejuice embrace, he flinches at frist. "I'm sorry" you mumble "but, I dont have a landline, how was I supposed to tell you I was running late?"

A long silence fills the room, broken when the demon grunts in response.

"Tomorrow I'm getting you a burner phone" you mumble into his shoulder.

The 2 of you stand there for a long while, being held by one another, the both of you being touch starved didnt help, until beetlejuice breaks the silence.

"Sugar, we should move, you're kinda giving me-"

"Cant we ever have a nice moment?" You cut him off "OH! I bought dinner on the way home" you pull away and head to the kitchen.

Beetlejuice sighs, as much as he didnt want you to pull away, he was enjoying your warmth and scent too much, and after that scare of the thought of never seeing you again, he was getting alittle too excited to have you in his arms.

"Since I got promoted at work, i thought we should celebrate, I got tai food, the place you like with the green boxes" you holler from the kitchen.

The ghoul perks up at this, reappearing next to you, you nearly jump when he does so, he only chuckles at your reaction.

"Smells almost as good as you do sweetheart~" he cooes

You snort out a laugh, and beej smiles in response, such a beautiful sound.

"So wanna watch nightmare on elm street?" You ask while reheating the take out, beetlejuice places his head on yours, leaning into you.

"Do you even need to ask?" He chuckles

You laugh, as he wraps his hands around you waist slightly ticking you, the ghoul always got clingy when you got home from work, but after the whole being late thing, it's like he put it into over drive.

You hand the demon the take out box you specifically got for him, he snaps his fingers and the two of you reappear on the couch, you being in the ghoul's lap, his head nested next to yours. Embarrassed you squirm in an attempt to escape such an embarrassing position, but is stopped with a firm grasp on your waist.

"After that little scare today doll, I think you can humor me tonight" you practically purrs in your ear, that delightful low gravel that made your legs weak.

"Okay" you stammer out, beetlejuice runs his scratchy beard against your neck, you practically shiver in response, this was gonna be a long night.

[hardyimagines]

Part 4 — A Little Bit of Something

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First of all! Your Baker series with Alfie saves me from utter boredom whilst I’ve been on my bum sick so thank you 🙏 Can I get an Alfie x reader where she isn’t a gangster but she’s kinda like Tommy’s Assistant/stand in date for events, and Alfie gets an embarrassing crush on her? 😝 — @kitcatimpala67

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

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Ocean Eyes. They were the first thing you woke up to. Big pools of an inviting blue swam vibrantly before you. The tired eyes flickered with realization before gliding away from your, now awake, features. He’d been staring at your rosy cheeks and parted lips, studying how peaceful you looked as you slept. Your breaths were clouded with the heavy intake of alcohol you’d endlessly consumed the night before, but it didn’t bother him. He didn’t dare distant himself. You’d woken up as he was in the midst of eyeing your lengthy lashes. They were curled oddly elegantly, long and full, but the second they’d fluttered open, he felt like a child, caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

The creaky bed moaned beneath you when you began to shift to find a new position. You didn’t say anything about his gawking, that conversation would surely be awkward for the both of you. You noticed Alfie’s arm, trapped beneath your warm body, as you repeatedly shifted. His rough fingertips grazed the hot skin of your shoulder as you rolled around on the cold sheet, searching for some sort of warmth to lay on.. aside from the man at your side. “You move a fuck ton, you know that, pet, fucking rolling this way and that all night long.” He grumbled softly.

His voice was croaky and even deeper than usual due to his lack of using it overnight. His free arm bent at the elbow, stuck up in the air as his fingers traced his beard, a habit he did each morning. The scratchy hair tickled his calloused skin, but he was use to the feel. You watched him briefly before you decided the most comfy spot on the bed was being nuzzled up and against him. “I don’t move that much.” You pointed out as you stilled, voice resembling an unhappy child as you laid your head on his shoulder. The muscle flexed briefly beneath your head before easing and you were sure it was because you’d caught him offguard with the want to cuddle again.

“You do, actually, right, I’m fucking stiff. I couldn’t move a muscle because of you, darl.” He muttered, voice careless, but words the opposite. Over the years of working with Alfie Solomons it was possible for you to pick out the amusement in his voice, no matter how faint it was. This was one of those times. “You should’ve slept on the floor then.” You muttered against his skin before shifting again. The crook of your knee curled around Alfie’s shin, locking around him in a semi-vice. “You’re also a fucking cuddler, look how much room you’ve fucking got, yeah, but you’re all the way over here on my side.” His words caused you to lift your head so you could peer over your shoulder. He was right. There was so much room on your side, enough space for you to starfish out, and yet, here you were, practically laying on top of the man.

“You don’t like my cuddles?” You chirped sweetly before beginning to roll away. His large palm sunk into the center of your back, drawing your body against his own once more. “No, I do.” He mutteredly gruffly. “You’re awfully warm, I’m only teasing you.” His hand moved lower, tracing the length of your spine before he halted. He couldn’t allow his hand to go too low. This was all an act. An act that couldn’t be dropped, not even in the privacy of a bedroom. Thomas could be in the hall, eavesdropping. Your voices could be floating through the vents. There was no way to know and no way to tell, so ceasing the act of being a couple wasn’t an option.

The blanket was dragged up and along your bodies with your small fist. Leaning down, your lips skimmed Alfie’s ear, breaths soft. “Do you think they’re listening to us?” Alfie smirked. In order for you to reach his ear, you’d lifted yourself on to one knee, leaving the other to rest in its previous position between his legs as you hovered above him. His brows lifted, head bobbing lightly to answer your question. “Well then.” You sat back, hands moving to your hips. “Wheres my morning kiss?” Alfie arched a brow. “I’m not kissing you anymore in the mornings, right, pet, you get so carried away. I haven’t got the energy this morning for a fucking fuck and if I kiss you, I know you’ll try something funny, yeah.”

Your mouth fell open in an accusing look. Staring at the man with a glare, you pinched his thigh. “That‘s all you, Alfie. Horny git.” You slid off of his body and placed your barefoot on the cold wooden floor. Your other foot was seconds away from joining before Alfie drew you back a bit harshly, but playfully. You hit the bed with an oof, mattress rocking lightly beneath the movement. A wide grin pulled at your lips before it faded so you could kiss the man that now hovered above you. “Do you want me to have fake sex with you?” Your words were swallowed by his mouth, eager and more than happy to kiss you. His knees sunk into the bed on either side of your hips, hands doing the same to the mattress beside your head. “Fake sex?” His whisper was soft, nose skimming your own as he spoke. “How on earth would we pull that off?” A lazy smile pulled at your lips.

You shifted your weight beneath the man once more before moving your small hands to the blanket that rested around his hips and drew the material up to the middle of his back. Spreading your legs wide, the straps of your dress fell from their position on your shoulder to instead dangle around your arms. If anyone were to walk in, all it would take would be a little jolt of Alfie’s hips and a mind-numbing expression of pleasure on your face to convince them. The pair of you looked naked, you just had to play the role of a couple having sex now. “Moan.” You muttered quietly to him.

Alfie gave you a look of surprise. “I don’t moan.” He growled softly, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at you. “Everyone moans.” You rolled your eyes, hands slithering between the pair of your bodies. “Moan, Alfie, it’s not that hard.” You allowed your slender finger to trace the front of his chest, letting it glide all the way down and to the skin beneath his navel. You watched his eyes flutter before he forced them heavily open. “Aww.. you like that?” You smirked lazily. “Alfie Solomons, a very dangerous and mean gangster has a weak spot.” You cooed playfully before wiggling beneath him. “I’ve got more than one.” He sighed beneath his breath as he stared down st you, his biggest weakness. “Moan, Alfie.” You instructed once more, arm folding beneath your head so you had a good view of him. “I’ll do it right after, I just think it’s more believable if you go first.”

Alfie rolled his eyes before averting them. He felt uncomfortable and yet.. not. His head tipped forward to rest against your own and as you’d told him to, he moaned. It was soft and low and you were positive nobody else could’ve heard it, but it took you a moment to tell him it wasn’t good enough. It definitely was.. it just wasn’t loud. Your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling his face toward yours. If all of this wasn’t for an act, you were sure it would be so much more enjoyable. Your head dipped and your pink lips pressed against his throbbing pulse. Goosebumps scattered along his sensitive skin, drawing a slow smile from you. Your mouth suckled at the thin skin above his pulse, tugging and licking at the flesh until it was purple and bruised. Alfie groaned breathily, unable to hide the fact that he really did enjoy what you were doing. He just wasn’t loud enough. Your lips trailed up his neck and to his fuzzy coated jaw, cheeks, and chin. Kissing each area of skin sweetly, your mouth eventually settled on his. Alfie knew this was all just an act, but the way you were kissing him didn’t feel like an act. There was depth and passion in the way your lips moved against his. The two of you were in private and didn’t really even kiss in public. It was meant to be the other way around. Your arms circled Alfie’s neck, lips moving slowly against his own as your feet brushed along his calf. Breathy moans escaped your lips as his tongue swiped along your own, but none of your moans, even mixed with his, were loud enough for anyone to hear. You didn’t think.

Thomas was lounging in his office, head tilted back to rest against the dark chair he was situated on. The velvet rubbed the back of his neck soothingly with each roll of his neck. He adjusted his grip on the lit cigarette, eyes moving toward the vents as everything went silent. “Grace.” He called quietly, his deep voice carrying through the small room. The blonde lifted her eyes to the man, one brow lifting slightly. “Mh?” Her red nails traced the page of her book before she squinted lightly, growing a little impatient when her husband took his time to speak. “Go check on them, will you?” Grace’s eyes drifted to the vent in the corner. “They’re quiet, Tommy, they’ve probably just gone back to sleep.” The man grumbled before sitting up. Dabbing out the end of his cigarette, he stood. “Right.” He sidestepped the sofa in the center of the room before hauling open the white wooden door and making his way downstairs. It was time to eat anyways, he could smell the food simmering. He licked his pink lips, its usual dryness fading as the moisture wet it. “Alfie?” The deep voice filled the hall.

You froze beneath the man. Your lips ceased their movements, head dropping down on the pillow. This was the time to really act. “Oh.. god.” You suddenly whimpered, brows lifting as you stared up at Alfie. His hand lifted away from the mattress so his fingers could wrap around the headboard. “Mate, yeah, I’m a bit fucking busy!” A lazy smile painted itself across your face, breaths normal and features happy as you let out another fake, but very realistic sounding groan of enjoyment. Thomas cocked a brow at the sound before pressing his shoulder against the wall. “Food’s ready. Was just coming to tell you.” His eyes fell to the floor, searching for a shadow. There was none. He lifted his gaze back to the knob. “I’m a bit full, mate.” Alfie knelt up on top of you and went to pull back, but you, apparently smarter when it came to faking this, flipped him over. You stood up so your body towered over his own. Smirking down at him, you began to jump, effectively creating a loud creaking in the mattress. Thomas lifted an eyebrow at the sound before folding his arms and distancing slightly. “Alright, Alfie. Guests will arrive soon and Y/N,” There was a brief pause. “There’s a dress hanging in the closet for you.”

You ceased your movements. Arching a brow, your eyes slid to the door before you dropped down. Straddling Alfie Solomons wasn’t something you’d ever really thought you’d do, but now here you were, settled on his thighs as he sighed breathily. The mattress continued to creak as you moved toward him. “We’d better end it there.” Leaning over, you kissed his lips softly before sliding off of the bed. Wounding your fingers in your dark hair, you twisted your locks before settling them on the top of your head in a neat bun. “We aren’t breathing heavy.” You alerted Alfie quietly as you moved toward the vanity in the corner. It was a dark brown, smooth to the touch. It was very beautiful. “You were just jumping.” He pointed out in surprise. If he would’ve bounced like you had been, he’d be doubled over on the floor, unable to suck in gulps of much needed air.

“And you didn’t do anything except lie there. If this were real sex, I’d expect a lot more.” You pointed a finger at him before tutting. Your barefeet hit the floor softly, padding along it as you approached the closet doors. The hinges creaked as you slid it open, eyes instantly settling on the only attire in the entire space. It was red and beautiful. Shimmery and breathtaking. There was lace on the bodice and it was low-cut so Alfie, along with every other man, would have a great view. You rolled your eyes before dragging the fabric out and holding it up for Alfie to see. “It’s beautiful.” You beamed.

Alfie sat up slowly, blue eyes unmoving from you as you stared at the dress. “Yeah.” He agreed softly, though he still hadn’t even looked at the fabric. He was stuck staring at you. “Uh-“ He rose. “Well, I’m going to go, yeah, get some clothes for myself, right and you, yeah, you put that on and I’ll be back in just a minute.” You we’re oblivious to his racing thoughts so you merely nodded before turning away. The second he left, you began to pull off your clothing, hurriedly undoing the zipper on the back of the red dress so you could tug it on. The last thing you needed was for Alfie to come in here while you were undressed. The heavy fabric was a bit difficult to pull on, but you managed eventually. It embraced every curve you had and though you didn’t have the biggest breasts, this dress did wonders. Smiling at your reflection, you didn’t have much time alone to yourself. Alfie made his way back into the room, changed and ready. He wore some fancy black trousers and a white button down. He looked like he usually did. As handsome as always. You pursed your lips in faux examination, pretending to scrutinize him before you stepped toward him. “You look good.” You pointed out, but Alfie was still, mouth agape as he stared at you and then your dress. “My god..” He whispered, swallowing audibly. “You look.. wow.” His eyes lifted away from the dress to instead study your own. You fluttered your lashes slowly before approaching him further. “Well, thank you, Mr. Solomons.” Leaning up on your tiptoes, your lips skimmed his own. He’d left the door open and you’d taken advantage of it. Kissing him twice more, you hmphed beneath your breath. “I’ve got to go find Grace. I’ll see you in a bit.”

———

It was an hour later before you were able to find Alfie again. Guests were piled practically on top of each other as they all danced along to the warm tune that filled the room. Your makeup was done and your hair was neater, you looked absolutely elegant. Around your neck an angelic necklace hung, chain dipping into your cleavage, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. In the center, near a lengthy table that had food laid across, Alfie stood, fingers picking here and there as he ate what he pleased. “I’m back.” You cooed, the second you were within his earshot. You’d never seen a man look in your direction so quickly. His eyes lit up and the food he held fell back on to the plate. “Y/N.” He stepped toward you. He was absolutely speechless and you found it very charming. “I came to dance.. and it looks like you were waiting for me.” You teased, though you offered your hand. Alfie was not a dancer. But he would do it if he meant he got to hold you for the night. Nothing but the pair of your bodies, wrapped around each other as you swayed to the music. He’d definitely do that.

“You, right, you’re really fucking beautiful.” Alfie muttered against your ear as you drew yourself into his body. His voice was so soft, it tickled the sensitive skin on your neck when it wafted over your flesh. You looped your arms around his shoulders and tightened your grip on him slightly, eyes fluttering. “It’s the dress, Alfie.” The pair of you swayed lazily along to the music, paying no mind to other couples that danced alongside you. Alfie was oblivious to people who greeted him and you were oblivious to those who complimented your attire. There was only Alfie right now. You hated it. Why did you feel like this. “It’s not the fucking dress, yeah. Its you.” He would’ve expanded his sentence further, but you cut him off with a gentle sigh. “I’ve worked for you for years.” You spoke quietly, head tilting downward so your breaths hit the buttons on the front of the white shirt he wore. “You’ve never called me beautiful before.”

Alfie hunched over, arm tightening around your waist. Your words were true, but just because he didn’t express his feelings verbally didn’t mean he hadn’t always had that opinion. “No, dove, I never have, but that’s just because I, right, didn’t think you’d ever be interested in someone like me.” The hardwood floor was slippery beneath you so you kept a very firm grip on Alfie. Thomas danced a few feet away with Grace, entire room loud and lively. You leaned in so you didn’t miss a single word Alfie said. Your brow lifted before you drew back so you could see him fully. His broad chest puffed out beneath your gaze, features attempting to harden, but his eyes were too soft. He tried to change his demeanor so he didn’t look so.. weak and emotional, but it was impossible to shield the way he felt from you. “Alfie.. why would I not be interested in you?” The question was serious but a hint of a giggle left your lips, trailing along behind your words. Your eyes slid between his curiously. Had Alfie ever let anyone that close to him? Had anybody ever told the man that they loved him? Your fingers slid along the front of his body, caressing the front of his shirt slowly.

The man let out a low chortle of disbelief. “Look at you, yeah,” He ushered to you, briefly lifting his hand away from your hip to motion along your form. “You’re.. a whole fucking lot better looking than I am and you’ve got a sweet side to you, pet, feisty as well, right, I know that better than anyone, but you, yeah, are too fucking good for anyone, let alone me.” You raised an impressed brow before slinking forward. Your arms tightened around his neck, ears twitching each time his cockney accent thickened further. “You have a sweet spot as well, Mr. Solomons. I’ve seen it. Gentlemen, they kiss women on the head before sleeping. They ask women to dance. They open the car door for you and hold you close.. protectively. You, Alfie, are a lot more charming than you seem to be aware of.” The tops of your nails traced the back of his hot neck slowly, smiling up at him. His eyes danced with an emotion you hadn’t seen before so you studied the little beam in his soft-colored orbs. “Right, well why haven’t you let me take you out on a proper date yet, mh?” He spun you smoothly before pulling your back against his chest so he could cradle you. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you tilted your head back to rest it against his chest. “Because you haven’t asked.” You whispered, head turning to the side so your words filled his ear. He licked his lips before slowly placing his hand on your stomach. Dragging you in even closer to his body, his lips parted near your own ear, but a deep voice ruined the moment.

“Alfie? Could I have a word with you?” The gangster tore his eyes away from you, a heavy weight grabbing ahold of his heart. Never in all his life had he ever had the courage to tell a woman just how he felt and right when he had it, the opportunity was ripped away. Alfie cleared his throat before straightening. “Fucking hell, Tommy.” The Baker began to pull away but you tightened your grip on him, lips parted. “Alfie..” You whispered. Though his name was swallowed by the loud music, he felt as if he’d heard it. His dark eyes, now angry and disappointed fell on you. Your brows lifted. “Don’t be so sour, come here.” As if he were under your spell, he obediently moved toward you, unafraid to reveal how weak he was when it came to you in front of Tommy. You cupped the side of his neck and gently pulled his lips to your own. You knew he had business to take care of, but if he thought he could walk away from such a conversation without so much as kissing you, he needed to rethink his thoughts. Your lips moved slowly against his own, savoring the feel and taste of him, though you were sure he wouldn’t be gone that long.” You let a little moan free, most of it for Alfie and part of it for Thomas. Your tongue ran over Alfie’s at a rather painfully slow pace before you drew back. Wiping the corners of his lips to rid of any lipsticks, you smiled slowly.

“We will continued this conversation tonight, mh?” You whispered, receiving an instant nod from him. Thomas stood a few inches away, one hand tucked away in the dark pocket of his trousers as the other cradled an unlit, wobbling cigarette. He was growing a bit impatient, but had to admit the pair of you made a good looking couple. Thomas turned when Alfie began to follow and you were suddenly left alone in the center of the room. You’d never felt so vulnerable before. Your hand lifted to ensure your bun was still in place as you slowly set off to find Grace or any other Shelby.

Alfie briefly craned his neck to peer over his shoulder and look at you one more time, but the crowd was too large and had swept you away. He looked back toward Thomas. “Right, mate, why are we having to go so fucking far away from the party, yeah, I don’t like to leave Y/N by herself.” Alfie halted in the hallway, briefly inspecting the framed photos that hung crookedly on the worn walls. Thomas turned to face him with a grunt before shifting his weight. “I heard you’re working with Sabini.” Alfie cocked a brow. “Nah, Tommy, you didn’t invite me and the girl all the way out here, right, to ask me such a simple fucking question, so skip that fucking one, yeah, since you clearly know the fucking answer and get to the actual fucking point.” Thomas tongued his cheek lightly, counting the amount of times Alfie used the word ‘fuck.’ Too many was the result.

“Answer the question, Alfie. It’s a simple yes or no.” The dark-haired, blue-eyed man spoke. He withdrew a box of matches from his pocket before harshly rubbing the tip of it over the black rectangle on the top of the box. The flame ignited so he lifted the heat to the end of the cigarette and lit it. Studying Alfie as he did so, he inhaled deeply before tucking the matches away. “I, yeah, I’m not fucking working with anyone right now. Sabini, right, he’s a bit too wishy-washy for my fucking liking and he had a man, yeah, come to my fucking shop, walking about. I fucking shot him, so if you’ve got something to worry about, it’s one of those fucking Italians showing up here, uninvited. Now, Tommy, if you can’t trust me, yeah, say so now, I don’t want to have to spend the rest of my fucking evening looking over my shoulder, right, and watching my fucking back because one of your fucking brothers might possible fire a bullet into the back of my head, yeah.” Thomas smiled slowly before lifting his brows in understanding. “I invited you here for a good time, Mr. Solomons. Go have it. Keep a close eye on your girl though. Shelby boys have a hard time keeping their hands off of what isn’t there’s.”

Alfie clenched his jaw as the man slipped past him and headed back to the main room. The black trench coat he wore swished in the wind as he vanished back into the room. Alfie shook his head in disbelief before moving back down the corridor and into the loud room. His chest was vibrating from how loud it was. Contagious laughter and drunken conversations danced along to the beat of the music as he pushed through the sweaty bodies. His eyes were alert, searching for you in the crowd. Thomas had interrupted such a cherished conversation for something beyond stupid and Alfie was holding his breath, hoping the conversation could resume now opposed to later. He didn’t see you anywhere though and the little bubble in his chest, the bubble of worry, popped. Suddenly, he felt nauseous. The Shelby’s wouldn’t hurt you. But he didn’t know anyone else at this gathering so he felt like he had no control. His blue eyes flickered from guest to guest, scanning each face. “Alfie?” Your hand pressed against his shoulder.

The man whirled around in surprise. He looked ready to maul someone. You lifted a brow at his expression before adjusting the second drink you cradled in your hand. “I.. are you alright?” You questioned, lips pursing as he didn’t speak. He grunted beneath his breath before slowly licking his lips. “Course.” His voice was flooded with relief. A small smile played on your lips before you handed him the drink you’d brought for him. “Do you want to go somewhere more private? So we can talk?” You asked softly, feeling a bit shy now that you knew he actually did have some amount of feelings for you. His eyebrows furrowed before he nodded lightly, hand falling to the middle of your back. This was a large home. Surely there was somewhere they could go and be alone. The pair of you set off, both of you quiet, raking your brains for conversation starters, but you were sure it would be fine once you were actually alone. Alfie led you down a lengthy corridor and toward a door at the back. “Horny couples are bound to dip into one of the first fucking doors, right.” He explained as he nudged the wood open. You stepped inside with a lazy grin before eyeing the interior. A large bed resided in the center with the most expensive set of lights dangling from the ceiling. Alfie shut the door and twisted the look to prevent any interruptions. You sighed gently before slowly lowering yourself down on the bed. “So.” You studied him, attempting to read the look on his face. “So.” He repeated, moving toward the wall to study more photographs. The drink in his hand was untouched, whereas yours was half empty. “So you like me.” You blurted out. Alfie lifted a brow, head craning so he could look toward you with a surprised look. “To put it bluntly.” He chuckled, eyeing the way your cheeks reddened. “And you?” A soft hum left your lips and then a gentle nod. The bed creaked as you shifted, unsure whether or not this meant things between the two of you could progress. “Does it bother you that I’m your boss?” He asked, arms folding as he leaned back against the grey wall. You shook your head. “Of course not.. I haven’t exactly been looking at you like your my boss over the last few days, Alfie.”

The man pushed himself off of the wall and made his way toward you. He briefly adjusted the cuffs on his white shirt before lowering himself down at your side. “I suppose I should take you out officially, yeah, not as my little prop or whatever it is ive been doing to you.” You smiled slowly. “I’d like that.” Your hand fell to rest on his knee, tracing his skin through the black slacks he wore. “So the kisses.. have those been genuine?” You asked the man softly, curiosity swimming in your gaze as you ogled him. He smiled. “I’d say so, yeah, ever since yesterday was when I fucking realized, but I suppose, right, the second we started this little thing Ive felt real feelings toward you.” Goosebumps scattered along your skin before you shivered as a delicate warmth spread through you. “You could’ve had me a long time ago, Alfie.” You whispered before slowly leaning into him so you could lay your head on his soft, but large shoulder. His hand covered the one you had on his knee and his lips skimmed the top of your head. “I was oblivious.” He muttered, drawing a grin from you. “But I won’t be anymore.” You suckled on your lower lip before turning your head so you could see Alfie. Your eyes fell to his mouth and you begged for him to kiss you inwardly. Lucky for you, he wasn��t an idiot. The man lifted his hand to cup the back of your neck before he drew you in for a long, but very slow kiss. He poured every ounce of affection into it, wanting to ensure that you knew how he really felt. You had another date with Alfie Solomons, but this time would be very, very different..

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Part 1  Part 2   Part 3

Tagged: @thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @ihclipse @callisen @hardygal69 @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15 @kitcatimpala67 @captstefanbrandt @meer0rauschen @crldrr @vanillafarts

I haven’t had the chance to proofread so sorry for any mistakes!!! I have a super good idea for the next chapter and am really excited to write it (: