#and then it all sits in a pile by my bed that i sift through for 2 weeks until i have to do laundry again

[pillowprincessvarric]

Did laundry, folded laundry, AND put laundry away today everyone clap you're sooooo proud of me you want to clap and throw me a party

#usually i only get the first part done. second as well if we are lucky. #and then it all sits in a pile by my bed that i sift through for 2 weeks until i have to do laundry again #but not today! that shit is in the closet #where! it! goes!!!!!

[hellfiremunsonn]

Tender Touches. Eddie Munson x Reader

Tender Touches

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: A typical Tuesday that leads to you and Eddie finally confessing your feelings for each other, and finally, losing that virgin status.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, virgin reader, virgin Eddie, hes such a teasing little shit, protected sex, first times, 'fem' pet names (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: I CAN WRITE? WHO KNEW!!!  NOT REALLY PROOF READ (And shout out to my bby boy @rowanswriting for giving this a read through for me to make sure it wasn't absolute garbage! love u <3)

Wordcount: 4.6k

It's a normal Tuesday afternoon. You're at eddies, kneeled in front of his tv that he's moved into his room so the two of you can lay in his bed and watch movies instead of squishing together on the couch. Not that you didn't mind squishing up with him, it was actually one of your favourite activities when the two of you weren't constantly teasing each other to cover up the fact that you both were head over heels for one another. 

You can hear Eddie bumbling around in the kitchen, muttering to himself while you sift through the pile of tapes. Some newly rented, some classics he already owned, so it was just a matter of deciding on watching something new or rewatching something just cause. You decided on The Lost Boys. You had only seen it once before when Eddie rented it for halloween one year, but never made it through the whole thing because you had fallen asleep. You had come down with a cold only two days before and were upset you couldn't do your halloween traditions, but naturally that didn't stop Eddie from showing up at your door step, with snacks, and drinks to make you feel better along with the movie and cuddles from him that could never compare to anyone else's. 

You were so lost in thought that the entire time you've been sat going through the movies you didn't realize Eddie had been watching you. Stood in the doorway with a stupid smile on his face while he watched you quietly talk to yourself about each movie. 

He tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, pretending to clear his throat and slightly startling you in the process. "Pick one yet?"

You squeaked slightly at his voice. "Shit Ed's you scared me"

He laughed, laying down on his bed, setting the bowl of popcorn down in the middle, and putting your drinks on the table next to him. "It's not my fault you're so jumpy all the time" 

"I swear I only get this bad around you" you say with a fake sigh, sliding the movie out of its cardboard case and into the VHS machine. 

"That sounds like a you problem dude" he says flicking a piece of popcorn at you. It hits you in the forehead and lands in your lap. 

"Rude" you mumble, picking up the piece of popcorn and eating it before standing up with a stretch. Arms over your head with your fingers interlocked; your cropped band t-shirt rising up, to where it's about a centimetre away from fully exposing your boobs but the stretch feels too good for you to notice. Eddie notices though, and he almost fully chokes and gags on his own spit at the sight of the soft skin of your underboob. 

You crawl your way onto Eddies bed and sit next to him, pulling the popcorn bowl closer to you, and taking a tiny handful. Eddies body is ridged next to you, but you don't seem to notice.

You make it about ten minutes into the movie before your fourth sigh of the night makes Eddie take the bowl of popcorn from you and turns to face you. "Alright, what's your issue?" he asks.

"What? What are you talking about?" you sit up, pushing yourself up with your hands and crossing your legs under you. 

"You've been sighing every five seconds like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, so what is it" he pokes your shoulder a little too hard and you wince but smile nonetheless. 

"If I ask you something stupid do you promise not to laugh?" you gnaw at your bottom lip, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

"Have I ever?" he says quickly, a smug smile on his face.

"Often actually" you tease.

"No but seriously, you can tell me anything" he says reaching over to give your thigh a gentle pat and squeeze. 

"Okay, um, do you think I'm hot?" you can feel the heat of embarrassment rise from your stomach up your neck to your cheeks. 

Eddie stares at you. You almost think he might actually be frozen, and you're about to ask him if he's okay when he exhales loudly. 

"I'm not sure what you're asking me here" he says with a small laugh. "Are you asking if I'm attracted to you orrrrr?" he raises a brow.

"Well, no" you furrow your brows. "Not exactly, but if you are attracted to me, that might help?" You groan, dropping your head into your hands. "ugh, okay" you said loudly and taking a deep breath. Pretending that it will help you feel more confident with your words.

"When you look at me, or when we first met did, did you think 'wow she's hot' or do I just not look like that?" the words tumble out of your mouth, almost too quickly that Eddie slightly struggles to understand you at first. 

Eddie looks at you in disbelief before letting out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

"S'not funny!" you say slapping him on the arm, which only spurs him on.

"No, no it's not" he said in between breaths. "It's just an absolutely ridiculous question, of course you're hot" he said matter of fact. "Have you ever even looked at yourself?" He puts the bowl of popcorn down on the floor next to him, turning to fully face you now making you feel nervous with all his attention on you.

"I look at myself everyday Ed's" you say looking down, playing with the hem of one of your socks.

"Okay don't get an attitude with me, you know what I mean" he said while crossing one arm over his chest to scratch at the opposite bicep, you bite your lip at the sight.

You roll your eyes and huff. "M'not getting an attitude Ed's I ju-" (you were absolutely getting an attitude) But he grabs your face with one hand before you can finish the sentence, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are in a pout. You had thought that your face couldn't heat up any more with embarrassment than it already had, but then his hands touched your face and your entire body engulfed in heat.

"Answer the question" he said slowly, each word enunciated and his tone oddly stern. Watching you for a moment, before releasing your face from his hand, leaning back against the wall.

Your heart was thumping in your chest. "I j-just don't see what other people see obviously, a-and maybe I'm missing something you know? And that's why people don't like me" you rush.

He scoffs, shaking his head, leaning back until he was looking up at the ceiling. Throat on display, thick and inviting, begging to be bitten. You swallowed hard when he looked back at you, some sort of mischief in his eyes. 

"Ed's you're being weird" you say shifting slightly, trying to ignore the roaring heat you could feel between your legs.

He hums. "Do you not see the way I look at you?" he leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs while he looks at you intently. 

"I can see the way you're looking at me right now" you say softly, heart thumping so loudly in your ears you wondered if it was loud enough for Eddie to hear.

"And how am I looking at you right now?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow thickly, only raising your eyes to his briefly while you said. "You're looking at me like you want to-" you lick your lips. "-Like you want to fuck me"

His smile spreads slowly, it's a wicked grin that makes you nervous but intrigues you more. 

"There's my smart girl" he coos. 

Your mouth falls agape, unsure at how to respond to him "Huh?"

He's quick, grabbing at your legs until he's pulled you down enough so you're laying on your back, hair sprawled around you messily while your breath catches in your throat. He's hovering over you with both his hands on either side of your head looking at you like he's on death row and you're his last meal.

"I want to do a lot more than fuck you, but I'd like to start with a kiss if that's okay?"

You're in shock, you almost consider pinching yourself to make sure this isn't a dream "You want to kiss me?" you ask. "Did I fall and hit my head or something?" you lean up on your elbows and Eddie moves back slightly to accommodate you but still stays close.

"For someone who's as smart as you are, you can be really dumb sometimes" Eddie laughs. "Of course I want to kiss you, you idiot" he says all too casually. 

Something blooms inside you. You don't know if its confidence, or arousal, but with a laugh you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips into his. He lets out a small groan and it fuels the heat between your legs more spreading throughout your entire body until it reaches the centre of your chest. His lips are soft and pillowy just like you had imagined. He taste like cigarettes, popcorn, and the sugar from the candies you had shared. 

You push yourself forward more until Eddie leans back almost completely. "Sit" you mumble against his mouth and he listens, not letting your lips be untouched for more than a second while he moves to sit on the edge of his bed. You quickly straddle him, hands coming up to either sides of his face to deepen the kiss, and his squeeze at the sides of your hips, earning a small moan that you tried to keep quiet. You don't realize you're not putting your full weight on him until you feel him guide your hips closer, the brush of his hardened cock against your centre makes you squeak in surprise. 

The two of you move together like you knew what you were doing, it was instinct considering you never made it this far with most of the people you've been with. Sure you've fooled around with others, and you've done most of the sexual acts your mind could comprehend but neither of you had been able to discard that 'virgin' title. But it's never felt like this, it never felt electric, and the shocking realization that you could make Eddie feel this good makes you even more turned on. 

Eddie pulls back slightly when he realizes you've started to grind against him. "W-We don't have to do anything if you don't want to" he says breathlessly. 

"I know" you whisper "But this feels really good" you admit, never once stopping the motion of your hips. 

"You're gunna make me cum in my pants if you keep doing that" he says glancing down to watch the roll of your hips. 

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, pressing down on him a little harder which makes him close his eyes tight and groan. 

"You don't wanna start that game sweetheart" his hands are tight where they've moved to your thighs, squeezing harshly. 

"Why not?" you say looking at him, eyes blown out and glassy, you feel drunk off of want-Need.

"Cause you won't win" Eddie says with a smirk. One arm wrapping around your waist as he pushes himself up into you hard, a forced moan slipping from your mouth loudly while he flips the two of you, until you're on your back under him once again. 

"How do you know how to do all that?" You ask through a small gasp.

"I'm a virgin sweetheart, not inexperienced" he smirks and you open your eyes just quickly enough to catch the end of it. 

"Can I keep getting those pretty sounds outta you?" his cheeks are flushed, and you think he's never looked prettier.

You nod quickly, pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt, trying to get him closer "More" you plead. "Please?"

"Yeah? You want more?" He asks while looping his fingers into the waistband of your pants, inching them down so, so, slowly until your lower half is bare before him. You whine impatiently and he smiles. "You can have anything you want baby I'll give it to you" 

You cover your face with your hands, heat rising to your cheeks at the way he called you baby while undressing you. He moves your hands away, a cocky smile on his face. "What's got you all shy now hmm?"

"You can't just call me baby like that" you breathe, watching him in a daze as he trailed kisses down between the valley of your breasts, barely covered by the crop top you wore. 

"Why not?" he mumbles against your skin, nipping and licking at any spot he can get access. You keen into his touch, your waist instinctively following the warmth of his mouth. 

You hum, forcing the words to come to you, but he's making you feel so good. "Gives me butterflies" you murmur. "B-but, like lower?" brows furrowed.

Eddies head shoots up to look at you when he hears that. Your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back so you can't see him look at you. "Lower?" he asks trailing a finger from your sternum down to your waist.

"Yeah" you nod and sigh.

Eddie coos "You tellin' me I give your pussy butterflies?" His hand continues down you until his palm pushes against your clit. You know he's smirking, you know he's looking up at you, but you can't open your eyes to look.

You hate the way pussy rolls of his tongue, but you hate the way it makes your stomach flip more, and the pathetic noise of a whimper that leaves you when he says it. 

"Can we, c-could y-you" your trying to get the words out but your arousal fogs your mind, the only thing there is Eddie.

"What is it baby, what do you need?" his thumb swipes at your clit and you mewl. 

You finally open your eyes, tilting your head to your shoulder to look at him. His eyes are down where his thumb is connected to you, watching in awe the way your cunt literally shines for him. His eyes flick back up quickly and he smiles when he sees you looking back at him. 

"Can we have sex?" you say quickly and so very quiet Eddie almost doesn't catch it. 

"Do you want to?" He asks seriously. 

You nod. "I feel like I'm on fire, I want to feel you, I need it" you say it so surely that Eddie has to bite his tongue from declaring his love for you right then and there, so instead he just nods leaning back onto his knees, too far away from you for your liking and you pout. 

"Show me how you touch yourself first" he says while reaching behind him to pull his shirt over his head.

"What!?" you prop yourself up onto your elbows, mouth agape in shock knees knocking together.

"Show me" he says with a nod, eyes flicking down to your slick pussy that he can still see despite your attempt to hide it, and then back up to you. "How you touch yourself" his words are slow, just like his hands as they undo his belt, pulling it out of its loops and chucking it onto the floor. 

You hesitate still, watching him while he pops the button of his jeans and pulls at them so the zipper slides down. "Listen, I'm sure I can figure it out myself, but I'd have a better chance at making you cum if you show me" he smirks. 

That smug bastard. It takes everything in you to keep your voice steady but when you speak, you don't break eye contact and say "I'd rather you put your mouth on me instead" 

He falters only slightly. It's the way his smile drops just barely at the corner of his mouth and the way his cheeks flush that you're able to catch it. He laughs in disbelief, tugging his jeans down just a little to relieve some pressure, exposing the soft happy trail just below his belly button.

You bite your lip and hum at the sight, dreaming about the way it would feel if you dragged your tongue over it. "I don't know if I can wait that long though" you admit, sighing when you look back up at him. 

"Wait that long for what?" he says slowly crawling his way back on top of you, knee slotting perfectly between your legs. You flinch when the fabric of his jeans makes contact with your clit.

"Tell me what you're waiting for hmm?" he asked, that stupid smirk you already know is plastered on his face. 

You're getting needy, and Eddie is memorizing every sound and movement you make because of it. Determined to get you like this as often as you'll let him. "Please" you whine, and you curse yourself for the tears you feel prick at the corner of your lashes. 

"Please what" he crowds your space, enveloping you in all of him. 

"Please sir? Please Daddy? Please Master? Please Eddie?" you rush frustrated. "I n-need you Eds please" 

"Fuck" he breathes, head falling until his forehead is resting against your shoulder. "You sure?" he asks again, looking back at you for reassurance. 

"Yeah" you lick your lips, mouth dry with excitement. "I'm sure"

"It- Um, okay, I might not last very long" he says bashfully, leaning back from you to lean over to his bedside table, picking out a shiny packet and tossing it onto the bed next to you. 

"I don't care" you shake your head smiling, you're so blissed out, you can't imagine how you'll feel when he gets to fuck you properly but that's for another day.

He huffs a laugh, pulling back from you to take his jeans and boxers off. You admire him, finally getting a glance at what you've been dreaming of. His dick is perfect needless to say, but you can't help the nerves that bloom in your stomach about what the two of you are about to do. 

Eddie catches the change in your eyes and is quick to reassure you, with a hand on your knee, resting his chin on it and giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it'll be okay, we'll go slow okay? If it sucks, just tell me, I'll wait forever for this, as long as its with you"

Your eyes water at his sincerity and he panics slightly when he sees your bottom lip wobble. "Baby, hey, come here" he lays next to you and pulls you into him, and you gladly hide your face into the crook of his shoulder, sniffing slightly. 

"You're so sweet to me" you say quietly.

"Well it's cause I love you" he says, and you both still for a moment, because that's the first time those words have been fully and truthfully spoken with romantic intent. 

"You love me?" you ask, leaning back to look up at him. Even though he just said it, and you know it's the truth, it's what you've been waiting to hear for the last three years. 

He nods and smiles, his cheeks pink as he says "I do"

You giggle. "I love you to"

"Gross" he says before leaning down to kiss you quick. "Wanna try?"

"Yeah" you take a breath. "Yeah, I'm ready, m'just nervous that it's going to hurt" you admit. 

"It might, but tell me if it's too much okay? If I had known this was going to be happening today I would have restocked my lube"

You snort at his unfiltered self, never afraid to say what he's thinking.

It's shaky hands and fumbling movements, shoving your faded sea creature themed comforter you always brought with you for sleep overs, down as far as it could go. It's the first time the two of you have seen each other like this, the tension building over the last three years as the two of you pretended you weren't head over heels for each other it felt like you could explode.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, hands slipping under the sides of your shirt. 

You nod, lifting yourself up to fling it over your head and onto his floor, and he drinks in the sight of your bare chest. He stares for a moment, just taking you in, like he's dreamed about.

"You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before" you tease.

"I've seen plenty of tits" he scoffs. "but I haven't seen such perfect tits before" and he dives in, kissing every inch of them, mouthing at the skin, and licking each of your nipples until you're keening into his touch. He only stops when you whimper because he knows you're growing needier by the second. 

"I know m'sorry" he says breathlessly against your sternum. Sitting back up onto his knees he reaches for the condom next to you, tearing the wrapper by the corner and pulling out the slippery latex circle. You watch as he slips it on so quickly, like he's done this a million times, and just before you can ask "I've practiced" he says with a smirk, coming back to rest between the safety of your thighs, hugging his hips perfectly. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Yeah" you nod with a smile. 

"Okay" he breathes. "Fuck, yeah, okay, okay" he takes his cock into his hand, pushing it through your slick folds and the two of you moan in unison. Gathering your arousal l until he dips just below to your entrance, looking back up at you for approval. 

You nod again. "That's the right spot" you encourage and he laughs. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop okay?"

"I will baby I promise"

he leans over you quickly to kiss you, because how could he not when you just called him baby like that? Slowly he pushes the head of his cock against you. Just the slight pressure of his cock feels good but it doesn't erase the nerves bubbling through you as Eddie pushes in more.

"Sh-it" you say through gritted teeth. 

"D'you want me to stop?"

"No no, sorry, just, weird feeling, never had anything so um" you giggle and Eddies eyes panicky search yours, because why are you laughing when his dick is about to enter you. 

"Please don't tell me my dick is small, not now, I couldn't handle it" 

You laugh again but louder, switching to a moan when Eddies own laughter causes him to push in a little more. Your hands coming up to hold his biceps. 

"I've never had anything so big in me" 

"Don't flatter me" he teases.

"Oh fuck off" you slap his arm before returning your hand back to it.

He slips in inch by inch, and it doesn't not hurt, but it doesn't feel entirely great either. It's a mixture of pain and pleasure, with the oddest comforting feeling of him so deep inside you. 

"Fucking christ" Eddie breathes when he bottoms out, arms shaking from where they hold himself up above you. "If I move I'm cumming in like thirty seconds, tops"

You laugh and he groans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. 

"Fuck, don't, you can't laugh" he says, but you can't help it especially when he says it through a laugh himself. 

"Stop making me laugh then!" you quip. 

And so he does, slipping one hand between your two bodies until he finds your slippery clit, rubbing circles that has you embarrassingly and shockingly close to cumming. Your back arches with a gasp, another pornographic moan leaving you as Eddie continues his movements. Eventually slowly pulling himself out an inch before going back in. You don't even realize he's doing it until one thrust and clench of your cunt happen at the same time and you almost choke on your spit at how good it feels. 

"Holy shit" you breathe. 

"I know" Eddie says through a laugh of disbelief. 

A thick heat engulfs your body, sweat forming between your two bodies, and you feel everything in you begin to tremble. 

"You okay?" he says from the crook of your neck.

"Uh-huh" you nod with a hiccup.

Eddie pulls himself from your neck to look at you, concerned with the sad noise that you made. He slows down and you open your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that blur your vision. They slide down the sides of your temples, and fade into your hairline. Eddies hand comes up to wipe away at the tears, pushing your hair out of your face. 

"Baby, baby, what's going on?"

"M'okay" you say though a small sob. "Just feels really good" you admit. 

"Yeah?" He says picking his speed back up. 

"You're gunna make me cum I think" You say craning your neck to look at where the two of you are connected, his trimmed pubes, wet against yours with your arousal. You slide your hand down to rub at your clit, and the sensation is almost so intense you want to stop, but you're so close. 

"Keep doing that baby, come on" he grunts, gritting his teeth as he fucks into you harder once he realizes you can take it. And boy can you take it.

"Yes, oh- ohmygod!" you whine, head falling back against his pillows. "Please please please please-" You chant. You're not sure if you're asking Eddie for permission or yourself, but him approving it doesn't sound too bad. 

"Come on, you're so close I can feel it" he watches as your legs tremble, slowly moving up, up, up, until your knees are under your chin, toes pointed against his thighs like you're trying to push yourself away from him while your hands cling to his biceps to bring you closer. When you start bouncing yourself back on eddies cock in time with his thrusts he knows he's going to lose it. 

"Cum on this cock pretty girl, come on" his voice shakes, and he's losing his rhythm. 

"I'm- oh I'm- fuck Eddie!" The hand that still holds him grips tightly, nails digging into his skin, and he can feel it start to burn but he doesn't care. 

"Fuck yeah baby, look at you, you're so hot, fucking christ, god, you're amazing, m'gunna cum, shit" he babbles before he cums, spilling more words and expletives as he spills himself inside the condom, inside of you, his words warm against your chest.

Its quiet apart from the two of you catching your breath, relaxing your muscles, and the only time either of you make a noise is when Eddie lifts his head from you, bangs stuck to his forehead in every direction and you can't help but laugh. 

"What?" He says smiling back at you, absolutely in love. 

"You look a mess" you say snorting, pushing his hair away from his face. 

"You look sexy" he says leaning up from you, slowly pulling himself out of you and removing the condom, tying it in a knot and chucking it into his garbage can next to his bed. You make a small whimper of disapproval when he leans back again, thinking he's going to get up. 

"Not going anywhere pretty" he says reaching for the blanket that had been pushed off his bed, bringing it back up, and cuddling it up around you before sliding himself under it next to you. 

You scooch over until you can lay your head on his chest, leg hitching up over his waist and you can feel your arousal leak out of you and probably onto him but you're too blissed out to care.

"I love you" you murmur softly into his skin, placing delicate kisses.

"Hmm?" he lolls his head to the side, eyes sleepy and fond, thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. 

"I love you" you say looking up at him, cheek smushed against his chest. 

"I love you right back" he says without a beat. 

#hellfiremunsonn #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Stranger Things smut #Eddie Munson fan fiction #Stranger things fan fiction #Joseph Quinn #Eddie Munson Stranger Things #Stranger Things Eddie Munson

[janitorhutcherson]

Sacred Self Care (Mike Schmidt)

i'm 100% supposed to be cleaning my room up for family but i may go insane if i do not write RIGHT NOW!! so, this is something i've had in my mind for so long. i PROMISE after thanksgiving i'll give yall peeta and finnick content and get to more asks. i could not hold back on this one any longer though, so sit back, and enjoy!

summary: mike discovers self care, but what happens when his ritual becomes a little too intricate and he ends up in a silly predicament?

warnings: mentions of nudity, one or two innuendos

word count: 2,288

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

Mike Schmidt did not have time to take care of himself. This was a fact that was all too noticeable. His dry curls practically begged to be lathered in moisture, or at least in something that wasn’t a bar of soap that was also used on his face and body. His nails were dirty whenever he was busiest, the only time they were well groomed being when he was prepared to be knuckles deep inside of you. His eyebags were sunken in and his facial hair grew in patches, untrimmed. Mike did not care, nor did he think wasting time on such a meticulous thing would be beneficial to him. There were better things to do than to primp himself when he could be doing something more productive, such as getting to the bottom of his brother’s disappearance… thirteen years later. When he wasn’t obsessing over every minute detail in his dream that could lead him to the solution or fathering Abby in his own backwards but still productive way, he was admiring you and your glory.

While Mike may not have been someone for self-care, you most definitely were. You were constantly looking up new ways to better yourself, new hair masks to try and new ways to make your skin as smooth as butter. The water bill also certainly showed your love for self-care. Some nights, you’d prance into the bedroom after an intricate shower, throwing your leg up on the bed as you demanded for Mike’s rough hands to feel, every centimeter of hair gone, the smell of cocoa butter sifting in the air. He was amused when he’d walk in to you sitting on the couch, some new green goop slathered on your face, or some strange piece of paper stuck to your nose. On occasion, you’d convince Mike to join you and Abby, his desperation to spend more quality time with the two of you trumping his disdain for fifteen minutes of clay on his face. He’d peel away at chunks as they flaked into his lap, you and Abby giggling every few seconds as the pile would grow amusingly larger before Mike would give up, running to the bathroom to scrub his face clean before the timer went off.

He wasn’t sure when it clicked. Perhaps it was when Abby told him he’d looked rough lately (he attempted to take this with a grain of salt, as she was his little sister, scolding her and telling her that was not very nice) or perhaps it was when one morning after work, he’d noticed new wrinkles covering his forehead and increasingly pale skin with purple dips underneath his eyes. One day, he found himself in the shampoo aisle at Target. It started with something simple. He bought real shampoo and conditioner, specifically designed for curly dry hair. He enjoyed the scent it radiated as he lathered it through his locks in the warm shower, the aftermath amazing. He’d never seen his hair so fluffy as it dried, his once brittle strands now feeling smooth as he ran his fingertips through it. Then, there was skincare. Somehow, he ended up getting a free sample in the mail from one of those makeup subscription companies you subscribed to, the company accidentally sending you a made-for-men miniature face wash and eye cream set. You eagerly tossed it his way with a giggle, assuming he tossed it in the trash the moment he got it. Instead, that very night, Mike added it to his shower along with his brand-new hair products, patting the eye cream underneath his eyes once he got out. The next morning, the once deep reddish purple was now only tinted a light color. Before he knew it, underneath the cabinet tucked away in a corner were different hair oils, beard creams, moisturizers, and lotions. He’d gotten into different kinds of cologne, opting for scented deodorants as well.

Mike had to admit, he enjoyed this new routine of his. As it progressed, it became almost ritualistic. He’d get home from work at exactly 6:15, about 45 minutes before you’d wake up. He would hop into the shower, taking in the feeling of his fingertips massaging his scalp, his body feeling the tension flooding down as the water from the shower flooded down the drain. Then, the aromatic smell of musky body wash would fill his nose, cleansing his senses of the smell of ancient dusts from working at the pizzeria. He’d step out of the shower, his skin tinted pink from the hot water, his face freshly washed. He’d apply lotion, shape his beard and add his creams, he’d even gotten into grooming his nails every night, ensuring they were crisply clean and applying a protective clear coat on top.

He couldn’t quite figure out why he was so embarrassed by his ritual. Perhaps it was the way it made him feel less masculine, knowing damn well deep down that it didn’t make him any less of a man and it was just his years’ worth of built-up toxic masculinity that you were so desperately trying to get him to break down. Maybe it was the way he was splurging on things he simply didn’t feel he needed until now, until it suddenly felt like a necessity, something he’d go insane without. Most of all and the most likely of all the scenarios, it was admitting that he was wrong, that something you and Abby had so desperately attempted to beg him to get into was exactly what the two of you had explained to him. It was majestic and comforting. At least 45 minutes a day were dedicated to him and only himself, his whole body feeling renewed each time he stepped out of the shower. He felt rebirthed, imagining this was what religious people felt when they were deemed ‘saved’ at confessional. Even with that being said, he couldn’t let you and Abby in on his little ritual. No, he couldn’t possibly admit to it. It wasn’t because he wanted to hide something from you two but instead because his embarrassment seeped deep down into his skull every time he thought about revealing it. Instead, he would slowly creep himself into bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pretending to sleepily open his eyes as your alarm went off.

You’d suspected he was hiding something, and you were worried. The new signature scents, the freshly groomed look, the way he seemed to care more about his clothing and the wrinkles that were shown. Your first thought was that there was somebody else, someone he had needed to impress, much like he once felt the need to impress you every time he was around you, suppressing his comfortable and more Mike-like fashion choices. In the mornings, you’d sense the lack of his presence after hearing the door creak open, feeling the bed dip right before your alarm went off, sirens ringing in your head each time as if to warn you something wasn’t right. You would spend some nights he was away at work after Abby was in bed evaluating who it could possibly be. There was Vanessa, the blonde police officer who would make occasional appearances in conversation. There was the waitress at the diner who’d taken a liking to Mike, but you weren’t sure who else it could be. Of course, women ogled over Mike all the time in public. There was something about a man with a slightly off putting aura and messy tussled hair. But regardless, you had always trusted him, and besides, Mike didn’t really talk to many people as is.

It wasn’t until Mike added in a peel off face mask into the mix that the jig was up. One week, he’d managed to get the entire week off, ensuring the pizzeria was boarded closed and begging Vanessa to keep an eye on things. You’d felt slightly better having him around more and at normal hours. He was very much still head over heels for you, following you around like a lost puppy, the two of you showering together, cooking together, and of course, having as much ‘alone time’ as you could possibly fit in when Abby was asleep or away at a friends. Even with that, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were passed out on the couch after a movie night and it was late. Mike had crept away from the living room, tucking your sleeping body under a blanket, slipping into the shower. He followed his typical ritual, something he’d had to put off for a while in fear of getting caught, still unsure of what made him so anxious. After his shower, he applied his peel off mask, attempting to avoid his facial hair, but without thinking, he’d applied a layer over his entire chin. What would soon become a panic inducing issue in a short sum of ten minutes hadn’t occurred to him quite yet.

As the timer on his phone went off, he began slowly peeling the mask off, starting at his forehead before he froze, realizing more of his face was covered than usual. He brushed it off, continuing to peel before he noticed that not only was the thin, purple layer coming off, but multiple specks of hair were attached as well. Oh fuck, he thought to himself, unsure of how to proceed. No, he couldn’t just rip it off. He was attached to his facial hair. It made his baby face look mature and manly. No, of course it didn’t occur to him to just add water, simply wiping it away. There was only one option, and that was to waltz into the living room with his bright purple face and to wake you up, puppy dog eyes pleading for you to help him with his predicament.

You stirred away as you felt a hand shake your shoulder, your eyes widening as you sat up with a confused expression.

“Well, hello there,” you croaked out, your voice laced with gravel from exhaustion. He looked at you with embarrassment laced over his face, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Help, please. I…” he trailed off, gesturing his hands towards his face. “I just need it off,” he grumbled lowly, his fingertips holding the piece holding his facial hair tenderly, ensuring he didn’t rip anything else off.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud giggle, amused by the man standing in front of you. You grabbed his hand, leading him into the bathroom. You both sat on the ledge of the tub as you tenderly wiped his face clean with a warm washcloth, his reddened cheeks from both the mask being on too long and the embarrassment becoming more apparent by the second.

“Facial hair is saved,” you said triumphantly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do have to ask though, why the sudden liking to all of this? And why not just.. tell me?” you hummed curiously, shaking your head.

“I just.. I don’t know. I think I didn’t want to admit I was wrong or that I was spending so much money on such worthless stuff. It started out so small and then became so big, I just couldn’t,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I am really sorry for keeping it from you,” he hummed before he went into a further explanation, explaining the way it made him feel.

You let out a sigh of relief along with a content giggle, shaking your head. “I knew something was up, but I wasn’t sure what,” you said, cocking an eyebrow as you placed a hand on his knee, your cheeks now warming up.

“What, did you think I was getting all fancy schmancy for another girl?” he teased, bumping his elbow against your shoulder. Your eyes widened as your mouth opened and closed as you went to say something, his expression dropping into something more serious.

“Oh my god, Y/N, honey, no, I’d never,” he said, placing his warm hand on your exposed shoulder. “Baby, no,” he chuckled, happy he could reassure you but somewhat upset that you had to sit through that alone. “No, I love you very much, I promise you, there is no other woman... just, your silly grumpy man being too embarrassed to admit I like girly things,” he teased, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your lips. The kiss was all you needed for electrical sparks to be sent through your body, your brain buzzing as the anxious thoughts began to disappear.

For the rest of the night, Mike walked you through his entire routine, both for fun and for transparency. You two joked back and forth, you occasionally poking at him, telling him he should become an influencer. Afterwards, you both did a face mask together, this time ensuring the product did not cover his chin.

Yes, you and Mike most definitely had your own things to work on, but at the end of the day, you were happiest with him. Your heart felt warm. He had finally found a way to take care of himself, a way to feel more content in his own skin, and even though he had an odd way of going about it, you were pleased, happy he was also finally willing to share this with you. From now on, Mike would wait for his routine in the mornings until you woke up, instead crawling into bed and cradling you in his arms, thinking about how lucky he was to have such a sweet, loving, and accepting partner like you to share his life with, even if it was just skincare and Vaseline kisses.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #michael schmidt x reader

[superhaught]

To Be Another Notch... (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: sick reader, reference to the chapter 1 smut

Word Count: 1100, Part 2/?

Part 1

Just a little follow up to "To Be Another Notch in Your Bedpost." Might keep it going, might not. I don't really have any specific ideas for where this one could go, though!

Also, Anonymous Asked: All I can think about now is like what if Leighton x reader are snowed in at Essex and the reader is deliriously ill and Leighton goes into protector mode and her roommates don’t know how to react since they’ve never seen this side of her with anyone before

I don't know if I did a super excellent job addressing this ask but I hope y'all like it! I'm in a bit of a writer's block rn so I'm doing me best. <3

Reader wakes up very sick and Leighton takes care of her. (Reader is explicitly she/her in this one).

You had slept over with Leighton after your night together. You awoke, bundled warmly in her deluxe comforter.

Well, technically, you didn’t wake up of your own accord. Leighton jostled you in an attempt to wake you and it wasn’t until she had to begin shouting your name that you actually came to. And furthermore, you weren’t exactly comfortably warm. You felt freezing cold but your skin was covered in sweat and you were approaching a fever of 102 degrees Fahrenheit. 

To make matters even worse, Essex had been the victim of a massive snowstorm overnight. Leighton had only been trying to gently wake you to let you know that classes had been canceled and you were welcome to stay, but then she felt how your skin was burning.

You opened your eyes blearily and were met with Leighton’s panicked expression and the back of her hand pressed against your forehead. 

“Oh my god, you’re burning up.”

“What? Like the Jonas Brothers?” 

“Jesus Christ, no! Not like the Jonas Brothers! You have a fever.” 

“Ohhh… that makes more sense.” You coughed painfully and Leighton quickly handed you a bottle of water from her mini fridge. 

“I will be right back, Stay. Here.” Leighton ordered before rushing out of the room.

You let your head collapse into the pillow and you were asleep again before you even knew it. An unknown amount of time later, Leighton came back into the room wearing a N95 mask, which she removed once the door was closed. Her arms were full of cold and flu supplies that she certainly could not have gone out and purchased due to the storm. 

Leighton sat everything down next to the bed and started going through the pile, setting a fresh box of tissues with lotion next to you along with a bottle of electrolyte drink. Then, she sifted through the variety of medications and ultimately decided that just some straight up tylenol and cough medicine would be best. 

Leighton was waking you up again and she helped you sit up while you took the medicines and drank a bunch of the electrolyte solution.

“Kimberly’s mom sent her all of this medicine and first aid stuff, it was honestly really impressive. My mom just sent me a Louis Vuitton weekender bag.”

You chuckled lightly, even though it hurt a little to do so, then spoke in a scratchy voice, “both things have their uses.”

Leighton felt your forehead again and then made you lie back down, “I’m quarantining you in here for now, at least until the storm clears. I’ll take care of you here.”

“You’re gonna get sick…” you pointed out.

“Then, you’ll take care of me.”

You furrowed your brows, “well, of course I will, but are you sure? I can just go home,” you made an attempt to sit up but Leighton pushed you right back down.

“Absolutely not. You’re in no state to walk across campus even if it wasn’t a blizzard outside. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

“But I don’t-”

“Shut up, would you? You’re making me tired just looking at you,” she teased. 

Leighton surprised you, then. She was no longer feeling the fever on your forehead for sheer monitoring purposes, but just softly caressing her thumb over your skin and wiping your sweaty hair aside as she did so. It was comforting. 

You smiled, “you’re really sweet, thank you.”

Leighton leaned down and kissed your forehead gently and stayed by your side until you were too tired to keep your eyes open any longer and you fell asleep again. 

Leighton put her mask back on to protect her roommates from your germs as best as she could then went out into the main area of the suite to let you sleep in peace. 

Leighton sat down on the plaid couch in their common room and exhaled a deep breath. She had never really seen herself as a caretaker type, but for some reason, it had come naturally to her when she saw how sick you were.

Bela decided to go hang out in Jocelyn’s room to gossip the snow day away (with the help of cinnamon whiskey and apple cider… but mostly cinnamon whiskey), while Kimberly and Whitney hunkered down in their room. 

Leighton scrolled mindlessly through her phone when Whitney came out to grab some food from the shared fridge.

“How’s your guest doing?” Whitney asked. 

“Okay, I think.” Leighton answered simply. 

“Is this someone we’ve met before?”

“No,” Leighton said, “she’s new as of last night…”

“Wow. You must be really into her, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you let her sleep over and now you’re taking care of her while she’s sick? The Leighton Murray of a few weeks ago would never, storm or no storm…” Whitney smiled at the blonde and sat down on the couch opposite her. 

Leighton’s cheeks flushed, “I don’t know… she’s cute. Really cute. And being around her has been really easy so far. Plus…”

Whitney raised an eyebrow, “plus…?”

Leighton rolled her eyes and then lowered her voice to a near-whisper, “Plus… she made me come like four times last night… maybe more. I honestly lost count.”

“Oh. My. God.” 

“I know.”

“That’s just not fair.”

Leighton smirked and shrugged. 

“So you’re taking care of her because the sex was amazing?” Whitney clarified. 

“No, not just that. Maybe I do really like her. But like…” Leighton groaned, “I’m so fucking stressed about Tatum and Alicia still… Do I really want to jump right into another relationship?” 

Now, Whitney shrugged, “do what makes your heart happy, Leight. If you like her, I say go for it. You never know when someone might be your person.”

Leighton looked over her shoulder at her bedroom door, “huh… yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m gonna go check on her.”

Leighton stood up and Whitney smiled, “I also think you should do whatever you can to bring this nurturing side of you out more often. It’s nice.”

Leighton flashed a glare in Whitney’s direction, “yeah yeah, whatever.”

The blonde slipped back into her room and took a moment to watch you before she climbed into the bed beside you and draped her arm over you. 

You were fast asleep and didn’t feel her join you in the bed, but you unconsciously shifted and hugged her arms close to you. 

Snow continued to drench the campus and it seemed to muffle all sound.

Leighton fell asleep holding you, lulled only by the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

#leighton murray #leighton x reader #leighton murray x reader #tslocg #the sex lives of college girls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #anonymous request #renee rapp

[lis-likes-fics]

Dark, Dirty Secrets

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Original Male Character x Reader Word Count: 19.5k Warnings: NSFW, dark themes, domestic abuse, adultery, language, character death, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, praise kink, breeding kink, possessive speech, ect... A/N: I might get hate for doing this, idk, but I am going to purposefully leave out a couple of warnings because I don’t want to spoil the plots in this fic. When I say “dark themes” in the warnings, I mean dark themes. If you do not think you can handle it, please do not indulge. You have been warned. Thank you.

The morning light is warm on your naked back, but Tommy's hand is warmer as he sets his palm on your side, caressing the skin with his thumb. You smile, glancing at him over your shoulder as he reaches over for his case of cigarettes.

"How do you think the race'll go?" you ask.

Tommy picks a cigarette, rubbing it along his lips. He reaches for the light on the bedside table, coming up empty when you bring the flame to life yourself. He smiles and leans forward to let you light his cigarette, taking in the first puff before answering you. "Midsummer has been trained by the best of the best; she'll be great."

You slide your bra along your arms, fastening it tight around your chest with a sigh. "You don't think it's too soon?"

Smoke swirls around his head as he blows it out in one long stream, finally moving to sit up. "Nonsense," he sighs. "She's a natural born. She was made for the tracks." He leans over, pressing his nose into your neck before kissing you there. "Just like you were made for my bed."

A laugh bubbles out of you in response as you shoo him away. "Alright," you chuckle, smiling wide. Sorting through your pile of clothes, you raise a brow. "I'm surprised you didn't rip my clothes to hell."

He hums deeply, seemingly amused. "Me, too."

You pick your pantyhose from the mess and chuckle once as you shake your head. "Oh, nevermind then." You glance over your shoulder again, smirking devilishly at Tommy. "I guess now I have to walk around arse out."

He shrugs, raising a dark brow. "More for me, then."

"Ha ha," you mutter. You lean over to him, plucking his cigarette from between his pretty lips. Kissing him longer than you should, you push yourself to stand as you saunter over to his dresser. Tommy watches the way your hips sway as you walk away from him with his cigarette between your own lips now, stopping to pull open the top drawer where he has clothes of yours left over from so many occasions before.

You hear his footsteps as he stands, walking back over to you. He sets his hands on your sides, listening to your longing sigh as he drags them down slowly from your ribs, ending at your hips when your body jerks slightly and your sigh is interrupted by a short gasp.

"What?" he asks, brows furrowed at your strange reaction to his touch.

You shake your head, pulling a smile over your lips. You blow out some smoke. "Nothing."

He takes a step back, fixing his gaze on your hips deepening his furrowed brow when he sees a slight discoloration over the skin. It's the first time he's noticed it; when you came over last night, you were both too desperate and it was too dark to see.

"Where did this come from?" His voice is darker than it had been moments before, a dangerous edge that you know all too well.

"What?" you ask, still sifting through the drawer to find the clothes you are searching for.

His face is so close to yours, his lips are practically brushing your skin. "On your hips," he says, gently grasping you there again. Your hips jerk.

"You're not the only man who's rough in bed, Tommy Boy," you dismiss, smirking his way. You put the cigarette on the ashtray atop the dresser before pulling a new pair of your undergarments from the drawer and bending down to slip them over your legs again. As you're bent over like this, Tommy doesn't move, instead opting to enjoy the sight of your backside pressing into his own hips.

He's handsy as he caresses his palms along your back, sighing deeply at the feeling of your skin against his. "Well, tell Mr. Reddoch to stop bruising me goods."

You stand up straight again, pulling open another drawer where your thin white gowns are folded neatly beside his shirts. "First," you chuckle, "that would imply telling Henry about this." You reach back and run your hand through his dark hair. "Second, maybe you should stop bruising your goods. I've gotta cover this up now, else he murders me." You smooth your hand on your neck where he's marked you with his teeth, dark and purple and too obvious.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. "No one is murdering my girl on my watch."

You hum, a fond smile on your lips as he wraps his arms around your center and pulls your back closer to his chest. He ducks his head and kisses your neck, lips and tongue and teeth caressing your skin there and filling the pit of your stomach with warmth.

"Stop," you chuckle half-heartedly. "We have to go soon, and no one's leaving if you're pushing me against the wall again."

He does exactly that, shifting you over and encouraging you toward the wall with an urgency that swells in both your chests. He presses you against the cold surface, your body squished between it and him as his naked body traps your partially clothed one.

"I'm not arguing," he smiles, already bunching up the thin silk of your gown to pull down your pantyhose once more.

You laugh excitedly. "Tommy!"

~

The venue is already heavily populated when you arrive, stepping out of your car with your hat resting on your head. The tracks are full of people eager to watch the races as you make your way through the crowd.

Tommy, who drove his own car, comes up behind you with a hand on your lower back. It's innocent enough that no one cares as you walk to meet your people. Pushing through the attendees, you find them easily.

"There they are!" Arthur's raucous voice exclaims over the conversation swarming through the place. You smile at him, already holding your arms open to welcome the oldest Shelby brother.

"Hello, Arthur," you greet him, grunting when he hugs you a little too tight before letting you go. Esme and John are the last to join the group (though there's a whole other one already waiting at your seats), saying their own greetings.

You spot Henry and offer him a smile, stepping into his space as he welcomes you happily. "What did you girls talk about?" he asks, taking you in his arms as you stand so close to his chest that you might as well be stepping on his toes. He holds you like you're dancing, hand in hand, the other supporting you.

"Telling you would spoil the purpose of girl's night, wouldn't it?" you question, raising a brow.

He sighs, "Suppose you're right."

"'Course, I am," you smile. You lean forward slowly and kiss your husband, raising a hand to his cheek as the thin, golden band on your finger caresses his skin. His hand cradles the back of your head.

"Alright," Arthur interrupts, "you gonna snog all day and miss the race or are you gonna place your bets?"

You separate, laughing. "We're coming, we're coming," you assure him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Arthur."

He walks over, slapping his hand on either of your shoulders as he smiles wide. "My knickers are just fine," he announces.

Tommy pats his brother's back with a heavy palm as he comes up behind him. "Fine silk," he says. "Pretty and pink."

John steps up on his other side. "Only the best for a Shelby."

In high spirits, the boys laugh. When you turn to Henry again, his gaze is on your neck and you tilt your head.

"Where did that come from?" he asks, scooting in closer to speak privately to you. He's still got one of your hands intertwined with his.

"What?"

He brings his hand up, brushing the tips of his fingers over your neck. Your own hand follows as you take into account what he's talking about, offering a smile with as few nerves as you can manage. "You," you tell him, smiling gently. "Don't you remember?"

He raises a brow and shakes his head, "I didn't give you that." His hold on your hand tightens. You can feel the tingling in your fingertips but choose not to bring attention to it.

"It's probably just fuzzy," you say, stepping closer to rest your hand on his shoulder. You graze your fingertips along the back of his neck, right down the center as you smile. "You were drinking, it was late… and I was screaming."

Your suggestion darkens the look in his eyes for a different reason. His lips pull in a small smirk, and you consider yourself safe. "You were, weren't you?"

You nod gently, making sure he sees the way your eyes dart down to his lips, "'Course I was."

He pulls you in even closer, your bodies practically melded together. "Maybe you should remind me."

"Maybe I should," you agree.

He kisses you quickly. "Let's go, then, eh?"

You nod. "Give me a moment, yeah?"

"Don't keep me waiting," he says, his words almost a warning as he lets you go. You step out of his hold, walking over to Tommy with a sly grin.

He'd been watching you. It isn't hard to tell, it isn't as though he tried to hide it by looking away. He has no reason for shame.

"Be back soon," you say, stopping too close to him. "Don't send a search party."

He leans forward ever-so-slightly, raising a brow. "You're a whore," he says.

You know he's only teasing as you smile wide, laughing heartily. "I'm a wife," you correct softly. Sending him a wink and a playful kiss, you step back. "Don't wait up."

You turn on your heel to join Henry's side. He pulls you in, walking away with you as you feel Tommy's eyes burn holes into the back of your neck. Your skin is on fire only through the feeling of his eyes on you, and it's driving you insane.

As soon as a secluded corner presents itself, Henry shoves you into it with the urgency of a starving man. His lips are all over yours, a vicious attack of the skin as his hands grasp at flesh and blood. He's rough when he begins to paw at your clothes with one hand, eager to be rid of them as he tugs them down your body. His other hand gathers your wrists above your head and his hips press you against the wall as he holds you a little too tight.

You grab his bicep, pushing it back some as you speak breathlessly to him. "Wait, slow down," you urge "You're going to tear my dress."

He has little care for such things as he waves his hand dismissively. "I might as well. You don't need them."

"We're in public. I can't walk around with my arse out."

As if on cue, he reaches down and grabs a handful of the doughy flesh, kneading it in his palm as his fingers dig harshly into you. His grip on your wrists tighten, you feel your fingers tingling, burning at the sensation. It aches as he does so, and your hips jerk away from him. "Ow," you groan, clenching your teeth, "Henry, stop, you're hurting me."

He smirks wide, looking almost devilish as seems to grip your bottom harder. "I bet you love it, too," he huffs, his mouth sloppy against the skin of your exposed collarbone. He reaches down to bunch up the bottom of your dress, urging it up your legs as he exposes more and more of it.

"Henry, slow down," you bid, gasping when his teeth clamp down around your shoulder. You wriggle your hands free and push him away from you, shoving him back just enough to put some space between your bodies. You take a moment to breathe, but he doesn't give you long as he's already advancing toward you again.

"Come back here," he orders, though it's not mean. He says it as though you are playing a game as he smiles wide and mischievously, and somehow, that's much scarier than the former.

As he steps closer, you stutter backwards with an urgency in your eyes that deters him a moment. His playfulness is gone and his shoulders drop. He releases a breath and steps back.

"You don't want me."

And then the guilt sinks into your flesh and sticks to your bones like glue.

Guilt from this morning, your forbidden pleasures with Tommy, his claim on your neck, skin on skin on skin.

Henry's eyes are burdened with a sadness that aches and pulls the strings of your heart like the trigger of a gun.

You smile slowly, fixing your dress as you close the distance between the both of you by taking his face in your hands. "'Course I do." He looks away from you, not quite convinced, even as you stroke your thumb over his cheek. His hands reach up to grasp your wrists again, and you try not to wince at the feeling of his grip on your aching skin. You turn his face to look at you, shivering at the ice of his eyes.

You swallow thickly. "But the race is about to start," you place your hands on his chest, "so why don't we be quick and finish this later?" He watches you sink to your knees, slow but slightly shaking as you kneel before him.

His smile from before returns, as does the predatory gaze in his eyes. "Yeah," he nods slowly, a hand on your cheek. "Not too quick, though."

You breathe a half-hearted laugh and make quick work of his belt.

~

You dig in your purse to fish out your lipstick, smearing it carefully over your lips with the small mirror in your gloved palm. White lace travels up from your fingers to the middle of your arm, hiding the newly discolored bruises on your wrists. As you snap it closed and turn to see Henry, he looks satisfied and you relax.

You walk over to him, fixing his disheveled hair with deft fingers. He watches you with a smile, brushing his fingers along your hairline and down to your chin. You smile at the tenderness and lean forward to kiss him, eager for his softer touch for as long as you have it.

But as you lean forward, he leans back. "We'll be late," he says, wiping his hands down the front of his expensive suit and walking away. You watch him go, your heart heavy and your throat hot.

You follow him back to the group, finding them quickly as you take your seat between him and Tommy, cigarette between his lips. You sit down silently, your back too straight and your chest tight.

When you feel Tommy's fingers brush your hand, you look over at him. He's got a smile on his face, it's small and teasing but it makes you feel just a little lighter.

"Looking a little flustered, love," he remarks, his cigarette pinched between his fingers.

He expects a smart reply, accustomed to quick wit and far too much sass for one woman. But all he gets is a tiny, "Yeah."

Tommy frowns and whispers your name. You look at him and you see it, the care he insists isn't there. You smile at him, brushing your fingers against his hand. "I'm fine," you tell him. "Promise."

He leans in, eyes narrowed in challenge as smoke bellows from his lips. "You're a dirty liar," he mutters into your ear, motioning toward you with the burning end of his cigarette.

Your smile turns a smirk as you take it from him, the slyness he's used to sinking back in at his words. "I have to be with you." You wink and blow a stream of smoke into the air. Your gaze lingers for just a moment longer than it should before you're turning your attention to the tracks, giving his cigarette back.

Tommy watches you a few seconds more before following suit, relaxing just a bit now that he knows you're okay.

~

Glass clinks against glass, surrounded by cheers and shouts of celebration of Midsummer's victory. Most of the celebration is packed into one of the smaller rooms, trays of glasses and mugs littering the large table as everyone takes what they want.

"And you doubted her," Tommy tuts as he takes a sip from his glass.

You roll your eyes and laugh, "I would never doubt that beautiful beast. She was made for the tracks." You pat your husband's chest next to you.

"As I said," Tommy nods.

Henry raises his glass to him, "You sure know how to pick 'em, Tom."

"It's in me blood."

Polly comes through with her glass in hand, waving them aside. "Away with you, boy," she orders. "Go and drink and celebrate."

Arthur raises his glass as she comes to stand by him, hand on his chest to push him back. "We are celebrating, Pol. We'll be celebrating all night!"

Shouts rose from the pub in response to that, agreeing whole-heartedly with him. The only people not exclaiming their cheers are you and Henry, distracted and lip-locked as you sit on his lap.

Ada's hand grasps your arm as she pulls you off of him, rolling her eyes in slight disgust of the public display. "Hey!" you exclaim giddily.

Polly's on her side, still talking to the boys. "Yeah, well, go do it somewhere else. It's girls' time now."

John groans loudly, throwing his head back lazily over the seat. "Why is it always girls' time?" he complains, allowing Esme to pull him up and shove him into his brothers. "What are they hiding from us, you think?" he asks them.

Esme, with her hands on his chest, smiles, "Dark, dirty secrets that'll run your mind to mush." She kisses him quick. "Now off with you lot."

"Alright, fine! Don't drink all the good stuff," Arthur complies, already reaching for another glass before he turns to leave as Polly and Ada continue to usher them out.

You laugh and your eyes find Tommy's, watching you too fondly. "It's no fun otherwise," you wink. They close the doors loudly behind themselves, leaving the four of you alone to gossip.

As soon as Polly is sure no prying ears are listening in, she smiles. "So," she begins, leaning back in her seat with a cigarette between her fingers, "how are the husbands?"

Esme scoffs, although not unkindly. "Cunt drunk." You scoff as well, agreeing whole-heartedly.

Ada laughs. "Oh, we saw plenty of that."

Polly just smiles and nods once, "Good girls, then." She blows out some smoke slowly through puckered lips.

You shrug, turning back to Ada. "Polly said to keep their bellies full and their balls empty." You smile slyly, bringing your glass to your lips. "Who am I to refuse?"

Ada raises her brows playfully, motioning toward you with her drink. "You're a dirty whore, is what you are."

You mirror her expression, though you feign surprise as you sit up a little straighter. "Then I should start charging," you tease.

"A girl like you?" Esme looks you up and down, smirking just as much as you. "You'd make good money."

You chuckle, leaning back to cross your legs. "Oh, then I should definitely start charging."

They laugh with you, reveling in the smoke and liquor in the air. Esme's expression sobers a little as she turns to you again. "How's your husband, love? Still givin' you trouble?"

You lean forward again, uncrossing your legs and taking a small sip of your drink again. "Oh, he's fine," you say.

Polly stands, walking over to you in the small space. "I don't normally call this–" she pokes your side, right over your bruised hip with little tenderness, "–fine."

These three are the only ones who know about your relationship with your husband, not even Tommy knows, his best man at your wedding and your closest friend. You would tell the boys, but they would likely try to kill Henry—you've been a Shelby friend for a very long time, long before they ever even heard of Henry Reddoch. Arthur, John, and Ada are practically your siblings.

But the relationship you have with Tommy has never been familial.

You look at her, face fallen and slightly annoyed. "Ow." She raises a brow, a silent question as to whether or not you think she cares if her poking you hurt. You run a hand along your side absent-mindedly before grabbing your cup for another drink. "He's just rough, is all," you defend calmly. You look up at her with a smirk, "And I'm good at what I do."

Polly's fingers shift hair from your face and neck. "And, yet," she says, "all Tommy does is this." She reveals the mark left on your skin from this morning.

You raise your brow this time, challenging her just a tad, "How do you know that was him and not my husband?"

She breathes a humorless laugh at your foolish challenge and grabs your hand. "Because your husband does this," Polly says, pulling your glove off your hand and showing you the bruising of your wrist—as if you hadn't known it was there.

You snatch your hand from hers, replacing the glove and shaking your head lightly. "I can handle my husband." You look at her, completely serious. "Let me handle him."

"Oh, you'll handle him alright," Ada mumbles. She takes another sip of her glass.

Esme follows suit. "Then you'll come back round here with another bruise, this time around your neck."

You sigh and shake your head, tilting your head and tapping your finger against the smooth wood of the table. "It's just the war," you say, lamenting the time before all of this. The time your husband was softer, gentler. Yes, it has been a while.

You'd been married to Henry for nearly a year before he was sent off the war with Tommy and the rest of the boys. They were so different back then, kinder, lighter, happier. They were gone for so long, and when they returned, the part of them that you had cherished for their tenderness was gone. But no one lost more warmth than Henry—even Tommy, with his eyes of ice and heart of stone. Henry came back, but some of his soul had never returned: the smile that was a little bit bigger, the laugh that was a little bit fuller, the hands that were a little bit softer.

He loves you, and you love him…but the limits of where that love is sometimes feel constricting.

You breathe in deep, feigning your smile. "It changes men."

Esme sighs, muttering under her breath but unafraid to voice her feelings. "Me husband went to war, but he doesn't bruise me like a peach."

You scoff. You know they mean well, but, quite frankly, you're tired of hearing it. "We're married, we're kind of together ''til death do us part' and all that."

Polly waves her hand. "It'll always be the war." She leans in closer, raising a brow as she urges you to listen. "Doesn't mean you have to keep fighting it."

You take her in, the way she watches you. "Stop worrying," you say after a moment, looking around the table at everyone. "I'll be fine."

Ada sighs deeply, sitting back and taking a drink from her glass. "You act like a Shelby."

"You might marry one and make it official," Polly adds.

You laugh lightly. "And now she's trying to marry me off to her nephew."

Polly's hard gaze is back on you, unapologetic and hardly leaving room for argument. "Either way," her words are firm, almost prophetic, as most of them are, "this thing you've got goin', it won't last. One day…it'll turn to blood in your mouth."

You stare at her, and you almost shiver at the ice running down your spine. There's a shock to what she says, and you have half a mind, not only to heed her words, but to fear them.

Still, you steel your nerves and offer a small smile, a pitiful reassurance of well-being. "I'll take care of it, Pol." You straighten your back. "I'm a Blinder, same as you. No one fucks with the Peaky Blinders."

She scoots closer, speaking closely to you as though what she says is a secret. She never blinks as she speaks to you, never wavers. She just stares you dead in the eyes as she warns, "He's a Blinder, too, sweetheart. Don't forget that."

You grant her a sober look, a silent confirmation that you hear and understand her. "I've got it, Polly." She examines you quickly before leaning back again, tilting her chin up as she nods and hums.

"In the meantime," Esme breaks the tension, "this is meant to be a celebration."

Ada nods, a smile returning to her face as she grabs her glass. "Right," she says, a new chipper in her tone. "To Midsummer, the beautiful beast of burden."

You grab your glass, a new grin on your lips. "I'll drink to that."

The glasses clink loudly in the air as you raise a simple toast to the horse you named with Tommy. Just as you're bringing the cup to your lips, Polly snatches it from you and sets it on the table.

You roll your eyes and groan, "What now?" She hardly gives you time to process, and even less time to actually finish your two-word sentence before her hand is clasping over your breast, groping you suddenly in her palm.

"What the hell?" you exclaim, moving away from her to no avail.

She looks up at you, furrowing her brows and finally letting go of you tit. "How late are you?"

You shrug, "A few days?"

"How many is a few?" She raises a brow.

You think for half a second. "Maybe a week," you confess. "But I'm never regular, what does it matter?"

Polly moves her hand to your belly, "Matters a lot." She sits back, staring you down with an intensity you find is common in her eyes.

"You're having a baby."

"What?"

"Polly, you're serious?" Ada questions.

She shrugs, "No reason to lie."

You pale, your mouth gaping like a fish as you try to process her words. "I'm…" You shake your head. "I'm pregnant?"

"Quite."

Your eyes are glued to the table, refusing to look at anyone until you've processed enough.

"Is it a Shelby baby?"

"Esme!" Your eyes shoot up to her, staring her down at her blunt question.

She's got no shame, raising her brow and shrugging. "Am I wrong?"

You turn your focus to Polly. "If this baby comes out like Tommy, there will be trouble," you say, urgent and scared and excited.

Polly presses her hand into your belly, feeling around for something as she closes her eyes to focus. The way she looks at you when she opens her eyes again, her face a mix of pride and wariness.

"You'd better clean your guns then."

Ada tilts her head, "Pol."

She announces it without regret. "It's a Shelby boy."

Your head feels cloudy, and the world is spinning slowly. You are suddenly aware of every breath passing through your lungs, every beat of your heart in your chest and pulse in your veins.

"I'm…" your breath shudders and you look at Polly. "I'm having a Shelby baby?"

Ada smiles wide, chuckling slightly, "I honestly don't know whether to hug you or feel sorry for ya."

Reaching for your glass, Esme tilts her head. "Did ya ever want kids?"

You shrug, watching her take your drink and pour it into her own. "When the boys left for war, I put the idea away," you admit.

Ada leans forward. "And now?"

You take a deep breath, looking at her. "And now…" you shake your head, "I'm pregnant, and the baby isn't my husband's."

Esme bobs her brows, bringing her glass to her lips. "You're the fucking his best man."

You turn your gaze on her, tilting your head with an exasperated sigh. "Thank you, Esme."

She just shrugs. Am I wrong?

~

"Alright, boys," Ada announces, setting her glass on the bar. "I think it's time for us to go home."

It's been hours and the party is still in full swing, but that's mostly because the Shelby's are here and in high spirits.

Arthur disagrees, groaning as he holds his arms open in protest. "Oh, come on! The night's only just begun." The men agree.

Ada laughs. "Well, one of you boys is gonna have to take me and Pol home. Who's it gonna be?"

Esme steps into her husband's space, her voice low but not quiet. She intertwines their hands and tilts her head at him. "And you and I, John, have to make sure the kids have been out to bed."

John smirks slowly, looking up at Arthur with lazy eyes. "On second thought, Arthur," he chuckles, "it is a good time to go home."

Arthur sulks a little, but not unplayfully. Tommy just shakes his head with a poorly concealed grin as he walks over to his sister next to you. "I'll take you home, Ada," he says.

"And I've got ya, Pol," Arthur agrees, accepting defeat.

Polly glances at you and Ada, smiling. "Such gentlemen, these two," she teases, already headed for Arthur.

"Come now, Henry," you turn to your husband. "Off we go."

He breathes a laugh, patting your hands on his chest. "If you insist."

You smile and walk toward John, who gives you a hug before he's leaving with Esme. Arthur wraps you up in a hug and lifts you off the floor just a slight. "Good night," he says. You repeat it back to him.

When you head toward Tommy, his arms are already opening to welcome you into a hug. His hug is tight and warm. It wraps around you like Arthur's but holds an intimacy you quickly become addicted to. It lasts a second too long before Tommy breaks it with a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Get home safe," he says, only glancing at Henry for a moment to convince him he's talking to the both of you.

You nod gently at him, staring at him too long. You wonder briefly if your baby will share his eyes. "You, as well, Tom Boy." You pat his chest and turn to Henry.

"Come on, husband," you smile at him, joining his side with an arm tucked behind his back. Henry starts walking you out the door as you wave behind you at everyone.

The night is dark as Henry helps you into the car, closing your door tightly before rounding to the other side to get in. It's as he's driving away that he speaks again, a hint of indignation in his tone diluted well with teasing. "I swear, sometimes the two of you don't feel like friends."

It feels like the tiny hairs along your arms prick at your skin then as you shrug and decide to play dumb. "Who?"

"You and Tommy," he glances at you.

You smile at him, offering a fond look as you take in the side of his face. For a moment, for a half of a second, you don't feel the bloom of affection you've grown accustomed to with your husband. For a half of a second, your mouth sours and your heart palpitates worriedly. You just brush it off and smile.

"Nonsense," you say as affectionately as you can. "If we weren't friends, what would we be?"

Henry shrugs heavily, his feigned teasing fading slightly into something more bitter. "I dunno," he sighs. "I just know I don't like it much."

You swallow thickly, turning from him again and staring out of the windshield. You sigh gently, brushing a hand over your belly and feeling your chest swell with fondness and anxiety.

"Don't worry, Henry, darling," you bid gently, hardly believing your own words as they leave your mouth, "no one's replacing you."

~

It's late as the lot of you pile into the theatre, big and bright and expensive. There's an opera tonight that you all have tickets to—Tommy wanted to spoil everyone and decided an opera was well-deserved.

When you take your seats, once again squished between Henry and Tommy, it only lasts a half hour before Tommy is standing and brushing past your row for a smoke. Without any way to make it less suspicious, you simply stand and walk off as well, following him away. Turning at the door to look over your shoulder, Henry hasn't even glanced your way.

The both of you walk out of the auditorium and through the halls where some patrons are still lingering about. As you step outside, the first thing you do is push him into the dark cover of night where you couldn't be seen by wandering eyes.

Tommy smirks, his chin tilted up as he looks down at you. "Isn't this a little suspicious?"

You shrug, placing your hands on his chest and sliding them up to cradle his neck. "He won't even notice I'm gone."

Without another word, you bring him down to your lips, eager to taste him again after not being able to for the past few days. Tommy is just as desperate at you, holding the back of your head and grasping your side as he backs you into the wall. No words are exchanged between the two of you. It's nothing but breath and stray moans as you devour one another.

By the time you pull away from him, you're breathless and warm and wanting. You smile, stroking a finger from cheek to chin. "I missed ya, Tommy."

He stares at you, his blue eyes piercing. When you don't look away, never wavering or blinking or fluttering, he smiles. You're one of the few people who can stand his intensity, and it warms his self-proclaimed dead heart.

"Aye," he breathes. He kisses you again before letting you go, pulling a cigarette from the inside of his coat. He drags it along his lips before setting it between them. You fish your lighter from your purse, flicking it to life and holding it under the end.

He puffs it a couple of times before he's offering it to you, knowing you would probably take it in a moment anyway. You turn it down, leaning against the wall and watching him. Neither of you speak, but the way he looks at you is so close to the way you look at him that you don't suppose either of you have to.

After a moment, he tilts his head. "What's on your mind, love?"

You mirror his tilt, "Nothing."

"Go on," he says, not believing you. "Tell me."

You shake your head with a gentle laugh, shrugging once. "Nothing serious, just a thought," you tell him. You glance down at your shoes. "What if I decided to have a kid?"

He lifts his brows, breathing in as he turns to face the street. "Finally giving Henry a child, eh?"

You breathe in deep, turning away as well. "Well, he is my husband, isn't he?"

That's right. He is your husband. So why isn't the baby his?

"What brought this on?" he asks, blowing out a smoky breath.

You toy with your fingers, brushing them over your belly tentatively. Your mind wanders briefly to earlier that evening, getting ready in front of the mirror and seeing the slight bump of your belly where your baby was growing. It stole your breath away. The only thing you wanted to do was run and tell Tommy, but now that you have the opportunity, you're suddenly worried.

You shrug and lie quickly, "All of John and Esme's, babysitting Karl when Ada's busy. Who knows, maybe the maternal instincts are finally kickin' in."

He hums. "You talked to Henry about it?" He says it almost expectantly, as if you have ever told Henry something before him.

"Eventually," you sigh. "He doesn't observe like you do, I suppose."

There's a moment of hesitance, an uncomfortable silence between the both of you as he thinks. "Well," he takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the damp ground and stamping it out, "I wish you and your hypothetical child luck."

He turns to you, offering his hand. "Until then, we should go back inside before they're missing us and await our next appointment," you take his hand, "Mrs. Reddoch."

You don't like the way he says it. It's as if he's reminding you that you have a husband you vowed your loyalty to. As if he isn't the man you've broken that vow with a hundred times over.

And not once have you regretted a single moment, but the guilt runs deep sometimes and his words do not comfort you.

Still, you pull a smile on and slip your hand into his elbow. "I'd be happy to oblige," you sigh. "Lead the way, Mr. Shelby."

He walks you back to the auditorium and down the few steps to your row where Henry looks up to see the both of you. You take your seats and offer a reassuring smile before turning your attention back to the stage where a ballroom dance is in full swing as a smooth tenor belts a romantic declaration.

Tommy's arm brushes yours on the armrest, and you glance at him. He doesn't look back, but you can see the tiny curve of his lips. You curl your pinky with his, turned away.

But then you feel Henry's hand on yours. You look at him fully, his gaze still fixated on the stage. You look down at his hand covering yours softly and smile, flipping your hand to hold his, intertwining your fingers. Removing your hand from Tommy's, you lean toward Henry as you rest your head on his shoulder. He smiles, glancing down at you and leaning his head on yours in return.

Tommy's grin is gone and his eyes are trained on the stage. He shouldn't be upset; Henry is your husband and you're considering starting a family with him. But with how long you've been Tommy's, how intimate the two of you have been again and again, he feels he has the right to be upset, even if that right is limited.

He doesn't look at you for the rest of the play, but you don't seem to notice. You nestle up to Henry the whole time, content.

When the play ends and everyone goes their separate ways, Tommy's goodbye is short. You wave to him as he walks out the door, but it's all you can do.

Henry takes you home, affectionate and loving and kind the whole time.

When you get there, he carries you up the stairs in his arms and lays you on the bed. He kisses you and strokes you and contains a softness you hadn't felt from him in a while.

But when he's rutting inside of you, the softness has completely dissipated and he becomes the desperate, rabid beast you're used to. He rips your clothes and grips you tightly, he sinks teeth into flesh and holds you down so you can hardly move.

You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he gives it and wishing he would return to the kindness he'd just offered you. His hand wraps around your throat and he squeezes.

When he's asleep beside you, a hand across your front as you stare up at the ceiling with damp eyes, you find yourself wishing for your best friend. You find yourself wishing to be in his bed, in his arms, with his baby in your belly.

But that won't happen—at least, not tonight. You look over at Henry's sleeping face (which still does not hold the warmth it once had before the war) and sigh, turning your body to face him as you try to cuddle close without waking him.

You close your eyes, inhaling his scent and wishing it was Tommy's, and lull yourself to sleep.

~

The next few days are confusing. When you're not working at the office, you're with the girls or Tommy or Henry.

Tommy's been sort of strange lately, dismissive one day and happy to be with you the next. Henry is as complicated as he always is, soft and caring one moment, rough and demanding the next.

You've spent your alone time trying to figure out how to tell them both about the baby growing inside of you.

You thought today would be the day.

The sun is shining and the breeze blowing in the wind is gentle and undisturbed. Debutante, your Morgan horse, walks slowly, the clip-clops of her hooves muffled by fields of grass next to Chance, Tommy's French Trotter.

Holding onto the reins as you ride front saddle—as you often refuse to ride side—you smile at Tommy.

Conversation has been scarce since you invited Tommy out for a ride. You missed him. You want to spend time with him, and you know this is one way he won't refuse.

"It's a wonderful day," you try, raising your brows with a smile as you tease him about the lack of conversation.

It takes him a moment to respond, but he does. "Yes, it is," he says.

You absent-mindedly pet Debbie behind her ear. "Was looking forward to it."

He sighs, glancing over at you with half a teasing expression. "Why? Are you looking for a quick fuck?"

You chuckle, although not comfortably. You feel like he's holding back from you and it's making you anxious. "Maybe," you kid. When he doesn't show any sign of amusement, you take it back. "Tommy, I'm joking. I just enjoy our time together, is all."

He practically cuts off the end of your sentence when he speaks again, his jaw slightly clenched and his eyes cold. "Do you love your husband?"

You blink, forcing a breath out of your lungs that sounds like a laugh as you shake your head. Pulling on the reins just enough, your horse stops. "What?" When he doesn't respond, although he eases his own horse to stop as well, you glance down at your hands and then back up at him. "He's my husband."

"That doesn't answer me question," he replies.

You steel your nerves and clear your throat, glancing up at him, though your eyes stop at his collar. "Of course I do."

He raises a brow. "Then why are you here with me?"

You are frustrated now, abandoning all attempts at dissolving the tension. "Maybe because I like being with the infamous Tommy Shelby." The sarcasm in your tone is not hidden, and you nearly find yourself speaking through clenched teeth.

"More than you like being with your own husband?" he inquires.

You're sick of him and you're going to push him off his horse. Not meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. "I don't know what you mean."

He nearly rolls his eyes. He knows you, and he knows that you know exactly what he means. You're a dirty liar, and he knows it all.

"Shouldn't you be spending time with him?" he clarifies. "Or did you just want to fuck again?"

The look you give him is not as offended as it is entirely unbelieving. You run your tongue along your teeth, scoffing through your scowl. You turn away and bid Debutante to walk. "Tommy," you offer an olive branch, a chance for him to step down, "you're acting strange."

He follows after you as he continues his verbal attack. You wish he hadn't—your fists are aching to make contact with his jaw. The distance the horses give you is the only thing preventing you from such violence.

Although you know you would never actually hit him, you don't have it in you. But what you won't do in physicality, you will do in words if he does not let up.

"Do you want him?"

It sounds like an accusation and you grit your teeth. "He's my husband," you repeat, almost sounding like a broken record. You sense Tommy's words before he says them and revise your response. "Of course I want him."

He hums, "I'd argue if you wanted him, you'd be with him right now."

You guide your horse to stop in front of his own, blocking his path at a cross and staring him down with wide eyes. "Careful, Thomas," you warn. "Someone might think you're jealous."

His face doesn't betray emotion and it's infuriating. You can always read him, always…but right now, you're finding that hard to do.

"I've no reason to be jealous," he says after a beat too long. It's a blow to your heart, and you don't know why.

"Oh, really?" you seethe. "You're not upset you've gotta share me with another man?"

He shifts his head to the side, and a hint of the frustration he's feeling seeps into his face for half a second. "Careful," he says, an echo of your own words before, "someone might think you just enjoy being a skank."

The look that crosses your face is something deeper than a scowl. With wide eyes and a mouth agape, you glare this man down with all the bitterness in your soul. It is silent for a while as you both process his words. When you break that silence, it's with a voice low and dangerous, teetering on the edge of murderous.

"What the fuck…did you just say to me?"

He's too proud to take it back, lifting his chin and staring you down like you are small compared to him. "Don't you?" he continues. "You'd rather stay with that bastard and fuck me on the side. Have him wonder where all those marks on your neck are coming from, eh?" He motions toward your neck, where you've got a scarf tied securely around to hide the bite marks in your skin from Henry's excitement.

You shake your head, your breath and heartbeat fast and unsteady. "Shut up, Thomas."

"Am I wrong?"

"Yes," you urge. "As a matter of fact, you are." When he doesn't speak, you take it as your chance to add on. You take control of the reins, taking the few extra steps to sit next to him, completely facing him down as you fume.

"Maybe I'm here spending time with you because it's something I actually enjoy." you hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest before leaning back again with a sneer as you lick your bottom lip. "But, of course," you scoff, "that's hard to believe, seeing as you're Thomas fucking Shelby. Biggest arsehole in England."

He shakes his head. "No," he mutters. "Don't get angry with me because I reminded you of your husband's existence."

You burst. "D'you ever think I'm fucking angry because you called me a fucking skank, Peaky bastard?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't have to call you one if you had thought about being loyal."

You hate him. You fucking hate him. His expressions are nearly too emotionless to read, his tone doesn't match yours as you shout in your frustration. He is way too calm as he insults you time and time again, taking your argument like it's nothing, as if he isn't fazed in the slightest. It kills you, and you hate him.

You grit your teeth and try to calm yourself, clenching and unclenching your fists as you attempt to bring your voice down to no avail. "Might I remind you, you're the one I'm fucking behind my husband's back. If you didn't enjoy us, just fucking tell me instead of using your fancy language to insult me!"

By the end of your words, you're shouting and your voice breaks. You hate it, you hate him.

He raises a finger at you and betrays the first clear emotion you've seen on his face since the fight began. Rage.

"Don't you think for one moment I didn't enjoy us."

You groan so loud, it might as well be characterized as a scream with the way it tears at your throat. You slap your hand down on your thigh, wishing you were in a room with a hard surface that you could use instead of being mounted on a horse and too concerned with hurting her to properly portray your rage. "You're fucking ridiculous! You don't make any bloody sense, Thomas." You force a breath from your lungs and look him dead in the eyes. "Do you want me or not?"

He doesn't answer your question, and you hate him. "And what about your husband?"

You practically spit the words. "Fuck my husband."

"Fuck your husband?"

"Fuck him."

"So you don't love him." He states it as fact, and you hate him.

You pull back from him. There's nothing you could do or say that could properly portray the anger and frustration and betrayal you feel in this moment and you give up. You're not going to compromise anymore, you've just given up.

"You know what?" You let it spill. "Fuck you, Thomas." You let it all out. "I'm not going to waste anymore of my time arguing with you over… I don't even fucking know what we're arguing about. I wanted to spend time with you, and you decided to shame me for wanting you." You look up to try and blink away your tears but quickly decide you don't care. If they fall, they fall, and you're just lucky enough that they linger in your eyes a little longer. "God, I thought you were fucking different." You sniff and shake your head. "But you're just some fucking Peaky bastard."

He raises his brows, pointing at himself. "I'm a Peaky bastard?" Just like you, he lays it all out on the line, and he doesn't care if it hurts. He's cruel and uncaring and his voice is too level and too quietly enraged for any of the words he unleashes upon you.

"You've got no loyalty, no fucking self respect." His voice is low and rough. "You're a dirty whore and a goddamn liar, and you can shove all that love and want up your arse. You're nothing but a pathetic slut begging for attention."

It's completely silent. Neither of you speak, neither of you look away from the other. His eyes are wide with anger and his lips are pressed in a thin line. Yours are wide with shock, mouth ajar and trembling.

Your heart is unsteady in your chest, pounding quickly and roughly against your ribcage. After staring too long, you look down at your shaking hands, unable to hold his eye contact any longer as the tears blurring your vision finally spill down your cheeks. You swallow thickly, closing your lips and licking the salty tears off of them quickly.

There's a curling feeling in your chest that grows worse and worse with each passing second you spend under his scrutinizing gaze, and you brush your hand over your stomach as the feelings get even worse. You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip as you breath out a slow, trembling breath.

When you speak, your voice is tremulous, broken up by tears and breath. You don't look at his face to see the layers of aggression peeling back at the sight of you so shattered.

"...I need space."

You linger for half a second before tutting gently to Debutante. She starts moving, taking off in a sprint at your command. Tommy turns to watch you leave, but he doesn't move, he doesn't call after you, he just lets you go. He lets you leave him behind.

And he hates it.

~

Clouds have gathered in the darkened sky by the time you get home, hours after your fallout with Tommy which you spent crying and trying to get a hold of yourself.

It was a lot to process: the insults, the betrayal, the anger, the sorrow, the rejection of you and your unborn son. Too much.

You unlock the front door of your house just as the first drops of rain begin to sprinkle down. "Henry?" you call, closing and locking the door behind you with a sigh. "Love, I'm home."

You hear his footsteps through the house and plaster a smile on your face to see him. You meet him halfway, walking into the living room and stopping when you see his fallen face.

"Where have you been?" he inquires. His arms are crossed over his chest and his stance is wide. He's undone his tie as it lays lazily across his shoulders. His hair is tousled just enough to notice, as though he'd run his hands through it a couple of times.

You straighten your spine and clasp your hands together in front of you. "I was just out with Thomas—Tommy."

He turns his head away, clenching his jaw and nodding. "Tommy," he repeats stiffly. He looks back at you. "You're always out with Tommy."

You nod once, slowly. "I am," you agree. You look away and then back at him, struggling to meet his gaze from the uncertainty of your own words. "He's… He's my best mate, of course I am."

He hums, his jaw ticking. "You don't think maybe your husband is supposed to be the one you're always with?"

You tilt your head, eyes darting unsteadily. "Am I not allowed to have friends?"

He takes a step toward you and you're consumed by gooseflesh. "I don't like how he looks at you."

You're defensive now, but it's less in defense of Tommy and your broken relationship and more of your wavering honor which has been violated enough today.

"What are you talking about? It's Tommy, he looks at me like a person should."

He raises his brows, not believing you. "And the way he touches you?"

You swallow, taking a breath before you can lose your posture again. You stand up a little straighter again, your gaze stuck on his shoes to avoid his cold gaze. "He's just a friend."

He shakes his head, frustrated and spent. "Stop lying to me."

You shake your own head, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "I'm not lying. He's Tommy. He's just Thomas."

He walks closer and you tense every muscle on your body to keep from flinching as he wags his finger at you. "Then you need to remind him of that because the way you are with him, the way he is with you…nothing about that is friendly."

"Henry." You step forward, taking his face in your hands and massaging your thumbs over his cheeks. You linger there for a moment, smiling, though you can smell the lingering alcohol on his breath. "Henry, there is only you. It's just you."

You hope he believes you and you pray he leaves it alone because, if not, you're afraid of how he would react. You're afraid.

He grabs your wrist and you flinch, though he does not hurt you. Pulling your hands away, he leans forward. "Then you are not to see him anymore, not without me there."

You put your hands down and take a tiny step back. "Henry…"

"I'm not the jealous type," he continues, "but what's mine is fucking mine. Tommy can't have fucking everything!"

You flinch when he shouts, stepping away from him uneasily. You steady yourself again and shake your head, daring to look at him. "Henry," you're quiet, "you can't just say I can't see him anymore."

"Yes, I can," he says, his eyes wide and wild and terrifying. "I am your husband, you are my wife. You belong to me." His tone is becoming harsh and you're afraid.

You try to remain firm, but you're afraid. "I don't belong to anyone–"

It is your fault, you admit. You should not have spoken back to him like that, it was bound to provoke him. But you did, and you pay the consequences as he steps forward and takes a hold of your wrist. You wince and you whimper when he squeezes it in a vice grip, paralyzing.

"You're mine," he growls.

You can't stop the flow of tears on your face as the overwhelming emotions from before stack onto the ones you're feeling now. It's too much, you crumble.

"You're hurting me," you mewl.

He's terrifying, glaring and bruising you. He brings down his voice, but it's no less cutting as he snarls. "Are you fucking Thomas Shelby?"

You pale, "No, Henry."

He jerks you. "Swear it."

"I swear!"

He watches you, and you watch the anger worsen into a violent rage. "You lying whore!" He lets go of you roughly, and you hold your wrist in your hand.

He circles, jabbing his finger in your direction. "I should have known," he rages. "From the fucking beginning, I should have known."

Your voice is weak, tired from yelling all day and crying even more recently. You stare at your shoes. "I swear, Henry, we've never done anything."

He swings around, delivering a harsh slap to your cheek which jerks you to the side and trips you up. You fall, catching yourself on your knees. You're unsurprised, and all you do is hold your cheek.

He stands over you, grabbing your shoulder and turning you around to face him. He's livid and you're terrified, but you're unsurprised. He points at you again, making sure he's clearly heard.

"You are not allowed to see him anymore," he commands, his voice menacing. "I own you. Don't you ever forget that."

It's silent, and you stare at him with blurry tears in your eyes. "Henry, husband, please..." You swallow thickly. "I love you.

He shakes his head, "Shut your whore mouth. Don't you sit there and lie to me."

He reaches down and pulls you close to his face by the front of your shirt. He hoists you to your feet and you panic, in fear of what he will do.

"Wait! Henry, I'm pregnant!"

He lets go of you, stumbling backward. You stand on your feet, staying still for fear that he would still attack at any sudden movement.

He stares at you, his eyes wide with shock. You can't read anything past that and it scares you to death. It's so silent, you can now clearly make out the storm outside the house, thundering and pouring against the roof and windows.

"What?" It's the softest you'd heard him all night.

You sigh and splay your hand out over your abdomen. "I'm pregnant," you repeat, straining to smile. "Polly told me. I was trying to tell you, but I was so worried. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry."

Henry stares at your face, then down to your hands. He swallows hard, walking back again. Then he shakes his head, staring at the floor. "No."

You blink. "What?"

He shakes his head again. "No. That's not…" He scoffs, raising a finger but dropping it, "You're not…"

You furrow your brows. "I'm pregnant," you say. You take a step forward, he takes one back. "You're going to be a father." He doesn't speak and you advance with slow steps. Your hands are shaking as you reach for his face, but you do it anyway. It takes a moment to make contact with him, and when you do, your hands jump.

You look him in the eyes. "Don't you want that?"

He stares at you, and for a moment you think maybe. Maybe there's hope. Maybe things would change. Maybe.

But then he shakes his head. "No."

Your breath hitches and shakes, "What?"

He grabs your wrists and jerks them away from him, and you wince again. He walks away, his back turned to you as he shakes his head again, leaning over the couch. "I don't want children."

You're past breathless. "Why… Why not? You don't want a baby with me?"

He turns to you, pointing and shaking his head, frantic. "I can't, I don't–"

"If you're scared, it's okay. It's okay, we'll get through it together."

He cuts you off, "I don't want a child!" He huffs, running a hand down his face. "This… That is not mine." He points at your stomach.

Your lips part and you huff. Your eyes burn. "But…" you mumble, "you married me. You said you wanted a family with me, you wanted to raise our children." Your jaw trembles and you're sick of crying.

He turns to you, his eyes hard. He's yelling again. "That was before the war. Things change. That child, that thing in your body, I don't want it."

You gape at him, your distress turning to rage. "What the fuck do you mean you don't want it?" You step forward and, in your frustration, you shove him back. "He's ours! Our son, our boy!"

He doesn't argue back, he turns and heads toward the small table in the living room where the telephone sat.

"What are you doing?"

"We're getting rid of it," he says flatly, his tone final. But you are not.

"The fuck we are!"

He turns on you quickly. He shouts louder than the crack of thunder outside and you jump. "You are not having that child! I will not have it."

You clench your fists. "How dare you?" you spit.

You step forward just to confront him again, but he's not going to take it. As soon as you step close to him, he shoves you back so hard, you fall to the ground and feel as though you've skinned your elbow trying to catch yourself.

His anger is explosive, as it always has been. His commands echo around the walls and vibrate in your bones. His hair is a mess, thrown all out of sorts with his sporadic movements.

"You will do as I fucking say! That child—yours, mine, Tommy fucking Shelby's—you are not having it. You belong to me, and I say what you can and cannot do." He kneels down in front of you, and you stare with wide eyes of fear and anger. He lowers his voice, back down to a menacing growl as he puts his face so close to yours, you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he speaks. He grips the front of your dress again, pulling you closer still. "How fucking dare you come into my house and try to put your hands on me?"

You're done yelling. You're done fighting. This is your baby, your son, and you will decide whether or not you keep him. He won't take it away, he can't.

"I hate you," you say. Your voice is so quiet, raspy from all the yelling and broken from the crying.

He lets go of you, standing up and looking down on you. "You never loved me."

You shake your head. "I did once… when you were kind." You lament the man you knew, but know that he is gone and he is never coming back.

He shakes his head, raising his brows. "You never loved me." His voice cracks at the end, but you refuse to feel guilty. You're done.

"You're a beast."

He licks his lips, tilting his chin up to increase his superiority. "And you're a whore who is not bringing a baby under my roof." He turns and walks back to the phone. "I'm calling a doctor to be rid of it."

The adrenaline that passes through your veins is too great for you to properly process what happens next until after it's already done.

You push yourself to your feet and reach for the stand next to the sofa, a drawer holding a gun. You pull the drawer open roughly, Henry hears, and moves just as quickly as you. You take the gun, but before you can secure it in your grip, he's knocking it out of your hands and kicking it away.

He moves to you next. Bending down, he wraps his hands around your throat and pushes you onto your back. He applies pressure, pressing his thumbs down onto your windpipe, and your head feels hot. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

You take hold of his arms, straining to get your words out. "Fuck you," you cough. "You're not hurting him."

The look in his eyes is the most terrifying look you had ever seen in your life. They seem to light up, and his scowl stresses into a cruel grin. He lets go of you, standing and straightening his spine as he stares you down through his nose again.

"The hard way then."

~

Unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, Tommy walks down his stairs as he nears the front door of his home. It's late and thundering and he has no idea why anyone would need to speak to him so far into the night.

As he reaches the bottom step, removing the gun from a drawer beside the door, he stuffs it in his belt behind his back and stretches his neck to his shoulder. He sighs, long and exhausted and ready to go back upstairs and forget this day ever existed.

He's already speaking as he's pulling open the door. "Whoever it is, I'm sure this could wait 'til–"

He stops abruptly at the sight of you. You're shuddering, bracing yourself on the door frame and doubled over with a hand across your abdomen. All he can see is your hair as you hang your head low, breathing quick, shallow breaths that sound too strained for you to still be standing.

Your car is parked haphazardly in the drive, engine still running and lights still blaring bright onto your back.

"Fucking hell," he breathes.

You look up at him, and he takes you in. Your eyes are red and wet with your hair sticking to your face, which is smeared with blood. Your clothes are a mess, glued to your body from rain and more blood. You try to shift, but it's to no avail as you groan from the pain in your ankle. You've got blood on your lips and some dripping from under your dress and down your bare foot as well. You're not wearing shoes, he can imagine the scrapes on the soles of your feet.

You shiver, willing your lips to move so you can speak. Your words are barely coherent, run together by staggered breaths and stuttering teeth and tongue.

"I didn't know where else to go."

Tommy comes to his senses then, rushing forward into the rain without care and taking you into his arms. When he tries to help you walk and it fails, he dips down and carries you into the cover of his warm house in his arms. You bury your face in his chest, still trembling in his embrace.

He set you down on the couch, slowly and carefully, afraid to hurt you more. He pulls a pillow under your head as he lays you down slowly. You're still holding your stomach, and being this close lets him see that your arm is broken. Looking down at your leg, so is your ankle. You whimper meekly, unable to keep in your pained sounds.

Tommy tilts your chin up just enough to get a better look at your face in this lighting. He delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by your mouth, saying nothing as he examines it. After a brief pause, your heart skips a nervous beat as he looks you dead in the eyes. His voice is quiet and tense, his anger barely restrained as flares of anger bubble within him and he clenches his jaw.

"Who did this to you?"

His words are dangerous, made of ice and fire, a growled threat that does not translate in your head.

A tiny, pathetic sound slips from your lips as you curl into yourself. "It hurts." Your voice is so small, it tears his heart in two and thaws it just enough to set his anger to the side for long enough to comfort you.

Tommy isn't used to seeing you so weak. You've always been too strong, tough and sarcastic with too much wit and too much bite.

Now you're lying on his couch, trembling and sobbing into the cushions, covered in blood and rain.

He strokes his hand down the side of your face, moving hair from your forehead and grazing his fingers over your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his hand, but it somehow makes you cry harder. "Tell me where it hurts," he says, his voice softening with each second spent watching you.

You just clench your stomach, your face squishing in sorrow. He moves his hand down to rest on your side, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. There's no sign of a wound on your stomach, no pooling blood or shred in your dress where you grasp.

"He took it all away," you sob, though it doesn’t quite reach as deeply in your soul as you need it to, to process and understand the depths of which this pains you to admit. Because he took it all away, and he can never give it back.

Tommy stiffens, looking at you as he tries to understand. "What are you saying?"

You open your eyes, staring at his face and reaching toward him with the hand not injured. Your fingertips graze his cheeks and your breath shudders. You swallow hard, pulling your hand away to clench it tightly before slamming it into the couch.

"Our son."

Tommy stills completely, staring at you in utter shock and disbelief. The way you break down on the words, hoarse—nearly silent—cries pulling from your throat and pouring out all over the place makes his heart stutter. You repeat it under your breath, reaching out and taking Tommy's hand, grasping it tight. "Our son."

"What?" he mutters.

A sorrowful smile creeps onto your lips, a terrible mix of agony for the baby you've lost and remembrance of what you could have had. "I was gonna have a baby, Tom," you cry. "'A Shelby baby,' Polly said. A boy."

He looks down at your belly again with a new consideration, moving his hand down to feel you with breath caught in his throat. "You're pregnant?" he asks.

Your mournful grin fades and you bury the top half of your face in the pillow beneath your head. Shaking your head, you gasp and hiccup on a sob.

"He took it all away."

~

Lighting his cigarette, Henry ventures into the living room. He stretches his arms out, releasing the tense muscles in his back from sleeping last night. He sighs as he travels to the window. When he pulls open the curtains and turns around, he startles and has half a mind to reach for his gun. But upon realizing who it is, he huffs a sigh and shakes his head.

“Jesus, Tommy,” he rolls his eyes, looking back at the man sitting on his sofa.

Tommy leans back against the chair, a cigarette between his own lips as he says nothing. He stares at Henry, still and emotionless. Henry sighs, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have you seen my wife?” he turns to the cabinet holding his liquor to pour himself a glass, regardless of the hour. “She left last night, hasn’t been back.”

Tommy doesn’t move for another moment before finally breathing in slowly. He reaches up and takes the cigarette between his fingers, taking one last drag before putting it out against the coffee table. "Last night," he sighs and points the cigarette at him, "your wife came to me house, soaked from the rain with blood on her clothes. Could barely stand."

He flicks it away, folding his hands over his lap and crossing his legs. He tilts his head, watching Henry closely. "'It hurts,' she told me. 'He took it all away'." He looks down at his lap, remembering your pitiful face, and then back up at him.

Henry doesn't speak, his face fallen in solemnity as he doesn't even pretend to not know what Tommy's talking about. He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be concerned.

Tommy inclines his head, furrowing his brows just a little as he takes him in. A long moment of silence passes between them before he fills it again. "She was pregnant. 'A Shelby baby,' she said."

Henry shows the first signs of emotion then, scowling as he shakes his head and scoffs. "Fucking knew it," he snarls.

Tommy pulls his gun from the inside of his jacket, toying with it in his hands as if it's nothing as he looks down at it. Henry reaches for his own, but realizes quickly that it's gone. He doesn't have one of his person and the one on the side table has since been removed.

Even with the gun in his hands, Tommy's face hasn't changed. He looks calm, too calm. Even as he stands, moving slowly and with steps so small, it's a wonder how he'll ever reach Henry, who stiffens and clenches his jaw as he recognizes his shortcomings.

"We've been good friends a long time, Henry," he continues, stroking his hand over the barrel. "A long time. War time."

Henry sniffs, still scowling as his hard gaze stays glued to Tommy. "Yeah, well," he licks his bottom lip, "friends don't sleep with each other's wives."

Tommy cocks the gun, but still doesn't point it. The sound alone is enough to shut Henry up either way, so it doesn't matter. "But she and I have been friends for much longer," he says. He finally looks at him again, his eyes cold and piercing. He stops in front of him, his chin tilted up to show he stills holds power over him.

"You see," he says, "She's my girl, always has been. She was going to have a baby, a Shelby boy, my boy." His breath picks up a little, the frustration and anger rising within his chest as he looks at the man who took so much from him.

"Tommy," Henry says quietly, as if there was anything he could say or do to save his life right then and there.

Tommy motions to him with his gun. "You hurt her."

"She shouldn't have hurt me!" Henry shouts, his voice cracking at the end in rage.

Tommy raises the gun so quickly, Henry hardly had time to process it. He presses the end to his temple, watching Henry's eye twitch at the fact that Tommy could pull the trigger at any moment and blow the brains from his head.

Tommy's voice, still quiet and dangerous, is no longer as patient as he speaks down to him. "You beat my child out of her womb." He huffs, "You murdered him and almost took her with him."

Henry, despite the barrel to his skull, retaliates. "I should have taken her with it."

Tommy shouts, moving the gun from Henry's head and pointing it to his own, pressing it against his temple roughly. He shouts at the top of his voice, which is rough and cracks a little at the exclamation born of pain and rage. "It was my fucking son!"

Frightened by his behavior, Henry trembles as he holds his hands up in useless surrender, shaking his head and forcing the words from his throat. "She's my wife," he says. "She loves me."

Tommy puts the gun back to his head, watching Henry cower with heavy breath and shaky hands. He rolls his head back, staring up at the ceiling and closing his eyes.

He looks back at him, clenching his jaw once before deciding not to prolong this long away justice anymore. He shakes his head, "I love her more."

Bang!

He doesn't flinch when the warm, sticky blood splatters on his pale face. Henry's body drops to the floor, blood seeping out and soaking the carpet.

Tommy let his arm drop, letting the gun fall from his hand and clatter to the floor. He sighs.

"'He took it all away,' she said."

~

The feeling of consciousness washes over you in an unpleasant way, and you immediately miss the cover of sleep as you take in a lethargic breath. Your eyes flutter as you struggle to get them to open, wincing at the bright, pale light invading your senses as you slowly come to.

Once in touch with your body, you turn your head to the side and groan at the discomfort of the single movement. You can barely open your eyelids enough to see. They're so heavy, it's almost as if they're glued down by your lashes to your cheeks. You see a sliver of being from where your vision allows, a man in a suit, expensive.

You hum. Your voice is hoarse, both from sleep and the soreness that resides there. "Tommy…" you mumble intelligibly.

"Not quite." The coarseness of Arthur's voice reminds, though still muffled with exhaustion, fills your ears.

His large hands move slowly to grasp your own, taking it so gently, you almost think you imagined it. You take a deep breath in, as deep as you lungs allow without reminding you of the same reason your voice is sore. You smile softly, "Arthur."

Finally able to open your eyes, slowly but surely adjusting to the light, you look at him smile at you. There's a sluggishness in his eyes that makes your chest ache, but you dismiss it as soon as he speaks. "Hello, love," he greets in a low, gentle tone. "How are you feelin'?"

You groan, shrugging—although, you're pretty certain you didn't move an inch. "What happened?"

Arthur shifts, clearing his throat. Your vision clears as you look at him. He’s disheveled, messy hair, messy clothes. You furrow your brow, watching him decide how to respond. “You went to Tommy last night. He said you…” He clears his throat again, glancing around the room just to not have to look you in the eyes as he says it, “...you were pregnant.”

It hits you like a train, the memories of the night before flooding your mind and filling you with the dread you had greeted Tommy with before. Your throat closes up and your lips tremble. You feel as though the walls are caving in, like the world has stopped revolving as the tears prick at your eyes and threaten to well. You look away from Arthur, staring up at the ceiling and trying to blink the tears away before they can form, but it’s of no use.

You try to lift your arm to cover your face, only to groan when the pain there blossoms and shocks through your body like fire. Arthur grabs your hand again, still holding it in an attempt to soothe you. He glances away still, as though he is trying to contain his own tears.

None of the Shelby boys were used to seeing you cry, seeing you so low and pained. His lashes clump together as he blinks too quickly, struggling to watch you suffer like this.

You inhale sharply, swallowing hard. “Where’s Tommy?” you ask on a shaky breath, looking around. You try to sit up, but Arthur doesn’t let you, gently pushing you back down as soon as you wince and groan at the pain spiking all over your body.

“He’s on his way,” Arthur insists, laying you back down. He goes to softly pat your shoulder, but rethinks his decision as soon as he lifts his hand. “Had to take care of business.”

You look at him, sighing shakily. You lick your dry lips. “Business,” you repeat knowingly.

Arthur nods slowly, looking back and forth from your eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Business.”

You nod back, staring at the sterile whiteness of the ceiling with eyes beginning to blur. You clear your throat weakly, upset when your voice still comes out strained. “Can I…have the room, please?”

Arthur shakes his head quickly, refusing to be swayed. “Tom said not to let you leave my sight.” He says it finally, nodding his head to set his words in stone.

“Arthur, please,” you insist, looking at him. A tear slips down your cheek, disappearing into your hair as you stare at him. His stony resolve crumbles when you look at him like that and he looks away from you. He clears his throat, standing and shifting back and forth on his legs before motioning toward the door.

“I’ll be outside,” he informs awkwardly.

“Thank you,” you nod.

“Yeah.”

He disappears out of the door, and you let the tears fall. They stream down your face with an urgency they don’t need, hasty in their quests to wet your cheeks. You try to keep quiet, which only makes your throat burn more with the pain your silent cries hold.

You don’t know how long you cry for. You just know that, by the time that door opens again, all of your tears have dried up, leaving you feeling numb and cold. You turn your head to the door as it opens, half expecting for Arthur to come back in.

When you see Tommy, you feel as though you could spare a few tears in celebration of his return. But instead, you just stare at him and breathe in slowly.

He’s happy to see you, though he doesn’t show it nearly as much as it seems he would like to. His eyes clear some of the worry he feels when he lays them on you, and he closes the door back behind him. He doesn't move toward you, offering a small smile. “You’re awake,” he points out uselessly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You killed him?”

Tommy's smile falters, returning to the solemn look you know well. He sighs, very quiet and unassuming, and nods his head with tiny movements. “I did,” he says plainly. He examines your face, noting the lack of change at the confession as you continue to stare. “How do you feel about that?”

It takes a moment to respond because you have to think about it, taking a moment to mull over the details—vague and unimportant details. “I dunno yet,” you say after a long while, continuing to watch Tommy, as though he’d disappear and leave you alone forever if you looked away.

Tommy nods, looking down at his dark shoes. He removes his hands from his pockets, sitting down on the chair next to the door. He’s too far away, way too far away. You shift your head, moving the hand closest to him to face palm up. “Please come here,” you bid softly, desperately.

He stands without fuss, making his way over to you and sitting on the chair Arthur had once occupied. It’s silent when he settles. There’s no shift of his clothes from moving, there’s no tick of some clock in the room, there’s no bird outside the window. Just silence.

You look down at yourself, in the bed with the covers pulled up to your chest. You shake your head, hating the way you feel—vulnerable and useless. You sigh, moving to sit up. “I’m still laying in this bed,” you ramble, pushing covers off of you. “Why am I laying in this bed? I don’t want to lay down.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth as you try to sit up, closing your eyes shut. Tommy moves, shaking his head as he tries to keep you laying under the sheets. “Don’t try to move. You’ll hurt yourself,” he tells you, a warm hand on the junction of your neck and shoulder and a warm hand on your hip to keep you steady.

You lay back, ignoring the pain as you bring your palms to your face, rubbing them into your eyes as you groan frustratedly in retaliation. “I’m fine,” you insist, looking at him again with blurry eyes.

He leans in close. “You’re a liar.”

“I have to be with you.”

The repeated words from days ago hit him in a different way as you say them now, staring at him with glossy eyes and shaking hands. He tilts his chin up, sighing to himself. You have to lie when you’re with him. You’ve been lying for years, he supposes.

Tommy clenches his jaw, letting the words sink in as he blinks away from you. His eyes fall back on you after a moment too long. “Why did you never tell me?”

You swallow hard, looking away. “It wasn’t your burden to bear.”

“Don’t give me that.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he says it, stopping himself with another steadying sigh. He opens his eyes and stares at you, at the cuts and bruises on your face, your chest, your arms. He remembers the blood you were soaked in when you came to him last night, the way you could hardly stand, the way you clenched your stomach and sobbed into his chest as he carried you inside. He stifles the tears in his eyes.

“What did he do to you?”

You don’t look at him yet, grounding yourself before you threw yourself into an explanation that was bound to make you want to cry. You lick your bottom lip, tasting the coppery taste of your split lip in the process. You breathe in slowly, exhale slowly, flex your fingers and blink your eyes. Stalling. Just stalling.

But you had to explain. He had to understand.

You only glance at him and shrug, struggling to find your voice but using it well when you did. “The war changed all you boys.” Tommy stares at you, not once backing down as his eyes begged to hear what you had to say, to hear what forced you to stay silent all these years. “You came back, heart of stone. Danny lost his mind… Henry became rough.”

You swallow hard at the word and Tommy understands what you mean. Your words from so many mornings before echo in his mind.

"You're not the only man who's rough in bed, Tommy Boy.”

He sighs. You continue. “It was only then, really. A little too hard here, too rough there. If he was frustrated, he held on a little too tight.” You close your eyes, trying to push the memories down. Opening your mouth to speak, the words won’t come out even as you form them. You clear your throat, shaking your head to clear your mind. “If he was beating me bloody every day, I’d have killed him myself. But I didn’t. ‘Cause he wasn’t. He was mostly kind. But he was hurt, the war caught up to him and followed him home.”

You look at Tommy finally, your eyes pained. “The war changed all you boys.”

Tommy processes everything, looking down to his lap and trying not to draw attention to the way he wiped at his teary eyes. He sniffs when he looks back up, rubbing his nose and slowly finding your eyes again. “You should have told me,” he says. It’s almost a reprimand, upset that he could have helped you from the beginning, had you told him.

You shake your head, chuckling as you slowly smile. At least he’s concerned, even if you don’t want him to be, even if you never wanted him to be—the reason you’d never told him in the first place. Tommy has enough to worry about.

“I was fine.” Your laugh is watery, and you wheeze a little at the pain in your chest with each contraction of your lungs. “I had you.” You reach out and touch his face, placing your palm on his cheek and stroking your thumb over his sharp cheekbones.

He stares at you a moment, his face still fallen with dismay. He reaches up and takes your hand from his face, only to hold it between both his large ones and squeeze gently, as if he’s reassuring yourself that you are here and safe. He leans forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a long, slow sigh.

You lean forward as well, moving slowly to disturb your healing body as little as possible. You set your head on his, resting your cheek in his dark hair. “You’re a Peaky bastard, Tom, but you’re my Peaky bastard.”

You both stay like that for a while, enjoying the other’s peace with closed eyes and steady breaths. He lifts his head, which shifts your head away so he can look at you. “You were wrong before,” he says.

You raise a brow, “About?”

He shakes his head, his eyes darting all over your face, from your own eyes to your lips to the cut on your brow. “I’m not jealous,” he tells you. He reaches one hand up, moving some hair from your forehead. “I can’t be jealous about something that’s already mine.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “What about my husband?” you test.

Again, he shakes his head. “Fuck your husband.”

“Fuck my husband?”

“Fuck him.”

Tommy brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, his thumbs brushing the skin. “You’re mine,” he says definitely.

The corners of your lips turn up a little, disappearing just as fast as it appeared. “Funny,” you comment. “That’s what he said.”

Tommy raises a brow. “And?”

You shrug lazily. “And when he said it, I wanted to kill him. When you say it…” You smile just a little bit, “When you say it, I just want to kiss you pretty.”

Without another moment to spare, Tommy sets a hand on your cheek and brings you forward as he leans into you. His lips press against yours, and it feels like the first time. You sigh against the feeling of his mouth on yours, lifting your hand to brush your knuckles against his jaw line. A tingle makes its way through your body, starting from your lips and rushing down your spine.

You twist your body to lean in closer, wanting more of his kiss than was physically possible. As you try to sit up, your belly burns and you groan, reluctantly pulling away from him. You place a hand over your abdomen, your face screwing up with the pain you feel.

“Careful,” Tommy says with his kiss-tingled lips. He sets his hand over yours, resting on your belly with a reassuring warmth. His other hand holds the back of your neck securely, supporting you as best as he can.

He watches the physical pain turn into a deeper, more emotional one as your lips tremble. Your breath shudders as you inhale, shaking your head and huffing as the smallest squeak forces its way from your throat in your effort to stifle your sob.

“I want him back, Tommy.”

He rests his forehead against yours, holding you to him as he closes his eyes and nods. He turns his head and brings your face to the crook of his neck, where you bury yourself and cry into his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, love,” he says in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “Everything will be alright. I promise you.”

“Would you have wanted him?”

Your words startle him as he pulls away, still holding you as he strokes his thumb over your cheek and stares at your tear-stained face. The fact that you needed to ask that question hurt him. It pained him beyond imagination that you should be laying here in a hospital bed covered in cuts and bruises made by your own husband who was cruel and selfish enough to destroy your unborn child, a child that was never even his to hurt to begin with.

Tommy finally nods, holding you close and assuring you with everything that he had. “I wanted him,” he promises, speaking slowly. “I want him and you and us.”

You smile a trembling grin, breath shuddering as you put your head against his forehead again. “I love you, Tommy,” you confess, sighing so heavily with the emotion you couldn’t contain. “I loved you for years.”

He kisses you again, holding you close and keeping you closer. You sigh against his lips and continue to ache for him, as you have done for years.

“One day, soon enough,” he’s breathless as he speaks, “I will make you my wife. I will make you a mother. We’ll have a family, you and me. ‘Cause I love ya back.”

You smile, holding on tight. “You promise? ‘Cause I’ll shoot you if you’re kidding.”

He laughs lightly, kissing you quickly once more. “I promise. You and me.”

~

And, months later, his promise came true.

The time following the incident was hard. You felt sick for a while, physically and emotionally drained and overworked. But Tommy was there, and he helped you. There was not one point in time where he wasn’t pulling you back, easing you when you needed easing, boosting you up when you needed boosting. It was as you always dreamed it would be on quiet nights next to your late when you allowed yourself to think about that forbidden life with Tommy.

He helped you heal, and it was the only thing you could have ever asked of him. He made you happy.

And he still makes you happy as he carries you in his arms, kicking open the door to the dimly lit room, his lips already on yours as he pushes the door closed behind him with his foot. You separate from him with a smile so wide, your face feels like it will split in two.

You open your mouth to say something, laughing in the middle of it before he cuts you off by dropping you onto the plush bed. You bounce at the impact, laughing a little harder as you readjust to look up at him. “Careful, before you rip the dress!”

Tommy scoffs carelessly, “As great as you look in white, I could care less about whether or not you wear it, love.” His body leans over you, nearly crushing you with his weight as he kisses you again. You don’t mind, wrapping your legs around his waist as the dress rides up to rest around your hips.

His lips slide against yours, on the border of sloppy. He moves from them to trail fond kisses along your jawline, wasting no time in getting to your neck to pepper you in more kisses and litter you in his possessive markings. You hum, holding him to you with gentle sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. As he busies himself with your neck, you admire the gold reflection of the ring on your finger, shining in the light and reminding you that he is now just as much yours and you are his.

“Are you going to stare at that ring all night, or are you going to kiss me, woman?” He smiles at you, one hand in your hair to take it down, pin by pin.

“When you finish taking my hair down, I’ll kiss you again.”

He laughs and continues doing so. You watch him as he works, staring at his long lashes kissing his sharp cheekbones, his pale blue eyes blinking at you, his lips swollen with kisses. He finishes way faster than you thought he would, running his hands through your hair and then holding you by the back of your head.

“I believe you owe me a kiss now.”

You giggle, already leaning toward him. “You’re pathetic.” With your lips back on his, he devours you once again with his lust for your love. When his knee brushes between your legs, pressing against the warm valley of your thighs, you sigh into his mouth.

“Strip me, Tommy,” you tell him, undoing his tie at the same time. He complies, pulling you up to gain better access to the million buttons of your dress so he can take it off you. He slips it down your body, revealing more and more skin with each inch he sheds off you. You’re pulling clothes off him like they’re dangerous, stripping him down article by article until he’s just as bare as you are.

Pushing you back down onto the bed, you smile up at him as he grips your thighs and pushes them up your body, opening you up for him in the way that makes his cock hard and stiff with an unrivaled lust. “Look at that,” he grunts. “Always so perfect for me.”

You hum at his praise, your thighs quivering with anticipation. His hands stroke your skin, feeling every inch you have to offer as your eyes flutter shut and take the praise. The sensations are magnificent, like fire through your veins as you burn for him. He bends down, kissing and nipping at your collarbones and moving down, down, down as he passes your breasts, your belly, your perfect hips.

His mouth is warm against your pussy as the tip of his tongue darts out to taste your skin. When he pulls back, his hot breath blows against your aching folds and you squirm in response to him. Your legs fall onto his shoulders as he grips your sides, stroking his thumbs over your skin fondly. “What does my girl want, eh?” he asks, teasing you with his words as he shifts his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, not close enough to where you need him.

You’re already breathless as you gaze at him, in love with the sight of his head between your legs as you imprint it into your mind. “You,” you breathe, smiling for him.

“What about me?” He’s going to drive you mad before the end of the night. The way he continues to kiss your thighs, to hold your pleasure over your head all because he can, is enough to send you over the edge of sanity.

“Fuck, Tom, I want you to make me cum with your tongue,” you spill, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling. The gentle plea that escapes from your lips is so small and pathetic, he has no choice but to give into your desires. “Please.”

He smiles at you with dark eyes, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s all over you. Your mouth drops open and your eyes squeeze shut as he devours you, shoving his tongue deep into your pussy like you possess the sweetest of wines. He grunts into you when you pull on his hair again, a rougher tug than last time. He has to hold your hips down when you try to buck up to his face. You curse under your breath, moaning his name in the way that makes him weak.

His tongue plunges inside of your pussy and you melt, biting down on your lip so hard, you taste copper. “Fuck, Tom,” you gasp. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He’s drunk on the taste of you, and there was no way on this Earth that you would ever get him to stop. One of his hands leaves your waist to stroke your thigh before joining his tongue, shoving one thick finger into your hole and curling it as he massages it in and out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he adds a second, his tongue flicking at your clit and driving you to the bitter end of your release.

Your curses multiply on your tongue, the occasional profanity turning into a string of the same word as he pulls you closer and closer to that explosive feeling gathering in the pit of your stomach.

It’s not long before it becomes too much to bear, and you clench around his fingers and tongue as he sucks on your clit like fucking candy. “Fuck, I’m so close,” you sigh, your voice high and pitchy with lust. “I’m gonna cum, Tommy. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Rather than respond, he groans deep in his throat and sucks harder on your clit, moving his fingers faster, even after his arm begins to hurt. Just teetering on the edge of your release, he licks a long, languid stripe up your cunt and commands you with black eyes. “Cum for me, love.”

A gasp fills your lungs to the fullest, and you’re a mess as you moan for him. He continues to pump his fingers into you, his tongue lapping you up as you continue to tremble, sucking in his fingers. Your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire. Tommy lets out a strangle breath when you tug on his hair again.

He eases you down from your high with his tongue. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking your wetness from each digit with special attention to each one. He ducks back down to lick up the rest of your arousal as well, making sure to collect every drop. He wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste…

His hands glide over your body as he leans up again, towering over you to kiss your swollen lips. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers against your lips. “My perfect fucking girl, my perfect wife.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling against his lips. “My perfect husband,” you fawn. You surprise him when you flip the both of you so he’s on his back. “My perfect,” you venture down his body, your lips grazing his skin as you stop at his hips, “fucking husband.” You set a kiss on his right hip and he just smiles down at you, sitting up so he’s leaned back against the headboard.

He watches you with keen eyes, grabbing his jacket from the floor and pulling his lighter and cigarette box. You take the lighter from him—as you always do, whether he’s watching or not—and light it after he’s set it between his lips. You lean against his knee the whole time, stroking a free hand up and down his thigh.

“Go on,” he motions as the smoke gathers in the air. “Go on and give me a show.”

You lick your lips, smiling mischievously as you shift farther down. You take his erect cock in your hand, watching his eyes flutter at the feeling of you. You stroke him gingerly with your fingertips, teasing him as he had teased you. Though he looks dazed, he doesn’t appreciate it as much as he tuts and shakes his head at you.

Your smile widens and he tilts his head in warning. You think for a moment about whether or not you’ll listen to him before deciding the throbbing between your legs will be satisfied quicker if you do. You wrap your fingers around his cock, stroking your thumb over the tip and leaning down to lick the little bead of precum before it spills over. He sighs at the feeling of your tongue.

You pull your hand away, licking from your palm to your fingertips before taking his cock again and pumping it in your hand in a steady rhythm up and down, from base to tip and back again. You hold his eye contact the whole time, adoring the heat of his gaze as you lay between his legs.

You shift his cock as you lean forward again, licking the underside of it with your hot tongue and paying special attention to the bulging vein there. You lavish your tongue over the sensitive spot, humming gently as you kiss his tip and coating his cock in your spit. Kissing his tip again, you let it part your lips as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him and tasting the beads of arousal slowly dripping out.

You take him farther into your mouth, bobbing your head to allow him deeper and deeper with skilled movements. Tommy lays his head back, closing his eyes as he allows himself to give in to your pleasure. He reaches down with his free hand to cup the side of your neck, stroking your cheek until he resolves to tangling his fingers in your hair. He doesn’t pull or push or guide you in any way, just holds onto you as you work, grunting when the head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. He feels your throat constrict momentarily, a tiny gag making its way out of you that you quickly suppress to take the rest of him down.

“That’s a good girl,” Tommy sighs, opening his eyes to watch you bob your head up and down his shaft with an efficiency he’s proud to say he’s helped you gain. When you take him all the way down, lingering there for as long as you can with your nose pressed to his pelvis and the very tip of your tongue darting out to tease his heavy balls, his breath stutters in his throat.

You pull off for air after a moment, gasping as you blink away the tears that have gathered at the corner of your eyes. When you move to go back down on him, he just holds you by your hair to keep you up. “That’s quite enough, sweetheart.” You look at him with a slight pout, darting your tongue out to kitten lick the tip. He takes a moment to adore your sweet face before he’s pulling you up by your chin, leading you to his lips.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips to kiss you. You indulge in the kiss before pulling away to grab the cigarette, taking it between your lips and inhaling deeply. You lean in for another kiss, pushing the smoke into his parted mouth. The remaining smoke billows from your nose when you pull away, and you watch more seep from his precious lips as he stares at you.

He leans forward, his lips hovering over your as he speaks gently. “I’m going to fuck your brains out now.” You shudder at his promise, though he doesn’t give you much time to react as he grabs you by your hips and lifts you up onto his lap. “But first, I want to see you do some more work.”

You’re more than happy to do it, too, as you stroke his cock in your hand, hovering over his lap with trembling thighs and holding the cigarette between two fingers in your free hand. “Whatever you wish, sir,” you sigh, swearing his eyes get darker as soon as the word leaves your mouth.

He loses his patience as you line him up with your slick pussy, feeling the head of his cock part your warm lips. He decides to take matters into his own hands, grabbing your waist and pushing you down onto his cock, watching the way your head falls and your mouth drops open as you gasp a moan.

You grind your hips down on him, drunk on the feeling of his thick cock dragging along your walls, which clench around him and flutter when met with the pleasure you were expecting. You set the cigarette between your lips as you sit up to look at him again, hands on his shoulders to steady you as you savor the burn of his cock stretching you out.

“Fuck,” you curse around it, “feels so good.”

Tommy takes the cigarette from you, setting it back into his own mouth. “Go on, wife,” he bids you, placing his hands back on your waist and gripping tightly. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

And you are more than happy to oblige as you lift yourself slowly off his lap, dropping back down before he can slip out of you and grunting roughly at the pleasure that blooms there. “Mm, Tommy,” you moan, already gasping for breath as you do it again, and again, and again.

He blinks long and slow at the feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him. “Always so fucking tight for me,” he grunts, rutting into you once.

You ride his cock, swiveling and rocking your hips back and forth, needing to take him deeper and deeper inside of your tight pussy as you ache for him all over. Tommy watches you, groaning with you as your face squints in pleasure. Your tits bounce in his face with each movement of your hips, and eventually he just decides to set his cigarette aside to take your nipple between his lips.

His tongue massages it, sending shockwaves down your spine that has your moans turning to desperate cries. You drop your weight into his lap and grind down on his cock when his teeth graze it. Your moan breaks off into a broken whimper as you pull him closer, hugging him to your body and dropping your head into his shoulder.

That seems to be his breaking point as he grabs you and maneuvers the both of you onto your back. He pulls your legs up and over his shoulders, folding you in half when he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. He breathes hard as he stares at you, your eyes locked, though yours are hooded with pleasure. “You’re fucking mine,” he says, “and no one else can have you.”

You nod, trying to buck your hips to get him to move as he remains still inside of you, fully seated. He shakes his head at you, “No. I want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, holding him by his face. “I’m yours,” you promise. “Fuck, no one else can have me. No one, Tommy. Only you.”

He grins at your rambling, kissing your lips roughly, messily, before interrupting the union with the rough thrust of his hips. You gasp, breaking off into a moan as he does it again. He pace slowly builds until he rutting inside of you like a madman, possessive promises and declarations filling your ears as he watches you writhe in the pleasure he fucks into your body.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, spilling over the side and disappearing into your hair as he fucks into you. The pleasure is so great, it’s hard to keep in your moans. When you purse your lips in an attempt to, he shakes his head quickly. “No, don’t do that. I want to hear you scream for me. Tell me how much you love it. Look at me and tell me.”

The beginning of your words comes out as a sob as you force your eyes open to see him. The pleasure seizes your throat and makes it hard to form the words. “Fuck, so good, Tommy. Please don’t stop, please.” Tommy’s eyes flutter at your spilled words, and he thrusts into you harder, his hips snapping roughly.

“You like when I fuck you like this?” he asks, his voice dark and rough. “You like to feel my cock fuck you nice and deep?”

Your moans are just sobs at this point, the pleasure too great for you to keep it together anymore. “Yes, sir! Fuck, Thomas, yes. Don’t stop.”

Your eyes close from all the sensations mixing like a cocktail inside of you, but he’s not having it. “Open your eyes,” he commands, stroking your cheek. You obey him, though it takes a little longer than he would have liked. “Look at you, my beautiful girl. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You clench around him and he grunts, thrusting harder. “I’m gonna fucking take care of you,” he repeats, holding one of your hips down and angling you to thrust deeper. You gasp at the feeling, letting the pleasure spread. “I’m gonna fill you up and make you a fucking mother. You’re gonna have my child in that womb of yours. You’ll look good and round, full of my fucking baby. Do you want that?”

You nod quickly. Your legs are sore from this position and you’re losing feeling in your toes, but it’s nothing compared to the fire of lust consuming you in his flames. You let it devour you as you clench and whine on his cock, taking every single thrust he gives you. “Yes, sir, I want that. I want it so bad.”

He’s so close to spilling inside of you, fulfilling that dream the both of you had held for a long time now. He’s right there, ready to release it all inside of you. But he wants you to cum with him, he wants you to feel the pleasure of release together as he reaches between your bodies and begins circling your clit with deft fingers. “That’s a good girl,” he praises. “I’m gonna fill you up until it’s all leaking out.”

“I’m so close,” you sigh, your breath shuddering in your throat. “I’m gonna cum, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” You nod quickly, holding him tighter in a warm embrace. Tommy’s hips stutter as he nods, looking you dead in the eye as he speaks. “Cum for me, wife.”

And you do, with his name on your tongue and a shout on your lips, you cum loud and hard. Your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your back arching and your eyes rolling back as it hits you hard and fast. You gasp and feel your muscles tense with each shock of pleasure, holding him tighter as you scream Tommy’s name.

His hips jerk and he thrusts his cock rough and deep, emptying himself inside you. He paints your insides white, flooding every little crevice with his hot cum as he shoves it inside of you, ensuring none can escape. He grunts, a rough sound in his throat that kicks up with every twitch of his cock. He watches you the whole time, taking pleasure from your own and pressing you into the bed with his hips.

You both ride out your highs, exchanging nothing between the both of you but breaths and moans and whispers of the other’s name. By the time the aftershocks slow, you’ve already fallen limp against the sheets as you relish in the weight of him squishing you into the bed. Tommy doesn’t move for a while, staying like that for as long as he can to enjoy the sensations of your warm, wet cunt occasionally squeezing around him.

Tommy lets out a long, deep sigh as he sits up again. Your thighs ache as he moves them from his shoulders. You whimper when he slips out of you, placing a hand behind your back to help you sit up again. You sit in his lap, easing down with him as he leans back against the bed, his head resting on the pillows as yours rest on his chest.

You sigh deeply, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you inhale the scent of his cologne and sex in the air. “Fuck,” you breathe. Tommy chuckles lightly, holding you to him and stroking his fingers along your shoulder.

“If that doesn’t get you pregnant, I don’t know what will,” he says, reaching over to retrieve his half smoked cigarette from the ashtray on the nightstand.

Your fingertips trace patterns into his chest, following the outlines of black ink embedded in his skin. “Just in case, though,” you say, looking up at him with a small grin, “I think we should go again to make sure it really stuck.”

He grins back at you, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Still, neither of you move as you enjoy the other’s still presence. You giggle lightly, a sound that comes out of nowhere as you continue to caress his chest. He glances down at you in question and you only laugh again. “I love you so much, Tom,” you smile.

He rolls his eyes, but in a playful way that follows his own gentle chuckle. “And I love you.”

You inhale deeply, leaning forward to press a kiss against the skin of his neck. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He clears his throat, putting out his cigarette and sighing. “Well, it’s our honeymoon and I own this land, so we are going to stay here and kiss and fuck for as long as we wish.”

You smile wide, leaning forward slowly and speaking against his lips before bringing him into another kiss. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

You move on top of him again, straightening your back and steadying yourself on his chest. You lift your hips off of his, taking his cock and lining him up again with your soaked cunt. You feel his hands come to grip your hips as he continues to lie back and watch you. There’s an adoration in his eyes you wish you could just sit and watch forever as he stares at you.

“Good,” you smile, “‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you.”

You both groan as you sink back down on him.

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

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[bluesfortheredj]

Territorial.

The click of Billy’s lighter is enough to make your head turn from the record player and when your eyes meet his he flashes you that signature grin with a cigarette clenched between his teeth and the flame hovering dangerously close in front of it.

“Try and blow it out of the window this time,” you say with an unimpressed expression, “my cushions stunk for days.”

“I will baby,” he nods, sliding your window up and pulling your stool over so he can perch next to the opening.

He lights his cigarette before proceeding to smoke it sensibly this time, ensuring he dips his head out of the window for every exhale he makes, and you turn back to the pile of vinyl you were sifting through to try and find the next song you wanted.

“So how’s your wannabe boyfriend?” Billy asks, finally shutting out the cold from the window and walking over to join you on the carpeted floor, “he still trying to steal my girl?”

You roll your eyes at him and shake your head from side to side with a scoff, “he’s honestly such a dick. If he knew the real you, he wouldn’t dare say some of the shit he does to me.”

Billy sits up to attention with a deep frown etched across his forehead, “what do you mean? What’s he been saying?”

You shouldn’t have said those words, Billy certainly wasn’t going to let this go now you’d let slip Jason was saying stuff to you that was out of line. It was baffling really, you had no idea why he suddenly had such an interest in you, especially as he’d been well informed by others about who your boyfriend was, and exactly what he was capable of. It made you uncomfortable every time he interacted with you, your mind immediately thinking of what the consequences could be if Billy ever found out what he said.

“It’s nothing, honestly,” you sigh with a tender smile, “please don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“I’m not having some stupid mommy’s boy saying shit to my girlfriend!” he states, getting up off of the floor and clenching his fists.

You jump up as well and wrap your arms around him tightly, “Billy,” you say softly, “calm down… please.”

His tense body unravels slowly under your touch until eventually he’s returned your embrace and is leaning his head against yours lovingly. It was a difficult balance sometimes when it came to Billy and just how much you could share with him; you never wanted there to be secrets but sometimes not revealing every detail, especially when it came to Jason’s advances, was for the best. You’d definitely seen an improvement in how he handled his temper since dating you, but you certainly didn’t want anything to push his boundaries.

“How do you do that?” he asks after a few moments of silence.

“Do what?”

He lifts his head from you and smiles when you meet his gaze, “make me feel as though the world isn’t such a shitty place?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you grin.

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, deepening the kiss within seconds as his fingers dig into your waist and pull your hips against his, and you respond by running your hands up his chest and weaving your digits into his hair with a delighted moan. The two of you manage to make your way to the bed blindly and bounce down onto the covers just as the doorbell rings.

“Ignore it,” Billy pants between kisses to your neck.

You hum in agreement as his hands wander around your body while he pushes you onto your back, then the door goes again; twice in quick succession.

Your body tenses under Billy and he feels you still, “leave it.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, closing your eyes again to get lost in the feel of your boyfriend all over you.

Once more the moment is broken by the bell, and you throw your arms onto the bed in defeat as Billy growls in the direction of the front door.

“I’ll get rid of them,” you chuckle as he slicks his hair back with a frustrated exhale.

“Be quick baby,” he winks, unzipping his jeans.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the sight and you have to tear yourself away to answer the persistent person on the other side of your door. It rings once more just as you’re approaching and you roll your eyes again, “I’m coming!” you call out.

A gust of wind hits you as you open it up then you do a double take when you see the familiar face you had just been talking about mere moments earlier.

“Jason?” you question as your brow knits together in confusion.

“The one and only,” he smiles, leaning up against the door frame.

“What brings you here then?” you ask as you pull the door against your body to limit the view inside.

He looks down at his shoes then back up again with a shrug almost timidly, “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see if you wanted to come out for a ride.”

“I’m kinda busy tonight actually.”

“Sure I can’t persuade you… just for an hour?”

“I’m sure. Thanks for the offer though.”

You smile at him as politely as you can before going to shut the door, but before it clicks into place he shoves a foot in the gap and it comes to an abrupt halt at his trainer that makes your body jolt in shock, “what are you doing Jason?” you frown, looking up into his face that had now turned from civil to angry within seconds.

“Can you just give me five minutes of your precious time? That is literally all I want. Just…” he sighs in a frustrated manner and pinches the bridge of his nose as he briefly closes his eyes, “just five god damn minutes?”

“Jason, I-”

“You’ve got a boyfriend, I know, whatever,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I could not care less about Billy fucking Hargrove,” he continues, shoving a shoulder against the door and pushing you back a little, “all I care about is-”

Loud footsteps approach from behind you and the door is ripped out of your hands by Billy so that Jason almost falls inside the house, “I really think you should care about Billy fucking Hargrove,” he says, watching Jason straighten up in fear.

“I had no idea you were here… I wouldn’t have-”

“Wouldn’t have come to hit on my girlfriend? Wouldn’t have come to try and get her into your car so you could have your way with her…? What Jason? What would you not have done, huh?” Billy challenges as you take a couple of steps back just in case.

“I… uh…” he stutters.

“Because I think it’s just a little fucked up that someone like you would think they even had a shot with someone like (Y/N). She wants a real man, not some snob who lives off of the bank of mom and dad and fucks everything that has a pulse.”

Jason stumbles back into the wall then quickly glances to the side to see how far he was from the doorway before making a run for it with Billy hot on his heels, “your cards are marked Jason!” he shouts after him, “if you talk to her one more time I will end you!”

Billy spits on the ground as he stops, then turns around and makes his way back to where you wait for him, your arms opening up as soon as he reaches you, and he kicks the door shut behind him.

“That was eventful…” you mutter against his shoulder as his hands grip your clothes.

“Who the fuck does that kid think he is? Seriously. I could have-”

“Shh,” you soothe, leaning away and placing your hands on his cheeks gently, “I know exactly what you could have done, but I’m glad you didn’t. We’ve got unfinished business in the bedroom to attend to, and that would have delayed it even more…”

The anger in Billy’s face soon dissipates at your words and deep frown he had lifts to be replaced by a smug smirk instead, “better not waste any more time then baby, come on,” he says with a smack of your bum.

Request: So I have a request and it is something along the lines of reader and Billy are over at her place and Jason knocks at the door but when reader try's to shut the door Jason attempts to come in but doesn't realize that Billy is there? I don't really know how to put it into words

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff

[no-see-um-incorrect]

Love and Fuff

BitterSweet Trio 

(they’re all dating your honor)

The seasons were changing which means Alphonse changes out all of the plushy‘s on the bed in exchange for the seasonal ones. And this time he recruited his Boo!

So there they sat on the Bed they shared, sifting through varieties of different soft plush toys, while binging episodes of the Mandalorian. Lost in thought that is until Al sees a very familiar plush that caught his attention.

“Holy shit haven’t seen this lil guy in a long fucking time” Sugarboo plops on the bed “Haven’t seen what?-OOoOoO cute bear!” Alphonse held the bear up to get the full view of it “HEY SETH! BABE GET IN HERE AND COME SEE THIS!”

It wasn’t too long before he heard Seth walking down the hallway to the bedroom “Alphonse I swear if your tryin’ to get me to kill another spider I ain’t doing it” he walks into the bedroom and sees the what Alphonse is holding “holy shit”

Sitting inAlphonse’s hands was a very familiar plush bear. The bottom of the belly as well as its legs and paws we’re light pink with a small shine, the top half looks like it was dipped in chocolate and covered in sprinkles, with two cotton candy blue buttons for the eyes. “remember this little guy?”

Seth smiled and sat next to Al on the Bed “of course I do” Sugarboo cocked their head. Seth took the bear in his hands and smiled 

“When Al first came to the city with me he couldn’t sleep straight. It took nearly a week for him to tell me why” “guess I was too embarrassed to admit it was cause-” “You missed your plushies at home” Alphonse smiled and rubbed the back of his neck “so Seth snuck away to the cities mall when he had some free time and picked up this sweet thing and gave it to me as a little present” alphonse leaned up and kissed Seth on the cheek, causing the southern boys face to flush pink.

Sugarboo looked at the tag that was on the Bears foot “goody Bears! I used to collect these when I was little. there part of the reason why I love baking so much” Seth looks around the room at the piles and bins of plushy‘s “what were you guys doing that required all of these?” alphonse sets the bear on his lap before grabbing a handful of beanie babies and throwing them at Seth “seasonal plushy rotation!” Seth almost successfully catches them “why do you have so many of these?” Alphonse face saddens before turning into a soft smile “well…you know…my Ma used to collect um’…she always had a dozen for each season and she’d put them on the mantle  along with the other decorations” seth looks down at the small pile of beanie babies in his lap and looks back up at Alphonse “well then. hand me the bag I’ll start going through um’ you just tell me which ones to put aside”

They rearranged their seating positions, Seth on the left, Alphonse on the right, Sugarboo in the middle.

“Do you wanna put on a movie? I don’t think Seth has seen the Mandalorian yet and I don’t wanna spoil it for him” “Yea. Seth you can pick. Me and Boo are good with pretty much anything” they both look at Seth expectantly. He stares for a moment before scrambling for an answer.  “um..well shit let me think here…. now don’t pick on me for this but..Ya got any of the Muppet movies on these fancy ass streaming services you’ve got?” the corners of Sugarboo‘s mouth start to curl and Alphonse snags the remote off the nightstand “Hell Yeah we’re watching Muppets! Got a specific one ya want Babe?” “yeah um.. they got Muppet treasure Island?” With just a few presses of a button Seth’s movie wishes were granted. 

As the movie played on, the three got more comfortable, nearly abandoning the job that they started. 

Seth’s head laid on Al’s shoulder his eyes growing heavy, Alphonse’s arm was around him gently brushing his fingers through his hair which wasn’t helping him stay awake, the other arm had the little sugarcoated bear from earlier tucked close to his side, Sugarboo was cozied up on top of them nestled under the blanket with a small mountain of plushy‘s weighing on their feet.

As the movie played, and his two partners struggled to stay awake, Alphonse was basking in it 

He looks down at Seth‘s face. The face he has seen bloodied and bruised angry and sorrowful now completely peaceful. Then he looks at his Boo. a face he has seen nearly every day for five years a face he could never imagine going a day without.

And they are both here.

Two of his favorite people in this world, cuddled up in bed watching a movie they’ve all seen 1 million times.

And it’s happy, and it’s warm and it’s peaceful, and God dammit a deadly asteroid could be hurling towards earth at top speed right now, and he wouldn’t give a fuck. because this is where he wants to be 

Slowly, drifting off to sleep in a pile of love and fluff.

————————————————————————

Why does it feel like it’s been forever since I’ve written something for YV.

It got really cheesy at the end and I do apologize for that. this draft has been sitting here for a while so I figured I’d polish it up 

Hope you enjoyed

#sickeningly sweet #kind of cheesy #fluff #yuurivoice fic #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice sugarboo #yuurivoice #bittersweet trio #my fic #no see um writing #I may not know what I’m doing #maybe even cheesy #definitely cheesy

[snakegorl212006]

The “Little Things” they do(Savanaclaw)

--------------------Jack------------------------ I assumed he ran out of energy again. The gym was a mess. Weights everywhere,water on the floor, even bars. Almost like a hurricane passed though. Not wanting a mess I began cleaning. Putting weights in the correct spot and order, bars on handles and water cleaned up. While finishing up i felt a cold heavy weight on my back. Although I was a bit startled, I had a feeling it was jack behind me. I sighed slightly and began walking him out of the gym and to his old room. Surely ghosts need rest. I plopped him down on the bed even though he's barely visible. He looked like some miserable dog with his ears down, almost defeated expression. I felt bad. "I’m gonna leave so you can chill” I said as I stood up and began to leave the room “I'm sorry” jack mumbled. I turned around to see he'd faded out. Wonder what he’s sorry about. ---------------------Ruggie----------------------------------- “Ok this is getting ridiculous” i mumbled. “Ruggie” I called out the ghost “yesss” he answer as he peeked through the door “have you been rearranging or stealing my clothes” i asked “hmmmm… maybe” he replied “seriously?” i asked “nope” he smiled and i sighed “can you just give them back” i asked “what would you give me” he smirked mischievously “i have nothing of interest unless you want me to make you food” i offered “hmm.. Donuts and your attention for a day.” he said “ok fine just give me my clothes back” i huffed he smiled widely and disappeared.

The day has gone by and as promised, Ruggie would give my things back by tonight. Once I returned to my room, a large pile of clothes and other miscellaneous things layed on my bed. The more I sifted through, the more disturbing the items got. Cloths to my underwear to missing soap bottles to my chapstick/lipsticks. What was he doing with all this --------------------Leona--------------------------- “Chess? Sure I doubt I remember how to play” i stated “don’t worry about it just sit down” leona said. I shrugged and sat on the table across from leona. There on the table was a classical chess set. “You go first,” Leona said. We committed plays back and forth. We barely spoke so the birds in the gardens occupied the focus atmosphere. “It’s kinda random you invited me here” i said as i placed down a pawn “ghost around here invite you all the time. How is this any different” he replied playing down his rook “well.. You barely acknowledge my presence nor care to move out the way when I’m cleaning the wing so i assume you want nothing to do with me” i replied “well you suddenly appeared in my manor how else was i supposed to react to you” he scoff “should i just leave then” i teased as i placed down my piece. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and twisted it forcing me out of my chair “leona what the-” i was interrupted by coughing. My body felt weak and dry causing me to cough violently “leave then i have no choice but to kill you” he spoke calmly as he moved his pieces “checkmate” he started dropping my wrist . my body regained normal functions and that dryness faded away although that didn’t stop the coughing. I looked down at my hands and the floor to check for signs of blood,fortunately there was none… when i turned back to the table to scold even yell at this guy he’s already left the scene. What even was that?

#twisted wonderland haunted au #twisted wonderland ghost au #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere ruggie bucchi x reader #yandere jack howl x reader #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere ruggie x reader #yandere jack x reader

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Just Let Me Adore You Pt. 5

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none actually

Genre: kinda comedy, kinda fluff

Summary: You’ve been dating your boyfriend, Bruce, for 3 absolutely blissful years. He’s a scientist and professor who is as smart as he is kind and if anyone asked, you were sure you’d spend the rest of your life with him. That is until two mysteriously charming men that Bruce swears are dangerous take an interest in you that threatens to turn your entire life upside down. I mean… what exactly are you supposed to do with two gorgeous men telling you something that suggests that basically everything you think you know is a lie? And why does part of you have enough doubt to wonder if they might be telling the truth?

Series Masterlist

***

You toss some clothes from your closet onto your bed where Wanda is sitting. She's spending the afternoon with you at the apartment. You were supposed to go out to lunch but you both decided you weren't feeling the restaurant you were planning to go to so instead you ordered pizza and changed your day out to a day in.

"Okay, pick something." You tell her.

"Wait you upcycled all of these?"

"Well no not yet, I mean a couple of them I've started to upcycle but I haven't finished. This is a pile of clothes I bought specifically to upcycle. I can't decide on my next project so I'm letting you pick. I'll start it later but I don't wanna forget to ask you before you leave."

"Can I have the finished product of whatever you end up doing with it?" She asks.

"Yeah sure, I really just like to make the things. I can make sure it's something you would wear if you want it though." You shrug.

"Okay! Let me look through the options then." Wanda says sifting through the pile.

"Take your time. In the meantime- girl we need to discuss some shit." You say.

"Uh oh. What are we discussing?" She laughs.

"So you know how I told you Steve and Bucky are werewolves and that they seem convinced that I am one as well?" You ask. It's been a few days since your last conversation with Bruce about Steve and Bucky and even though you're pretty sure you've managed to calm him down about the situation you honestly haven't been able to let the whole thing go. On one hand you have no reason to trust Bucky and Steve but on the other you're having trouble rationalizing the idea that they're straight up lying to you about who you are.

"Yes, I recall. We decided you weren't going to look into that though because you didn't think it made sense. Right? What's the deal? Have you changed your mind on the validity of their theory? Did something new happen?"

"I didn't ask you before because I was busy spiraling but do you think it's possible? That I could be a werewolf?" You ask instead of answering her question directly,

"I think- it would be irresponsible to dismiss the possibility without any real consideration." She shrugs.

"That is not what I asked you. I asked if you think I could be a werewolf."

"I think it's a not so unreasonable conclusion based on some of the things I know about you."

"Wait hang on, all these years we've been friends, you've suspected I was a werewolf this whole time and never thought to bring it up? Why?"

"Okay first of all; not the whole time it's just over the years I've noticed that some of your behaviors align with what I know of lycanthropy but it was only a hunch and while there are spells that can verify that sort of thing but I would never do that to you without your consent. Plus I don't think you've been lying to me about being human so at best you were a werewolf that didn't know it and I didn't want to cause you an identity crisis over a barely supported suspicion."

"So you think I'm a werewolf? I cannot believe you convinced me Steve and Bucky were delusional when you have the same prognosis!"

"I wasn't trying to convince you they were delusion at all! All I did was explain how their personal stake in this, as in their suspected feelings for you, could affect the credibility of whatever they say to you! You weren't looking for a reason to believe them, you were looking for a reason to believe Bruce, so I gave you one. I think if you're seriously considering what they said as true at all you should just call your mom. Worst case scenario she has no idea what you're talking about and assumes you've lost your mind. Or she'll tell you that you are a werewolf. Either way you've got a definitive answer and that's much better than whatever this is." Wanda shrugs.

"Okay, well, there is- another piece of information at play here that I initially left out for safety reasons but I think at this point you should probably know it now." You say.

"Is it no longer a safety concern?"

"Uhhh I mean, maybe. Like there's nothing making it safer now than it was before but I don't even know if it's actually unsafe in the first place."

"Y/n are you in danger? Because if anything happens to you I will have heads on pikes. You know this. What is going on?"

"I love that you are as fiercely protective as you are but I'm gonna ask you to dial it back because I think you would be legally classified as a serial killer if you tried to put the heads of everyone potentially involved on pikes." You say.

"First of all, the cops couldn't catch me if they tried so that is not a deterrent. Secondly, who is potentially involved?! Stop speaking in circles and please get to the point."

"Bruce thinks that Steve and Bucky are the heads of a werewolf mafia." You rush out.

"A what?" Wanda blinks at you with disbelief clear on her face.

"Girl, I thought the same thing. So once upon a time, Bruce worked for some scientists that studied a local community of werewolves only to learn that New York has a wolf crime syndicate and Steve and Bucky are possibly at the top."

"Possibly?" She frowns. 

"Yeah because of course he never figured out who was in charge of any of this he's just speculating that it's Steve and Bucky because of... honestly very little information actually, so little that it seems silly but that kid Peter from my job, he has some friends that are definitively involved in it apparently."

"Somehow as you're explaining this I am just getting more and more confused."

"Yeah well I've been following it for quite a while at this point and I still barely understand it half the time. Let's see, Peter has some friends who've come to the bookstore a few times. One of those times, Bruce showed up and he recognized them I guess, and realized they were part of the werewolf mafia scene. That's when he informed me that he was a research assistant for a team that made enemies of this particular group of werewolves, because of course, they did, now Steve and Bucky being the leaders is more so a hunch of his, we have no proof of that besides the fact that they are werewolves and the leaders supposedly have the initials S and B. Also, he thinks the flirting with me and claiming I'm a werewolf and that claiming that he has known that information is all like psychological warfare I guess, against him."

"Wait so he thinks Steve and Bucky courting you essentially is an attempt to get back at him?"

"He thinks they'll hurt me to get to him. Yes."

"Wouldn't they have done something by now if that was their plan?" She frowns.

"That's exactly what I said to Bruce! Especially because they didn't even know who he was until the second time we ran into them together, which was the third time I met them. He thinks they've just been lying to lure me into a false sense of security before they attack or whatever but my whole thing is like why would they need to do all of that if they're these super powerful crime guys anyway?" You huff.

"So he thinks because of some research project he was an assistant for not even leading anything, which I'm assuming also happened before you met, that Steve and Bucky are plotting against him, and trying to use you for their revenge?" Wanda asks.

"Yeah pretty much. I think you got it." You nod.

"Why didn't you mention any of this before now? Your life has basically become a telenovela. This is not the kind of tea you just hold onto!"

"I didn't tell you because I barely believe it myself. There really isn't any proof to support most of this craziness. I'm taking Bruce at his word because he's my boyfriend and I trust him but Steve and Bucky being werewolf crime bosses attempting to use me to get at him all feels absurd. The only thing supporting any of his claims is that Steve and Bucky told me that they were werewolves but that doesn't mean they're some crazy crime lords I just- I can't imagine Bruce would make all of this up. I don't want to." You sigh. Wanda grabs your phone from your desk and holds it out to you.

"Call your mother. Now. Get an answer to the werewolf question and then we can tackle the possibility of all the other shit. Confront Bruce if you have to or if not deal with the chance that you're on the wolf mob's hit list." She says.

"Actually no because how did my life get so damn complicated? Like hearing you say it like that? I literally work at a bookstore, how am I potentially dealing with a werewolf mafia?"

"We can worry about how we got to this point later, right now we call mom, and ask the burning question that could change everything."

"Okay just because my life sounds like a telenovela doesn't mean you need to narrate it like one." You roll your eyes.

"Hey if you're living in chaos make the best of it. Now, let's call mom." Wanda shrugs.

"You just want confirmation for your own theory." You chuckle grabbing your phone from her.

"I want this crisis to stop, or at the very least I want us to progress to the next stage and we can't do that without an answer to this question at this point. You can only do so much with speculation and I think we have exhausted the usefulness of speculating in this situation. I mean I am curious if I was right at all that's true but it's like only a bonus of you calling your mother and getting some answers. You need answers y/n." She says and you roll your eyes as you dial your mother's number. Each ring makes you more nervous as you grapple with the fact that you're maybe about to find out something life altering.

"Hello?" Her voice comes through the phone and you're equally relieved and stressed.

"Mom! Hi! How are you?"

"Y/n! I'm good sweetie, so nice to hear from you. Everything alright?" She asks. She can probably hear in your voice that something's weighing on you. That's just how she is sometimes.

"Well, I actually have a question for you. It's kind of a strange one honestly." You say.

"No such thing, you know you can always ask me anything." She says. You take a deep breath before you let the words fall from your mouth.

"Am I a werewolf?"

"I'm sorry?" She asks with an awkward chuckle.

"Am I a werewolf?" You ask again, slower this time.

"Oh shit, did you turn?"

"Did I turn?! Is that your way of confirming that I am actually a werewolf?!" Your eyes widen.

"Honey-"

"Momma I need you to answer my question with a yes or a no, am I a werewolf or aren't I?" You ask. The words hang in the air for a moment before she sighs.

"You are." She says.

"Holy. Shit." You say before you can stop yourself, and when you look at Wanda you can tell by the look on her face that she knows exactly what you just heard.

***

Part 5/???

Tagged Users: @cjand10 @vicmc624

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #stucky fanfic #stucky x reader #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky #stucky angst #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolf steve rogers #werewolf au #Just Let Me Adore You #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers

[0blobthefish0]

Attempted Walk of Shame

arizona + callie masterlist | main masterlist

[1127 words] Arizona Robbins/Callie Torres/Reader

You were asleep, barely evening registering that you were breathing, until you felt your leg brush up against someone else's. Your eyes flew open, the sting of the morning light forgotten in your panic; you slept alone, in your own apartment as one very single, singular person. Blonde hair was the only thing you could see, when your eyes had focused, and your heartbeat picked up. You didn't know anyone that was blonde and single, that was something that made you momentarily relax; however, as you turned to sit up, dark hair came into view. Your eyes felt as if they would pop out of your skull and your heart fell to the pit of your stomach. Fuck.

You breathed deeply to calm yourself and reassured yourself that it couldn't be anyone you knew. Carefully, you leaned over to see the face of the blonde, who was closest to you, and you choked on your own gasp, quickly moving away with a hand covering your mouth. Your eyes so wide you felt them drying. Arizona Robbins. You mouthed the words 'oh my god' into the air and your gaze fell onto the brunette, you shook your head in disbelief, there was no way, absolutely no way. You peeked through her hair and stopped breathing altogether. Callie Torres. Double fuck. Literally.

You had to get out, before they knew you were ever here. You began to delicately peel yourself from the duvet, careful not to wake the two, insanely hot, women which you may have or have not slept with. The details were fuzzy, and your head was throbbing from your hangover. Once you had successfully removed yourself from their bed, you found yourself in another predicament; you were naked, and your clothes were nowhere in sight. You swore lightly under your breath as you sifted through the piles of clothing discarded on the floor, to find that none of them were yours. You chewed on your lip nervously, you couldn't just steal their clothes, but you couldn't really leave naked either. Your eyes landed on a large towel, and you grimaced, weighing out your options.

You walked out into their main room, securing a towel around your body. You were never any good at making good decisions, and there was no way you were going to go back into their bedroom. You needed to leave, and quick before they woke up. You were making your way to the door when it suddenly swung open. You froze.

"Mark," you whispered, body relaxing with relief. Never had you been so glad to see Mark Sloan.

"Y/n!" He said loudly and you shushed him with a finger to your lips.

"Mark, I am naked, I need to leave, take off your shirt or take me to your place." You rushed out impatiently, your heart pounding against your chest.

"Did you?" He questioned and his head jerked in the direction of the bedroom.

"No. Yes. Maybe? I don't know." You sighed. "I don't remember anything; all I know is that I am hungover, and I woke up naked in a bed with two other women who might also be naked." You rambled out.

"A threesome? Nice, up top." He smirked and held up his hand and you slapped his arm down.

"No, not 'nice', I am screwed, I have no clothes, we might've not even done it, and if we did, I really hope they don't remember because I don't remember, and if they do that's just really, really awkward." You really needed to escape. "Please, just ask subtly if they were naked when they woke up and if they remember anything from last night." You asked him as you reached for the keys to his apartment.

"Remember what from last night?" A stern but sleepy voice rose up from behind you and you felt every cell in your body go rigid. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Your eyes met Mark's and you shook your head in short rapid movements, your eyes begging for him to keep his mouth shut.

"Y/n woke up naked in your bed," he blurted out and you slapped his side. "She's also trying to sneak out with just a towel on." He smirked, that was for hitting him.

"Dick." You mumbled under your breath before swiftly spinning around to face Callie. "Hi." You said with an awkward wave of your hand. How you had wished to just simply disappear in that moment or for the floor to collapse underneath you. You held onto the towel tighter, fearing it would fall from your ongoing bad luck. "Do you know where my clothes are?" You questioned hopefully.

"They're in the kitchen, Y/n/n," Arizona smiled walking in and your eyebrows knitted together, what were they doing in the kitchen? "Oh, she doesn't remember what happened in the kitchen," she realised as she stared at you.

"No, she does not." Callie smirked, pausing lightly between each word. You nearly felt your knees buckle, why were they so hot?

"What-" you began, but you were too quiet to hear, "what happened in the kitchen?" You were staring at them too, now, your voice laced with cautious curiosity.

"Yeah, what happened in the kitchen?" Mark nodded from behind you and their eyes shifted from yours to Mark's. You watched the silent exchange through their glaring eyes before you felt Mark shift behind you and swiftly leave. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling more naked and exposed without Mark's towering figure looming over you. You felt small under the predatory gaze of the two, you being their prey and not knowing if you wanted to be caught or not.

"Do you wanna go grab your clothes?" Callie started and you gave her a quick nod before you scurried past them and to the kitchen. They followed after you silently. You fumbled as you collected your clothing from various places, crouching down to grab your top from the corner of the kitchen you heard someone step closer toward you. Quickly, you stood up and turned around a gasp falling from your lips as you faced Arizona, who was a lot closer than you had thought. 

"Would you like to know what happened last night?" She questioned softly and you gulped nervously before nodding your head. She began to move closer, "Use your words," she instructed as she backed you further into the corner until you hit the counter.

"Yes.. please." You could feel the waver of your voice as you talked. Arizona leaned in, each hand pressed to a counter beside you, trapping you.

"I can stop, if you'd like?" She asked.

"No, I don't think I want that." You breathed, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Good, because we can show you," and Callie appeared above her shoulder. God, you were in for a very, very long morning.

#greys antony #wlw #x reader #fxfxf #arizona robbins x reader #female reader #callie torres #arizona robbins #callie torres x reader #arizona robbins x callie torres #arizona robbins x callie torres x reader #mark sloan #Blob's fics

[loveisnotovertae]

Love is Not Over

✏️Taehyung x OFC ✏️Friends to Lover AU 🛑 Rated 18+ 📖WC:2306 ⚠️Mentally abusive and controlling ex, stalking, mention of anxiety cheating, COVID, drinking, drunk hookup, masturbation, oral, accidental marriage, accidental pregnancy⚠️

Mae always wanted to go to South Korea and visit all the places her Aunt and Uncle used to tell her stories about. So after catching her fiancè cheating, she did just that. Her two month trip turned into a permanent stay thanks to covid lockdown. A friendly neighbor turned best friend, who just so happened to be part of the biggest music group in the world. A drunken night that changed her life forever.

Chapter 16

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Mae jumped and squealed when Taehyung’s raspy voice broke through the quiet dark hotel room. 

She placed her hand over her beating heart and put her head on the table, “Jesus, Tae. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung snickered and picked up his phone. “Mae, it’s five in the morning. Come back to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, putting her phone back into place so that she could use its light. “You should go back to sleep though. You’re the one who sang and danced on stage for hours. And you need your rest for tonight.”

“You are tired. Even from across the room I can see that.” Taehyung sighed, turning on the lamp beside her.

“Why did you turn on the light?” she poked out her bottom lip and pouted while he sat in the chair next to her.

“The dim light from your screen isn’t enough for whatever it is that you are doing.” Taehyung scrunched his eyebrows when he saw the piles of candy, photocards and other trinkets. “What are you doing?”

Mae went back to her sorting, ignoring the amusement in his voice. “I’m going through all the freebies that ARMY gave me at the concert.”

“Why…why do most of these have Jin on them?” he asked, sifting through the cards.

“Because he’s my bias.”

“I’m the one who you married, shouldn’t I be your bias?”

“Drunkenly married and nope.”

Taehyung put a piece of candy in his mouth and continued to look over the stuff on the table as Mae sorted. One of his eyebrows shot up in curiosity when she quickly put a card on the bottom of the pile.

“What was that?”

Mae slapped his hand away when he tried to move the other cards to see it. “Nothing. Shouldn’t you be going back to bed?”

“I will in a little bit. Now what are you hiding?” This time he was quicker and grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand. “Is this a shirtless edit of me?” he asked, examining the card. “What does it say on the back?” Taehyung squinted, trying to read the english, on the back.

Mae pulled her arm away from him and went back to her task. “This wrecker can wreck me anytime.”

Taehyung choked on his saliva, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it’s implying that they want to be fucked senseless by their wrecker, then yes.”

“Am I your wrecker?”

“No, Yoongi’s my wrecker. But my three best friends thought it would be funny to give me the bag with your card in it.”

“I’m not sure if I believe that.” Taehyung said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Tae, I’ve seen you shirtless plenty of times. You’re even shirtless right now,” she pointed.

“Is that why you haven’t looked at me longer than two seconds?” 

She could tell he had a grin on his face without even looking. “That’s one of the reasons, yes.” She said truthfully.

“One of the reasons? What’s the other reason?”

Mae sighed as she sat back in her chair and made eye contact with him. “While I was laying in bed trying to sleep I got to thinking. And the more I thought, the urge to become a petty bitch grew inside of me.”

“Well that’s a side of you I’ve never seen before.” 

“Tyler found out about the annulment and about what happened in Jeju, which means he weaseled his way into somebody's trust. Knowing him, he’s sitting somewhere with a drink in hand and a stupid grin on his face. He thinks he won. He thinks he’s made the world around me crash like I did his.”

Taehyung held up a finger, stopping her. “You’re not the one who made his world crash. It was his own fucking fault.” he said and then motioned for her to continue.

“I want so badly to wipe that smile off his face.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Taehyung leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.

“By showing him that this,” she motioned between the two of them, “wasn’t a drunken mistake.”

“But it was…”

“But he doesn’t need to know that. I want him to second guess everything he found out. I want him so pissed off about our happiness that he fucks up, worse than he already has.” Mae straightened up and placed her hands on the table.

“Say no more.” Taehyung said, standing up.

“What are you doing?” Mae watched in confusion as he walked to the bedside table and got his phone.

“I’m going to call my lawyer and tell him to get rid of the annulment.”

Mae ran over to him, stopping him from dialing the number. “Wait, are you sure you don’t want to discuss this more first or wait until we know more information? It was just a suggestion and a kind of fucked up one if you think about it.”

“Nope, no take backs. You said that you wanted to stay married to me. I understand what it involves and I’m ok with it.” Taehyung kissed Mae on the forehead causing her to stand frozen in shock. “Get some sleep, Wife. Tomorrow we start life as a happily married couple.” he said over his shoulder before entering the bathroom and closing the door.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

Mae took a deep breath and gave her bodyguard a reassuring nod before the two of them stepped out from the safety of the backstage area and headed toward the suite where her friends were. Today, instead of coming to the venue with the women, she came with Taehyung and the other members. The pictures of her from last night were now all over the internet and everyone agreed it would be safer.

She and Taehyung were brought into an emergency meeting this morning to discuss everything Bighit had found out so far. The information they’d gathered was both good news and bad.

The pictures of Taehyung leaving the house were posted on a known stalkers site. The ones of Mae at the concert on the other hand took a little longer to find, but they ended up finding them all online posted by fan sites and ARMYs. They were one hundred percent sure Tyler hadn’t taken them.

The next set of information made Mae’s stomach drop. Tyler was in Seoul, he’d arrived the day after she landed in California. Which meant when he saw her at the airport he was on his way to South Korea. The asshole was a creature of habit and loved to post his travels on Instagram. Mae didn’t even know he had one, but the security team at the company was smart. When Jimin and Jungkook told them about the threats he made almost three years ago, they kept an eye on him, just in case he tried something. After Mae went to them for help, they became even more cautious of him.

Taehyung was storming out the door and on the phone with his father the moment the two of them were shown a picture of Tyler outside of Mae’s apartment building with the caption “Sorry I missed you.” The company reassured them that they’d checked the cameras and he didn’t get in. But that didn’t matter. Once Taehyung returned to the room he let the man on the screen know that his father would be calling in a few hours and he was going to need help moving Mae’s things out as soon as possible.

“I knew we should’ve moved you out when Jimin moved last year.” he huffed, closing the laptop.

“Tae, it wouldn’t have mattered. That address would’ve been leaked too.” Mae said, trying to calm him down some. Him being upset wasn’t helping her nerves any. Just the thought of there being a chance she could’ve run into Tyler if she hadn’t left for California made her want to vomit.

Taehyung leaned his head back and let out a frustrated sigh, “What does this asshole want?”

“He wants me scared, he wants me to come back begging for him to stop.”

“I wasn’t…” Taehyung’s features softened when he turned his head to look at her.

“I know,” Mae placed her hand on his shoulder and stood up, “You weren’t intending for it to be an actual question. But I needed to say it outloud for myself.”

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

The women once again left early, but this time it was to avoid the crowd. They were taken through a private exit where an SUV was waiting to take them to a restaurant where they would celebrate the two successful shows with the guys and some of the crew.

“I’m calling it now,” Veronica handed Mae her phone so that she could use the camera to fix her makeup. “Because of this plan, the two of you will find yourselves tangled in the sheets very soon.”

Mae rolled her eyes and tried to keep the phone steady as the car moved. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because there is already this massive ball of sexual energy between the two of you. And if you two are going to play husband and wife, it’s going to eventually pop.”

“She’s right, Mae. I don’t think you realized just how much more physical the two of you are actually going to have to be when coming up with this plan,” Kimberleigh piped in from the back seat.

“Or emotional,” D added, “You’ll have to let your guard down. All those feelings you’ve had for him-”

“I don’t have feelings for him,” Mae protested, cutting her off.

D snorted, “Okay, just keep telling yourself that. But in order for Tyler or anyone else to believe it, they need to see the emotional and physical connection you both have.”

“So, no more death stares or avoiding,” Veronica said, pointing her brush at Mae. “Tae is going to enjoy the hell out of this,” she laughed. “If he holds your hand, you hold it back. If he puts his arm around you, don’t you dare smack that man.”

Mae tossed Veronica’s phone in her lap when they pulled up to the restaurant. She knew what this plan would involve when she made it. She knew she was going to have to put down all her walls and let her true feelings for him show. But she was scared. Mae knew that Taehyung wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. But even after three years, the scars from Tyler were still fresh. Deep in her brain the warning sign with ‘all men are just like Tyler’ was still flashing its bright red letters.

The women followed behind Mae’s bodyguard as the hostess led them to their tables.

“Good evening, ladies.” Namjoon greeted them.

“How the hell did you beat us here? We left while you were still on stage.” A confused Veronica asked.

“We had your driver take the long way.”

“You’re such a smart man, Mr. Kim Namjoon.” Veronica said, making everyone laugh when she pinched his cheek.

“Why don’t we all have a seat so we can eat?” 

Mae's eyes found Taehyung who was standing next to the table with his hand out for her. She rolled her eyes and chuckled at his gesture before taking his hand.

“You really are enjoying this aren’t you?” she asked.

Taehyung pulled her close making it look like he was placing a kiss on her temple, “The person who took the pictures of me leaving the house is here,” he whispered.

Mae turned her head to look at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, she’s the one in the light blue dress by herself.” Mae glanced in the direction that he nodded. Five tables away was indeed a woman wearing a light blue dress with her phone perfectly placed so that it pointed at their table. “She somehow found out we were coming here.” Taehyung cupped Mae’s cheek and brought her attention back to him. “A member of our security already talked to the manager, but they wont do anything about it because she’s a paying customer.”

“So act like she’s not here? And put on our best acting skills?”

Taehyung’s smile grew and he kissed her on the forehead. “It’s time to act like you’re madly in love with me.”

“She’s already madly in love with you.”

The two of them turned their attention to Kimberleigh who was standing behind Mae.

“Is she now?” Taehyung’s voice was full of amusement.

“I am not.”

Kimberleigh rolled her eyes. “You are too. Now will you both please sit down? I’m starving and you’ve got a show to put on.”

This time it was Mae who grabbed Taehyung’s hand and pulled him into the booth with her. The remainder of the party strategically sat around the table, giving the stalker as little view of the couple as possible.

Mae laughed when she looked up from her menu and caught a glance of the woman over Hoseok’s shoulder. She looked angry as she moved her phone around, trying to get the perfect angle again.

As the evening went on Mae found it easier to relax and let her flirty side take over after a couple glasses of wine. It didn’t faze her when Taehyung put his hand on her leg, mindlessly rubbing her thigh while they chatted away with their friends.

However, just as everyone was ordering dessert, when Taehyung put his arm around Mae’s shoulder and leaned across her to talk to D, Mae realized just how much effect he was having on her body. She found herself taking in his features, she could feel her heart beginning to race and her breathing grow heavier. Taehyung must’ve felt the change in her too, because before he moved away he looked at her with a flirtatious smile.

#Kim Taehyung | V/Original Female Character(s) #Kim Taehyung | V #Taehyung fanfic #Bts fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung x oc #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #Mae #Fluff #Fluff and Smut #Fluff and Humor #taehyung #bts #bangtan #BangtanWHQ

[lukaa-aa]

homework

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: reader wants to finish school work, eddie does not give a singular fuck :')

warnings: swearing, a little innuendo in there lol, eddie being a little shit, no pronouns used for the reader btw

A/N: i fucking wrote this once but my laptop fucking died and it didn't save im gonna lose it

homework had started to pile up a little bit lately. it wasn't a bad thing, necessarily, since your grades weren't dropping, but you were getting a little behind. you had to develop a system to get your work done before your grades started slipping. the biggest cause of this was your boyfriend, eddie.

the only times you got your homework done was when eddie was busy with hellfire, or if your parents wanted you to stay home for dinner. you liked to get homework done the day before it was due, just so that you knew it was getting done and it wasn't lost. you had to finish a math paper tonight. it wasn't hard, but it took some paying attention to. paying attention and your boyfriend were not a good mix.

eddie couldn't sit still as you sat at your desk, finishing your third problem. he started scrounging around your bedroom, looking at pictures and picking up trinkets laying around.

he picked up a tiny glass turtle and turned to you. "where'd you get this?"

you turned to look at what he was talking about, before turning back to you paper. "my grandma got it on a trip to florida last year."

he hummed and set it back down, walking over to your closet. he opened it and sifted through your shirts and coats. he turned around, dissatisfied by your closet. he threw himself onto your bed, staring at your for a moment before getting up to stand behind you. he placed his hands on the armrests and placed his chin on top of your head.

"are you almost done?" he asked impatiently.

"not yet, i've got two more problems left."

"forget the math. let's go out, have some fun, drive around," he got close to your ear. "maybe something else."

"yeah, very funny. i've gotta finish this, eds. you know if you did your work too-"

"oh, don't start. you know how many times a day i've gotta listen to that bullshit? constantly, every day, all the time. I'm a little tired of it, y/n. just saying." he'd thrown himself off the chair and backwards onto the bed.

you sighed, setting your pencil down as you finished your second-to-last problem.

"listen, why don't you go grab my shoes and pick me out a jacket while i finish this last problem. we can go out, do whatever you want, promise."

"whatever I want?" he sat up, giving you a look.

"whatever. you. want." you stated playfully.

he smiled and sat up. "you'll be the death of me one day." he spoke as he kissed your cheek and ran off to grab your shoes and a jacket from your closet.

you turned back to your desk and picked up your pencil again to start the last problem. "me?" you giggled to yourself.

if only you'd known what you'd gotten yourself into.

A/N: honestly im kinda glad i had to restart it this ones much better, hope you enjoy my first eddie fic :')

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic

[nobodieshero-main]

this was mostly written as a way for me to work through my writers block but here's a little keitlas scene

Atlas’s bed smelled like dry hay and rose petals, something spicy sunk deep into the fibres of his sheets. Keika was buried happily under several heavy blankets, the material soft against his skin but woven for practicality over decoration - though the embroidered imagery of bears and leaping fish begged to differ.  

He was on his front, arms tucked comfortably beneath a wheat-gold pillow, watching dappled patterns of birds and flowers move across his partner's face as the sun rose higher through the gauzy curtains.

They’d both been awake since it had first peeked over the horizon, a habit Keika was loath to be a victim of. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” Atlas started, his voice soft and rumbling in the space between them. He was lying on his side, fiddling with a strand of Keika’s hair, pillow creases stamped into the skin of his cheek. 

Keika hummed, encouraging but distracted by the way Atlas’s pecs had squished together. But, when his partner failed to continue, Keika arched an eyebrow and poked him in the shin with his toes. Immediately Atlas trapped his ankle beneath his leg, and Keika bit back a smile.

“Why do you carry around all of those keys?”

The keys in question were in a pile on the little side-table next to the bed, a tangled mess of sizes and shapes. Keika hummed, lifting his hips slightly to stretch out his back. He noticed that Atlas hadn’t commented (yet) about the blatant blanket thievery and could only assume it was because the other man was so deeply enamoured by the sight of him in his bed that it hadn’t occurred to him to complain. 

“I just do.” He answered simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

Atlas hummed, eyes all dark and thoughtful. “But what are they for?”

“All sorts of things, technically. But they’re mostly useless.”

“Then why do you keep them?”

Keika huffed through his nose, itchy about being interrogated so early. “For the memories, I guess?”

Atlas tugged gently on Keika’s hair, fingers gnarled with scar tissue that shimmered in the growing light. “Tell me about them?”

Keika snorted, shuffling onto his side so he could face Atlas properly. “Why?”

“Because I want to know more about you.” Atlas admitted, in that easy confidence of his, and Keika felt his heart stutter and stomach clench. Well, when he put it that way. He wiggled his toes in thought before rolling his eyes and sitting up. 

Atlas didn’t sit up, but he did shift around until he was propped up against his pillows, watching Keika with warm eyes and a warmer smile. 

Keika hooked his finger around the ring and fiddled with each of the keys, sliding them back and forth before grabbing a ridiculously flashy one and lifting it away from the others. “This is my council key. It’s meant to be able to unlock any lock in Arlet and they hand them out to everyone who joins the town council.”

It was roughly the length of his finger, silver with a bronze pin and inlaid with shards of river stone. He let it fall back down to join the others, listening to the ring of metal and moved on to the next. Small and dainty, with a heart shaped bow. It had been for a music box gifted to him by a Student heading out on their Search. 

Another key, made of steel and engraved with flowers, had been found in his garden the same day he’d been given Guppy. “I was 13, and Ahuru seemed convinced I needed a friend. Her solution had been a foal she’d found stuck in a mud bank.”

“Is that where you got the name?” Atlas asked, and Keika didn’t need to look at him to know what his face was doing. All bright eyed and grinning, making fun of him without making him into a fool. 

He sniffed, pointedly not answering, and sifted through the rest of the keys. Keys to his and Ahuru’s houses, both simple silver keys with square ends, keys for barns and garden sheds. Two keys for the library - one to unlock the front door, and one a complete mystery after it showed up on his key ring one day. A block of steel that unlocked the back door to Marlow’s bakery. 

“The bakery?” Atlas asked. Keika nodded, digging his thumbnail under his index.

“Yeah, I used to spend a lot of time there when I was younger. Marlow figured out that letting me punch dough was better than roaming the streets like a feral cat.”

Funnily enough, the next key was a thin line of brass with a jagged bit that he’d found stomped into the road in Bruasse when he was 15. It had been wonky and chipped and covered in moss. Keika snorted at the sight of it, telling Atlas about cutting open his hand when he forgot to drop it before breaking a kid's nose. 

Atlas brushed the back of his fingers against Keika’s knuckles, before lifting the hand to his mouth to kiss the tips of his fingers. Bastard. 

He kissed his hand again when the next few keys were all the ones given to him by Atlas from the various markets they’d travelled through. He did a terrible job at hiding his pleased smile behind said kisses, but Keika figured he’d let it slide.

The last was entirely unremarkable, short and tarnished with a chip taken out of the bow, the bit scuffed and worn down. Keika ran his thumb over it, feeling the grooves. “This used to unlock the room at Geodies inn, where Ahuru and I lived as kids.”

Quiet settled over them, like a heavy blanket, as Keika ran his thumb back and forth over the key. 

And then Atlas got up, the movement of the bed jostling Keika out of his head as he turned his head to watch Atlas start rooting through his drawers. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t respond, which was usually more Keika’s flavour than Atlas’s and his face crumpled in a mix of annoyed worry until Atlas apparently found what he had been looking for and bounced back to the bed. For such a large man, he made his movements look like a dance.

Upon returning to the bed, Atlas handed him a key. It was a rosy copper with delicate little stars carved into the collar, the bow wrapped around a glittering marble. “From my room at the Academy.” He explained.

Keika stared at him in wonder. “Why?”

“So you don’t forget me.”

Keika scoffed lightly, unclipping the metal ring to slide the newest key on and watching it settle next to Ahuru’s old house key with a gentle ache. He looked back to Atlas, reaching out to pinch his nose and gently shake his head side to side. “I could never forget this stupid face.” 

Atlas grinned and then kissed him. For a moment, tucked away in the childhood bedroom of the man he loved, heart full and warm beneath his ribs, Keika could pretend that they might just live forever.

#it's a bit meh but i'll probably re-write it at some point when i actually get to this part of the book #this is set like. idk a couple weeks before the volcano? #their first morning in morielle - they end up stuck there for a few days bc of atlas's parents #snippets #keitlas

[chickensoupleg]

Beachbeachbeachbeach.

Got a brainworm, and that one post about Childhood Friend Harringrove did NOT help kill it. Nurturing little seed-

Anywho.

----

Mom was in the condo. That’s where she usually hung out when she wasn’t up to playing on the beach with him, always just by the window to keep watch. She was a good mother, after all. The best.

Billy liked to wave and say hi to her when he remembered she was in reach. He knows she’ll come running if anything unscrupulous came for him. Billy liked to think he was the smartest and strongest 8 year old though, because no other 8 year old could ride the waves like he could.

Right now the ocean was sleeping, drifting and rocking gently. There’s no waves for Billy to ride, so he’s sitting in his blue swim shorts with a bucket between his legs. He’s sifting out the sand to get the soft sand, without all the small rocks interrupting it and making it funny. He loves the soft sand between his fingers, petting and squishing it like it was dough. Later, he’ll wander along and see if he can find any seashells for his mom. Once he found a really big one, and she told him if he put his ear up to it, he’d hear the ocean.

Billy’s mom was so smart for that, because he really could hear the ocean. But the ocean was always right there, always in reach. He loved it.

“ What are you doing?” A new voice says to his left. Billy looks up, past spotted tan legs and yellow swim shorts. A brown haired boy stares down at him, holding a bucket with a shovel shoved in it to his chest.

“ I’m making the sand soft. You wanna touch?” He holds up his bucket to the boy, who moves his equally as yellow bucket to one arm in order to put his hand inside the bucket. Doe eyes widen, a soft gasp coming from the other boy’s lips.

“ Woah, you’re right! That is soft! How’d you do that?” The boy sits down right by him, Billy grinning and grabbing the sifting tool by his side.

“ Watch!” He shoves the tool shaped like a crab into the sand. “ You have to dig in real deep and get allllll the sand in here. Then you have to be fast, because the sand starts spilling when you pick it up.” He heaves the sand filled sifter right over the bucket, the opening just big enough to let the crab sifter sit on top. “ Then, the fun part.” He grabs the bucket and the small claws, the boy besides him shrieking in laughter as Billy starts rocking the bucket vigorously. The sand falls through the holes quicker that way, until all that was left on top was rocks and other doohickeys. He dumps those into the small pile on the other side of him, showing the sand to the boy. “ Tada, soft sand!”

The boy sticks his hand back in, nodding as if he was inspecting some luxury item and giving it a seal of approval. “ You’re so right. You’re so smart for making it.”

“ Thanks!” Billy grins, then leans over a little to see into the other boy’s bucket. “ Your sand is wet.”

“ Mmhmm. I’m making a sand castle over there.” The boy points in the direction he came from, Billy turning his head. True to his word, there was a sand castle in the making, right next to a beach towel and lone beach umbrella. There was nobody else there, Billy looking back at the boy.

“ Where’s your mama and dad?”

“ Uh.” The boy blinks once, then twice with a shrug. “ I don’t know. They said to stay here and they’ll be right back. But they didn’t tell me where they’re going.”

“ Why not? My mama’s right in there, she’s always around!” He points to the beach house that isn’t that far from him, the boy following his finger.

“ You live there?”

“ Mmhmm, sometimes! It’s really cool, my bed has two beds.”

“ No way, really?”

Billy nods, bouncing in place. “ Yeah! It’s a bunk bed, but I don’t have any siblings so I just keep all my stuff on the bottom bed.”

“ That’s so cool. I don’t have any siblings either. My mom says she doesn’t wanna ruin her figure or something.”

Billy tilts his head, giggling. “ That’s silly to say.”

The other boy merely shrugs. “ That’s what she says though! So it’s just me.”

Billy giggles again, bumping against the boy with his forehead. “ Well, I’m here now, so you’re not by yourself anymore!”

“ Yeah?”

Billy nods, standing up and holding a hand out. The boy grabs it, Billy pointing to the sandcastle as he hauls him up. “ Can I help you make it?”

The boy nods, letting go if only to get a running start to it, Billy cackling and running after. They both skid to a stop in front of it, Billy setting his bucket down next to the striped beach towel as the boy sits down, patting the sand in his bucket with his toy shovel to smooth it out. Billy sits down on the other side as the yellow bucket is tipped over, the boy patting it firmly before slowly revealing the mound of damp sand. Billy claps for him, earning him a grin in his direction.

Billy thinks he has a really nice smile.

“ What’s your name? I’m William, but mama calls me Billy.”

“ I’m Steve. My mom calls me Steve.” Steve says, then sticks a finger into the side, narrating what he was doing. It was mostly just making windows and doors, Billy poking at it to help him. Once it was all decorated, Steve pushed the empty bucket between them, gesturing for him to pile in more sand. Billy was happy to oblige, the pair dumping it in until it was well and full.

Steve stands and grabs it by the handles, heaving it up with a grunt. Billy grabs at it and helps him lift it, Steve tilting his head to the ocean. “ Come on! It needs to be all wet to stick!” He starts shuffling as fast as his little legs could go, Billy right by his side. They set the bucket down as water laps at both of their ankles, Steve taking his shovel to dump water in. Billy, a shovelless boy, just uses his hands to transport the water until the sand was well saturated in saltwater. The trek back was harder, the sand heavier now, but they make it in one piece without dropping the bucket at all. They must be strong boys if they could pull that off.

Steve pats the sand before turning it over, then the process repeats over. “ I want a moat around this, for the alligators.”

“ Your castle has alligators?”

Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the motion. “ It has alligators and piranhas and sharks.”

“ Why?”

“ Because moats have alligators and piranhas and sharks.” Steve says it as if it were truth, so Billy takes it as truth. 

“ Oh.” He looks at the flat space around the sandcastle, then starts digging with his hands. Steve giggles and pushes his shovel into his hands.

“ It’s easier with the shovel, Billy.”

“ I knew that!” He didn’t, but he also kind of did. He just likes touching the sand directly, feeling it get underneath his fingernails. Billy still uses the shovel to dig out a sizeable moat around the castle as Steve decorates. He looks over at where Billy was earlier, then gets up and trots over. Billy looks up to watch him bend down and grab the rock pile, turning around and head back to him.

“ For decoration. No castle is complete without decorations!” Steve says as he drops the rocks besides him, sitting back down and picking up rocks to delicately place on the sides. There’s a bottlecap nestled in the pile as well, which Steve puts right above what he designated the door. Billy moves a few times to get a complete work around the moat, even digging underneath Steve’s arms without a word for excuse me. His mom would be a bit cross if he didn’t use his manners, but she wasn’t like dad.

She definitely wasn’t like dad.

“ All done!” Billy announces once the moat was complete. Steve grins and thanks him, sitting back to admire the castle. It was great, Billy thinks. The best sandcastle in the whole entire world.

“ It needs a flag.”

“ What?”

Steve points to the flat top of the sandcastle. “ A flag. Like they have in books?”

Billy looks at the top, blinking. He turns to Steve. “ We don’t have a flag.”

“ Aww. Well, uh.” Steve looks around him, then points to the ocean. “ Maybe if we find a cool shell, we can make that our flag.”

“ Oh! I know how to get the best shells. Follow me Steve!” He hops up, already rushing to the ocean. Footsteps pound softly behind him, the ocean greeting him once more as he knelt down, pushing his fingers through wet sand.

“ They’re usually buried, so we have to dig sometimes. It’s better when the tide goes, but I don’t mind this way either.” He starts crawling around, Steve giggling and getting down on his hands and knees as well.

“ The water’s so cold!”

“ Nuh uh!”

“ Is too!”

“ You’re lying, it’s not cold! Aha!” He straightens up until he was on his knees, water tickling his legs as he holds up a shell, a mini version of the ones with the ocean trapped inside. “ See?”

“ Wow, that ones so pretty, Billy!” Steve crawls up besides him, Billy handing it off. “ Yeah, this can be our flag! It can stand up if we do it straight up. Come on, you have to watch. It’s your castle too because you helped.”

Billy cocks his head in excitement, getting up to follow Steve back. Steve leans down, stabbing the shell easily into the sand. “ And there! It’s complete!” Steve stands up straight with his hands on his hips, beaming. “ Our castle, Billy!”

“ It’s so cool! Wait, hold on, I gotta… What’s the word mama uses. Christen it.” He walks over to his sand bucket, grabbing a handful in his hands. He walks back to the sandcastle, dropping the soft sand in sprinkles all over it. “ I, uh- I bless you, castle!”

“ Oh! Bless you castle!” Steve echos, then leans over to Billy, whispering. “ Did the castle sneeze?”

“ No, that’s just what the guy at church says.” Billy whispers back.

“ Oh! Okay.” Steve nods once, then leans away, yelling to nobody in particular. “ The castle of King Steve and Billy! Hurrah!”

Billy giggles, which breaks into real laughter, Steve laughing besides him.

“ Billy! Lunch!” Billy’s mom calls out, Billy perking up. He turns to Steve, bouncing on his feet.

“ Steve! Are you hungry?”

“ Hm? Uh… Yeah, I guess.”

“ You should come eat lunch with me and mama.”

“ Would you mom mind?”

Billy shakes his head. He’s sure his mom would make food for him too. Steve stares at him for a few more seconds and then up towards where Billy’s mom was waving towards them before nodding.

“ Okay, let’s go eat. I’ll race you!”

“ Oh, you’re on, Steve!”

Billy and Steve break into a run, laughing all the while on the beach.

#stranger things #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #billy lives with his mom because yeah

[cantsaythetword]

TickleTober Day 17: Nightmare

~A/N  - Moonknight fic time againnnnnnn!!! Just a short fic with a little bit of angst and a whole lot of brotherly fluff!

TW kinda for nightmares and kinda a panic attack? Don't worry Steven helps out cause he's a good boi.

I'm not normally one to like tickles for a moment of fear/anxiety/pain but I feel like this is a good way of doing it? Idk you guys tell me lol.

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

"NO!" Marc let out a pained scream, as his bloodshot eyes adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom.

He gasped several times, his chest closing in on itself. He couldn't control his tears dribbling down his cheeks. Shrieks shuddered out of his mouth. Muscles convulsing in panic. Hands tearing at the bedsheets under him to give him some grip on reality. His whole body shook with every sob that escaped him as he collapsed into a hopeless pile of despair.

"STOP IT!" He begged himself, fingernails now trying to claw lines into the flesh of his thighs to provide some sort of relief. "JUST STOP IT!"

There was none. Nothing could help him. No one was there. No one.

"Marc?"

A soft voice sifted through his agony like a warm spoon. Steven's concerned face flickered in the moonlight.

"I'M SORRY." Marc sobbed, legs curling up to his chest as he began rocking himself back and forth with his head buried in his arms. "I- I-."

"Sh, sh, sh." Steven calmly whispered, moving slowly onto the bed and sitting facing Marc. "It's alright I've got you."

"No. No. No!"

"Marc it's ok." Steven gently held his friend's calves. "Breathe for me."

"I- al- alright..." He sniffed, slowly taking shaky breaths.

"That's it." Steven smiled softly. "Let it pass."

The two sat there for a few moments. Silence occasionally broken by Marc's heavy breath. Once he felt ready, Marc shifted his legs around and pushed himself into Steven's lap. A position Steven liked to call the 'Marc Recovery Position' (though he'd never say that to anyone).

Steven lay back, propped up against the pillows, with Marc laying face down into his chest. From here, Steven could provide all sorts of comforting motions. For now, he stuck to gentle head scratches.

Marc's body went limp and heavy, melting into Steven's capable hands. How one person could get him from the edge of a meltdown to almost complete serenity was a mystery. But Marc wasn't gonna question it.

For now, all he had to do was let his troubles pass. Steven had him exactly where he belonged, and exactly where he felt safest.

"S-Steven?" Marc whispered drowsily, barely loud enough for Steven to hear.

"Yes mate?" Steven was slightly caught off guard, thinking Marc had fallen asleep quite a while ago.

"Could you..." Marc trailed off, second guessing himself on just how willing Steven was to help him.

Knowing exactly what he was getting at, Steven smiled. "Of course I can."

Ten soft fingertips started softly dancing across Marc's back. The man relaxed into the touch, humming gently when Steven reached certain areas.

After a few moments of comfort, Steven knew Marc might want a little more. He kept his touches feather light, but moved to slightly more sensitive zones. Gliding up his neck, down his sides, and circling near his hips all elicited soft giggles and chirps from Marc.

"Steheheven..." He chuckled softly. "Thahahat... ti- hehe - ti-..."

Even in his giggly sleepy state he couldn't bring himself to say that word. Steven grinned endearingly, whispering soft words of comfort in Marc's ear.

While the thought was nice, Steven's breath was ridiculously tickly, so Marc spent the whole time laughing into Steven's chest and trying to move his head to an angle where his ears couldn't be accessed.

"You don't want to hear me speak?" Steven teased gently. "Well that's ok, I guess I'll focus my efforts somewhere else."

"Wahahait..." Marc squeaked, eyes still half closed and brain not fully conscious.

Steven let his hands trail down to the back of Marc's waist. There was a particularly sensitive area at the back of his hipbone that would be perfect for soft tracing tickles. Just enough for barely controllable giggles, but not so much that Marc would fully wake up.

"Steheheven..." Marc laughed, gently swaying his hips from side to side. "Stohohop..."

Steven chuckled softly. "Alright, time for some sleep huh mate?"

Marc nodded with a grumble, letting Steven awkwardly shuffle out from under him.

While Marc passed out, Steven stayed next to him. Gently brushing his fingers through Marc's hair and down his back until he was certain Marc was asleep.

As he got up and softly closed the door, he took one last look. Marc was fully knocked out, but still had a small smile on his face. Steven smiled in return.

He would always be there to help out his brother.

#fic #mine #tickletober2022 #tickletober day 17 #moon knight tickles

[1nksta1neddesk]

A Court of Readers and Dreamers

Chapter 17: All good devils

The next morning I was dragged from my cot once again and put into an expansive bedroom, instructed to clean the fireplace of lentils before the occupant came back lest I wish to be skinned and flogged. I knew Rhys wouldn’t punish me but still I caught the tin bucket they threw at me before they slammed the door so hard the floor beneath me reverberated. Leaving me in the bedroom of the most powerful High Lord of Prythian history.

I snooped for the first hour, looking over an enormous bed that looked like 3 people could sleep on it without knowing of the others. The sheets were silk ebony where they were tightly drawn over the mattress, undisturbed from a night of sleep. I grimaced at the thought of him being called to service the queen of the mountain. His closet was devoid of anything, the same thing with his bedside tables. 

There were no books or personality, it was strictly a place to sleep if he even did that. My throat was tightening as I knelt before the fireplace and started rubbing my hands through the soot to find these lentils. I would have been tempted to just light the fire and burn away the lentils if I could find anything to start the spark. But I spent hours sifting through it until the soot had traveled up to my elbows, not to mention the amount of soot that had smeared into my clothes, and covered most the tattoo that was on full display on my left arm. I stared at where the black covered the blue and wondered why neither the guards or the Lady of the Autumn Court had said anything.

But my eyes were burning and watering as I stared back into that black dust, no matter where my hands slid they found more lentils piled in the corners and then I heard the door click. I shifted away from the fireplace and collapsed upon the floor, groaning as I felt the pressure in my back dissipate.

Shadows flooded into the room as the door opened, making the candle flames that lit the room waiver and swirl in the air before settling on the bed to form the solid shape of Rhysand. “As wonderful as it is to see you, Feyre, darling,” Rhysand said, sprawled on the bed, his head propped up by a hand, “do I want to know why you’re digging through my fireplace?”

It was so wrong for him to call me that, it made me want to cower and hide from his gaze like a spooked animal but I looked up at him from where I laid on the floor, propping my own head up on my hands as I rolled over, a mirror to his own position. I cringed internally at the soot from my hands that would no doubt smear against the hair and my scalp, it was welcome enough though as my hair had turned heavy with oil after weeks with no soap.

“Blame the apparent servant that dumped a whole tray of Lentils into your fireplace, gave me another chore to do while I waited for you to come back and filet me open, if my guards are to be trusted.” I spoke as I stretched against the stone floor, soot falling from me as I moved.

“Oh did they?” He said with that seductive, mocking tone as I hummed in affirmation.  Maybe the smell of burned wood would cover the permeating reek of unwashed human skin.

“Yup, was prepared to have to run for my life yet again.” I hid the guilt that gnawed at me behind the humor. But Rhys laughed as he shifted closer to the edge of the bed and looked down at me still laying on the floor.

“And your first steps to running include lying on the floor?” I nodded at his question, and moved against the floor to rotate around and sit on the ground while I forced the brunt of my weight on my elbows.

“Figured if that plan failed I could just bite you, you do know how well I bite.” This time he did laugh as a feline smile soaked his face with dark joy. It was still his mask but I could see the enjoyment behind it and felt a similar enjoyment of the conversation bubble in my own heart.

“While I would love for a pretty woman’s mouth on me, I am glad to see you have succeeded in your task.” A blush warmed my ears spread down to my cheeks at the flirt as I stuck my tongue in my cheek and looked back at the tin bucket I had been given to see it full of dusty green lentils. I shook my head at him as I stood from my position and dusted my clothes, black dust falling around me and dirtying the floor. A brush of darkened wind swept away the soot from both me and the floor and I looked at him.

“You are a peculiar female, Feyre.” He was studying me like I would a squirrel before I released the arrow, “Most would be begging me for mercy, to spare their lives, if they met me a single time.” 

“Maybe I know a good male when I see one, and if I recall you already spared my life, twice,” I waved two tattooed fingers in front of me as I punctuated my words and I walked towards him and sat on the edge of the bed next to his feet. His stare felt hot against my skin as he still looked at every movement I took, rubbing at my tender knees from kneeling for hours cleaning today and the day previous. 

“I fear who you think is a bad man then, Feyre.” I rolled my eyes as I laid down on his bed , staring up at the ceiling as my arms spread, my tattooed forearm brushing against his calf. 

“Has anyone found out about our bargain yet?” My thumb traced along the inside of my ring finger, a comforting touch as my stomach turned at the thought of Amarantha already learning of it, of the Lady of Autumn blabbing to get into the queen’s good graces at the price of my head.

“Guilt riding you a bit hard? Your little prince charming would be so wounded to find out his little prize has sold half her life to his enemy.”

“Rhys.” I said it sharply, he knew none of that was true but was just trying to drag me to toy with him rather than discuss the important things.

“No, they have not.” A short answer this time

“Well I expect you to want to make a large statement with it, don’t you? Betting that I survived the first trial and now betting that I will win all of them?” I felt the weight on the bed shift and his eyes looked down from above me. Even without the power of Calanmai I could get lost in the expanse of those eyes as he looked at me.

 “Am I so predictable that a mortal woman has me figured out already?” I smiled up at him, it was almost domestic the way his eyes shone back at me, the strong column of muscle in his neck that kept his head steady above him, the arm he planted next to my head to keep steady as well. I suppressed the heat at my cheeks that had no doubt risen to a flush, that life of domesticity was not mine to claim.

I shrugged against the silk of the bed, “Not my fault all you High Lords only care about are theatrics.” The night bore down on me and I wanted to wiggle and escape from that stare but I held it like I had held Amarantha’s stare everytime I saw her. Despite the difference of scenarios, this one felt much more important to my survival. He pulled back first, standing from the bed as he swung his legs over the foot of the bed in a controlled arch.

“I find myself unable to decide if I should praise or condemn your bravery for mocking a High Lord.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t think the most powerful High Lord needed a mortal’s praise and supplications.” My words were soaked with sarcasm as I flourished a hand. I did raise myself from the silk and padded infront of where he was standing in front of the hearth.

“Foolish indeed.” He held my eyes and I sharpened that blue-gray to a steel as the door clattered open behind us, my guards having come to fetch me after what they thought was adequate time for Rhys to punish me. He looked at them over my head, and oh gods was he tall as I stood so close to him. I hadn’t noticed the exaggeration of the height difference when we danced but with a foot of room between us I had crane my neck nearly fully back to still study his face as he spoke.

“She completed her task, take her back” The words were even as he waved a hand. Their hands grabbed me and Rhysand’s face twisted into a smile of sharpened teeth that held no soft banter like the small smirks I had seen from him. ““No more household chores, no more tasks,” The words were as sharp and cool as a blade being dragged across tender skin as his shadows seeped into his black clothes and made them unfathomable in their darkness, “Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don’t touch her. If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?”

They took a step back from me as their eyes glazed, no doubt him having slipped into their minds to embed the command. This time they beconed from me and I turned towards Rhys.

I said a quick thank you as he eyed me and escaped back to my cell, the cold stone familiar as I laid in my bed. My thoughts would not stop flooding me, evaluating what the easy banter changed, if it would ruin the future plans for the tasks. But it didn’t logically make sense to tamper with it significantly, so that left me with undirected anxiety that twisted my stomach enough to where I didn’t touch my bland food.

Days passed where I sat in the damp room, only left to fall into familiar motions of exercise and stretching. The silence was only punctuated by grinding metal and stone when the door was opened to slide in a meal. I was never one to stand the silence so I took to making small rhythms by thumping my feet or hands, snapping my fingers, and it helped stave off the creeping boredom that whispered for me to just sleep the time away. 

No one came to see me during those days, and I did not even see the eyes of the guards that gave me food. So it was only me, in the dark as I let myself leak into the silence. The shadows were my permanent companion so I talked to them, nothing consistant or sensical, just ramblings as they came to me.

Then Nuala and Cerridwen appeared from the shadow and stones. Their faces were blurred as the shadows that made them were not solid, fuzzed out like smeared charcoal. But from what I could discern the twin wraiths were long and lithe as wisps of fabric making their cobweb dresses that swayed with the shadows. They did not speak as they reached for me and I gently placed my hands into their palms, accepting as I gave them soft smiles.

The hands I held were cold but firm underneath the shadow, like grasping an arm covered by flowing chiffon. They pressed to me, our bodies compacting to slide through the door. Flowing through solid matter made my stomach whoop but then we were on the other side, solid again. We walked through the halls and though we passed by nearly a dozen faeries no one glanced at us. Invisible.

We went through a maze of dusty hallways, some in slight disrepair until we came upon a tall wooden door. They guided me into the room, slightly larger than my cell with a tub in one corner and a mirror along the other wall. Nuala stripped me of my clothes while Cerridwen drew a steaming bath that I was pushed into, plucked and shaven before they scrubbed until my skin was half-raw. They pulled me out of the water, patting me down with a soft white towel before they stood me in front of the mirror.

They each took up a brush of black ink that they dragged across my skin. I flinched away from the cold where they started along my side and back and was squirming away from the ink fully as they drew closer to my breasts and lower. Despite my squirming they eventually finished with the ink that had dried down matte, the texture and color just enough for my tattoo to be distinguished from the swirls.

The two shafts of white gossamer that was used to construct my ‘dress’ were so sheer one could see the swirls of black ink without any struggle. Still I wasn’t freed from this torture that was making me uncomfortable at the core of my being, not as they spread kohl along my lashes and shimmering silver on my eye lids. The rest of my face wasn’t even spared as more cosmetics were laid upon that, washing away color and freckles as they painted me. It felt more violating than the swirls, ripping away what made me more than a fragile human doll to play with by the court under here. 

A small diadem of jutting silver was speckled with amethyst was placed on my head after my hair was curled, complimenting the silver bangles that were clasped upon my wrists and ankles to match with the silver chains and broaches that held the gossamer together. The fabric bunched together to form a solid single panel that fell between my legs just below the chain that formed a low belt.

I looked like the holiest whore I had ever seen as I stared in the mirror, a deep set frown on my face as I saw the twins step back from me as crisps footsteps came from down the hall. I turned to the door and tried to ignore the chill in the air that set my skin prickling as the doorknob twisted. The door opened and I crossed my arms as Rhys appeared before me, propping himself in the doorway. I raised a brow at him as his eyes raked over me, the entirety of me.

His smirk had my hand digging into my arm and I snapped at him, “I do rather like having clothes ,if you could give those back.” That smirk widened even more as he stepped into the room fully.

“I apologize, I found myself needing a escort to the party tonight,” he paused as he dramatically brought a hand up to wipe eye with his pointer finger, “and when I thought of you in that cell, all cold and alone, I just couldn’t leave you there, now could I?” I stepped toward him and smacked his arm lightly as he offered it but still took it a moment later. I scrunched my nose at him along with a snarling grin that mocked his own. 

“You look just as I hoped you would.” He said as he looked down at me, smoothing a lapel of his suit jacket, the first I had seen on him.

“Nude is the best you could come up with? I guess all you males are all so single minded ,no matter the species,” I finished with a small shake of my head as I felt the warmth of his arm soak through his coat and into my bare skin.

“I think you will find my mind quite expansive, Feyre, if you wouldn’t wound me so much as to compare me to your human men.” Nuala and Cerridwen had disappeared at some point, I noticed as I darted my eyes around the small room, probably having melted back into the stones to lurk somewhere else. 

I motioned down to the dress and painted with my free arm, my tattooed arm. “I hope you know all of this is meaningless, I did not come here for Tamlin.” Something hard ran through his stare, maybe at the undercut of bitterness in my words. Really I did not hold any grudge against Tamlin, but the lack of fighting I had seen from him, for his court, was building a hole in my mind for all my frustrations to accumulate.

He leaned down to my ear, slipping his arm away from me to run a calloused finger down the side of my arm, smearing the paint and watching it fix itself. “I don’t like my belongings tampered with, by either High lord or courtier.” and yes there was Lucien, the one I had spent most of my time in Spring with, the one who had dragged me from Rhys at Calanmai, who had said I was his betrothed when Rhys had come the day after Solstice. It was not entirely the caress of his breath along the inner shell of my ear that caused me to shiver, not at the thought of Lucien being in danger for all of that.

I muttered something about territorial fae bastards and he flicked me on my nose for it before he pulled back. “Come now,” He offered his arm again, “We are already late.” He opened the door I hadn’t realized closed and I wrapped my arm around his again.

“Don’t act like you didn’t have it planned for us to be late to make our dramatic entrance.” He smiled down at me, slightly less restrained as his eyes glowed with cunning pride. I rolled my eyes as we started into a soft walk, “Predictable male.”

Then we were walking down the halls, and this time the faeries lining them did take notice of me as they stared unabashedly. It made my skin crawl and more than once I had a shiver rack up my spine from a particularly vile stare. While Rhys walked near silently next to me, my bare feet padding along the floor sounded like gongs as we winded around bends and curves, changing in elevation as we went up and down stairs and inclines. They had already gone half numb from the freezing floors as we walked and I craved for a lick of warmth or cushion on them as the sounds of off kilter music started to trickle to us.

We only had a few more minutes until we were in that throne room, until I was played like a pawn in Rhys’ court scheming. I would play this role though, let it show the other High lords that Rhys had been the one to come and heal me, see him bet on their victory. It was the least I could do for all he had already done for me and that thought made my steps lighten and lengthen as I straightened up. 

If I was to walk into this party of hundreds if not thousands that wanted me  dead I would be proud to be on the arm of a man who could vaporize them if he was given his full power. Then the music was nearer, vibrating through the floor and my pulse quickened. Rhys’ arm tightened just a bit, a reassuring pressure as he no doubt had felt the change through the fabric where the crook of my elbow pressed against him.

The throne room laid before us, and upon a throne I could see over the head of the crowd, Amarantha’s head. I locked on the gold-red as we moved closer. If she wanted to play games I would change the rules on her, would change them for the wonderful people I had fallen in love with when they had just been ink and paper to me.

#fanfic #acotar #reader #a court of readers and dreamers #acotar rewrite #inkywrites #reader insert #rhysand #rhys acotar