#but you know it just makes me think why? how is having a tattoo one of the most interesting things about you 😂

[geekforhorror]

hiiii love ur writing sm !! i don’t have many specifics but i know i’d like to see corruption kink nd dacryphilia w/ jamie:)) thank u sm:) !!

thank you for the kind words anon! when i first saw this ask i actually moaned 😫

cherry pie

pairing: dbf!james kelly x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!james, sub!reader, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, dacryphilia, corruption kink, rough sex, possessiveness, jealousy, pet names, fluff, etc.

“You think you can just walk around outside flaunting what has always been mine, sweetheart?” James rasps into the shell of your ear as he fucks you raw. “You thought wrong.”

You had just flown home from college and decided to stop by your dad’s house. To your surprise, he had thrown you a welcome home party and invited your closest friends, some family, and most importantly: his best friend James.

Coincidentally, you just so happened to be wearing the skimpiest clothing imaginable. In front of James. As soon as the party officially started, you made your way around the house thanking everyone who had managed to show up. Everything was going well until you started conversing with your good family friend, Andrew. Unbeknownst to you, James had become furious once he saw the two of you exchanging harmless words to one another. He hated it and the rage in his eyes only confirmed it even more. You were his, even if the two of you weren’t a thing.

He decided to take matters into his own hands and stormed outside, intending to walk over to the two of you and stop anything else from happening between you and Andrew. Once he finally made his way over to you, he cleared his throat, which startled you.

“Hi James! It’s so nice to see you,” you said with an illuminating smile plastered on your face.

“Who’s this?” James asks with no hesitation, a look of disgust as he looks directly into Andrew’s eyes.

“James, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is James.” you say with an inviting voice.

“Nice to meet you man,” Andrew says to the man.

“Wish I could say the same. I need to talk to your friend alone, kid. Now beat it,” he says, not even trying to hide the harsh nature of his words.

“Whatever dude,” Andrew says before walking away to get a drink.

“What was that Jamie?! Andrew’s nice!” you ask in a scolding voice.

“He was getting a little too close to you for my liking,” James says coldly.

“You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to! You don’t own me!” you say in a fit of anger.

“You can deny it all you want, but you know deep down that I do own you.”

And boy was he right. I mean how else would you have ended up being fucked on your bed?

“Such a fucking little brat, huh? Had to throw a damn temper tantrum at your own party, didn’t you? Whose idea do you think it was to have this party?” he grunts while plowing himself deeper into your aching hole.

“Fuck Jamie…” you cry out as you feel his fat cock stretch you out ever so deliciously.

“Poor baby…already so drunk on her daddy’s best friends cock,” he tuts in fake disapproval.

He had managed to make a girl like you lose composure with only a few thrusts. You would be lying if you said you never dreamed of this. Him doing this to you. He wanted to ruin you, so that no other man could have you.

“No boy can fulfill your deepest desires like I can. That’s why you need a man like me,” he says full of lust. “You belong to me.”

“Please…need more…” you plead, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Greedy girl, aren’t ya, darling?” he asks, already knowing the answer you would give him.

“Only for you,” you reply in a choked sob, tears finally streaming down your cheeks from how he was splitting you open. It was enough to have your toes curling and see stars.

“Lemme see those pretty tears, baby,” he says before bringing his tattooed hand to your face to wipe them even further down your cheeks. You feel his tight balls slap against the curve of your ass, which provides some much needed friction.

“James ‘m so close! Please let me cum…” you beg of him, too far gone to even paint a picture in your mind of how desperate you are in this moment.

“Promise me that you’re mine,” he demands of you.

“I’m fucking yours Jamie…all fucking yours!” you let out with raggedy moans as he stuffs you with even more of his dick.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now let go for me, m’kay sweetie? Prove that I made the right decision to let you cum,” he says in between his erratic movements, his words only spurring the two of you on. He finally hits that spot deep inside of you, enough for you to teeter over the edge and finally milk his cock with your sweet release.

James throws his head back at the feeling while still pile driving himself at an agonizing pace into your spent pussy. Before he knows it, his sticky ropes of seed spill into your walls, where it would stay for the rest of the night if it were up to him.

He finally pulls out and then positions himself so he’s laying directly next to your achy body. As the two of you catch your breath from your guys’ respective orgasms, he caresses your tresses.

“I love you,” he says, breaking the silence once and for all, causing you to look at him in shock.

“You love me?” you ask, wondering if you had heard him right.

“How could I not, baby?” he responds.

“I was just wondering because…I love you too Jamie.” you admit.

The look he gave you was one of awe and admiration. You felt so lucky to have a man who cared for you deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. Needless to say, he felt the same way.

“So where do we go from here?” he asks nervously with a chuckle.

“I may have an idea,” you say before pressing a gentle kiss to his soft lips.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @midnight-raine @camiemorgan8 @myheartwillgoon2022 @demieyesore

#james kelly smut #james kelly x reader #james kelly x you #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #star wars #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #anakin star wars #american heist #sam monroe smut

[mochinomnoms]

What if You had tattoos from before ending up in twisted wonderland? How would PTM Jade react to seeing them? Especially if they have sea themed tattoos or a Moray tattoo. I'm about to get my first tattoo (a pokemon one) and it made me curious.

I love tattoos! I want to get to a point where I can save money and get my tattoos I've been planning for a while (an arm sleeve, back tat, and leg sleeve all connecting together). But for your question, I know tattoos can have various connotations and meanings depending on where you're at (I know Japan is super no no on them) but I've always had the headcanon that the twins get matching arm sleeves as adults, which I think is shared with a couple of other people in the fandom.

I think it would depend on the tattoo and where it was. If it's somewhere clearly visible like the arms or lower leg, he'd think they're quite stunning on you! Even if they weren't for aesthetic, but for things you like (like Pokemon) then it gives him a look into you and what you like, which he can use to get closer to you as a bonus!

If they're tattoos in more hidden areas, like the back/spine, thigh, hips, or chest, aaaaah then he's a little flustered. They look so good on you...and see them on these parts of your body is kinda intimate, something only a lover should see~ ...He's ignoring that the tattoo artist would've had to see you like this to tattoo them on....and that they'd probably be visible in a bathing suit....and probably in pajamas. Just let him have this.

This last one is self-indulgent, but I do think he'd go a little crazy for underboob tattoos and/or cleavage tattoos. I know I do, they look so goooood! And I just think he'd reeeeeally have a whole ass time if they're sea themed. If you got them before you came to TWST, then he'd mentally clock them as you two being meant together. After all, why else would you be inclined to permanently mark yourself with motifs of the sea if you weren't meant to be with tied to him for eternity! (Yes this is me making him delusional)

#mochi asks #a-small-tyrant #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #i love tattoos and i love women and i especially love women with tattoos

[makismei]

(18+ somewhere randomly near the end bc my pussy took over) it is currently 2:57am and while i was writing an upcoming fic, i suddenly thought of nanami, as your underclassman at jujutsu high... not proofread (possibly incoherent) i am sorry i finished at 5am

he's two years younger than you, but he's been enamoured by you since he spoke to you back when he was sixteen on your eighteenth birthday, hosted at gojo's condo.

almost everyone was drunk, courtesy of shoko managing to get her hands on bottles of tequila and vodka. you were barely tispy, finding a completely sober nanami stuck to a wall with his eyebrows pulled together. he doesn't like it here. he wants to go home. but this is what being a teenager is like... right?

through flashing lights and loud music, you told him that cherishing your youth goes beyond what he's seeing before his eyes.

with you being a third year, he rarely saw you at the school. up close, he realizes how beautiful you are and that your perfume suits you so well.

"being a child is just fine," you say, as if you aren't only two years older. "you have your whole life to experience partying."

you end up outside on the balcony, talking all night about anything and everything.

and nanami learns, at sixteen, what uncontrollably clammy hands feel like, stuttering over simple words and the desperation for more of your presence.

since that night, he looks for you on campus when you are between missions. in the beginning, he couldn't find the courage to start conversation, but slowly, it starts to come to him easy.

over the years, he's seen you introduce your older boyfriends to your friends. he's also seen you get your heartbroken because the men that you chose to love were straight up losers.

what is he to do? clearly, you have a type and it's not him. although, he is confident he can treat you far better.

you like dark hair and tattoos, "manly" looking men but they don't even hold the door for you. what the hell is wrong with you? nanami swears, if he was yours, you'd never look back.

nanami is freshly nineteen, listening to you talk to shoko and utahime about how relationships are no longer worth your time. something inside of him feels disgusting because you're pouring your heart out and god, he just thinks you're so beautiful.

when he confesses to you for the first time, he is twenty-one and it's winter. it's been three years since your last relationship and you haven't pursued another since. he knows it's a long shot, but he goes for it anyways.

you smile, hand on his arm, "you deserve better than me, kento. but thank you, truly. i'm flattered you think of me so highly."

nanami raises a brow, "who doesn't?"

you're halfway into your door, smiling sadly. "you'd be surprised."

six months later, you're in cahoots with a horrible man and nanami thinks he's going to go bald early. why do you do this to yourself????

since his confession, he's tried to be mindful so he doesn't make you uncomfortable. but in the most friendship way possible, he tries to show you there are men (meaning: him, he is best fit for you) that are willingly to love you the way you deserve (him).

you, on the other hand, are biting your nails as far as you can, you cannot be catching feelings for nanami kento? you've never seen him in a romantic light, even after he confessed, but recently there has to be something poisonous in the air.

you blocked that douchebag two days ago because talking to him makes you feel disgusting. but you think you might unblock him to save nanami.

nanami cannot be yours, sure he's younger than you and you swore you would never date a younger man because they're so "immature", but nanami is a good... mature person. he is honest and hardworking, growing into his features and in turn, becoming more handsome as the years go by.

you'd be lying if you weren't jealous thinking about the woman that he would call his one day.

you think it's for the better. nanami cannot get caught up with your antics. he's really only seen the good sides and the thought of him seeing your bad sides makes you nauseous. he'd hate you, for sure. then what would you do?

but it doesn't matter, you don't even like him like that! but he's such a good friend you can't fathom the thought of ruining your friendship.

but what if he gets a girlfriend? you're pacing back and forth in your living room, obviously you can't be close with him anymore because that is just so suspicious.

oh my god. you're spiralling.

what do you do? you call nanami.

you tell him everything and more, that you're sorry, that you might be confused but your gut is telling you otherwise. you cry on the phone to him because you're at a loss and you feel so guilty.

nanami does not say a word or make a sound.

until, you hear a knock on your door through the phone and in real life.

"will you let me see you?" he asks, desperate. "i need to see you."

"you had me waiting for so long." he mutters, hips swinging into yours. he has you in a mating press, forehead pressed against yours. "am i making you feel good, beautiful? tell me."

you nod, legs quivering at his sides. "you're so good—i.. i think i'm gonna cum again!"

he shushes you, kissing you so deeply your mind goes blank. he starts thrusting harder and your mind is so mushy you can't even kiss him back. nanami groans, this can't be real. you feel so good that he might get addicted.

he can't let you go now that he's had a taste. he's not letting you go.

you love him. you told him in a panic over the phone.

you love him.

he needs you wholeheartedly and even though he had to wait almost eight years, he would gladly wait another eight years because if it's not you, it's no one. over the years he's loved you one-sidedly, he did a lot of thinking.

a silly high school crush ended up swallowing him whole. he was searching for you in all the blind dates gojo made him go on because gojo was convinced he was cooked and that you would not like him back.

so to see gojo's jaw dropping when you kissed nanami on the lips in the jujutsu tech courtyard, made his heart swell.

he was always yours.

you think that maybe, you've loved nanami for longer than you've thought.

"thanks for waiting for me." you breathe, "i'll make you happy."

nanami smiles, "you will always make me happy."

#is this ooc? pls let me know if you like... i kind of want to start a mini series on this i have so many thoughts #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami imagines #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami smut

[muffinsin]

Ok muffin hear me out the sisters s/o kissing, tracing and questioning about the girls head tattoo. I think the story on how the sister got it would be so cute!!!!!!!!!

Pls if you can had fluff to it and more about the sister relationship!

Awh, this one’s adorable!

While I HC that the tattoos were unknowingly and unwillingly given to them by Mother Miranda a short while after their re-birth as a way of “branding” or “marking” them as Dimitrescus, I’ll share different HCs and stories here in order to make it a little more wholesome :)!

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

She’s completely calm in your embrace, her tired, golden eyes closed at last, her breath calm and just uneven enough to tell you she hasn’t fallen asleep yet

She’s quiet, by far too relaxed to even keep humming quietly as she did minutes ago

With your arm around her and your hand gently stroking her cheek, she’s the most comfortable and calm she’s been all week

And she deserves the break, too

After an awful week of having to deal with her bratty sisters, stupid and incapable new staff members, Lycans pushing into the castle’s territory and too much paperwork for it to be right, you want to help her destress

You want to take care of her

And what an amazing job you’re doing already

She’s close to dozing off already, content and happy at the light, slightly ticklish feeling of your fingertip tracing her facial features

Then, you come to rest at her forehead, where the tattoo is placed

You trace the rose, the halo, the thorn

Then, you notice you have no idea how she even got such a thing. You always assumed her skin and quick healing speed wouldn’t allow tattoos and piercings

When the question slips from your lips, her eyes open slightly, just enough for you to spot the bright gold in them before she pulls you close

She moves closer to you, her body stretched out lazily against yours like the one of an overgrown house cat lounging on a sofa

Then, her lips part, granting you her answer

“It was originally Cassandra who got it, I’m not sure why”, she answers. A small giggle falls from her thick, unpainted lips and you can’t help but smile as well when she adds: “I thought it looked stupid”

“How come you ended up getting one too, then?”, you ask

She pauses, her eyes opening a little. She’s waiting, you realize after a few seconds

Laughing, you raise your hands again and begin scratching her scalp and stroking her hair gently

Pleased, she continues on

“I didn’t really plan on it at first. But in time, I noticed Mother wearing that symbol everywhere. It’s stitched into the side of her dress, and the underside of her hat”, Bela explains

She shrugs, then, giggling lightly

“I wanted to match her”

You laugh at this, your lips pressing a kiss to her forehead affectionately

Yes, of course

That’s the Bela you know and love. A mommy’s girl through and through. You’re hardly surprised she got herself such a tattoo out of eagerness to match with Alcina

After all, it’s not all that different from how she attempts to match her mother’s perfume and the way her lipstick is applied, her posture, her vocabulary

You know, Alcina is Bela’s role model in nearly every way

You find it adorable, the thought of a young Bela tattooing herself with the exact design her sister and mother wears

Secretly, you’re sure she wanted to match both, perhaps slightly out of jealousy

After all, you notice her fussiness whenever attention is paid to others, despite sharing nearly all she has with her sisters

You giggle at the thought of her possessiveness, and merely press another kiss to her head when she opens her eyes again and hums

Lovingly, you trace the tattoo on her forehead, a large smile on your face when her breath evens and she falls asleep at last

4.5

Cassandra

You feel her

All around you, only her

Only she is of importance, in this moment more than ever. Only she is who you are thinking of, who is always on your mind. Only Cassandra

You feel her fingers sliding through your hair, not grasping, merely stroking through it

She’s cupping your face and holding onto you as she kisses you, over and over and over again

Her tongue is in your mouth, yours is in hers

She’s cool, but slowly warming up

Your hand at her cheek, your arm wrapped around her as you keep her close to you

When you need to break away from her lips for a moment to breathe, you smile at her

She’s in a rare position; underneath you on the bed, with her arm wrapped around you and her thighs on either side of your hips

With her hair sprawled out around her and the sun hitting her face and dark golden eyes this way, she looks god-like

A daughter of Aphrodite, her beauty far outweighing the one of the village’s supposed goddess

You take in her beautiful face, her for once clean skin and chin, her plump, dark painted lips. You feel your cheeks burning a little bit at the sight of smeared lipstick across her lips

Her nose, her cheeks, her lazy eye, the golden hue, and lastly, the tattoo on her forehead

Your hand raises and she closes her eyes as she feels you trace it. Comfort. Trust

You can’t help but wonder out loud: “How’d you get that? Why this design?”

Her head turns a little, her eyes keep staying shut. The smallest hint of pink hue covers her pale cheeks

You grin

It seems, you’ve found something embarrassing to your girlfriend

And yet, with pleading and kisses to her neck and jaw, you are granted a quietly spoken answer:

“I got it when I was younger. Say, maybe four decades after I was been reborn”, she explains. You hum in understanding

This would make her quite young still, you realise. At least for an immortal being, that is

“I went into something of a..erm..rebellious phase I guess”, she says, so quiet you must hold your breath to hear

Cassandra cringes at the memory

“I don’t even know why. But I wanted to act out. And seeing as killing the staff and so on didn’t get me far, I tried for more extreme things”

“Such as tattoos?”, you ask

You’re grateful for her closed eyes, as they prevent her from noticing your wandering eyes. You wonder; has she got more you haven’t seen yet, somehow? Your mind immediately fills with possibilities, some innocent, some less so

Cassandra grunts, her face a grimace as she recalls the actions of her younger self

“Yes. I originally just got a dagger, but freaked out pretty much afterwards. I knew Mother was going to kill me if she saw this. I fully expected to be turned into an ice cube!”, she whines quietly

You laugh a little at the thought, though instinctively wrap your arms tighter around her and pull her closer to you

“Anyway, like I said, I freaked out. I knew I couldn’t undo it, so I tattooed over it. I figured I could sell the rose as me trying to imitate the symbol on her clothing”, she shrugs

Again, you laugh

“Did it work?”

“Of course”

Daniela

You tsk as she squirms, loud whines and groans fill your ears

“I want to cuddle already!”, she whines

Instead, she only groans and growls quietly when she is tugged on your lap and gets the wet rag smeared up against her cheek again

You shake your head a little at her, but can’t help but giggle when she quietens down and only whines whenever her cheek is smudged by the rag

Really, you can’t help that though. You feel her adorable, soft cheeks through the rag as you clean her face and can’t help but push slightly harder to squish her cheek

And it brings whines forth from her each time

This time she’s really outdone herself, you think

Having jumped into the bath in the hall of ablution, she is now covered head to toe in blood while six staff members are working on cleaning the room back up

Daniela, of course, has no regrets. She’s had her fun and flashes you a wide, innocent and excited smile when you bring it up

At last, slowly but surely, you discover more and more of your girlfriend again as the blood is washed and scrubbed away

Bits and pieces of pale, soft skin are revealed to you

Her cheeks, her neck, her jaw and lips

Daniela giggles and purses her lips when the last bit of blood is removed from them

Naturally, you can’t resist her, and both of you end up giggling and laughing when you press a sweet kiss to her lips

However, as more and more skin is revealed, so is her forehead and the tattoo adorning it

You trace the shape lovingly and gently, the rag thrown in the sink as you bring your fingertip over the ink rose

It takes no time at all for you to hear loud, purr-like buzzing from her flies

Daniela holds onto your shirt loosely, her body close to yours

As you trace the shape of her tattoo, you can’t help but wonder to yourself

Why a tattoo? Why this tattoo? Why this placement? Are there more? Did she place it herself? Did her sisters help? Did her mother, even?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts again by her cheerful giggles

“Lost in thought?”, she teases, and you shake your head fondly

You pull her closer to you, already long uncaring of the blood on your clothing

“My love, what is the story behind your tattoo?”, you wonder at last

And, of course, you are granted your answer almost immediately. Daniela is never one to keep answers from you

“I copied my sisters! I thought it was some kind of gang symbol and wanted in on it”, she shrugs

“Turns out, it was just Cassandra being stupid and Bela being Bela”, she adds

Then, before you can speak, she pushes herself closer to you, her big, gold-green eyes looking up at you

“But I wear it best, wouldn’t you agree? I look the prettiest with it!”

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #destiny-fly

[frostytherobot]

Alright. Because I’m thinking about Creep as a film series because they just announced more Creep in the form of THE CREEP TAPES (I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG… it’s not a movie but a TV SHOW!!!) I’m just gonna ramble a little bit about why those movies are so important to me.

First, though:

^ That’s my Creep tattoo. I got it over a year ago and show it off whenever I can.

So, onward.

I watched the first Creep movie for the first time during quarantine lockdown. It was like March of 2021? (Hold on, let me link the episode of my podcast for that.) (Yup. Don’t mind my pre-T voice.) That was like one of the loneliest times of my life. You know how it was, you were there, too. Fucking. Awful. I felt like there was just this bubble of sadness around me and nobody could get through to me. Sure, I had friends I could talk to over the internet, but that can only get you so far. Especially when they have their own lives and you can’t see them face to face.

One night, my two best college buddies and I decided we should watch it for our podcast. That was the one thing we could do that we could talk to each other consistently with, so we went for it. And, fuck. You can hear in that episode how freaked out that movie made us! We talk about human behaviors and the compulsion to kill and where that stems from, the relationship between politeness and gender roles, and lot of other related topics in that episode. It’s a smart film that knows how to suck you into the reality; you see these two men up close and personal, their odd behaviors, and the found footage formatting and intimate setting make you feel as though you are there witnessing all of this with them. As them. Those awkward moments make you cringe; watching Josef admit to stalking Aaron, catching Josef on the lies, tubby time. Oh, god, tubby time.

And then there was the ending. The moment where the camera is left in the car, you’re left in the car, and you just have to watch as Josef puts on the Peachfuzz wolf mask, flourishes his jacket, and buries that axe into Aaron’s head. The shot is static. It’s matter-of-fact, and that’s why it’s so horrifying. He’s dead. You followed this shy, awkward guy on his journey getting to know an oddball all the way to the lake, and he’s dead now. And then, the murderous oddball looks directly into the camera, and while he says Aaron’s name, he’s looking at you as he says, “That is why I love you. And that is why you will always be my favorite. Of them all.” Like he was thanking you for witnessing this event.

I felt like there was someone behind me for hours afterward. Josef had somehow gotten into my home. And that’s how it started.

Months later, we watched the second one. (Episode link here.) Of course we loved it. I loved it. It wasn’t as scary as the first one, but the intimacy and emotional connection was still there. That feeling of watching two people through their own eyes was still there. Only this time, they were trying to out-weird each other, or at least come together on a level they could both understand. The thing is, they were still misunderstanding each other. Sara is only comfortable with Josef’s Aaron’s freakiness because she thought he was lying to her when he wasn’t. The moment she starts to take it seriously is when she decides to leave, and that’s when Josef Aaron pulls out the lies and the deceit to bring her back in. And when she comes back in, that’s when she starts being genuine, letting her guard down, and that’s when she gets into trouble. She starts to believe in the watered-down version of Josef Aaron, seeing the front of softness as a vulnerability in him, and to a point, it is. But she totally disregards everything else that has happened during this day as some kind of ruse, when she should have kept those moments in mind. He’s still a killer, and dangerous, even if he plays it like he isn’t.

Sara ultimately pays the price for entertaining his whims. I guess Aaron did, too, but in a different way. While Aaron died and became a part of Josef, Sara now cannot get rid of him. He tries to kill her, and she runs, refusing his gift of death and absorption into himself, but now he follows her. She’s literally moved on, but like a ghost or a bad dog with attachment issues, he still follows her. He gave her his heart, after all.

And then I got to putting two and two together on why exactly all of this was appallingly appealing to me. I was alone. I was drifting further into this state of paradoxical nothing-pain. And suddenly, I was being welcomed into a dynamic in which I was wanted. It was an obsessive want, but I was wanted. He got me. They all did. Josef, Aaron, Sara. Suddenly I’m seeing aspects of my loneliness on screen. The slow reveal of the odd personality traits, the waiting to see the reaction. Pulling those traits back in when they’re not met with the tolerance I wish was there. The staying when I feel so uncomfortable because I want to understand. Upping the ante in an act of bonding. Feeling like I’ve found someone who’s on my wavelength, only to find they weren’t as okay with the whole me as I thought. The sudden urge to end it all. To kill the relationships. Move on, knowing they were dead, but I could still have the memories. They were getting distant. I could do it, you know. Just end it all right then.

Of course, I didn’t do that. But I felt it. I felt it a lot during that time.

I’ve not been super mentally healthy over my time being alive. I’ve been hospitalized for it. Not a fun experience, by the way. But that was another aspect that just drew me closer to Peachfuzz. He’s funny, and weird, and unstable. Always lying to appeal to the people around him because he wants them to stay, for sincere and sinister reasons. He’s terrible and lonely. I was terrible and lonely.

And there it was. Crystal clear. Los aguas milagros de corazón. I was taking comfort in a manifestation of something dark that I saw in myself. A mischievous, funny, isolated, totally fucked-in-the-head, murderous darkness. I wasn’t alone in that room anymore, and yeah, perhaps my company should’ve been something not so, well, creepy, but I thanked him for being there. I could put a face with the feeling, and the nothing-pain started going away.

He’s a friend of mine now. And I love him a lot.

#martyface #josef tag #creep 2014 #creep movie #creep 2

[hauntingkiki]

some venture headcannons that i came up with!

i hope you guys enjoy!

Some Basic Head-cannons

Venture x Reader Headcannons

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

- they go by they/he pronouns, but mainly use they/them! (amab)

- they have a few cuts/scars from exploring and from the fights while at overwatch

- they listen to just about anything. goth rock? they have a playlist for it. country? turn the volume up!

- they have dimples! the one of their left side is more prominent than the one on their right :3

- since they speak spanish, if they forget a word in english, they'll say it in spanish so it's like a guessing game to figure out what they're saying (unless you also speak spanish)

- the words that they forget are recurring words, like they'll forget the word spaghetti in english, so they made a list of the spanish word and the english definition next to it. (it's your life saver)

- they've very clingy! but not in the bad way, like, they like to show you off around their coworkers! ex. holding your hand, an arm wrapped around your shoulders/waist, kisses on the check, forehead, nose, lips, hands :}

- if you're the one to kiss/give them attention in front of their coworkers, they easily get flustered and will not shut up about the interaction.

"oh! hana wants to show me something really quick! i'll be back, sloan!" *kisses their cheeks and walks off with hana*

*very flustered* "he...hehe...did you see that? i love my girlfriend/partner so much."

"yes, venture, we saw it."

"she's/they're so pretty."

- will randomly quote a line from a song out of nowhere.

"baby, we can do it, take the time, do it right. bum, bum, bam."

"what was that, sloan?"

"NOTHING!"

- has the coolest rock collection you have ever seen. in your shared bedroom, their side of the room is all rocks, sketches they made while exploring and work related stuff while your side is just all of your interests

- proud 24/7 yapper

- ^ will just talk about work, overwatch/his colleagues, random facts they know/learned

- while the two of you eat dinner, you two will have a yap fest where you just talk about random things! (work, interests, drama, or whatever pops into your heads!)

- they love to paint rocks and gift them to you out of the blue, so you have a small, but growing, collection of painted rocks by your truly

- they used to draw a lot when they were younger, but since they do more rock/structure drawings, their human sketches are a little rough but they will ALWAYS use you in order to improve

- they will paint their nails your favorite color and you will paint your their favorite color, but on your ring fingers, you'll have your favorite color and they'll have their favorite color

- matching tattoos with you :D

- they have some kind of autism, so when they get excited, they'll crack their knuckles, flap their hands around, tap/stomp their feet!

- when you both go to sleep, they'll take all the blankets and hog the whole bed.

"why weren't you in bed when i woke up?"

"hun, you took the whole bed."

"...no i didn't?"

they only do this if they had a long day at work (which is very rare surprisingly)

- apparently them eating rocks is cannon?!😭 but i think they'd also eat those candy rocks, and they LEARNED how to make them at home.

- has a HUGE ASS JAR of rocks and candy rocks.

you took one once and it was an actual rock. (thankfully you didn't chip a tooth unlike sloan)

- they rarely curse, but if they get overwhelmed/overstimulated they'll just shout a random curse word and everyone knows that you are needed immediately.

"ffffFFUCKK!!"

"WHERES Y/N?! SOMEONE GO GET Y/N IMMEDIATELY!"

- they want to get their tongue and ears pierced but is surprisingly scared of needles, so they're holding off the appointments (for some reason it's only piercing needles, they have no problem with tattoo needles)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

please request i need stuff to do☹️

#fanfic #reading #request are welcome #headcanon #overwatch2 #overwatch #venture ow2 #venture x reader #venture #venture overwatch #sloane cameron #characterxreader #wattpad #please request i need stuff to do #hauntingkiki

[bloominstorm]

Honestly, this chapter just really highlighted how tone deaf Takemichi and the others are.

#draken literally died. #he died and y’all over here just thinking everyone who knew him would be jumping at the opportunity to fight Mikey #it’s like takemichi and the others just completely said ‘he died oh well let’s focus on Mikey’ #draken deserved better than tht especially since he fucking died protecting takemichi #it’s just so unbelievable to me how wakui thinks characterizing everyone like this would be good #even after takemichi woke up in the hospital he literally focused on Mikey didn’t even give af about Draken #and he didn’t even care to be aware enough of mitsuyas absence #the fact tht inupi also didn’t even seem to mourn or CARE about drakens death when he was literally the closest one to him in the past two #years and was literally the last person to see him alive besides takemichi and senju AND was the one who sent him to the place where he died #makes no sense like why is there no emotion there? why is wakui trying to make me believe his encounter with takemichi and him reminding him #of shinichiro is enough to outweigh him actually getting to know Draken and working alongside him for the past two yrs??? #it’s fucking ridiculous #same with chifuyu he literally went off on Takemichi about drakens death now we have this chapter of him being shocked tht drakens death #affected mitsuya so badly??? #and don’t even get me started on hakkai??? #hakkai literally is up mitsuyas ass always around him and generally always aware of what’s going on with him #yet he had no idea he wasn’t gonna be up to helping them with their shit? #i was gonna give him the benefit of the doubt bc he probably didn’t know how close Draken and him were but like? no considering everything #he must’ve known about their connection and their tattoo and everything #like hakkai if it wasn’t for draken there would’ve been no ‘taka-chan’ to give you the love you needed #this chapter is just lowkey baffling to me bc I just can’t get over the sheer audacity of them? #like takemichi especially he heard about the state mitsuya was in and then saw it yet still had the gall to try to ask him for help #help designing their uniforms and being an advisor #like????????????? fucking what? #tht flashback with draken and mitsuya made me so sad bc it really just spoke to Draken’s character #he truly wanted the best for all his friends - he knew mitsuya would be a great designer and urged him to really go for it #it’s just sad tht draken himself couldn’t move on from the gang life and Mikey #its sad bc look how it ended for him :-/ I always think about the last future and how everything was so good for everyone and now it’ll #never happen literally everything’s been ruined #Tokyo revengers 238

[violetclarity]

do I feel so uncomfortable with the concept of having crushes because of demisexuality, internalized homophobia, or some other yet-to-be-discovered emotional stumbling block: an autobiography by me

#me one second: it's normal to have crushes! it's okay to fantasize about them and imagine being in a relationship! it's healthy! #me the next second: you're objectifying her! you're making it up and exaggerating your feelings because you want to be in a relationship! #you wouldn't know how to make a move anyway so what's the point just shut it down! #me simultaneously in both of the above scenarios: #whY am I spending so much time THINKING about this feelings are so TIME CONSUMING and EXHAUSTING this is why I DON'T HAVE THEM #personal #that probably goes without saying lol #not hp #venting #also I found out last week she has a collarbone tattoo which is just. unfair.

[ruluxe]

i had a friend back in the 8059 fandom that did smth really insane, and they decided to rewrite the khr manga with yamamoto/gokudera as the main focus because there was so much material to work with despite the relationship not actually being canon. it was a long time ago and idk if they ever finished it but man, it was really good.

so anway i was thinking like... we have some amazing billyteddy content spanning over years and different events but how cool would it be like to rewrite all that with billy and teddy as the main focus? filling in plot holes and gaps, writing out the aftermath of traumatic events and how it affects them as individuals and as couples. giving them some heftier character development, taking (a little) liberty with explaining billy and tommy's powers, giving billy, tommy and wanda a better behind the scenes relationship... i wanna do it. i need to do it. but damn that's rly ambitious lol

#ru.txt #112's cupid came on earlier and idk why but i was just suddenly in my billyteddy feelings #and thinking damn i know they have an amazing love story but i just want to read them falling in love #and how much they love each other #like really sappy and angsty and sexy and just. make it epic #sometimes you gotta make the content you wanna see #and while there are so many amazing billyteddy fics i have officially gone through them all 3x #never in my life - not even my most dearest ships before this - did i ever do this #i dont read fic and when i do its not often or a lot #i dont think of coffee shop or tattoo/flower shop or college aus for my ships #but billyteddy got me on some next level feelings i am in so so deep #and im out of content so. i gotta try #but man... i have a months worth of work to catch up on for three classes because of a hiccup with one of my clients #im so fucked i dont have any time until after april #anyway i need to stop babbling in the tags #SHELFING THIS IDEA FOR NOW #but istg if im still in that deep by may .... i just might do it fellas... i just might do it

[sungie]

WHERE THEY KISS YOU [TOKYO REVENGERS]

includes: ran, rindou, kazutora, hanma, inui, koko, chifuyu, mitsuya, shinichiro, sanzu

cw: fluff, slighly suggestive

a/n: and my first tokrev piece! i hope u enjoy <333

masterlist

HAITANI RAN – your hairline.

He’s terrible, really. Cradling your face in his hands, only to barely brush his lips to your hairline with the awful excuse that he’s just too tall to properly kiss you. At sight of your scowl and failed attempts to tug him to your face, he simply smirks and presses patronizing kisses to the top of your head. “If you really wanted me, you’d just grow taller, baby.” 

“I’ll fold your kneecaps if you don’t bend over.” 

Ran chuckles. He considers it (he really does), then shrugs. Just how far can he push before you snap?

“I’d like to see you try.” 

The grin on your face turns downright wicked.

Do it, he thinks. You wouldn't dare.

You do. He watches in amusement as you pull out your phone, scrolling through a long list of contacts. “Pity. I’ll just have to ask Rin, then. Do you think he's into sloppy seconds? What about Haru? Mikey? Oh, maybe Kaku?”

Ran chuckles darkly. "Absolutely not." Rin? Haru? Kaku? He hates the way their names sound on your tongue. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. His mouth swallows your words, admonishing that wicked smirk with a breathlessness that leaves you wobbling on your feet.

He swipes the phone out your hands, only to slyly return it to your back pocket with a hand that lingers much longer than it should. He pulls away, teeth grazing at your bottom lip with a glint in his eyes. “That wasn’t very nice of you, now, was it?"

HAITANI RINDOU – your neck. 

Rindou wraps his arms around your waist and droops his head over your shoulder. He scowls at the chatroom displayed on your screen, matched with that stupid daddy’s money he’s grown to hate over the past week.

Isabelle the 4th and you … the loves of my life.

Rindou scoffs. "Pay attention to me," he grumbles. "I'm way better than that pixelated asshole on your phone." He does his best to hide it, but the subtle hints of a whine drag at his words. "Reminds me of Koko. Why couldn't you have gone for that hacker with the tattoos, or something?"

"Later, Rin, I'm about to unlock his bad ending. The red ribbons are so hot, here, look."

His bad ending? Red ribbons? Rindou's moving before he can think twice, his head nudging closer to kiss against your jugular. He feels the gasp shivering across your body before he hears it.

"I'd never give you a bad ending. Just so you know." His lips drag down your neck, taking time to worship the skin above your collarbone.

"It's not a bad ending, just a more exciting one–"

Rindou wraps his arms around your shoulders to tug you flush against him and nips against your skin. 

At your shriek, his lips suck at the mark, sharpness fading into a dull ache. “Exciting, huh? You still gonna play that game while I’m off?” 

Your laugh makes his heart swell. You turn to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose, tossing your phone on the couch. “No, no, you’re my favorite, Rin.”

“Thought so.” 

HANEMIYA KAZUTORA – your earlobe.

“Looks pretty on you,” Kazutora muses, gazing at his earring dangling from your ear. “You know, if you wanted to match you should’ve just said so.”

He laughs at your expression, thankful you can’t pinpoint the blush heating on his skin. Leaning in even closer, he blows at the earring, amused at the way it sings with sudden attention. Would you make pretty sounds for him, too? Before he knows it, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your ear, peppering his lips against the ridge until he reaches your cheek.

At your whine, he pulls away teasingly. “Hm. Should I kiss you?” An amused smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t know … you did steal from me, after all.” 

HANMA SHUJI – your hands.

Hanma kisses the back of your palms. Worships them, revers them. Praise overshadows the underlying sadism of what it means to trace the outlines of sin and punishment against your uninked skin with his tongue. "So soft," he murmurs against you, but you're not stupid, and you must know he means, "so innocent." And not for long.

By the way his hands grow bolder and attention trails elsewhere, his intentions grow clearer with each sear of his mouth. As he makes a pass at your lips, he finally gets a taste of that brattiness he's been after for so long. He grins as you evade him to coyly whisper into his ear. "I know what you are, Shuji. Can't fool me."

"Oh? ♡ And what's that?"

"Cute. I know a perv when I see one."

He'll give it to you, that's for sure. Because you're half right. After all, it takes one to know one.

INUI SEISHU – your wrist.

"That feels nice." Inui presses his lips to the jut of your wrist, folding to lean into the palm of your hand. "Don't go," he whispers into your skin, "stay." He struggles to stay focused, but Inui knows that even with eyes half-lid and sleepy, he can still manage to gaze at you with a quiet intensity that leaves you stuttering.

At your lack of response, he flushes. His hand automatically presses against yours, wary that you'll mumble some excuse to draw it away and dart out the room. "What," he murmurs, "am I not allowed to show you affection?"

Your eyes look like they'll fall out their sockets. "No," you finally say, "no, it's nice, you just, you're never this shameless about it–"

Cute.

"Oh," Inui chuckles. His eyes crease and that stoic facade of his finally crumbles as his lips tug into a faint smile. He presses another chaste kiss to your wrist, reveling in the way you gasp. "You haven't seen me shameless yet."

KOKONOI HAJIME – your jawline.

"I don't think I heard you right," Kokonoi teases. His arms hang above you, effectively pressing you into the wall as he grins, running his tongue between his teeth. "Wanna try again?" He nudges closer to nudge fervid kisses along your jawline. "Don't disappoint me, baby."

Your laughter softens his gaze. He presses his forehead against yours, amusement reflected in his eyes.

"Koko."

"Ah, ah." His fingers tilt your chin up, thumb gently running against your bottom lip. "Wrong answer."

"Hajime," you give in. "Hajime, it's your turn to wash the dishes."

Kokonoi can't resist anymore. He kisses you, one hand supporting the back of your neck, and the other cradling your cheek. "Of course. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Kokonoi," you taunt again, for good measure.

"Nope," he says, gently smushing your cheeks together. "Don't start."

MATSUNO CHIFUYU – your fingers.

Chifuyu plays with your fingers, barely touching them, but interlacing your hands all the same. He runs his thumb along your knuckles, tracing infinities across your joints.

Your mouth is moving, but Chifuyu isn't listening, at least, not really. He's too focused on how soft your skin feels against his, how light his chest feels when he's with you.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He smiles at you, eyes twinkling. "No."

"Chifuyu!"

He presses his lips against each fingertip, peppering kisses across the back of your palm. "Sorry," he murmurs, "I got distracted." He looks at you for a couple seconds, then shrugs guiltily. "You just make me really happy."

He almost whines when you pull your hand away from his, only to press them against your face. Your fingers peep open a crack to expose your eyes. "Flirt," you mumble.

Chifuyu blinks for a few seconds. And then he laughs, gently prying your hands from your face. "So cute," he murmurs, tugging you closer and pressing his lips to your temple. "If it makes a difference, I'll listen this time."

You start talking again, and Chifuyu tries to listen, he really does, but he's staring at your lips now, and he's wondering why he didn't kiss you earlier. He wonders how mad you'd be if he interrupted you a second time.

MITSUYA TAKASHI – your forehead.

Mitsuya presses the last jewel to your skin, then dusts a faint layer of glitter beneath your eyes. Your skin feels soft against his fingertips, so soft. He lets himself look too long, and he feels a pang of guilt when he watches you attempt to press your hands to your face in insecurity.

He nudges your hands away, pressing his lips to the spot between your eyes. "Don't hide," he murmurs, "you're gonna turn a lot of heads tonight."

The familiar spark remerges behind your irises. "You know I only have eyes for you, Takashi."

Mitsuya is too late to hide his smirk. Maybe he doesn't need to. He feels sorry, he really does, for the people too late to realize you already have a boyfriend. "Have fun, baby. Wanna make a bet on how many free drinks you can score?"

"Stop," you whine, "you're so full of it."

"No, I'm telling the truth–"

"Uh huh. My boyfriend's such a smooth-talker."

"Okay, wait."

"Waiting."

"You're beautiful."

Mitsuya laughs when you playfully swat him. "I'd kiss you goodbye, but I'm not messing up your look. Don't worry too much, I'll do it later."

SANO SHINICHIRO – your temple.

Shinichiro sighs as you tug him back toward you. He raises your enjoined hands and lightly twirls you around, a lazy grin resting atop his features. "What?"

The look upon your face makes him falter. “Be careful, Shin. Promise me.” 

Shinichiro stares at you for a long second, face softening. He won't deny it feels nice to have someone look out for him. But he doesn't want to see you look so worried.

At his nod, you lightly grip his collar, pulling him down to gaze into your eyes. "Shinichiro. Promise."

“I will. I promise.” He tugs you closer, lips pressing against your temple. "Always, for you."

He stumbles as you wrap your arms around him tightly. "Love you," you murmur into his shirt.

He smiles, head resting atop yours.

SANZU HARUCHIYO – ...

“Kiss,” you tap your lips.

Sanzu grins, greedy fingers tugging your chin forward. His breath fans against your skin, eliciting goosebumps. He leans closer, lips barely brushing against yours, until he pauses, eyes devious. "No."

#tokyo revengers hcs #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #kazutora x reader #hanma x reader #inui x reader #kokonoi x reader #chifuyu x reader #shinichiro x reader #mitsuya x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

[saetoru]

call geto ru. he hates it <3

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄 | 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.

tags: college au!, suggestive comments, i characterized him how i wanted to idc

notes: in that case i’ll call him that just to make him mad <3

“don’t call me that,” geto huffs quietly, rolling his eyes as you snort from your spot on his chest. the television is simply background music at this point, and you don’t think either of you has paid attention in the last fifteen minutes to the movie playing—but you think you have other things you’re rather be watching right now. like the pout that’s slowly tugging at geto’s lips.

“what’s wrong with it?” you raise a brow, eyes laced with amusement as he grunts.

“sounds stupid,” he mutters quietly.

“i think it’s cute,” you insist, “a cute little nickname for my cute little boyfriend.” you lean up to peck his jaw with a giggle, and even despite the clear unhappiness sprawled across his features, he tightens his arm around your waist.

“i am not little,” he says firmly, and he almost sounds insulted that you’d make such an untrue claim, “i think i’ve shown you that more than once.”

“okay, maybe not little,” you hum in agreement, “but you’re definitely cute.”

at first glance, geto is not cute—he’s trouble. he’s got piercings lining his ears and tattoos littering his arms, and on most days, despite your incessant protests, he’s got a cigarette between his lips. he speeds when he drives and skips class when he wants and picks fights when he shouldn't. he’s bad news if you’ve ever seen it, but all things considered, you think he’s rather beautiful.

there’s beauty in the way geto isn’t a perfect picture, in the way he isn’t painted with careful brush strokes through deliberate thought. he’s shattered glass, each piece picked up and laid out until he’s built himself to be a mosaic of colors that leave you awestruck—and, when he’s lounging in gray sweats and a faded pacman t-shirt, you think there’s an air of innocence to him that no one else but you gets to witness. and it’s adorable, and you think you should remind him—even if he’s not the biggest fan of said reminder.

“don’t call me that stupid nick—”

“but it’s so cute,” you pout, “and suguru is long. ru is nice and short.”

“it’s so fucking dumb.”

“aw, but i love you, ru,” you emphasize the last part as you giggle loudly, leaning up to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. he pauses, turns his face to glare at you harshly—though it’s never really harsh if it’s at you—and scoffs, turning his attention back to the movie.

he doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore, not when he’s missed everything in the last twenty minutes, but he pretends to be deeply transfixed as you poke his chest repeatedly.

“you have to say it back,” you protest, whining when he doesn’t spare you a glance. “ru, you have to say it back when i—”

“‘m not saying it until you call me by my real name.”

“but it’s not as cute,” you huff, furrowing your brows, “quit being so bitter. satoru lets me call him toru all the time, he never—”

“wait, you have a nickname for satoru?” he interrupts, suddenly very interested in you once more. his head whips to look at you in shock, like your words are cold water splashed on his skin—and he thinks you might as well just drown him while you’re at it. “why does satoru have a nickname before me?”

“i call you babe,” you roll your eyes, “i don’t call him babe.”

“so is that the only privilege i get?” geto raises a brow as he questions you dryly. you fight back a smile, but it tugs at the corners of your lips anyway, making him flick your forehead as he fights his own grin.

“you’ve seen me naked,” you point out, “that’s a rather generous privilege.”

the smile wins, and it tugs at his lips this time as he chuckles lowly, pulling you closer as his hand sneaks up your shirt to rub your bare back. “true,” he grins widely, “seeing you naked is quite the privilege.”

and this is the geto the world doesn't quite understand—the one they don’t have the pleasure of seeing. the one whose smile is gentle and as warm as the sun on your face and soft as the grass under your feet, whose eyes are deep enough that you could fall headfirst. except falling is not falling with geto—you don’t even make it close to the bottom when his arms tug you into his chest and his nose digs into your neck and you feel the world pressed into your palms as he surrenders himself to you.

the shards of glass he’s rearranged aren’t as jagged at the edges as they seem when you look up close, and he doesn’t slice your skin open with his touch. and when he glitters under the rays of light that peak in through the curtains every morning, when the colors seem just a tad bit more vivid today than they did yesterday, you know your geto isn’t the geto the rest of the world knows.

your geto isn’t the stone-faced man whose name is a fearful whisper—he’s the boy in your grasp that pouts at the nickname you give him, the one whose skin flushes red as blush dances across his cheeks under your fingertips.

“is that all you’re here for? just to see me without any clothes?” you scowl, flicking his forehead. his hand grabs your retreating one, tugging it to his lips as he presses a chaste kiss to your wrist.

“don’t act like you’re not here for the same,” he snorts. “but you really call him toru? does he like it when you do?” by now, his voice adopts an edge to it, and the sudden realization makes his eyes narrow, “that asshole. i’ll knock him out next time i see him.”

“well at least he’s appreciative of my nicknames, unlike some people,” you glare at him, and geto thinks this is what everyone means when they say true love is sacrifice—he sacrifices his pride and quite possibly his dignity as he sighs deeply and caves.

“okay, you can call me that,” he grumbles, cringing at the way your eyes light up and then glint with mischief. something tells him you’d have called him that either way—but this, the permission, it makes it all the more dangerous.

“i knew you loved it,” you tease, pinching his cheek with a chuckle. “you’re too easy to read.”

“i hate it,” he scrunches his face in distaste. but truth be told, there’s a small part of him that can’t deny he’s almost giddy that he’s more than just suguru in your eyes.

“you love it. now say it back.”

“i hate it,” he insists stubbornly, but there’s a smile that pulls at his lips as he pecks your forehead, “but i guess i love you, though.”

and when your fingertips reach to trace over his skin, and love pours from your touch like a dripping faucet he never wants to fix, it fills into the cracks of the shattered pieces, building him whole and new.

i’m in writers block this short ass drabble took me hours to write sobsobsob i’m struggling yall. terribly so.

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto angst #geto headcanons #geto suguru x reader #geto imagines #geto scenarios #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk headcanons

[bts-bay-bee]

labs

Pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 3391

Warnings: college!au, they’re paired for group work (ew), cursing, y/n is kind of uptight about their experiment (she cares about her academics, okay?), choking, a tiny bit of dry humping, use of the word “whore” but in a nice way, like “my pretty whore”, finger sucking, orgasm denial, spit kink (only a tiny bit because my dumb ass forgot to add that because I was so focused on the prompts – I’m sorry!), edging, unprotected sex, crying kink (sorry, I project), multiple orgasms, angry neighbours, unprotected sex, cum eating

Prompts: 1 (“You think your fingers will make you cum better than my cock?”), 5 (“Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?”), 16 (“How about to stop eye-fucking me and start actually fucking me?”), 18(“You’re so sexy when you think you’re right.”)

Request: @sxtaep​

A/N: I apologize in advance for the tiny bit of chemical engineering. I also apologize because this fic is very self-indulgent, but I suppose you already saw that from the word count. (This is also a hot mess but I really want to post something, sorry)

Jeon Jungkook was quite literally, irrevocably, the bane of your existence, so of course he’d be assigned as your lab partner. To make matters worse, the group list was quite clear: this was not just for the semester – but rather the entire year. An entire year of his bullshit.

 “Jungkook, you’re opening the wrong valve,” You said through gritted teeth, clutching your pen in your hand, hovering over your data collection sheet. He turned around, eyebrow raised perfectly over his safety goggles, tattooed hand still opening the wrong valve.

 “You’re so sexy when you think you’re right, Y/N.” He teased, throwing a wink over his shoulder before turning back to the piping system in front of him.

 “I don’t think I’m right; I know I am. That valve has been broken since last semester. The technicians told us to use the main valve to shut the system off.” You snapped, throwing your supplies onto the nearest flat surface to shut the offending valve. “I swear, I should’ve just done the entire thing myself –”

 “But what about spending time with me?” He pouted, grabbing your wrist in an attempt to bring you closer to him.

 “And why would I want to spend time with you?” You laughed sarcastically, snatching your hand back, inspecting the data you collected – probably all useless since Jungkook had been opening and closing the wrong thing for the past hour. “Having you in class is more than what I need to see of you.”

 “You say that now, but we both know you miss me when I’m not around.” Jungkook said smugly, taking the page out of your hand and looking at it himself. Staring at him in disbelief, you quickly glared at him when you saw the sun setting. Great. An entire afternoon wasted in this stupid lab with your stupid lab partner for this stupid experiment –

 “How about to stop eye-fucking me and start actually fucking me?” He murmured, leaning down, close enough to kiss you if either of you moved in the wrong direction.

 “This is a look of disdain, not desire.” You clarified, snatching back the data page, too invested in the figures to catch his frown. “This is all wrong, we don’t have enough time to fix it –”

 “Just come in again tomorrow.” He shrugged, tugging on your sleeve to bring you closer to him. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

 “It’s not a big deal for you, I’m the one who has to figure out the calculations and then still write up the report.”

 “It’s not like you’re alone, I’ll be working on it too. Plus, I know what equations we need –”

 “Like you knew which valve to open?” You scoffed, begrudgingly accepting your backpack from him, stuffing it with your lab coat and goggles. Ignoring you, he opened the door to the lab, allowing you to step out before closing the door behind him. “How did you even end up as my lab partner? I’m pretty sure I saw Jaehyun’s name next to mine before the new pairings were posted –”

 “It’s a long story,” He murmured, waving it off, seemingly irritated with mention of his friend’s name. “But I’d be happy to recall it over coffee –”

 Cutting him off with a groan, you ignored the way he looked over at you, licking his lips at the sound. “Jungkook. We wasted an entire afternoon, someone needs to go do a literature review, since we couldn’t get the data, and I can guarantee you won’t be volunteering to do this. Just let me get work done.”

 Seeing you stomping away from him, Jungkook sighed, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach… Maybe this time he had gone too far with trying to get a reaction out of you. Afterall, he knew the valve was broken – he was the one who had seen Namjoon sheepishly walk away after informing the technician of his misdeed – but the prospect of spending an extra afternoon with you seemed heavenly, even if you were beyond stressed and trapped in a too hot, too loud, too cramped lab.

 Pouting without realizing, he turned on his heel, shrugging on his lab coat as he entered the building without you.

 *

 Knocking impatiently, you waited for Jungkook to open up his room door, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall. You were too tired, exhausted even, to berate Jungkook for making you come to his apartment when he very well knew you were trying to make up for his mistake.

 Pulling back the door, you wanted to check him out properly, the grey sweatpants clinging to his muscular thighs almost made you drool, but you knew that if he caught you looking, you would never hear the end of it. Walking past him, you sat down in his living room, noticing that he had been busy on some spreadsheet.

 “So, I need to confess something.” He started, locking the front door and sitting next to you, his knee knocking into your own. Side eyeing him, you tried not to let your worry show; something major must be wrong if he had asked to meet you in person, and not spam your phone like he usually does.

 “The experiment today, I –”

 “Jungkook, please, can we not talk about that mess.”

 “I knew I messed up.” He mumbled, looking down. “I did it on purpose. I didn’t realize you were so stressed until we spoke after.”

 Stunned, you stared at him, blinking but not saying anything.

 “I just… I don’t know.” He continued, sighing. “Obviously we would have to redo it, I just didn’t think you’d hate spending an afternoon with me that much. I wanted to spend more time with you, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 Still stunned and confused, you didn’t utter a word as he pulled his laptop closer to him, beckoning you closer as he showed you what he had been working on.

 “I went back in and redid it. Everything fits the hypothesis. We just need to do a discussion based on the findings and conclude, then we’re done until next semester.”

 Finally finding your words, you found yourself speaking softly, surprisingly not only yourself but Jungkook as well.

 “Jungkook, that lab took forever, what time did you get back home?”

 Shrugging, he put his laptop back on the coffee table, not meeting your gaze.

 “I’m really sorry for wasting your time.” He mumbled. “I won’t bother you again –”

 “I don’t hate spending time with you.” You blurted, interrupting him. Finally looking at you, he swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. “It’s just… I’d prefer not limiting our alone time to when we have to do a project together. Or when we have important assignments to submit the next day. And especially not when we’re stuck in the lab. That place brings out the worst parts of me.”

 Snorting, Jungkook tried to hold back his retort. But failed. “I know, it’s like you turn into a dragon – ow! Y/N, seriously –”

 *

 For the love of all things holy (or however the saying goes), you do not know how you ended up in this situation. One minute you were clicking on the submit button, lab write up finally done, looking forward to celebrating finally being done with the semester, and the next you were faced with an irate Jungkook.

 “What is your issue?” You hissed, looking at him incredulously as he closed both your laptops, jaw clenched.

 “You keep teasing me, you have been for three days, and you expect me not to be pissed?” He scoffed. “You’re fucking stretching and whining and shoving everything I can’t have in my face, and you expect me not to be pissed?”

 “I wasn’t whining, I was just stretching, we’ve been sitting here for hours –”

 “You were arching your back!” Jungkook argued, pushing his hair back in frustration. Okay, fine, maybe you did moan when you stretched, but it’s not as if you were flashing him or something. Maybe you were pushing him to snap. Maybe you were close to getting exactly what you wanted.

 “Arching my back?” You sighed, as if this conversation bored you. You wondered if he noticed your crossed legs. Or if he noticed you had (purposefully) not pulled up your lowcut shirt when it slipped lower on your chest. “Jungkook, please, stop seeing things that aren’t happening.”

 “They are happening,” He scowled. “You’ve been doing this for days, Y/N. It’s like you’re begging me to take you across the closest available flat surface.”

 “And if I am?” You smirked, making him sigh through his nose as he closed his eyes, jaw clenching further. “What if I want you to take what you want? Take whatever you want, without asking, without needing to ask?”

 Standing abruptly, he caged you against his desk, trying to control his breathing. When he opened his eyes, you saw his pupils were dilated, a dead give away of his arousal.

 “Is that what you want from me?” He whispered, index finger trailing over your exposed collarbone, barely touching you. Although faint, his touch sent a ripple of shivers through you, making his gaze turn even more predatory. “To take whatever I want? To treat you like nothing more than some toy?”

 Biting your lip, you raised your eyebrow at him. An invitation to do whatever he wanted.

 Grabbing your neck harshly, he pushed you flat against his desk, his free hand coming up to clutch your hair, making sure you wouldn’t move as he forced your mouth open with his own, sucking greedily on your tongue. He tasted like coffee and chocolate, the snacks he had so graciously brought out for you, wanting to keep you satiated while you purposefully teased him, purposely pissed him off.

 Raising his knee, he pressed it against your core, letting you grind down on it. Feeling you hump his knee, he chuckled darkly, pressing into your cunt harder, feeding off of your tiny whines.

 “Oh, baby, you’re getting off on this?” He scoffed; amusement clear in his tone. “My pretty, little whore can get off from just humping my leg? How fucking pathetic.”

 His words washed over you with shame, but you knew he was right – Jungkook was just one of those people who could be sexy doing the most mundane things. As much as you hate to admit it, you enjoyed it when was asked to do any manual labour in the labs; muscles bulging through his lab coat, toned muscles barely contained by his jeans, as he helped someone open a particularly stubborn valve. Even better when he had to jump up onto a raised platform – putting him at the perfect height to grab you by the back of the neck and fuck your throat for any and everybody to see. Speaking of which –

 “Want to suck your cock,” You mumbled, dazed as you continued to press your core against his thigh. “Please, need your cock in my mouth.”

 “Do you deserve my cock, baby?” He asked, insincere sweetness dripping from his lips. “Do you think this lying, teasing, mouth deserves my cock?”

 “But I want it,” You cried, pleasure ebbing from your body as he lessened the pressure his thigh expended on your core. Pinning your hips to the wooden table, he forced you to deal with barely-there pleasure. “Please, I’ll be good for you.”

 “But what if I want to fuck your little pussy?” He asked, veiny hands trailing over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down to find your light pink panties. Balling your pants up and throwing it at random, he began softly caressing you through the flimsy material. “What if I want to fuck my baby stupid? Make you beg me to stop when you can’t take my whole cock, hmm? What then?”

 “Want that too.” You mumbled, eyes half-closed from need. “Want everything you want to do to me.”

 “Well, we won’t be doing anything,” He breathed, “Not until you soak your panties for me, okay baby?”

 “No, please fuck me, I can take you now,” You mumbled, struggling to not just continue humping his knee until you cum. “I’m so wet for you, Jungkook, please.”

 “If you’re so wet for me, how come only this tiny bit of your panties are wet then?” He murmured, outlining the small, but growing, wet patch on your panties, making you squirm. “No, Y/N, I want you to soak my dick when I fuck you, need you to be dripping for me, okay?”

 “s’gonna take too long.” Whining, you were two seconds away from tears. “I want you now.”

 “I don’t care what you want.” Jungkook smiled, cheeks making an eye-smile as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you choke slightly as he pushed it in further. “Now shut the fuck up, and grind on my thigh. Be my good girl, Y/N.”

 *

 “Please, please, I’m close – I’m gonna cum, Jungkook –”

 “Nuh-uh, not yet, sweetheart,” He crooned, ripping away his fingers over your clit at the last moment, just barely preventing your orgasm. You were so close this time, it felt like you were just about to fall off the edge and he had abruptly yanked you off the ledge.

 Tears of frustration dripped down your cheeks, as he grinned at your ruined panties, now thoroughly soaked with your arousal. Letting you recover for a second, his fingers went back to your still-clothed clit, rubbing tiny circles, hard and fast.

 Furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, you felt yourself leak more arousal. You hated how empty you felt; core aching to be filled, stuffed to the brim with his cock, his fingers, anything he would give you. After being edged for so long, it didn’t take much to have you speeding towards the precipice of euphoria,

 “I just – want to – cum, please!” You panted, trying to rip your wrists out of his hand, planning to finger yourself if he pulled away again. You deserved an orgasm after being denied so long, and at this point you didn’t care if it came from him or you. You just needed a release. “I swear, Jungkook, I’ll fuck myself if you stop now –”

 Openly laughing, he pulled away, holding your wrists tighter as you struggled against him. “And how exactly are you going to do that, sweetheart?”

 “I have fingers,” You snapped, continuously struggling against him, tears still flowing down your cheeks out of desperation. You felt as if you would fall apart at the seams if you didn’t get your release soon, desperation gripping every inch of you. “I want to cum and if you won’t let me, then let me finish myself off –”

 “You think your fingers will make you cum better than my cock?” He whispered, his free hand, unbeknownst to you, pulling his sweats down, pulling his aching length out, tugging on it a few times. “You think anything you do can make you feel better than I can?”

 He didn’t care for an answer, instead pulling your panties aside, sliding his length right inside, the stretch making you both moan. Grinding his entire length into you, he made sure he was as deep in as he could be, ignoring the way you gasped for air repeatedly.

 “Can your fingers reach this deep, baby?” He asked sweetly, muscles bulging, hand squeezing his wrists tightly before quickly letting go, instead finding solace on your throat, without squeezing. “Hmm? No? Of course, it can’t. You need my cock to make you feel like this, yeah?”

 Mumbling nonsense, you tried grinding against him, desperate for any type of friction that you were able to get with the limited space to move. Wearing a genuine smile, Jungkook kissed your forehead as he saw how blissed out you were, almost content with just being filled with his length. Almost.

 “Please,” You mumbled, kissing and sucking tiny marks onto his skin. “Please, anything –”

 “Who would’ve thought you could be fucked dumb?” He teased, barely pulling out, his own muscles tensing as your core gripped his length, not wanting to part from it. “Such a greedy pussy, babe, doesn’t want to let me pull out.”

 Consciously unclenching around his cock, he pulled out completely, rubbing the head over your clit, causing even more tears of frustration to leak down your cheeks, a whimper involuntarily leaving you.

 Almost as if a flipped had switched in him, he began thrusting into you hard, thumb running under your eye, gathering your tears on one side, kissing them away on the other.

 “You look so fucking cute when you cry.” He murmured, kissing the corner of your lips as your hands gripped his biceps, his hair, anything you could get your hands on. “Wanted to make you cry from my cock for the longest time, Y/N.”

 “I wanted you for so long,” You gasped, nails leaving tiny indents on his skin as he began rubbing circles on your clit. Your denied orgasm reared its head again, making your voice higher, breathes faster. “I want you so spit in my mouth – fuck, please, harder! Please, I want you deeper –”

 “Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?” he snapped, hand once again wrapped around your throat, pinning you down with a single hand. You gasped, not expecting him to actually give it to you. Using his free hand, he held your chin, making sure your lips were parted enough to let the rivulet of spit fall into your mouth, only barely making a mess. This pushed you over the edge and within moments he had forced you to reach your orgasm, finally letting you cum on his length.

 Muscles spasming, you whined, moaned his name so loud that you heard someone in the other dorm angrily hit their shared wall. Ignoring them, he kissed you deep, swallowing your moans, taking your breath away, leaving you gasping for air.

 He fucked you through the entire thing, never once faltering, even when you wrapped your legs around him, wanting him to never leave your core. His thrusts turned more into grinding as his own high approached, deft thumb still rubbing over your clit, the constant stimulation making your already sensitive core spasm again, orgasm leaving you full on crying.

 Without realizing, you had clenched so hard when you came, his cock had been pushed out, something that made him curse, immediately lining up his leaking length to your cunt. Pushing inside, ignoring your gasps and spasming muscles, he groaned,

 “I know, baby, I’m almost there, I promise.”

 “Want your cum, please,” You whispered, having no energy for anything other than to be used as his toy. “Want every drop, anywhere you want to, just want your cum –”

 Your pleads were drowned out by his curses, quickly pulling out and jerking off until his cum pooled on your stomach, the sheer amount threatening to spill over onto his desk, especially as you took in deep breathes, attempting to recover from your high.

 Leaning down, he kissed you sweetly, as if he hadn’t been telling you how fuckable you look when you cry, and you felt his fingers trailing over the warm cum on your skin, scooping some up and pressing his fingers into your mouth, simultaneously dropping more spit into your mouth.

 Twisting your fingers in his hair, you refused to let him part from you, only letting him go far enough to gather more of his cum from your stomach, alternating between sucking his fingers clean and swallowing his spit.

 When he had successfully cleaned your skin, he tried pulling away, tiny giggles bubbling from him when you whined.

 “Come on, we need to take a shower.”

 “I don’t have clean clothes,” You mumbled, leaning up, trying to get his lips on your own again.

 “Use mine.” He sighed, exasperatedly, his eyes full of amusement. “Let’s go, I want to get us cleaned up so we can watch a movie.”

 “But I want to keep kissing you!” You sighed back, using his tone against him. His skin heated, refusing to look you in the eyes.

 “I promise I’ll kiss you more later, I just want to spend some time with you which doesn’t entail us bending over a desk.”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

[levanterhaze]

✧ HOMESICK WITH JUNGKOOK

→ jungkook x reader 

→ 1.4k

→ warnings: smut, sex (a lot of it) masturbation, oral sex (m receiving) and other 18+ things (if you’re not 18+ please don’t read this)

jungkook was deeply in love with you, like, madly in love and nothing would make him go back. and so he agreed to spend the weekend at your parents' old house, where you grew up.

the whole idea of ​​having a boyfriend and introducing him to yours parents was exciting. jungkook was without a doubt the love of your life, with those gleaming doe eyes and the purest heart you've ever known. however, jungkook was very busy because of the whole fame thing, but he would always find a way to spend more time with you and that meant long car rides across the country to his in-laws' house.

your parents loved him right from the start, the kindness and the way he looked at you, they knew their little girl was in good hands. jungkook didn't hide all the affection he felt for you, all the frenzy every time his eyes met yours. it was something once in a lifetime.

after all dinner and conversation, you two went upstairs to your old room. your little haven was an antique shrine. jungkook made fun of the posters of actors hanging on the walls and all the 2000s vibe that went with it. you were sitting on your old pink chair when an image popped into your head. something dirty and sinful, but one that excited you to try.

jungkook looked at you confused, arms behind his body, leaning on the bed. him like that, the tattoos, the muscles under the button-down shirt he was wearing just to impress your parents… everything about that man was damn sexy and you hated that jungkook had those childlike eyes because it made you feel like a depraved person.

"why are you looking at me like that?" he grinned, letting that lip piercing show.

"no big deal, i was just thinking..." you got up and faced your boyfriend. your fingers caressing his precious face. god, how you loved him.

“i know that smile.” jungkook's expression changed from pure innocence to malice hidden in a smirk.

"i was thinking..." you bent down to kiss him. capturing his lips, you murmured. “i want you to make me cum. right now."

jungkook closed his eyes, letting a sigh escape his lips.

"baby, your parents are downstairs."

"i know. i don’t care." you kept kissing him from all sides, mouth, cheek, neck until he moaned at the feel of your tongue crawling across his sensitive skin.

"baby, i don't know if it's a good idea." he muttered, barely audible. "they will listen."

“then we’ll be quiet.”

jungkook was ready to protest how reckless this was, but it was the exact moment you took off your shirt, getting completely naked because you didn't have the decency to wear a bra before leaving the house.

"holy shit-"

you knelt in front of him, jungkook watched you in a complete trance as you unbuttoned his jeans with the dirtiest look in the world. he barely had time to react, just threw his head back as he clutched the fucking pink sheets.

jungkook is a humble man. he’d do anything for you, anytime, always. even when the thing seems too damn risky, like having sex in your old parents house, in your old bed. he would just do it to prove how good he can be for you.

and the man was freaking out as your tongue slid so perfectly along his cock. he would never get tired of it, of fucking your pretty mouth slowly and you’d never object to taking him to the edge, to pleasure him.

his vision was cloudy, there might have been tears in his eyes, and your mouth was so good. “ah, baby, fuck.” automatically his hands went to your hair, forming a ponytail to help guide the movements. he was furious, freaking out as he thrust his hips toward your face, pushing all of him into your mouth. "baby, baby, i'm going to cum if you… keep it up like this." he warned, eyes closed in pure agony.

but you had other plans in mind. you pulled back, watching jungkook's chest rise and fall rapidly in ecstasy. in quick movements, he removed his own shirt and you climbed into his lap. the friction of your wet cunt under your panties and jungkook's hard cock was like a fucking cloud nine.

“you’re so good to me.” you muttered between a whine, starting hip movements. jungkook opened his lips, but no sound came out. “my good boy.”

“fuck, baby.”

nothing else existed but that brief contact. it was so delicious and anesthetic that you had to hold on to jungkook's shoulders to keep from falling because you were quickly thrusting your body against his cock. your panties were soaked through and you wanted him inside you as fast as possible, because riding him without actually feeling him inside you was torture.

“jungkook…” you dropped your head, feeling the orgasm come with overwhelming force. and he could watch you masturbate with the base of his cock all day. it was fascinating the way your tits swayed each time you climbed in and out of his lap.

“i know, baby, i know…” he was holding back as long as he could to let you enjoy the moment, but he was about to explode. “want me inside you? want me to make everyone hear what a good girl you are hmm? cumming for me in your parents' old house, taking my cock with that pretty mouth of yours, hm?”

"shit. fuck me, now. please…” you moaned, trying to slow down so you wouldn't come so easily. you wanted to feel it all through the night.

jungkook held you by the waist, putting you on the bed. you lifted your skirt anyway and he removed your panties with surreal speed. “fuck, fuck, fuck…” jungkook muttered as he put on the damn condom, almost erupting at the slightest touch.

the moment he lifted your left leg, placing it over his shoulders, you bit your fist to keep from screaming. that position was deliciously good and the sight of jungkook holding your leg in the air, damp hair falling over his forehead and the tight muscles of his abdomen twitching every time he thrusted inside you. it was paradise.

you could already feel the orgasm with the built-up tension, burning your entire body like embers. he was so good, he filled you so well it was almost cruel. “you like that, huh? get fucked while someone else can hear us.” jungkook looked at you, biting his lip above the piercing.

“it’s so good…”

his body snaked and all you could hear was your intertwining breaths and skin to skin filling the room. jungkook thrust hard, just with that erotic thought of what you guys were doing and where you were doing. you were a mess of sweat and lust. he massaged your tits at the same time, taking you to another level of satisfaction.

your eyes rolled back, hands reaching for anything to grab. "baby, i'm going to cum."

"oh yeah? will you come for me?” he thrust harder and harder, reaching your most sensitive spot. "prove that you're a good girl. that you're going to come all over cock." you just wanted him to keep at that relentless pace, slapping your pussy with no mercy.

"harder. jungkook!” you let out a loud moan. he covered your mouth with one hand as he reached for your swollen clit with the other. it was just a few movements for your body to convulse its way through the harsh orgasm. “oh my god” your voice was muffled by his hand.

jungkook didn't hold back for long. watching you come, at your best orgasm, squeezing his cock, was too much for him to handle. his body collapsed on top of yours, tired, sweaty, breathing heavily. jungkook bit your shoulder as an orgasm hit and sighed slowly in your ear, whispering your name in the dirtiest and yet sweetest words you could ever hear.

you were panting, trying to breathe, still struggling, but you were in heaven, feeling the ecstasy ease your body. jungkook laid his head on his body, caressing your skin with his fingerprints. “that was…” you started, not finding the right word to describe it.

"i know." he propped himself up by his elbow and leaned in to kiss you passionately. you stroked your boyfriend's muscular, tattooed arms, bringing him closer. you wanted this forever, always with him. “can we do it again?”

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #imagines jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fics

[johnnydamn]

I’m all yours

They dug their painted nails into his arm, and giggled, looking up at him with a hint of lust in their eyes. You could tell they wanted him in their beds tonight, whilst knowing fully well that, he was a taken man.

He was surrounded by three, maybe four, girls all batting their eyelashes at him, playing with their hair, constantly giggling at everything he said and had their hands all over him - Johnny was clearly enjoying the attention, as he did nothing to stop the advances they made on him.

Maybe he would go home with someone tonight, you thought. Why wouldn’t he? You wouldn’t blame him if he did, they were all so pretty; prettier than you. They had perfect bodies, perfect smiles, what wasn’t there to like?

Suddenly, you began to feel uncomfortable in your body, the dress you were wearing started to feel a bit tight. Your eyes began to dart around the room, looking at strangers, and you felt their judgemental stares burn into you.

How long would it be until he left you for one of them? How long would it be until he realises that you aren’t as beautiful, as he lets on? How long would it take him to fall out of love?

A heavy hand rest itself upon your shoulder, “(y/n)? are you okay?” you let out a tiny gasp, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckled.

“yeah, I’m good, Stephen, I’m just really tired, that’s all.”

“oh! if you want, I can get the driver take you home early.”

As much as you didn’t want to take up the drivers free-time for your troubles, you really didn’t want to be here. “that would be great, thank you.”

You walked up to your boyfriend, “Johnny.” you said, but it went unheard, “Johnny,” you repeated, “I’m going home.”

“what? why?”

“I’m tired John. you can stay, I don’t mind, I just wanted to let you know.”

You didn’t want to seem controlling in any way, that’s why you just shut up and didn’t comment on what he did, and that it upset you. You didn’t want Johnny to think you were like her.

“no, I’ll come with you.” A series of groans followed, “no. stay.” “please stay.” and they gripped onto him a little bit tighter.

“it’s getting late anyways, let me grab my hat, then we can get going, sweetheart.”

You rest your head against the window, your mind filled with empty thoughts, as you looked up into the black sky. Then, the strong scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, and you felt him press his body close to yours, “did you have fun tonight?” You internally rolled your eyes at him, I dunno, John, you tell me. “yeah.. it was alright.” you mumbled. “have you eaten, angel? we can pick something up on the way home, if you want.”

“‘m not hungry.”

After that, the journey home was silent. Not a word spoken between the two of you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, he started, “what was up with you tonight?”

You let out an annoyed sigh and rolled your eyes, “nothing.”

“clearly it’s not nothing.” He said, in a firm tone.

“I told you I was tired, that’s it.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you, “it’s not about that and you know it. can you just please tell me what’s wrong?” Then worry filled in his eyes, “did someone do something to you?”

“no.” your voice cracked.

“did I do something?”

“will you let me go to bed John?” Then there was a look of realisation in his eyes, and you knew he wasn’t going to let this go now.

“I did do something. didn’t I?” He walked over to you, and looked you in the eye, silently asking you to tell him what it was that was bothering you.

Looking up at him you said, “it doesn’t.. matter, I was just overreacting, let’s go to bed.” Grabbing his hand, you pulled him up the stairs and to your bedroom.

Once you reached the door, he pulled his hand out of your grasp, “baby what’s wrong? I can’t have you going to bed mad at me.” The way he said it was so soft, so caring, it made you even more upset.

“I’m not-”

“You are. I know you are.” He put his large tattooed hand on your cheek, “I’m supposed to be the one who makes sure you never feel like this, not be the cause of it.” He whispered.

“Johnny, it’s nothing important.” You assured him, looking into his deep brown eyes.

“If it’s making you this upset then yes it is.” His hand left your face, and he laced your fingers together, “Please, tell me what’s wrong..” and that’s what set you off, you struggled trying to hold back the tears, having no idea why you were being so sensitive today.

Johnny’s worried eyes stared into yours, waiting for an answer, “I think.. I’m gonna lose you John” You whispered with your voice shaking,

“Why would that happen? How would that happen?”

“What do you mean how?” you sobbed, “Did you not see yourself today? God, they were all over you and you didn’t do anything!”

“Is that what this is about?”

You tried to calm yourself down, “Obviously it is! And-and I didn’t even want to bring this up in the first place-”

“What? Why not?” He went to hold your hand in both of his, the coolness of his rings pressing onto your fingers,“Listen, sweetheart, if something I do makes you unhappy or uncomfortable, you should tell me, it’s how relationships are supposed to work.”

You didn’t meet his eyes, looking off to the side, “I know, I just… I was overreacting-”

“You weren’t. I would feel the same if I was in your spot (y/n)…”

You swallowed and whispered, “I don’t want you to think that I’m like her…”

He looked at you with a disappointed look, ashamed that you’d even think that of him. He let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. “I would never think that of you, I know that you’re nothing like that baby..” He said in a low voice. “Please… tell me if something happens… I can’t stand seeing you upset.”

“Okay..” You mumbled into his neck.

He brought you into the bedroom, helped you take your dress and makeup off, and get ready for bed. Once you were comfortable, only then did he change and let loose.

You felt his side of the bed dip when he got under the covers with you. You turned you face him then, almost immediately, he claimed your lips with his.

He continued to deepen the kiss as he got on top of you, his knees on either side of your body when he pulled away, he was still close, but not close enough. You tried bringing him in for another kiss, just for him to pull away again, his eyes were hooded as he smirked and muttered against your lips, “Do you want me?”

“Yes.” You whimpered,

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before he trailed down to your neck, leaving little nips and kisses as he went down further. Your hands fumbled with unbuttoning his nightshirt, while he continued to litter your neck with love bites.

When you finally managed to unbutton his shirt, your hands travelled to his head, running your fingers through his dark brown locks, and you gently tugged on them, pulling him away from your neck, guiding him to your lips for a sweet kiss again. Your hands moved up his chest, and pushed the shirt down his shoulders.

He pulled away, panting, and whispered, “I’m all yours.”

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #imagine #one shot #johnny depp angst #johnny depp fluff #johnny depp oneshot #johnny depp fanfic #johnny depp x reader #x reader #angst #fluff #fanfic #depp

[tommydoesntpayforsuits]

Maybe It's for the Best | Part III

Summary: Finale: Tommy and Y/N hash out unresolved feelings. It all ends here.

Word Count: 16,478 words

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Variables: Y/N= Your Name; L/N= Last Name; Y/E/C= Your Eye Colour; D/C= Dress Colour

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, everyone is just sad, angst, there is a scene where they are about to have sex but it just fades to black, so slight nsfw but not really.

Author’s Note: After almost a year, the finale is finally here.

For the longest time, I didn't want to post this, because it became extremely personal to me. I have apparently written very real fears and insecurities of mine into these characters, and I felt like I was exposing myself. But, I'm not stalling anymore. I think because it's so personal, it makes it so great.

I recommend using the InteractiveFics Chrome extension to replace the variables to your preferred criteria. It’s free and only takes a couple of clicks.

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Part I -> Part II -> Part III

Tommy inhaled from his cigarette, knee jerking impatiently. Everything was too loud. The birds, the wind, the rustling of leaves. He wanted to take his gun and point it at the focal point, the bullseye of all the noise, and just— bang. Until there was nothing in the world except him and a spare few. Some fucking peace. Some fucking quiet.

The front door swung open. Tommy flicked his cigarette end to the floor, crushing it under his heel onto the gravel. He was greeted by Polly’s maid, who took his hat and coat and hung it neatly on the coat pegs next. Thanking her dismissively, he followed her to the lounge. Polly was flipping through a book nonchalantly. Clearing his throat, Tommy waited by the doorway. Polly met him with her unimpressed glower and returned to her book.

“Tommy.”

Taking that as an invitation, Tommy strode in, observing to the neatness of the room. Good. She had gotten out of her rut, then. “Hello, Pol. How are you?” he said casually.

“I’ve been better, believe it or not. Did you bring the papers?”

“Yes,” he sighed. As if he wouldn’t bring the papers. Why else would he be here? Polly didn’t particularly enjoy his social calls. Regardless, he placed his briefcase on the table and unclipped it, handing Polly a binding of papers. “Here you are.”

Polly snatched them. Tommy ignored her hostility and simply put his outstretched hand in his pocket.

Pushing her book away, Polly dropped the papers on the table with a heavy thomp. As she flipped through them, glancing at each page briefly, Tommy took the opportunity to bring out his cigarette case. He offered one to Polly, who took one absent-mindedly. Placing the flame onto the tip of her cigarette, Tommy lit hers before his own. He breathed the smoke in like fresh air, wandering over to the armchair. The only sound was the papers shifting.

“How’s Y/N? Haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

Tommy sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. Why couldn’t everyone just shut the fuck up about Y/N? Couldn’t they tell he didn’t want to talk about her? About anything? What, did he need to tattoo on his forehead, “Don’t Talk to Me Unless Necessary”?

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

Polly glared at him suspiciously. “What’d you mean? Haven’t you spoken to her?”

He focused on the smoke curling away in the air as he cleared his throat. “Y/N and I split up.”

The papers stopped shifting.

“What?”

His eyes fell closed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, Polly, just look at the papers.”

“What did you do, Tommy?!” She ripped herself out of her seat to loom over him. “What did you do? Ay?!”

He growled quietly to himself, feeling the ache in his head start. “I didn’t fucking do anything, Pol, just look at the fucking papers, alright?”

Polly’s eyes narrowed with outrage. “Fucking no, Tommy! I want to know what you did to that poor girl.” When Tommy didn’t say anything, she scoffed. “Typical Tommy, he finally finds something good for himself, and what does he do?!” she paused for dramatic effect. “He goes and ruins it!”

Tommy clenched his jaw. If he said something, this would take a lot longer. The ache in his temple grew.

Polly began pacing, stopping occasionally point at him with venom on her tongue. “Y/N is a good woman. A. Good. Woman. Thomas.” A frozen look dawned over her face. “Is this about Grace? Does this have something to do with her?” She scoffed. “Of course, it does, Tommy, everything you do has to do with her. It takes a good fucking woman to love a man when he is still in love with another. It takes a good woman to love another woman’s child. So, what did you do to that good woman? What did you do, ay?! What did you do?!—”

“ENOUGH!” Tommy boomed. “You think I don’t fucking know Y/N is a good woman? You think I don’t know? You and Ada are just the fucking same. I say that my wife has fucking left me, and you go and kick me while I’m FUCKING DOWN!”

Sometime during his outburst, he had stood up to stare down at Polly. His temple was pounding, vein prodding into his brain. Sighing, Tommy calmed himself down, scratching his eyebrow pensively. With a heavy voice, he said, “For your information, Polly— Y/N left because Charlie had one too many tantrums. Like I told Ada, she wanted him to heal, and her presence wasn’t helping.”

Polly’s face fell.

Tommy gave her a humourless chuckle. “Yeah. Not what you were expecting, ay? Easy to make me the big bad wolf when you need someone to blame. But, no. This time, it wasn’t me, Polly.”

He placed his cigarette between his lips, stewing with contempt as he fell back into his chair, not knowing what else to do. Much to Tommy’s surprise, Polly sat across from him, pursed lips and downcast eyes. Tommy didn’t care to understand what her expression meant.

Every time he blinked he saw her, Y/N, smiling at him. Another pang to his chest hit him strong. She grinned. His heart beat harder. She frowned. His heart twisted. Tears leaked from her eyes. His heart stopped.

Tommy pressed the heels of his hands into his browbone. His headache had shifted to his eye. But still, every time he closed his eyes, she stared back at him.

“Ada knows about this?”

It took Tommy a couple of seconds to realise Polly was talking to him. Tommy sat back, resting his neck on the top of the armchair. “That’s what you got out of that? Yes, Ada knows. I had to tell her because I dropped Charlie off with her for a couple of days whilst I got my head in check. No one else knows.” He paused to puff on his cigarette. “Frankly, I wish they did, that way I wouldn’t have to talk about this anymore.” He looked at Polly with an icy gaze. “The separation was a victim of circumstance and grief. Not me.”

Polly shook her head with a disgusted contempt. “And why do you think Charlie is still grieving, Tommy?” She waited for a response, but Tommy didn’t grant her the satisfaction. “How can Charlie move on with his life if he sees one of the last people who loved his mother still pining for her? How can the boy grow up functioning if your entire house is just a shrine to her?”

Tommy tensed in his chair, his hand freezing just as it was going to place his cigarette between his lips.

She scoffed without mirth. “And now you’ve fucked up— because he’s grown used to that shrine. Now, if Charlie ever sees it removed, he’s going to see that as a betrayal— as proof that the only one left that loves his mum is him. And he will attribute that to Y/N.”

His jaw locked.

Polly just shook her head at him with disappointment. “Charlie doesn’t remember Grace, Tommy. He grieves her because he never knew her. You grieve her because you did. You are not the same.” She hesitated, but decided to carry on. “Y/N left because you’re both still unable to let Grace go.”

Tommy hauled himself to his feet, ripping the cigarette out of his mouth. With rage on his face, he pointed an accusatory finger at Polly. “I LOVE MY WIFE!”

Polly stared into his eyes. Unafraid, unblinking.

“Which one?”

Tommy’s pursed his mouth, giving Polly the coldest look he could possibly muster. Wordlessly, he grabbed his briefcase and stormed out.

“You know I’m right, Tommy!”

He slammed the door.

Tommy didn’t wait for the staff to take his coat when he stormed into his house. Instead, he ripped it off, throwing it on the sofa where it sprawled messily. Stalking through the halls with a thunderous expression, he raced up the stairs, sparing a glance to the side— to Grace’s portrait, as he always did— and stopped.

Tommy faced her; she stared back at him, unflinching. She glowed, as she always did. Her eyes were cold and accusatory. Another pang hit him. His eyes travelled to a larger portrait of him, Charlie and Grace. Even holding her own son, Grace gave him a knowing look— like she knew his deepest secret. She probably did, chilling his spine with her icy hands. Tommy repressed a shiver. Finally, he looked at the smaller portrait of Y/N.

She looked meek. Her hair was neatly styled, too perfect; her eyes were very Y/E/C, very vibrant, staring at him with a docile gaze. She had been confused as to why he would want to commission a portrait of her, not long after they married.

Tommy had only told her, absent-mindedly, as he looked over some paperwork, “You’re beautiful. You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I want a portrait of you?”

Y/N had said nothing more. The day the painter came by, Tommy had watched her as she styled herself in the mirror, dressed only in her slip. Watched as she applied her lipstick and rouge, as she powdered her face and blackened her eyelashes. He admittedly didn’t know very much about make-up, but he did know that she was a very good-looking woman. Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off her when she was sliding into a sleek, perfectly fitting D/C dress that showed off her body elegantly. It was one of his favourites on her— no doubt, something she was aware of, he was not subtle about it. Tommy had strolled over to her, mesmerised as she put on the dangly earrings he got her for Christmas. She had returned his stare with a sweet smile, her painted lips pulling apart slightly to show her pearly teeth. She had looked stunning. Hypnotic. Tommy placed his hands on her hips, sliding them down around her waist, pulling her into him to kiss her neck.

She had grinned at him then. Cheekily, she asked him, “Do you like what you see?” which Tommy had only replied with a hum and more kisses. He felt the vibrations of her laugh from charge through his lips.

“You’re sweet,” she’d mumbled.

“I love you,” he said mindlessly.

Y/N grinned so wide, closing her eyes. Her head fell back on his shoulder, his warmth surrounding her so completely she could’ve been like this for hours. “I love you, too.” He placed his chin on her shoulder, smiling at her through the mirror. “Well, now I’ll be immortalised like this. Beautiful, young, in love.”

His smile turned to smirk. “Well, in a few years we’ll do another portrait. Immortalise you as beautiful, old, and in love.”

She scoffed, and shrieked, “In a few years?!”

Playfully, Y/N went for him. Her hands jabbed at him wherever she could reach, going for his chest and stomach. He blocked her spars skillfully. Y/N slapped away his hands to dig her hand into his flesh, giggling.

“Come on! Aim where I wouldn’t think, go on— yes, just like that,” he encouraged, smiling so wide he dimpled.

The memory fleeted from him faster than it came. The silence in the house stiffened and echoed across the walls. Tommy continued staring at her. Y/N’s gaze seemed sadder than he remembered. Wounded, almost. But she had been so happy. He remembered her being happy...

“SHUT UP! You’re not my real mum! My real mum is DEAD!”

Tommy had almost forgotten about that. He had told Charlie off gently, but when his big blue eyes welled up with tears, he hadn’t the heart to chastise him. Y/N had quietly insisted to him, with her Hallmark sad smile that always managed to produce that pang in his chest, that she was fine and Charlie was struggling to let go of his grief. That punishing wouldn’t help. He listened, secretly glad he didn’t have dole out a punishment.

She looked helpless. He never noticed.

Tommy loved Y/N. She was his wife. He didn’t know if she was the love of his life, because who knew if they would even be together if Grace hadn’t died (they didn’t like to discuss it), but he loved her. After Grace, he didn’t think he could put himself through the hurt again, but somehow, somewhen, Y/N had charmed him. Charmed him with her good-looks and pretty smile; her sharp tongue; her habit of looking at him in the eyes without fear; her fierce protectivity of Charlie despite his behaviour; her love for them both; her lack of patience for his lousy habits. She was far from perfect, she had a multitude of flaws, but the very fact that she was good, a good woman, and she loved him anyway had him reeling. Before he knew it, he was on one end of an aisle, waiting for her as she swayed to him in a long white dress.

Despite it all, he caught himself thinking of Grace. Not around her, not whilst he was with Y/N, but he found himself longing for her. Occasionally, he would get waves of nostalgia and deep sadness. He caught himself wishing she was still alive, just so as she could see everything she was missing. Charlie learning how to ride a horse, when he’ll bring someone home, when he’ll get married, have kids— he wanted to sleep besides Grace, to feel her warmth beside him as he slept. He didn’t want to think what that would mean for him and Y/N.

He never looked at Y/N’s portrait. He always looked at Grace’s. It was bigger, grander, more central— eye-catching. Tommy’s lungs burned, reminding him to breathe. Was Polly right?—

No.

Tommy marched up the stairs and stalked to his office, slamming the door behind him. Sitting at his desk, he shuffled some papers, gathering them and stacking them together. His hand collided on a picture frame, knocking another off the desk. Setting down the papers with a thump, he propped the large golden frame back up, where Grace waited for him once again with the same knowing look in her eyes. He leant over in his chair, reaching down to grab the frame. It was smaller, a deep green, which now sported a large crack across Y/N’s photograph. It was a shame. She looked very pretty in that portrait. It didn’t matter. He’d buy another frame tomorrow.

Should he have a frame of her if they were going to divorce? Tommy contemplated it for a moment. No. If he was going to live his life without Y/N, at the very least he could have a photograph. Assertively, he set the frame next to Grace’s. It looked… smaller, next to hers. Grace gave him the look again.

Tommy fell back in his chair. “Fuck.”

Y/N had a shower, letting the water cool her hot, splotchy skin. Her head was pounding with dehydration, throbbing at any lick of light. After a warm drink to fight the winter chill drilling its way into the house, she figured she might as well begin making dinner. Scavenging around her parents' kitchen, she found enough ingredients to make a hearty stew— from the old days, when they had nothing. Y/N was embarrassed to admit that she struggled to remember the recipe, it had been so long since she’d cooked anything— it made her ripple with shame. So used to the money, the clothes, the staff waiting on her hand and foot. Who knew if she could go back to the simple life.

Y/N had felt her cheeks grow warm when her mother set a bowl of the very same stew in front of Tommy the day she brought him to her parents flat for the first time. Y/N knew Tommy didn’t come from wealth. He’d lived in the same town as her until he was well into adulthood. To be fair, Mrs. L/N had been nervous as well, doing her best to clean up the flat— although it was always grimey from all the soot that blew in from the windows— serve a nice meal, and look presentable. But it all fell short, especially when Tommy strode in with his perfectly tailored, quality suits, perfectly starched collars and fancy gold pocket-watches. They had all felt humiliated. Of course, judging by the way Tommy inspected the area with an unreadable expression, she could tell Tommy noticed. However, he didn’t hesitate, giving her mother his rare smile (which, thank goodness came across as more friendly than intimidating) before bringing the spoon to his lips. Tommy gave the most convincing compliments, insisting that it was the best stew he’d ever had and that it reminded him of the stew his aunt used to make him as a boy when he came home from school in the winter.

After they married, without prompt, Tommy’d given her parents a nice, comfortable house in a safe area for their wedding anniversary — and with it, a chance to escape their ratty, grimey flat in Small Heath. He’d offered her father a good, stable job on the Shelby Company Ltd., that didn’t involve any blades that could cut fingers and was completely legitimate. It paid very well — and came with a Bentley (Tommy had smirked without spite when her father’s eyes lit up). It was an opportunity to move up from his seemingly permanent rank as a factory worker, to an important member of— well, anything. Almost overnight. He told Mrs. L/N she never had to clean up a stranger’s mess again. Something they could’ve never achieved on their own.

Mr. L/N had tried to refuse, saying it was too much, but Tommy had said, “Mr. L/N, I am offering you this job because I see that you are a hard-working man. I wouldn’t have offered the job if I didn’t want you to take it. I will be insulted if you don’t.” Tommy had seen the shame still brewing in her father’s eyes, but they had shaken hands and never looked back. Tommy had given her everything. He’d taken care of her family. What this meant for them now, she didn’t know.

Though, Tommy wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t fire her father, or take back the gifts; he would forget about the it all— he knew how hard it was to get out of poverty and he would never take a job from a hardworking man. It would be dead awkward, but Tommy would never do it. Not even if they hadn’t loved each other anymore, or their marriage ended spitefully. He was cold at times, for business, and when his mind went into that dark place he wouldn’t let her follow, but he wasn’t a cruel man.

His younger brother, John; his first wife, Grace; himself, before the war— they all took so much out of him he rarely expressed emotions, even to Y/N. There were moments where he looked like a genuinely happy man, smiling and joking with her like he didn’t have nightmares about someone taking Charlie, running to save John but John always gets shot anyway, the shovels beating against a wall as he drowned in mud, Grace dying in his arms.

Y/N never met Grace, but from the portraits, she knew of Grace’s beauty. Reminded every day of how beautiful she is. Was.

Never was Y/N one to feel insecure about her looks— she was beautiful enough, and she certainly didn’t catch Tommy’s eye for her flourishing personality, that’s for sure and certain. But watching Grace loom over her, criticising her every move with a taunting glare, it made her feel small. Y/N would never mention it — she never even entertained the idea of telling Tommy — but sometimes a little sensation in the back of her head would trickle like drool, whispering malicious thoughts to her. She wasn’t as beautiful as Grace and would never be, Tommy would get bored of Y/N when she grew old and ugly but Grace would be beautiful for eternity, Tommy would never love her like he did Grace, if Grace hadn’t died Tommy wouldn’t even consider her—

Brrr! Brrr! Brrr!

Y/N looked down at her stew, blinking tears away.

Slowly, her mind caught up. The clock on the wall read three in the afternoon. Her parents left the house to do whatever it is they did— it didn’t matter, they knew she wanted to be alone. Maybe they were calling to see if it was safe to come back home. Y/N sighed, calming herself down.

She picked up the phone. “L/N residence, Y/N Shelby speaking.” Y/N cringed. She needed to start introducing herself by her maiden name.

“Y/N! Hello, it’s Ada. Thought you might be there. How are you?”

Y/N froze. What should she say? Should she act normal? Howdy-do and all that bullshit? Should she tell the truth? It was Ada after all. She could tell Ada anything. Was this a test?

Oh, God. Did she not know?

“Hi, Ada…” Y/N croaked, voice sore from crying and disuse. “I’m… I’m alright, how are you?”

“Oh, well, tired, mostly. Chasing Karl around is exhausting.”

Y/N laughed politely, but it came out sounding more painful than pleasant. “Yes, I can imagine.”

“Yeah. Listen, I was calling to see if you’d fancy comin’ round for a cup of tea? We haven’t done that for a while.”

Last time she was round Ada’s house was a week and half ago. Y/N gulped. “Uhm…” She didn’t know what to do. Would Tommy be upset with her for having a drink with his sister? “Ada…”

“Yes,” she said with a determined edge in her voice, like she was expecting Y/N to protest.

“I— I don’t know if that’s a great idea… I don’t know if you heard…” She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to be hysterical again. “That Tommy and I—”

“Oh, yes, I heard,” Ada said. There was a faux-casual cadence to her that unsettled Y/N greatly.

Oh, god. Was Ada angry at her? Did she want to confront her? Oh, God. “Uhm,” she faltered, like an idiot. “Yes. Of course.”

“Great! How does seven thirty tonight sound?”

A bit soon, Y/N wanted to say, but she couldn’t imagine that going well. “Uh—”

“See you, then!”

The dial tone rang. Y/N blinked slowly, putting the receiver onto its hook. Ada didn’t like taking no for an answer, so if Y/N was expected, she had to turn up. The question was what was Ada going to do to her once she arrived. Hell, Y/N should be glad it isn’t Polly serving her reckoning. Maybe they discussed this, and decided to give her the lesser of two evils. She figured she should feel miserable, but, honestly, all she felt was relief— and even worse still: acceptance. Y/N knew what she married into, she wasn’t an idiot.

No use running from The Piper; she must be paid.

Tommy wasn’t paying attention to his cards, throwing them carelessly onto the messy pile. Arthur sat across from him in the snug in The Garrison, giving him that wary, doe-eyed look he tended to have when he was uncomfortable. They were mostly sitting in silence, drinking, and shuffling cards. When Tommy escaped his mind long enough, he would play his hand. Arthur meekly grumbled Tommy’s name a few times when it was his turn and Tommy only offered a quick, “Just thinking,” before laying his cards down without even glancing at them. Somehow he kept winning. Tommy figured Polly told Linda, who told Arthur. Why else would he act like a starving animal begging for scraps? It was a good thing the stakes weren’t higher. Although, why the hell not? Now that he’s separated, he has free time. He can go down to the pub like he used to at 8 o’clock in the evening. Instead of reading, talking, taking care of Charlie— or a multitude of less innocent things — with Y/N, he could spend his days drinking and gambling with his brothers, like the sad fucker he was before Grace.

Well. Brother. Finn didn’t turn up these days.

Times like these, he missed John. He always tried to make him laugh, however much in vain, when Tommy was upset. Maybe after he was done, he would offer some advice. Tommy knew John got that from him; he used to do the same when John was small. When he was sad, or when Arthur Snr. would come home drunk and angry (that is, when he did come home), Tommy would tell him little jokes to make him crack a smile. At fifteen, John didn’t know how to shave— little tufts growing on his chin and upper lip— so, Tommy taught him. He coated John’s face with shaving cream with his calloused hands, laughing when John spluttered after accidentally licking too far up his lips, and then lathered his own face. Tommy placed the blade against John’s neck, instructing him not to dig too deep, that a light scrape would do. Tommy turned the blade on himself, showing John to hold it at an angle to not nick himself. John and Tommy shaved together then, Tommy occasionally criticising John’s technique. He barely had any blood on him when he was done.

John grew up to make people laugh like Tommy couldn’t anymore. Even though he was younger than him, and definitely not as clever (“Bless his heart,” Polly would say, “but John was never fortunate enough with brightness. He was sweet though, which sometimes is enough.”), John always managed to have a wise little tidbit of advice. And quite often, it rang true. Especially when it came to wives — wives, not women. Arthur took that title. Always managing to have a pretty girl on his arm, ready to do whatever for him whenever he wished. And children— John knew about children. As he should, having enough of them. Tommy had gone to John a few times, to ask about Charlie’s behaviour, not knowing what else to do. Sometimes because he was acting out about Grace’s absence, others because he was acting out because of Y/N’s presence. Charlie didn’t take to her well, a bitter pill for him to swallow at the early stages of their relationship.

John assured him that kids were like that.

“They don’t like change. They’re not built for it,” he'd said, with a heavy frown.

John went on to tell Tommy that his kids were like that after Martha’s death, but soon calmed down. They were defensive when Esme came into the picture, especially so suddenly. One day they had no mum, and the next they had a step-mum.

“You just need to wait for Charlie to settle,” John advised.

When John’s two new little ones came round, the kids soon learnt to get along, and they accepted Esme. They didn’t realise how much they missed and needed someone to take care of them.

"Someone better than me,” John mumbled into his glass.

John also knew about loss, and the guilt that came with it. Him and Martha married quite young. Tommy was at the wedding, standing beside John as he spoke his vows, watching with a certainty it wouldn’t last— convinced they were too young, confusing lust for love. He was right, but not for the right reasons. He took no pleasure in it.

When Martha died, not long after they came back from war, John was inconsolable. Polly took the children after a few months of them living with their parents again, because John could barely stand he’d drunk himself into a stupor. However numb Tommy was, however cruel, however cold the war had made him, he made himself be kind to John. Showed him tenderness. He wasn’t Arthur, he didn’t respond to tough love. He needed to be approached like a war horse, too miserable to carry on. Tommy had thrown him in the bath, disgusted in the state John had seeped into, and got him as clean as he could without vomiting. They’d worked through it together. Fighting the anger away, drinking the memories, screaming the feelings out of his system. If anyone knew about grief, it would be John.

One night, sitting where Tommy was at that very moment, he told John how hollow he felt without Grace.

John had clapped him on the shoulder, looked into his dead eyes, and said, “I know, Tom. Trust me, I know. And you have to feel that pain, and let it out, otherwise you’ll live with it for the rest of your life. If you don’t, happiness with pass you by like a light. And you may feel like you’ll never be happy again— but you will be. And you want to be there in your head,” he had tapped Tommy’s forehead, “when you are.”

Well, look at that, Tommy thought. Strangely, with fondness. John was bloody right.

He was happy with Y/N. She was beautiful, she was sexy, she had him wrapped around her little finger without even trying, but never took advantage of him for it. Not only that, he also enjoyed Y/N’s company. Y/N was funny. She was funny and very, very clever, both in and out of the office, and thought in a way he didn’t. When Tommy analysed everything through a cold lens, she made him consider the warmth. She could be very compassionate, but she proved to him that she could be just as cold when she threatened to kill him for smoking opium. The woman had a good head on her shoulders. And quite honestly, a good heart. She made him smile like he hadn’t since Grace. And it was such a good feeling.

Shame it’s all gone to fucking hell.

Arthur cleared his throat, startling Tommy out of the depths of his mind. He blinked, stupidly, looking at Arthur as if he’s only just appeared out of thin air. Arthur placed his cards down, folding.

“This has been great, Tom, but I’ve got to get back home to Linda. She doesn’t like me being out at the pub too long at night.”

Tommy blinked again, giving him a tired nod. “Yes, go home to your wife, Arthur.” He swallowed. “She’s probably worried.”

Arthur stood, giving Tommy a look that could be nothing but pity. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and placed it gingerly on his shoulder. Tommy let him, not having the heart or the mind to shake Arthur off. Especially when he just wanted to make a kind gesture. However, after a few beats, Tommy got more fed up as the air got stiffer.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur spluttered, removing his hand. “Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut behind Arthur.

Tommy rose his glass. “To you, old boy.”

“So he didn’t want to split up?”

Y/N shook her head slowly, pursing her lips. “No.”

Ada gave her a puzzled frown, eyebrows raised with surprise. “Do you think he’ll cooperate?”

Y/N sighed, fiddling with the table cloth that draped over her knee. “I think so. He seemed to understand why we’re doing this.” She shrugged. “My father’s been looking into solicitors for me, but a lot of them won’t take Tommy Shelby’s case, even if Tommy Shelby himself is participating in this divorce. If it had been him who approached them, they’d be singing a different tune. Like he’s Henry VIII.” Y/N rubbed her eyebrow, sighing heavily. “I think I’m going to have to call him up and ask him to look into solicitors for me, because this is getting ridiculous. I’m getting turned away at every door.” She glanced at Ada, her eyes wide and blue, so much like his it hurt to look at them. “I’m just not ready to see him again, just yet.”

“What will you do for work?” said Ada, with a shocked lilt to her voice. “Are you going to stay with the company?”

Y/N shrugged, helplessly. “I have no fucking clue. I don’t think I’m going to stay.” She swallowed thickly. “I can’t be in close quarters with my soon-to-be ex-husband who I’m still in love with— it’ll hurt too much for the both of us. I’ll end up doing something stupid.” She shook the thought from her head firmly, washing it down with a sip of her tea. “But at the same time, who’ll hire me? I’ll be lucky if I ever see employment again.”

“Well, do you think Tommy’ll give you a pay, at least?”

She frowned. “I don’t want him to, even if he offers, even if he expect me to. I would never—” Hesitating, she quirked her eyebrows with consideration. “Well, if we had children, maybe I’d think about it, because the money would go to raising them. But… it’s just me.” She forced herself to smile to hide the misery in her tone, but Ada’s gaze softened with pity. Y/N cast her eyes down. “It would feel like I’m stealing or… leeching off of him. Besides, what happens when he inevitably falls out of love with m-e?” Her voice broke. “Or in love with someone else? I’d be a burden. He’d feel too guilty to stop his pay. Even if the man loses every penny he has, he’ll still support me.” She shook her head furiously. “I’m not doing that to him. The best I can do for him is let him forget me.”

Ada scoffed a humourless laugh, her eyes reaching the ceiling like she was sharing a private joke. Maybe she was. “He’s not going to forget you, Y/N. The man is heartbroken. I haven’t seen him like that in years.”

Guilt weighed on her, hanging on her heart. “He’s going to have to. I’m going to have to. It’s that or living heartbroken until we die.”

Ada opened her mouth, hesitated, and asked gently, “What about kids? Did you not want them?”

“I did.” She nodded. “But I would’ve been fine without having them. I always wondered what it would be like.” A smile grew on Y/N’s face. “To have a little me. A little him. Someone for Charlie to grow up with, to love.” It withered away with a shake of Y/N’s head, turning sad. “We talked about it a few times, but it was just a dream. We decided not to, at least not until Charlie was ready. We didn’t want Charlie to feel like he was being replaced, he was struggling so much already. But maybe a sibling would’ve been good for him. He’s so lonely…” Her eyes prickled with tears. “I love him so much. I wish I could’ve given him a good life.”

Ada laid a hand over hers, eyes full of emotion. “You did the most you could for that boy.”

Y/N shook her head, willing the tears away. “I don’t know. Maybe I was never meant to be a mum. Who knows if I would’ve been a good one.”

“Hey. Look at me.” Y/N did, eyes spilling. “You would’ve been the best mum. You would’ve loved that kid so much. And you would’ve made sure that Charlie felt the same.”

Y/N nodded, offering Ada a forced smile. Ada retreated her hand, eyes still full of sympathy. Y/N closed her eyes, willing it to disappear. When she opened them again, Ada’s eyes had fleeted to the ground.

“Do you regret it?” Ada asked, tentatively. “Not having them.”

“I… I don’t know.” She shrugged, helplessly. “Never thought about it. We were doing it for Charlie, that’s all that mattered— Charlie is all that mattered.” Y/N reaffirmed. “But… I wish I did have one,” she admitted, looking down with shame. “Because, for me, Tommy was it. He was it for me— he’ll always be. I wanted his kids. His babies, his children.” Y/N swallowed the stone in her throat. “I wonder sometimes what they would look like. What they would be like.”

Ada smiled sadly. Y/N didn’t mind when Ada looked into her eyes now. “You and Tommy would've had the most beautiful children,” she said earnestly.

Y/N’s lip quiver, and a small smile bloomed.

“With his cheekbones and your eyes.” Ada shook her head. “They’d be heartbreakers. Cunning little fellas, too.”

Y/N spluttered a small laugh.

The smile melted of her face, replaced with a serious frown. Ada shifted in her chair. “I wanted to see you to let you know, Y/N, that even though, legally, you’ll soon not be a Shelby anymore—“

Y/N pursed her lips, tears finally dripping from her eyelashes. Not knowing what to do, she watched her nail trace the designs on the mantel.

“—you will always be family.”

Y/N froze. Slowly, she looked up at Ada with parted lips.

Smiling, Ada looked at Y/N as well. “Our relationship didn’t begin and end with Tommy.”

Tears ran down Y/N’s cheeks. “Thank you, Ada.”

Ada nodded. She stood up, startling Y/N. “I’ve got to check on Karl, I always do once he’s fallen asleep. Eat something in the meantime, you look hungry.”

With determination in her eyes, Ada stepped out.

Tommy was staring into space, nursing his fourth whiskey.

It had been a while since Arthur left. He always thought it a little pathetic how Arthur let Linda control every single aspect of his life— from his drinking to his relationship with God. However, being married to Y/N made him understand Arthur a little better. It wasn’t that Linda was controlling Arthur, it was that Arthur wanted to be controlled. He wanted Linda to take care of him, and mind for him. That’s what Y/N used to do for Tommy, albeit much more kindly than Linda tended to.

Y/N also took notice of how much he drank, his drug use, his eating habits. She never pushed, but she tried to help him, and frankly, Tommy was grateful to her for it. Like a rider who cared for a lame horse with the intention of saving it. A lost cause, but a noble one all the same. Grace never told him what to do, in all their marriage. She never demanded anything from him, and perhaps he liked that at the time. He enjoyed that she would leave him alone when he wanted to be. He would shower her with gifts to show his gratitude. Y/N enjoyed the gifts, as much as anyone would, but she never let him buy her affection. No, she made him earn that. The shutters of the little bar window snapped open.

Grace?

“Mr. Shelby, there’s a phone call for you,” Harry’s voice called politely.

Tommy’s heart sank in his chest, throbbing. The pain wasn’t as potent as the knowledge that he was thinking of Grace. He could hear her haunting voice behind the snug’s door, singing, deep and smooth. The way she was before his greed clothed her in furs and silks— and sapphires.

He really was scum. Thinking of Grace only a few days after his wife— his live one — ended their marriage.

I love my wife.

He stubbed his cigarette out.

Which one?

Tommy shook Polly’s voice from his head. Clearing his throat, he glanced at a nervous Harry, patiently waiting at the window. “Sorry. Who is it, Harry?”

“It’s your sister, sir.”

His eyebrows jumped slightly. That’s odd. Was something wrong? “I’ll be right there.”

Harry nodded, closing the window. Tommy stood from his seat, glancing at the barely-touched, three fingers of whiskey he ordered. He considered tossing it back, but he figured he’d had enough. Leaving it wouldn’t kill him, but finishing it might. Shaking his head, he stepped out of the snug. With his eyes fixed on the phone on the wall, he ignored the sudden silence and the stares. Tommy picked up the phone, and placed it to his ear.

Y/N had finished her cup by the time she heard Ada’s heels click from the hallway. She sat up at attention, waiting for Ada to come through the doorway. Ada smiled at her apologetically once she was in view.

“Sorry for keeping you. It’s for my own peace of mind that I check on him. He’s difficult sometimes.”

Y/N nodded, familiar with Ada’s situation with Karl, but not wanting to pry. She seemed stressed enough as it was tonight. Being worried about Tommy in the midst of all this I’m sure didn’t help, Y/N pondered guiltfully.

Sitting in her chair, Ada poured herself another cut of tea. “Right. Where were we?” She tutted, rolling her eyes as she remembered. “So you don’t know what you’re going to do after the divorce. Have you thought of remarrying?”

Y/N spluttered into her tea. She wiped the droplets from her mouth, a little lipstick coming off on her wrist. “No! I haven’t even had the divorce, yet!”

Ada huffed, giving her practiced look of expectance and annoyance when she believed someone was avoiding the point. It only struck Y/N then that Polly had a similar look. Both of them could make her shrink in her chair like a naughty child being chastised.

Shrugging, Y/N circled her finger around the rim of the cup. “I have no idea, Ada,” she said, exasperated. She brought the cup to her lips.

Ada only rose an eyebrow, her jaw set with a challenge. “What about Tommy getting remarried?”

Y/N’s mouth went dry, tongue darting around for any moisture it could get. Desperate for her eyes not to water again (crying in front of Ada was embarrassing enough), she took a sip of her drink. “He doesn’t need my permission.”

“I didn’t ask if he did.”

She paused. The only sound in the room was the quiet clink from the cup meeting the saucer. Y/N sighed, lungs shrinking in her chest. “Tommy…” Shaking her head, she swallowed. “I love Tommy. I also want Tommy to be happy. I don’t want to be the moment everything revolves around in his life. He already has that with…” She made herself say it, “with Grace. She was his person, and I know that, I’ve accepted that. But he was mine.” She could feel Ada’s eyes burning into the top of her head. “Do you think I would’ve married a gangster if he wasn’t?”

Y/N shook her head, exhaling a bitter laugh that left a bad taste in her mouth. “I don’t want his life to be stagnant after me. But, I’m also selfish. I don’t want him to move on, yet. Because I haven’t. And seeing him happy with someone else like he was with me…” Grinding her teeth, she forced the words out, “would crush me. But I’m not stupid or blind. Tommy loves me. I have no idea how he’s going to handle this, but what we had was important. He’s not going to get over that quickly.”

“If Tommy deserves to move on, so do you,” said Ada, forcefully.

Dismissively, Y/N shrugged. “It isn’t that simple, Ada. He’ll be fine without me, so why shouldn’t he enjoy his life?” She smiled, knowing if she didn’t she would cry. “I, on the other hand, don’t know what I’m going to do. I got used to my life with him, with Charlie, working at the company. Now I don’t know what to do with my life.”

“Live it,” Ada said simply.

“I’ll have to,” Y/N whimpered. “I think I’ll be alright, honestly. If I want another man, I’ll get another. Question is, will I ever want another man like I wanted Tommy? Like I loved Tommy?”

Ada shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe not. I never loved anyone like I loved Freddie. Probably, never will. But I still live my life. I’ve seen other men. I haven’t loved any of them, but frankly, I don’t think I have to. I loved one man, and he died.” A whimsical twinkle shimered in her eye. “Honestly, that was enough for me.”

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating. “Do you think you ever will?”

Ada shrugged once more. “If it happens, it happens. I’m not looking for it. I’ll be fine without a man.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?” Y/N wondered for herself this time.

She paused. With a deep, pensive breath, Ada spoke with certainty, “Yes. And no.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed.

“The loneliness I feel isn’t for love or for a man or for companionship. The loneliness I feel is solely for the hole Freddie left in my life. Lonely about raising Karl on my own. Lonely because I have no idea what to do about his behaviour, and I can’t help thinking about what Freddie would do, what Freddie would think— of him, of  me.” She swallowed, frowning, furrowing her brows like she was in pain. “I’m lonely for the life I could’ve had with him. But no, not lonely for anyone else.”

Y/N paused her lips. “I’m sorries” and “he’s in a better place” coursed through her mind— but none of those would bring Freddie back. She had no way of telling if Freddie was in a better place.

“Ada,” she began instead. “I never met Freddie. I don��t know him like you did. But from what I’ve heard— and I’ve heard a lot about the man he was from Tommy— I believe, from the bottom of my heart, that he wouldn’t hold Karl’s behaviour against you. And he would love Karl because he is his son. He wouldn’t have raced across Birmingham during a gang war, even if it was during a truce, if he didn’t. That man loved you and his son. I’m sure of it.”

Ada smiled, lips quivering. “Thank you.” She swallowed, and glanced to the side. “Listen, Y/N. It would untruthful of me to say I called you over to talk about everything. I was actually asked for help by someone. Someone important.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing. “How do you mean?”

Ada jerked her jaw, like Tommy does. “Charlie! Will you come downstairs, please—?”

“Charlie?!” Y/N snapped straight like cold water had been poured over her.

Ada glanced at her with a nervous glint in her eye that forced Y/N into her seat.

Small footsteps thumped downstairs. Y/N’s heartbeat picked up, mind racing. Was Charlie going to scream at her? Was he going to blame her for all the drama the past few days? What would Tommy think about all this? He obviously wouldn’t have given Ada permission to ambush her. Oh, God this is going to be bad.

Charlie shuffled in, kicking his feet, lips pulled into a pout. He stood in front of her, hand wringing together in front of him. He looked like a child who was forced to recite lines in a play he didn’t want to participate. Awkwardly, Charlie glanced at Ada.

“Go on, Charlie.”

Slowly, Charlie rose his head to meet Y/N; eyes welling. Y/N swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away. His gaze shot down, followed by a little mumble. Y/N knew what he said. Ada still wasn’t having it, however.

“Charlie,” Ada snapped. “Louder.”

Charlie roughly rubbed his tears from his cheek with his fists in one fell swoop, sniffling. Louder this time, Charlie mumbled, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Ada looked at her with calculating eyes. She could see them in her peripheral vision, so blue they were painful to look at, like looking at a bright light. Charlie waited for his next instruction, head bowed. He was supplicating. Y/N never thought she would see Charlie supplicate for anything. What was she meant to say to that?

There was a knock at the door, but Y/N’s teary gazed was so transfixed on Charlie she barely registered it. Ada stood and gave Charlie a piercing look, not that he could see, but made him squirm nonetheless.

“Charlie, I’m going to go answer that, carry on.”

Ada left, and Y/N felt more exposed than ever. Every time Charlie sniffled, Y/N felt the urge to comfort him, to tell him it’s not his fault and that she loved him so, so, so much. That she was sorry she couldn’t be his mum, sorry she was here instead of Grace, but she hoped she could care for him, anyway. That she would ask for nothing in return.

But she didn’t. She stayed put.

“I hurt daddy by being mean to you and I never meant to do that. It was bad of me.” His breath stuttered. “I just miss my mummy, I’m sorry, I just miss my mummy—”

Y/N couldn’t resist anymore. She collapsed to her knees and enclosed him in a soft embrace. He fit perfectly in her arms, his head meeting her shoulder with so much trust that she felt she could die happy then and there. Charlie let himself settle, tears dripping onto Y/N’s shoulder.

Tommy didn’t know what he was looking at, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. His head jerked to Ada, who had her arms crossed, watching him with still eyes that dared him to challenge her.

“What is this?” he said, voice dangerously calm.

Y/N jerked back, head snapping to look at Tommy with teary eyes and parted lips. “Tom!” she cried, scrambling to her feet in a panic. Her eyes fluttered to Ada, suddenly narrowing. “Ada, you had no right.”

“Yes, Ada.” Tommy flexed his jaw as he pulled his cigarette case and lighter from his pocket. He took one and aggressively slapped the case closed. “You had no fucking right,”  Tommy said, pointing at her accusingly.

“Daddy,” Charlie scolded, quietly.

Tommy’s head snapped to him, like he hard a gun shot. Charlie stared at him in shock. His eyes closed, entering himself, before muttering, “Sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to shout.”

Ada stared back unapologetically. “I didn’t do it for you.”

He huffed, grinding his teeth, trying to control himself in front of Charlie. Charlie frowned. Not knowing what else to do, and surrounded by glaring adults, Charlie hurled himself on Y/N’s chair, resting his head on his forearms.

Tommy’s eyes burned as he inhaled his cigarette. “I don’t care who you did it for, you shouldn’t have!”

Ada rolled her eyes, mouth pursing. She scowled at both of them thunderously. “You two have let Charlie be rampant with the way he’s acted. You never told him off, or disciplined him, and look what that led him to do!” She gestured to Charlie.

Tommy briefly looked, frowning. Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He only did those hunger strikes and tantrums because he knew it affected you. Because he knew it would wear you down. And she succeeded! He got what he wanted— and now you’re both miserable.” Ada shook her head, scoffing with disgust. “All because you wouldn’t put your foot down. You taught him that if he’s stubborn enough, he’ll get what he wants. And look where that led us.”

All that was heard was Ada’s harsh breathing and Y/N’s quiet sniffs as she wiped her cheeks dry. For the first time since that night, Y/N and Tommy’s eyes met.

“Come, Charlie,” Ada called. Charlie didn’t move, his head still on his forearms. Ada approached him, guiding him into her arms and cradling him. “The adults have to argue now.”

Charlie was practically limp in Ada’s arms. She figured this poor child has cried enough for a life time solely in the past few days. He wasn’t sleeping; his breathing wasn’t even. Still, Charlie’s body hung like a wet towel from her arms, spasming with silent sobs. He needed sleep. Charlie needed to sleep this emotional weight off, it wasn’t healthy for someone so young to not let himself rest.

Ada gently pushed Charlie’s bedroom door with her hip, carefully guiding his body away from the door frames. She paced slowly to the bed, leading his head to lie on her shoulder as she pulled the covers back. Charlie’s body collapsed into the mattress, head sinking into the pillow. Ada dropped the covers over him, tenderly running her hand over his golden waves. His face had a deep-set frown, so similar to his father’s that it was uncanny. Ada absolved to work harder to make sure he doesn’t have to frown as often as he does. Sighing, she leant down and pressed a small kiss to Charlie’s temple.

“Goodnight, love,” she cooed.

Charlie was silent. Closing her eyes sadly, Ada moved to leave.

“Is Daddy angry at me?”

She sunk back down, staring at him. Ada’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Charlie slightly shifted his head down to look at her, but jerked his head back on the pillow when he realised there was nothing to see. Nothing to say. Ada swallowed, breathing deeply as she braced herself.

“Charlie, you have to understand,” Ada implored, gently. “What you did… every day for all that time— that was wrong.”

Charlie curled into himself, sliding his knees up to his stomach, hiding his teary face under the covers. Ada pulled the covers down slightly, brushing the hair out of his teary eyes. Her heart broke then and there.

“I understand you miss your mum. I really, really do—”

“I’m so tired of people saying that.”

Ada pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply. “You know, I didn’t know my mum very well.” Ada cleared her throat. “She died just after your uncle Finn was born, so I had to be about ten or eleven— only a few years older than you—”

“I was two when my mum died, Aunt Ada,” he said in a voice too numb for a kid. “That isn’t the same. I didn’t know her at all.”

Ada felt hot shame rise in her chest, forcing her throat shut like she swallowed hot glue.

Charlie didn’t move. If it wasn’t for his voice, she would’ve thought he was asleep. “I have to see her all the time wherever I look, and I get so sad. I wish I knew her. And sometimes I think that… why does my dad get to be happy?”

Ada pursed her lips.

“Why did he get to be happy with Y/N, but I’m here missing my mum, wishing she was still here with me.”

She sighed. Curling her hand around the covers, she pulled them down to look at Charlie. “I understand you’re sad and angry, Charlie. But you will be happy. In the future if not now.” Ada tilted her head up, desperate for any guidance. “Your dad loved your mum.”

Charlie buried himself deeper in the blankets.

“You know, you’re a bit too young to understand, but your mum really hurt the family when we first met her, but your dad loved her anyway. Even when we held a grudge, he still defended her and cared for her. And don’t get me wrong Charlie. Your mum was far from perfect. She could be cruel at times, so our distrust was warranted. That doesn’t mean you can’t love her.” She hesitated, finding her words, imploring Charlie to understand her. “But sometimes life happens, Charlie. Sometimes, you don’t mean to meet someone and fall in love with them. Sometimes, you’re not looking, and love catches you.”

Charlie stared at the wall, unmoving.

“Your dad loved your mum— and he will always love her— but she’s gone, Charlie. So, in the mean time: why doesn’t your dad get to be happy? Why should he live the rest of his life alone and miserable because you won’t let him move on?”

Charlie’s furrowed brow relaxed.

Ada smiled at him tightly. “Think about that for a bit. Get some rest, love.”

Quietly, she stepped out of the room, closing the door and taking the light with her. Charlie glared at the shadows.

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Y/N swallowed thickly, looking at Tommy with wounded eyes. The emptiness in his made her shiver. That look, that coldness, is the one he saves for business, the one she’s seen while a gun was pointed at his forehead. Tommy never used that empty expression on her. Y/N pursed her lips to stop them quivering. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she didn’t want to know. Y/N couldn’t let that coldness fool her, she wasn’t stupid enough that such a small thing could mean he didn’t care for her anymore. She knew he loved her, she knew. She knew.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Tommy nodded. He didn’t either.

“What now?”

His eyes fell closed, releasing a long, tired breath. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed, nodding weakly, tearing her eyes away to stare at the foot she kicked against the floor, absent-mindedly. “We can’t get back together,” she said matter-of-factly.

Tommy got that familiar pang in his chest. He sighed again. “Y/N…”

“We can’t.”

“Y/N…” he repeated— louder, pleading. “Let’s just go home. It’s been a long few days, we’re all tired. Ada’s gonna watch Charlie tonight, so we can be alone to talk this out.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, eyebrows jumping. “Besides, it’s the middle of the night. Chances are an argument is going to break out, and we don’t need the entire street to hear it.”

He sounded so rational and calm, Y/N couldn’t help but let her shoulders drop. Each moment that passed, her feet dragged like lead. Her head felt so heavy she wondered if the second she saw her old living room, she’d sink into its warmth and fall asleep. Feeling like a dead woman walking, Y/N found herself nodding.

“Alright,” Tommy said, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Y/N and Tommy walked into the hallway— avoiding eye-contact with each other like scolded, naughty children — grabbing their coats and hats and pulling them on. Tommy opened the door, stepping aside to let Y/N through.

Y/N stopped in her tracks. “Should we let Ada know we’re leaving?”

Tommy glanced at the staircase. “No. Let’s not wake the kids.” He jerked his head to the street as he held the door open for her. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, suppressing an oncoming shiver from the heat radiating from Tommy’s hand hovering over the small of her back.

Neither spoke the entire car ride home. Tommy stared stoically at the road, another cigarette between his lips. Y/N looked out of her window, glum, busying her mind with the scenery, dreading what was to come.

Tommy startled when the door opened before he had a chance to reach for the handle. A maid greeted them in her nightgown, her head bowed and hair unbound. He’d completely forgotten he asked the staff to be back by this evening. Her eyes widened marginally at seeing Y/N trail behind Tommy, but the maid only bowed her head at Y/N as well. She took their coats and hats to hang them up in the cloak closet. Timidly asking if there was anything else, Tommy promptly dismissed her. She did as told, leaving them to stew in the thick atmosphere. Like mud.

Y/N swallowed, catching Tommy’s stoney gaze with a nervous smile. “I’m going to call my parents. Let them know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Tommy didn’t understand Y/N’s humour sometimes, his loved ones being found in a ditch without him knowing or being able to help was a very real fear of his, but he nodded regardless. He watched her head into the hallway where the ground floor phone was, fist clenching and unclenching. Tommy took the opportunity to take his blazer off and rip his collar and tie from his neck with a deep sigh. Running his fingers through his hair, he inhaled deep breaths, slowing his racing heart pumping blood directly to his eardrums. He didn’t know what was going to happen. This lack of control was making him nervous, driving him constantly on the edge.

Y/N returned promptly, smiling at him with an uncomfortable stiffness in her arms. Tommy straightened his back. Her eyes flickered to his clothes momentarily. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Dying of the awkward energy buzzing between them, Tommy cleared his throat and made his way to the liquor table. Plucking the glass stopper off a decanter that Grace had picked out, he poured himself three fingers of whiskey.

“Would you like a drink?”

He couldn’t see Y/N behind him, but he could tell by the rustling that she was fidgeting. “Yes, please. Same as you.”

Tommy nodded to himself and he poured another three fingers of whiskey in her glass. “No gin?” he asked, nonchalantly. Truly, he was curious.

“I’ve had enough gin these past couple of days. Your gin, funnily enough,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Still too sweet for me, though.”

Tommy’s eyes clenched for a moment. He turned, holding one of the glasses out to her.

She took it, with an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

He didn’t miss her pointed glance Y/N to the amount of whiskey they had. Tommy promised to cut down on the alcohol. And he always liked when she tried to care for him— mostly because she would never push. But in that moment, Tommy wanted to tell her to stop judging him, and that if he wanted to fucking drink in his own house, he would.

But that was the cranky child in him, he knew. So, Tommy sighed and took a sip.

“Doesn’t work, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

Y/N only smiled back. Sad. The one he’d gotten used to seeing. “Your gin. Doesn’t work.”

He blinked. “What?”

Y/N leant on the arm of the love seat, shrugging— suddenly very interested with the hem of her skirt. “It didn’t cure my incurable sadness.”

Tommy sighed, taking a seat on the love seat across from her. “Well, if it makes you feel better, nothing really cured mine.”

Y/N sighed, sipping her whiskey. Tommy was grabbed by the thought that she looked quite lovely; tired, but lovely. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her— like the very sight of her would evaporate into smoke if he looked away.

She caught his expression, and her eyes softened. “We can’t.”

His jaw clenched. “Why?”

“Because he’s not ready.”

Tommy scoffed. “He apologised to you, he admitted he was wrong, what more do you want from a kid?”

Y/N’s jaw clenched. “Just because he’s apologised doesn’t mean he’s ready, Tom.” She spoke to him like an imbecile, like he was a toddler who was being told for the umpteenth time that he had to eat his vegetables for his own good.

Tommy shook his head in disbelief. “No. This is an opportunity for us to get back together and you are squandering it.” His brain crackled with anger. “Because you’re being selfish.”

The pitying warmth of her gaze turned fiery, scalding. “I’m being selfish?”

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut. Y/N crossed her arms, her heel thumping against the foot of the sofa in a slow, harsh tempo that raised the hair on his arms.

“I am being selfish?!”

His jaw clenched. Fuck.

Y/N glared at him ferociously. Tommy stared back, mouth pursed.

“After everything, you think I’m being selfish? Oh, that is bloody rich coming from you, Thomas.”

Thomas.

“I’m the one who’s being selfish, clearly,” her voice was dripping with sarcsm. “Not the man who’s been trying to force this ideal of a happy families with pictures on the wall and dinners at the table and all that fucking bollocks, when one glance at one of the only photographs of this family,” she spit the words like they were sour in her mouth, “would let anyone know that is not the case.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Yes you did,” Y/N snapped. She shook her head, vibrating with anger. “I shouldn’t have carried this on. Not when you’re not over your first wife”

Tommy’s grip tightened on his glass. Now he was pissed. “Oh, is that right?”

“Look at us!” Her voice rose. “Look at what’s happened! You think your inability to get over her had nothing to do with it?”

“I am over Grace—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t you bullshit me, Thomas Shelby. Don’t you fucking forget that, for all intents and purposes, I’m your wife too.” She stomped to her feet, filling her unfinished glass half way with whiskey. Tommy didn’t speak.

No. She wouldn’t give in. She was leagues stronger than Tommy’s petty jabs.

With a centring breath, Y/N’s voice grew stern. “Do you not realise how selfish we have been?” She looked at him expectantly.

Tommy shifted his jaw.

“We married two years ago. Before then, we were together for a year and a half. Since day one Charlie has hated me—”

“He doesn’t hate you—”

“Yes he does, Tommy!” Y/N snapped, snapping her eyes shut with deep irritation. “And I’ve accepted that. And what’s worse— it’s not even about me. It’s what I represent. I am the death of his mother. The fact that you’re happy with me shows how his mum is really gone. Forever.”

Tommy winced.

“This is something he needed to learn. But we stayed together, don’t you see?” Her voice broke. She sighed, tilting her head up and closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her eyes were still closed when she took one deep breath, and said, “We saw him struggling and we stayed together for over three years.” Her eyes opened, glossy.

His heart squeezed.

“We should have ended at the first sight that things weren’t going to change,” Y/N’s voice turned into a hurt whisper, “but we didn’t. So this is our punishment.”

Tommy shook his head. “From who? God?”

“I don’t know?!” Y/N bellowed, voice thick with tears. “Does it look like I have all the fucking answers, Tom?!” Her hands flew around gesturing angrily at herself, at him, at anything she could. “I’m not fucking perfect, I have NO FUCKING IDEA how to do this parent thing—”

“You think I know what I’m doing?!” Tommy shouted, hysterically. “I dunno what I’m doing either, Y/N!”

“Yes, you do! You’ve raised Ada and Finn—”

“Polly raised Ada and Finn, I only helped how I could when I wasn’t at war—”

“Well, that’s a step-up from me! I haven’t raised anyone!”

“You knew from day one, from day one, that Charlie was part of the deal,” he accused. “You knew that if you wanted to marry me, then being a step-mother to Charlie would be priority—”

“AND I HAVE MADE IT MY UTMOST PRIORITY, THOMAS!” she roared, spinning to face him, towering over him.

Tommy startled, too shocked to reply.

“Do you think I would have left you if it wasn’t? Do you think I would have left my home, my family, my husband?!” Her voice turned shrill. “I love you! I never wanted to leave you—but I did. For Charlie,” she said— like she’d rehearsed it.

He said nothing, lips parted, completely taken aback. Y/N’s eyes closed, breathing deeply.

“Because I love Charlie so much. And I don’t care he will never be mine,” she mourned. “He’ll always be hers, and I have accepted that.” Her eyes shone with tears. “I’ve also accepted that you’re not mine either.”

Tommy froze, eyes fixed on Y/N. “What?” He clamoured onto his own feet, sluggish with disbelief.

Y/N scoffed a humourless laugh. It looked glaringly painful against her dripping tears. “Don’t pretend, Tommy.” She sniffed. “I know I’ll always be second best to her. And that’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She sat back down, limbs too weak to keep her standing. Realising she still had her drink in hand, she set it aside carelessly on the side table with a flimsy wrist. The glass was empty.

Tommy sighed.

“Tommy, you weren’t sad because you lost me.” She said it with strength, with purpose. He needed to hear it. Y/N expected him to falter; expected his eyes to be full of pity— well, no. Tommy didn’t do pity. Maybe that knowing look he likes to give.

Instead, Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. I was,” he said, with surprise. “I was fucking devastated, to be honest with you. Ask Ada, she saw how bad I was.”

Y/N rubbed her temple. He didn’t understand. “Tommy, you were sad you were going to lose another wife. Not me.”

“What?” he snapped, incredulously. “That’s not fucking true.”

“Yes. It is—“

“You’re not second best, Y/N—”

“Yes. Yes, I am, but it’s alright,” she insisted, with a heavy, tired voice that Tommy did not like.

Tommy slammed his glass down on the side table next to the sofa across from her so hard Y/N was surprised it didn’t shatter. “Y/N, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re not second best. I love you.”

Y/N swallowed. “I-I know you do…”

He glowered into her eyes. “Do you?”

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes shot away, roaming around the room for anything that would distract the deep ache in her chest, and the stutter of her lungs. She didn’t want to cry again. Y/N grabbed her glass again and tapped her nails against it to hear the little clink clink clink of the crystal.

“Because it doesn’t seem like it.” Tommy inched toward her carefully, as if he were stepping on shards. “Y/N, I love you.”

Y/N shook her head. “She’s the one you always think about.” She looked at him. Sad. Worn.

Tommy shook his head. “I think of Grace occasionally, but that doesn’t mean you’re second best.”

“Tommy,” she pleaded, exhaustion weighing her voice down. “She’s the root of everything. Charlie’s sadness, your pain, the end of our marriage.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but Y/N silenced him with a pointed glare.

“She’s where all the roads lead to. I guess…” she gulped, “in this analogy, you’re just parked on a street, where I am.”

Y/N expected Tommy to argue with her again, to give her more grief like a child who wasn’t getting his way— but when she glanced at him, his blank stare was fixed spot on nothing in front of him. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth set in a thin line, mind far away in god-knows-where.

Probably realising I’m right, she thought. Y/N chuckled bitterly, eyes falling closed under the crushing weight of her disappointment. A deep pain bloomed in her chest. After a deep inhale, the feeling withered away. She crossed her legs, draping her skirt to cover her knees, just for something to do. Tommy still didn’t say anything. She set her glass on her thigh.

So this was it. This is where Tommy realised that he didn’t love her as much as he thought he did. Y/N swallowed. It had to happen eventually.

Tommy still said fucking nothing.

Y/N left because you’re both still unable to let Grace go…

Still unable to let her go.

No. No. Tommy shook his head skeptically. “Is that why you left?”

Y/N shrugged. “It was for the best.”

Her head snapped up at his purposeful footsteps, watching him stop before her. Y/N thought he was going to reach out and touch her face, maybe even lead her onto her feet. However, Tommy proceeded to do something Y/N would’ve never expected: he fell to his knees. Y/N couldn’t hide her shock. She had never seen Tommy on his knees for anyone, for any reason. Thomas Shelby, OBE, King of Birmingham, her husband, kneeled to no-one. Yet he kneeled for her. A depth of emotion swirled in his eyes that she couldn’t begin to identify.

She understood. Thomas Shelby surrendered. But she didn’t know what.

“Y/N,” Tommy began, “this will never happen again. I swear—”

“Don’t—“ Y/N spat, darkly “—make promises you can’t keep.”

He pleaded, “Y/N, please, please, think about this. Eh? Think about it.” He stroked her hair flat against her cheek. “I want to stay married to you—”

Y/N let out a sob, covering her quivering mouth with her wrist, shaking her head. Hot tears blurred her vision. “Please, please stop, Tommy. Please—”

Tommy closed the distance between them, clasping Y/N’s face. Her watery eyes shuddered open, leaking tears. The familiar feeling of the warmth of his whiskey laced breath fanning her lips electrocuted Y/N back to her senses. She shook her head again, trying to keep her resolve.

Tommy became more frantic. “I’ll work on disciplining Charlie more instead of coddling him. I won’t let him have tantrums. I’ll try and get him — and me — to move on from Grace’s death.”

She was calmer now, less erratic, more still— enchanted by his pretty words and his emotional eyes.

“I’ll do it all, Y/N, I will. It’s time we move on—” He pulled her closer “—as a family.”

Her eyes were closed, but she could only feel his fingers rasp her cheeks, calloused from years of labour, long before he lived in the palace he lives in now. She wanted to know what he was like when those callouses where hardening. Her resolve hung on by a thin thread.

“Don’t do this,” Y/N whispered.

“Why not?!” Tommy snapped desperately, shaking her lightly with agitation.

Why, why did he have to make this harder than it needed to be? She was trying to do the right thing, the necessary thing. She was trying to be the strong one who did what needed to be done. But the feel of his skin, the rumble of his voice, the smell of his soap and the freshness of pine and rain— it made her head heavy; drunk on her heartbreak and the need for him.

Tommy’s fingers brushed her cheek, trailing down to pull her chin to face him; to look him directly in his eyes. “I love you, you hear me?” His voice was commanding. No-nonsense. Rigid.

She wondered for a moment if he used to talk to his troops that way, without the hint of gentleness.

“There is no first place. You’re not second. There is no competition. You are my wife, and I love you.” He swallowed thickly, jaw tensing, eyes fleeting to look at her lap. “I wish I could explain the way I am, but I can’t. But please believe me, Y/N.”

He leant forward, eyes fluttering closed. It seemed as if he was about to kiss her, but he hesitated, inhaling the scent of her perfume deeply. “I love you.”

As if they couldn’t help it, as if their minds weren’t their own, they fell into each other, foreheads touching. Tommy’s lips grazed Y/N’s, testing the waters, before pressing them further. They’d begun moving, Y/N even rising a hand to touch his neck—

Y/N pulled back. Tommy’s eyes flared open with surprise.

“Tommy. Tommy, I can’t,” she choked. “Leaving once was already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do. If I come back, and I have to leave again…” Y/N’s mouth gaped as tears spilled from her hauntingly pained eyes, stuttering down her cheeks. “It’ll kill me.”

“You will never leave again. Not ever. Please.”

Y/N shook her head. “No—”

“Why?”

“Because…” Y/N released a shaky breath. “Because I have a condition. And I don’t know if you want it.”

Tommy’s eyes widened with opportunity. “Anything, Y/N. Fucking anything. You name it and it’s yours: jewels, clothes, land—”

“I want another child,” she choked, eyes squeezing shut.

Silence.

Y/N’s heart froze in her chest. She opened her eyes, met with Tommy’s blank, unblinking gaze. Completely shocked. The blood must’ve stopped travelling to his brain.

She laughed bitterly, shifting around him, marching to the liquor tray. Pouring herself another finger of whiskey, she shot it back. It stabbed through her veins, warming her blood and chasing the chill in her bones away with shivers. Y/N turned back to Tommy, who had managed to climb to his feet.

As tears stung her eyes, Y/N breathed deeply, recovering, before fixing a steely gaze onto him.

“And if that’s not something you want… then there’s no point.” She set the glass on the tray. “I never got the experience. I want the pregnancy, I want to do the feedings, I want to raise a child that doesn’t completely loathe me— I want it all. And I know you don’t w-ant to,” her voice broke, “because you went through all that with her, but I need to know for sure—”

Tommy stalked to her, pulling her into him, pressing his lips to hers. Y/N didn’t react, too shocked to kiss him back. He pulled away.

“You stupid woman. I would love to give you a child.” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “I would love to have a child with you, you hear me. Ay?”

Y/N released a thrilling cry, and grappled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear, breathy like the sea. Tears fell onto his shoulder, but he ignored them, just gripping her harder. With a sniff, Y/N pulled back to look at his face with a glorious grin. One he hadn’t seen in a while.

Shame he’d have to fucking ruin it. His smile melted into a grimace. “I just have to know one thing, Y/N,” Tommy said, severely.

Her own smile crumbled. She nodded. “Of course, anything.”

Tommy exhaled deeply. “You have to promise… you’ll love Charlie all the same. This new kid isn’t going to go well at first,” he warned. “You need to know that. He’s gonna think we’re replacing him, and it can’t be true.”

Y/N recoiled from his touch. “Thomas,” she snapped. “I love Charlie as if he were my son. I helped raise him for years, and that’s as good as blood to me. I have done a lot for that boy. I love him. And I have proven that I love him!” Her voice rose. “I would do a lot for that kid— so much it fucking scares me. And if you insult me again by asking if I would love him less with another child, I will fucking kill you.”

Tommy smiled with relief, unfazed by her anger. In fact, eased by it. “Good.” He hooked his hand around the back of her neck and brought her in again, leaning his forehead on hers— relishing in the relief of his lungs expanding at last. “Good.”

Her thumbs caressed the ridges of his wrists on either side of her face. “You know.” She sniffed.  “Ada said that our children would be beautiful.”

Tommy closed his eyes, lips pulling into a small, peaceful smile. “Did she?”

Y/N closed her eyes, too. Wistfully, she said, “With my eyes and your cheekbones.”

“I have no doubt.”

He leant his forehead to hers, and she looked at him tenderly. His grin dimpled. Fucking hell, she really did have lovely eyes. Y/N nuzzled her nose against Tommy’s, eyes fluttering closed again. Tommy’s followed suit. He kissed her, breathing her in like he thought he’d never breathe again. Her perfume, her hair, her.

“I fucking miss you.”

“I missed you, too,” she mumbled, as if she were in a trance.

Y/N gripped onto his arms, pulling him closer, guiding him to her for another slow, long kiss. Tommy’s lips moved against hers, patiently, but without gentleness. His hands slid from her waist, forcing her hips closer, roaming over them, bunching her skirt in his fists.

“Let’s have a baby.” His breath whispered over her lips like a kiss.

Y/N pushed him away as her brain spiked, immediately feeling Tommy’s hot breath over her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone—

“Tommy,” she whispered, her mind still drunk with the feel of him. “Tommy wait, stop.”

Tommy let her bunching skirt fall over her legs again, shifting his hands back up to her waist. He took his lips off her neck, pulling back, panting with his eyes squeezed shut.

“We have to think… about…” Y/N paused, letting her mind catch up to her mouth, “about—"

“No!” Tommy growled, making Y/N’s knees quake under her. “I am fucking done with worrying about everyone else. You are my wife, I love you, and I want to be with you.” He leant closer, pressing his body to her, eyes boring into her stunned expression. “I want to take you upstairs and fuck you until you can’t move.”

Y/N gasped as she felt Tommy’s warm fingers slide under her shirt, onto her cold skin.

“And to fucking hell with everyone else.”

Y/N couldn’t help but gape at Tommy. His eyes flickered over her face, before giving in to whatever he was resisting— capturing her mouth with his again. This time he was faster, rougher. Slipping his tongue in her mouth, Y/N reacted quickly, winding her arms around his neck, using her own tongue to elicit groans of relief from Tommy.

He took slow, deliberate steps, holding Y/N’s hips to stop her stumbling. The heels of Y/N’s shoes kissed the bottom stair. Gently, her foot rose, sliding onto it and lugging herself up. Neither wanted to stop touching, kissing, palming each other wherever they could reach. Their heads were fogged with the thought of each other. Just each other.

Her hands frantically pulled the buttons of his shirt from the loops, breathing harshly to control herself from ripping them off. Tommy’s lips forced into a smirk, unable to keep kissing her and he panted into her mouth. He watched her shaking hands undo the last button his shirt and she pounced. Tommy had to stop walking up the stairs and grab the bannister. Y/N groaned with need through Tommy’s lips, feeling his hot, bare skin with greedy hands.

It sparked a heat inside him. Tommy snatched Y/N’s wrists, slinging her arms around his neck. He reached down, gaze burning into hers, and latched a hand on the back of her thigh, as he gripped the bannister, and hauled her onto him. Her other leg shot up instinctively, hooking Tommy’s hips.

Y/N’s eyes darkened. Tommy gave her a lazy, lopsided smirk. Whining hungrily, she kissed him without gentleness, without patience. Flares shot in her brain like electricity. She fondled his muscles between their bodies, relishing in the feel of him— real, solid flesh and bone. She slid the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip, combing her teeth over it and pulling slowly. Tommy watched, echanted. She let go, looking at him with a lustful gaze. His surprise made her smile impishly. Pupils dilated, mouths gaping, breathing heavily. He’d look quite funny if it didn’t show the effect she had on him.

“Take me to bed,” she ordered.

A smile spread on Tommy’s lips. Not a smirk, just a small, excited smile. Securing his grip on Y/N, he shot up the stairs, relishing in her giggles as she kissed his neck. ______________________________________________________________

Tommy and Y/N’s limbs wove together like branches between the twisted sheets. They’d made quite a mess of the bed. Nothing was broken, lamentably, but pillows were on the floor, the sheet was crumpled and pulled from the mattress, and their clothes hung from any make shift hook they could find.

Room for improvement, he noted, but there was a touch of pride to him that couldn’t be shaken.

Resting his head on her stomach for a while, Y/N played with his hair mindlessly, too tired to do much else. Once Tommy recuperated, he crawled off her to put on a pair of shorts— leaving her cold and needy — on the way to fetch his cigarettes.

“Really? Cigarettes after sex?” Y/N teased. “Tommy Shelby, you walking, talking cliche.”

He looked over his shoulder, eyes filled with humour and craving, standing to pull his shorts over his toned, sculpted arse. He grinned at her wickedly when he caught her leering. “One pleasure after another.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N mirrored his grin with ease. As Tommy left the room, she couldn’t help watching as he walked away with a wolfish gaze. He really was good looking. The bastard. Y/N threw herself back on the mattress, squealing with joy, relishing the feel of the bed. Her bed. She inhaled the pillows, saouring the fresh and crisp smell (although a little bit sweaty, but that was to be expected), like the flowery perfumed detergent they’re washed in. It really was her bed.

The door shifted open again, the mattress dipping on Tommy’s side. Y/N smiled reflexively. A cigarette lighter snapped open and closed. She could hear Tommy exhale, the smell of smoke soon after.

Y/N rolled over, pulling Tommy’s legs apart. She earned a mild, gruff, “Oi!” that made her giggle mischievously. She crawled between Tommy’s legs, sprawling over him like a cat, resting her head on his chest. Tommy swapped the hand holding his cigarette to run his nails gently over Y/N’s back. Her ear fell directly over his heart, beating faster than normal. Moments like these proved he felt the same as she did. That she had the same effect on him as he did her. Y/N smiled, feeling so blissful she could purr.

Y/N pressed her lips to his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she mumbled.

Tommy stared at the ceiling. “Neither have I.” But his tone was solemn.

Y/N opened her eyes, frowning. Anxiety gripped her. Turning to look at him, she stroked her index finger against the crevices on his lips, his chin, his nose— memorising him before he disappeared. “Tell me what going on in that head of yours. Hmm?”

Tommy looked into her eyes out of impulse. They were soft, with such tenderness and hope Tommy couldn’t stand to lie.

“When you left.” He sighed, bracing himself. "When you were in the car—“

“We don’t have to talk about that—“

“I want to,” Tommy insisted.

Y/N nodded, closing her mouth patiently.

“When you were in the car, I was desperate for you to look back.”

She blinked, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s stupid,” he continued. “But it’s a superstition I heard. If someone leaves, they have to look back to where they’re leaving. Or they’ll never come back.”

Y/N pressed her forehead to his temple, but he still wouldn’t look at her, lost in whatever was above them.

“I came back. I’m here.” Her eyes closed, fingertips brushing his neck. “I looked back.”

Smiling devotedly, he stroked her chin with his thumb, tracing all the little blemishes he remembered, the ones that she covered up, but he loved. The ones that were distinctly her. The ones he couldn’t live without. Tommy tore his eyes from the ceiling to look at Y/N, and his heart fluttered. Her eyes were on his chest, where she was tracing indistinguishable patterns on his skin. He wished he could see what she was thinking, what she was tattoing on his skin like love.

“Since we’re on the subject,” Y/N began tentatively. “Did you... I know it’s none of my business, but did... anyone else...”

Tommy caught on. He knocked his head back against the wall, unable to keep his smirk in check. Y/N’s cheeks grew hot. She went to pull away, but Tommy clasped her hand and pecked a kiss on it.

“No,” he insisted. “I miserably drank and smoked and played card, all on my lonesome. Well, Arthur was there.”

Y/N released a heavy sigh, relief letting her shoulders drop.

His eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes, but with a good-humored smile. “I did very much the same.”

He grinned as he ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “Good.”

A bright smile spread on her lips and she gently pushed his face away. “A real joker, you are.”

They lingered in the peace, until it had to turn bleak. Tommy’s eyes grew pensive, heavy with the past.

“I think… I think I still feel guilty about Grace.” He gulped. “I think that’s why I can’t let her go.”

Y/N opened her eyes, staring at him with shock. Tommy skilfully ignored her gaze, ashamed. Gently, she felt his cheek with her palm, turning him to face her.

“I’ll help.” As an after thought, nervously, she added, “If you want me to.”

Tommy’s eyes flickered over her face. She looked so earnest, so true to stick by his side. Tommy leant in, brushing his lips tenderly to hers. Digging his fingers into Y/N’s hips, he carefully tilted her onto the mattress, rolling on top of her. It was the only way he knew to show his gratitude.

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

For the first time in years, Tommy slept in. Y/N shifted off him to her side of the bed. They were still naked, too tired to do much more than kiss and breathe each other in. By chance, Tommy glanced at his wristwatch with bleary eyes, shocking himself awake at seeing it was nearly midday. His muscles fizzed with exhaustion, tense and overworked. Forcing himself out of bed anyway, he tried not to wake up Y/N as he headed to the bathroom.

Renewed and fresh, Tommy left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, bringing a soapy aroma with him as he ran his hands through his damp hair. His eyes fell on her, still very, very naked in front of him, her hair disheveled and sprawled on the bed. He approached her, smiling, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She shifted, grumbling groggily.

“Hello, love,” Tommy muttered.

Y/N’s eyes opened, narrowed, and slid down to his bare body, where— Tommy noticed with a hint of pride— her eyes softened. She smirked appreciatively, running a nail over the tattoo on his chest. Tommy coursed his hand through his hair again to capture her attention, like he was a teenager trying to catch the eye of a pretty girl. It worked. She hummed her reply, smiling dreamily.

Tommy really couldn’t help but grin back, eyes sparkling. “Do you want to come with me to pick Charlie up from Ada’s, or would you rather stay and have a sleep?”

Y/N took a few moments to comprehend, still dazed. “Hmmm. Alright,” she grumbled. “I’ll come.”

Y/N pushed herself to her feet, running her hand up Tommy’s wet bicep. She felt his eyes on her as she made her way to the bathroom. Y/N smirked, completely unbothered. He shook his head, pursing his lips to hide his goofy grin. He loved when she teased him.

Tommy opened his wardrobe and took his blue suit trousers and jacket with a white shirt and tie. He knew Y/N liked him in the dark navies rather than blacks.

“What’s the situation?” Y/N called as the shower streamed to life, hissing with steam. “How much time are you giving me to get ready?”

“Take your time, love!” he said, slipping his shorts on. “I’m sure Ada won’t mind. Get dressed, do your makeup— whatever you’d like.” Tommy paused. “I thought we could take Charlie for a ride after we pick him up.”

He was met with silence. Tommy thought maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Y/N chirped back with a genuine, “I’d really love that.” Her voice caught. Tommy let her have that moment in private.

“Lovely. Lay out your riding gear for later, because we’re stopping by the ice cream parlour.”

“ICE CREAM?!” Y/N squealed, voice bouncing off the tiles.

“Yep.” Tommy grinned. “Ice cream.”

It was already well past one thirty in the afternoon by the time they arrived at Ada’s house. Y/N wished she could say it was for an understandable reason like the car broke down or there was some sort of work emergency. However, Tommy just pressed kisses to Y/N’s neck whilst she put on her make up, and he looked very handsome wearing his shirt and brace suspenders, his hair still wet from the shower…

Anyway. They were late.

Tommy stepped on the brakes. “Right.” Tommy grabbed Y/N’s hand from her lap and kissed it, and she smiled. “Let’s go.”

They stepped out of the car, slamming the doors closed. Tommy jogged up the steps and knocked on the door casually, clasping his hands behind his back. Y/N waited at the bottom of the stairs, on the pavement, shifting her weight.

The door flew open, hitting Tommy with a breeze. Ada looked at him with her typical raised eyebrows; pointed, expectant gaze and pursed lips. Without a word, she leant her shoulder against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“Hello, Ada,” Tommy replied to her cold welcome.

Ada looked into the house. “CHARLIE! Get your things, Daddy’s here to pick you up!” She turned back, her eyes sweeping behind him before they fell on Y/N. A smirk grew on her lips. “So,” she said.

Tommy returned the mischievous lilt in her voice with a blank, unamused glare. Knowing what she was going to ask, he braced himself.

“What did you two get up to?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. Ada was truly something else. “Nothing I’d like to share with my sister.”

They heard an, “Honestly, Ada,” from Y/N that made Ada’s smirk grow into an obnoxious little grin.

“But is everything sorted?” Ada asked, without mirth.

Tommy smiled at her genuinely as he nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s sorted.”

Ada returned a short nod, beaming. “Good.”

Small footsteps pounded the stairs behind Ada. Their attention fleeing to Charlie running as fast as he could, hair unruly and grinning. His little school bag thumped against his back and his toy horse’s limbs floundering in the wind.

“Daddy!” he cheered, little shoes clapping against the marble so fast, Tommy barely had time to crouch before catching Charlie in his arms.

Tommy hauled Charlie up, jostling to rest on his hip, looking at him with a loving smile. “Hello, m’boy. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Daddy.” Charlie wrapped his arms around Tommy’s head. Tommy pulled the arm covering his mouth slightly with his free hand, but let Charlie grapple at him, heart swelling with affection.

“Did you have a good time at Auntie Ada’s?” Tommy asked once Charlie let him go.

Charlie’s eyes shot to his horsie with a frown. He didn’t get on with Karl— always picking on him by calling him names and stealing his toys and refusing tell let Charlie play with anything. A good portion of his visit was spent being crying, too. However, Charlie felt mean not saying yes, especially in front of Auntie Ada, who was always nice to him and took care of him and made him nice food and helped him when he was upset and protected him form Karl. So, he nodded.

“Good,” Tommy said. “Say thank you to Auntie Ada for letting you sleep over.”

Charlie grinned at Ada. That was genuine. “Thank you, Auntie Ada.”

Ada’s demeanour changed completely, smiling at him dotingly, stroking her hand down the back of his head. “You’re always welcome, my love. Can I have a kiss?”

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, shooting forward and pecking her on cheek. Ada smiled widely.

“Thank you, Charlie. Can I give you one?”

Charlie nodded again.

Ada pressed her lips to his cheek. “Mmmmmm-wuah! Thank you, sweetheart.”

Tommy crouched, ignoring the twinge in his knees, to set Charlie down. “Alright. Get to the car.” Somehow, in the fumble, Charlie’s stuffed horse fell to the ground. Charlie whined. Nimbly, Tommy plucked it, dusting it off with a rough hand and held it out to him. “We’re going for some ice cream.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, glowing into the clearest blue.

“Woooooow, isn’t that nice of Daddy?” Ada prompted.

Nodding to Ada frantically, Charlie spun on his heel and shot away without another word. Tommy and Ada laughed, good-naturedly. They bid their goodbyes, going their separate ways. She watched as Tommy marched to his car, shoulders back, standing tall, the brightest she’s ever seen him.

The reality of the situation had hit Y/N as she watched Charlie tun out of Ada’s house. Things were alright between her and Tommy, but that didn’t mean this was over. What if Charlie had changed his mind? What if his apology meant that he knew he was wrong, but he still didn’t want her as his stepmother? What if—?

Y/N’s feet were planted firmly into concrete, frowning as Tommy approached. Tommy matched her expression, seeing her worry.

Charlie ran to the car, disregarding everyone in his way, but halted to a stop when he caught sight of Tommy and Y/N’s shared look. Charlie felt the tension simmer between them. Hesitantly, he approached them. With wide eyes and a self-conscious frown, Charlie barreled into Y/N, wrapping his short arms around her hips.

She gaped, jaw slack, reaching for his shoulders to hug Charlie back instinctively. Her head jerked up to find Tommy, her eyes welling, too surprised to speak. Tommy looked on, a smile blooming on his face so wide he dimpled.

Ada, still watching from her front door, had her own dimples. Their eyes met. Tommy nodded. Ada nodded back.

In the end, John was right. Everything would be better now, and he had his family to thank for it.

“Alright!” he boomed, glowing with happiness. Tommy strode to the car, opening the back door. “Let’s get that ice cream.”

Y/N’s fingers combed through Charlie’s hair. The swelling feeling of completeness fleeting as far as it came when he released her and jumped in the back seat of the car. Tommy observed her: unmoving, staring after Charlie. The clunking of the passenger side door opening snapped her back to earth, yet too shocked to gather her composure.

With a soft smile, a smile reserved only for her, Tommy held out his hand, nodding at the car invitingly. Y/N shuffled to him, lips cracking into an honest grin, laying her hand in his. Tommy squeezed it, hauling her to him. The tears spilled, turning to ice from the winter air chilling her skin. He held her chin, eyes flickering over her with the warmth bleeding in his chest. There was no rush when he kissed her on the corner of her mouth, pouring every drop of affection he could muster. She could feel his eyelashes brush against her brow. Y/N pulled away, smiling at him as she climbed into the car.

Tommy closed the door behind her, winking teasingly at Y/N, just to see that brilliant smile again. He wasn’t disappointed, her face shining at him, his heart jumping to a start in his chest. He opened the driver’s side door and heard Charlie chattering on animatedly to Y/N.

He dropped in, slipping his cigarette case out of his pocket and plucking one, placing it between his lips. Tommy slammed the door. “Alright, who’s ready for ice cream?!”

“Me!” Charlie demanded, giggling.

“And me!” Y/N joined, turning slightly in her seat to catch sight of Charlie’s smile. He grinned back at her, bouncing in his seat.

“And after Ice cream, we’re going to ride some horses!”

Charlie and Y/N’s deafening roars muffled the engine’s rev as they drove away. Ada watched with a satisfied smile, closing her front door.

Everything went on, as it should: for the best.

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[moonlight-prose]

Oh my goodness idk what this is but it just came to me (?)

The world almost ends….but then thanks to Peter and Doctor Strange…it doesn’t. He heads back to the Sanctum Sanctorum, on edge coz he needs to make sure you’re alright….sees you in his room and desperately makes you his. He’s already lost Christine, he needs to make sure you’re okay and still there with him

Do with this what you will…..

UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT

a/n: this is literally the first ever fic for this man and i have no idea if i got his character right. also the first smut fic of the year!! i don't think this is my best writing, but enjoy whatever chaos this is. i changed it up a bit if you don't mind such as making him losing his memory of the event altogether.

summary: unable to figure out why he feels this way, he turns to you for solace.

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: stephen strange x fem!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS SHOO, p in v sex, fingering, cream pie because why not, biting, angst, little bit of fluff, and cussing as always.

He couldn’t remember why he was this anxious. Fractured memories played on a loop in his mind and yet the longer he stood at the top of the stairs, watching the front doors, the longer he felt like he was losing it. Maybe he finally was. The parts of his brain that used to function with ease felt like they were being torn apart.

Frayed thoughts ran through his mind, bringing him back to the surface – keeping him from drowning in the depths of his mind. Yet still the anxiety pumped through his veins, forcing his heart rate to speed up exponentially. He helped someone with something…helped to save something. Nothing made sense tonight, not at a time where he felt like he had blacked out for hours on end.

“Stephen?” Your voice. Your…voice – you.

He turned, focusing on the single thing that seemed to drag his consciousness back to the world around him. “Hi,” he said even if he did sound distant physically as well as mentally.

“Everything okay?”

The frayed nerves still set him on edge, body putting out adrenaline in order to combat whatever he had been fighting. What had he been fighting? None of that mattered. Not now. You were there, watching him warily – as if he was someone entirely different – who knows he very well might be someone else. Has someone stolen his name, his body? Was that why he felt off putting – unlike himself?

“I – I don’t know.”

Such a pathetic, measly response, but there was nothing else he could say. The unknown used to be a small area of darkness to him and yet now…he felt like he was drowning in it. Gasping for air as the memories he should have never showed up. What if he completely lost himself in this cavern? What if he never found his way back to you? He couldn’t allow that to happen, because you were here and you…were perfect.

He didn’t recall stumbling his way towards you, nor did he hold any memory of how you ended up against a wall, but there you were. Staring up at him and holding his face so reverently that he felt the tears well up in his eyes. You were his anchor. The one dragging him forcefully out of his own endless pit that seemed content in swallowing him whole.

“Tell me,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. “What’s pulling you away from me?”

He wanted to tell you, desperately. He ached to know himself.

“I don’t know.” The same three words that were on repeat in his mind became all he could say to you. An explanation was nonexistent so he allowed himself to forget about the trauma that stuck to his skin like a permanent tattoo.

You’d save him. You’d protect him.

He was sure of it.

“What can I do?” You didn’t like the haunted look in his eyes. Nor did you appreciate how his hands shook again.

“Kiss me.”

The request felt like the easiest thing in the world for you to do – almost not enough – but for him…it was bliss. Your lips pressed against his and he felt the layers of armor he wore for a reason, begin to melt away. Whatever happened caused him severe distress, that much was obvious, but most of all he needed to know you were real. That he hadn’t imagined you standing before him – safe.

You were safe. You were here with him and finally he felt like he could breathe.

The tenderness shifted; his hands now dug into your hips, his lips now demanding against your own. He wanted you – needed you and who were you to pull away from his touch. You'd do anything he asked of you, bending to his will just as everything else did. His teeth sunk into your bottom lip, tugging sharply and tearing a whimper from your throat.

He could devour you every way he knew how and you’d beg for more. If this is what he needed to feel whole again, you were more than willing to oblige.

“This-” he breathed raggedly against the skin of your neck. “You. I need you.”

“Yours,” you replied, feeling him begin to lead you backwards and you did your best not to stumble. “I’m yours.”

It was ridiculous to even consider you belonging to anyone else. From the first moment he looked at you, there was a hold placed over your heart, emotions, body, everything he could lay claim to, he did. Everything he could love he would without question. He’d already lost so much in life; pushed away so many people, but not you. Never you.

His mind reeled with what happened, why it happened, and still he came up blank. Things were hazy still. Eventually they would return to him, but for now all he could do was accept what was right in front of him. He still felt the adrenaline coarse through his body and without another word he began to tug at your clothes. Desperate to sink into the warmth of you; to lose himself in someone who remained a constant in his life.

No matter how many times he retreated into himself, how much he had tried to keep you separate from his life, it never worked. You wouldn’t let him destroy himself.

A gasp of his name left your lips, forcing his head to snap up and drink in the sight of you. If his heart wasn’t beating before, it was now. You – spread out on his mattress, face twisted in pleasure as he brushed his lips against the bare skin of your chest. There wasn’t a sight he’d rather have, no other picture he would wish to keep in his mind.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tugging at it with his teeth gently to elicit the exact response he would never tire of seeing. A cry left you, the shiver wracking your body beneath him, causing his lips to quirk up with glee. He would have spent as long as possible simply paying close attention to every spot on your body that drove you to the very edge. Except tonight his mind kept straying away from the present.

“Stephen,” you gasped, hands digging into his hair to drag his lips back to your own. “Come back to me.”

“I’m here.” He wished it were true. His mind still wanted to drag him away from you, but he fought against it.

Instead, he focused on you; your response to his actions. The small hitches in your breath as he did something you liked. He caught onto it all, now hyper aware of your presence, because it was what he needed to remain above water. Your hands trailed down his arms, nails scratching at his skin, as he pulled at the button on your pants.

“I’m here,” he repeated, more to himself than to you.

Yanking at his clothes you managed to rid him of quite a few things, fully content in stroking his bare skin – relishing in the warmth he gave off. You were conscious of what he was going through. How he did his best to stay present, but then his hand dug into your pants before he could even yank them down. Within seconds you were gone.

Lost to the sensations he pulled out of you. A moan was ripped from your throat when his fingers brushed lightly at your clit, the jolt of electricity it caused now tearing through your body. If he needed you to stay afloat, then you needed him to drown you in everything he wrought upon your being. His words – his chant – were pressed into your now feverish skin as he sucked along your waist; fingers rubbing slowly against you.

“I want to hear you,” he breathed hotly against you, eyes drawing upwards to see your reactions to his movements.

He knew what he did to you. That much was obvious, but seeing it play out before him; he would never get enough of it. Sliding two fingers into you, he watched intensely as your eyes nearly rolled back, your hand shooting down to grip his wrist. You could barely utter a single syllable let alone a full word.

Slowly, he felt himself return to himself. Pieces of the man you loved, began to spill back into his body – his mind – until he felt like the person you knew. He always found himself around you.

“Oh – fuck!” you sobbed, trying to catch your breath as his fingers sped up. Setting a relentless pace that had you quickly rushing towards the edge of a debilitating release.

One glance at him and you knew whatever bothered him before seemed to be what he was channeling into you. The unhinged glint in his eyes, teeth baring in a grin that left you breathless, it all morphed him into something else. Clenching around his fingers you thrusted against his hand, practically aching for the build up to shatter. You knew once it did you’d be in pure bliss, reveling in feelings that left you floating on cloud nine.

“Please.” The word was whimpered against his cheek and right as he brushed against the heavenly spot along your walls, he pulled away. “No. No please, please. Stephen.”

Panting, you tried to convince him to let you fall off the very edge of a cliff he had set you on. Except this man – the Stephen you loved – he was lost in his own capability of giving you what you needed and more. His fingers were good, but he didn’t want to watch you come that way. He followed your lead, helping you undo his pants and barely undressing. Just enough to pull himself free.

“I’m here,” he said again, enough to remind himself of the most important thing. He was here – with you – and he was okay.

“You’re here,” you whispered, biting your lip to stifle the moan that came from him rutting against you gently. “You’re with me.”

Drawing his lips towards yours, you kissed him gently as he began to slowly sink into you. Inch by inch he was forcing you to gasp for air while he continued to kiss you like he would never get the chance again. If there’s one thing you wanted to do forever it was kiss him like this. Fervently and yet with enough reverence that it made your toes curl.

He groaned into your mouth as he stilled, waiting for you to adjust and he swore you grew wetter just by kissing him. The power he held over you was magnificent as it was dangerous. You dug your hand into his hair, pressing your tongue into his mouth, relishing in the taste of him as your other hand clutched at his back. Desperate for more just as he was. You were two broken people, two lost souls that had somehow managed to hold onto each other for this long and each time he held you like this it felt new.

“You can move,” you breathed, a choked sound leaving you as he pulled out only to thrust back in just as quickly.

Any other time he’d take his time; give you as much pleasure as he could, but now – he was ravenous. A hunger had swept over his body to feel you fully and there was no sating it with softness. Hitching your leg up higher on his hip, he pressed his forehead against yours, the steady thrust of his hips, slowly driving you back up to the edge.

It was the sudden unexpected growl of a cuss under his breath and the shift in angle that you didn’t expect. Shoving your hips up he focused relentlessly on the spot that had you crying out each time he hit it. Your nails dug sharply into his skin, causing him to hiss in pain, but it only drove his hips harder into you. Grasping onto your wrists he shoved them upwards until they were pressed into the mattress above your head. That’s where he held them as he thrusted into you, an almost predatory look in his eyes.

“Yes!” you shouted, head falling back as he shifted his angle even more until he was so deep inside of you that you swore you’d feel him for days after this.

Still you begged for more.

Words you would have kept to yourself in moments like this so as not to show your feelings were suddenly spilling free. “Fuck – Stephen. I’m yours. Forever. You own me baby.”

Even you weren’t sure of what you were saying, but there they were. The words you had kept secret for quite some time were now revealed to him and…he liked it. He muttered some form of words you couldn’t hear, because your own heartbeat was in your ears. Your walls began to clench around him to an almost painful degree the closer you got to your orgasm.

Leaning down he sunk his teeth into the side of your breast and that did it. The sharp slice of pain mixed with pleasure threw you off the cliff. A scream echoed off the walls of his room, but you could barely hear it over your own heartbeat. White flashed behind your eyes as you screwed them shut, your back arching off the bed and pressing into him.

He dug his face into the side of your neck, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his cry as he fell over with you. The tightness of your walls around his cock was enough to cause his release to slam into him quicker than he expected.

For a few minutes you were left gasping raggedly for air as he did his best to focus on the world around him again. The last time you came this hard was the second time you’d slept with him and even then, your vision hadn’t completely gone white. Even he looked disoriented. A level of fucked out that you wanted to see on him again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting go of your wrists.

Words…forming them…you couldn’t even put a single syllable together. Even though he just finished, he felt himself twitch at the sight of you cockdrunk and hazy.

“I’m good,” you replied hoarsely, a smile spreading across your lips.

He ducked his head down to press a kiss over your heart; a place you found he favored. “Do you want a bath?”

You nodded, unable to say yes still.

Hissing through his teeth, he pulled out of you gently. Only to see him cum drip from you. It took him forcing himself to get up in order to stop from devouring you until you really couldn’t speak. If he felt fatigued, you must have been exhausted.

“Stephen,” you mumbled, eyes opening to meet his. “You know I’ll always be here right?”

That caused him to pause. “Yes I do.”

“Good,” you whispered, holding his hand and bringing it to your lips. “‘M never leaving you. Never ever.”

Huffing out a laugh, he helped you up. “That’s perfectly okay with me.” He’d never tell you how much your words calmed his still erratically beating heart. You’d never know how he stayed up at night fearing you would never want him again, because of what he had done.

Even now, as he helped you sink into the warm bath with him, he felt the fear from earlier still eat away at his soul. But you would never know.

No, that fear would be kept to himself for as long as possible.

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