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alonetimelover · 8 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write Harry kissing reader lips all the times. No matter where or with whom. During sex or doing domestic things pls

pairing: boyfriend!Harry x reader

summary: Harry's love language is physical touch, but especially showering you with kisses. Here are just a few types of them.

warnings: Suggestive content (alluding to smut, but nothing explicit, alluding to reader being submissive), lots of kisses.

a/n: Just boyfriendrry and his obsession with your lips. No specific trope of mine here, just cuteness overload. Thank you for requesting!!!

masterlist taglist

At the beginning of your relationship Harry tried not to be overly all over you. He didn’t like the word clingy but he was the equivalent to it. In the dictionary, there could be his photo next to the definition of the word. But he tried to repress the urge to just touch your arm when you were sitting on the couch, holding your hand at all times while strolling all those World’s streets, keeping his hand on your thigh while driving, caressing your hair while you tried to fall asleep late at night, massaging your sore shoulders after coming home to him after work, or just squeezing you tight whenever he was passing you. He tried to repress it, making you wonder if there was something bad going on.

“What is your love language, Harry?” You finally asked him, while watching one of the movies from your TBW (to be watched) list. It was yet another time when he sat a metre away from you, as if you were contagious. It got you thinking.

“Why the question?”

“It’s just, I can’t crack it. I feel like you appreciate all of them but not one from what I do is your favourite. It’s just, I just want to cherish you the way you want to be,” you explained, now sitting sideways on the couch, face to face with Harry.

Harry breathed heavily, “well, I didn’t think I had one. I learned to do things that my partners appreciated and roll with it.”

“You mean none of your partners asked you the question?”

“Is that a usual question you ask?”

“I do. I mean, don’t you want to know what your partner appreciates and what they don’t like? I think the best way is to ask. It’s not only for pleasure but for creating boundaries. Those are as important.”

Now, Harry was thinking. One of the most important things he wanted to do in all of his relationships during the years was making his partners feel good, appreciated, and most importantly secure. He didn’t want them to be scared or not comfortable or even not sure about his feelings. And he now realised, you weren’t sure.

“I think it’s physical touch,” he finally said.

Well, that shut you up. And it did for a while, so Harry started to worry if you even heard him.

“Yeah, I heard you. I’m just,” you stopped for a moment. “Just surprised, I guess. I’m glad I asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, now that I know,” you prolonged the last word and moved on your knees, crawling towards Harry.

“What are you- oh!”

In seconds you were making yourself comfortable, laying down on Harry, head on his chest, one of your legs wrapping around his and arms embracing his waist, making him stop talking.

“I love physical touch. Please don’t hold yourself back anymore,” you whispered in his chest, not wanting to strain away from his warmth.

“Just tell me when I’m too clingy.” Harry kissed the top of your head.

“I will. It’s gonna be okay when we communicate,” you explained and added, “you have something else you want to do more as a couple?”

“Kisses,” he now said without hesitation, confident with his feelings and needs. Coming clear to you.

“Oh, the more you know, the more you know.”

So you spent the rest of your evening sharing kisses, touches and sweet nothings. Now sure about each other more than ever.

—

From the moment that conversation happened very early on your relationship, the physical touch was an indispensable part of it. It was everything from light touches under the table during all of the dinners you had in the public and holding hands while doing groceries to kissing you breathless against the door after coming home from a party, where you’d been teasing him throughout the whole night.

And those kisses and any other type of them were Harry’s favourite way of saying ‘I love you’ even when those words were not apparent in your relationship’s vocabulary.

At the beginning, the surprising kisses, being placed on your lips on any unexpected moment during your meetings were his favourite.

“You really can't just not scare me any time we see each other, eh?" you finally asked him, hand on your heart and trying to steady your breathing.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'll do it softer next time," Harry promised, wrapping his hands around you and turning you so he could properly see your face.

"Softer? How about without giving me a near heart attack experience?"

"Mhmm."

But those words really just went in one ear and left through the other. Harry had something much greater to concentrate on. Your lips, smeared with tomato sauce you'd been preparing to go with dinner, were just a thing he gazed at.

"You're not listening."

"Of course, baby."

Just the way your lips were moving with the upper lip extra red made him answer not knowing what. He just wanted to drown into the endless waterfall of your kisses.

“Okay, great! That’s why I was thinking about breaking up. It just seems to be not working, you know?” You tested him, if your prediction of him not being actually there in front of you, was true.

“Yes, baby.”

Bingo. He was not listening.

“Harry, do you realise that we just broke up?”

Now, he was listening. You used his name. How could you use his actual name and not one of the established nicknames. You used ‘Harry’ and he now knew you meant business.

“What?”

“Oh, now you're listening! Great! Uhmm - I am making a spaghetti bolognese and need you to taste the sauce. It’s just missing something,” you said like not a minute ago you didn’t use the words ‘break up’ and ‘Harry’ in one sentence.

“Wait a minute. What ‘break up’?”

“Oh, you heard that?”

“Well, you called me Harry! Of course I heard what was said later.”

“That’s your name, love,” you teased, turning to the pan, stirring the sauce.

“That’s,” he emphasised. “That’s my name. Love, baby, my sweetest boyfriend, sexy, hottie. Whatever. You know it.” He pouted, making his way between you and the stove, as to have your undivided attention.

“Oh, is that true?” Teasing smile on your face, turning into a loving grin.

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and dived towards your face, giving you sweet three kisses on your lips in a way to say ‘I love you’ without using those heavy words.

—

And somehow even after being used to saying ‘I love you’ all the time, those three kisses meaning those words stayed in your relationship ritual. Whenever he was leaving for tour - three kisses -, whenever you went to visit your family - three kisses -, whenever you stayed at home and he was going to the store - three kisses -, right before falling asleep - three kisses. It was just engraved in you both.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” you said for the third time, assuring him.

“That’s too long.” He grimaced. “Can’t you just go with me?”

You laughed, “of course I can’t. I have a job, and I promised mum I would spend some time back home. And then,” you placed both of your arms around his neck, placing your hands in his overgrown locks. “And then I am joining you.”

Harry smiled, leaning in and placing his warm lips on your cold ones, making your breath hitched. No matter how many of those kisses you shared, each and every one of them, no matter how long or how needy they were, made you stumble and felt like it was the very first time he stole your breath away.

He was cursing himself in his mind, when the kiss grew very heavy and needy. When your hands pulled on his hair just the way he liked, and his knee was going right where you wanted. His hands slowly moved under your baggy shirt, sending shivers down your spine. His cold fingers slowly stroke your lower back and hips, then making their way just under your ass, so he could hold you up.

“Your plane is leaving in two hours, baby,” you said breathlessly, when Harry plastered your neck with some tiny and some mark-leaving kisses.

“Mhm, don’t care.”

“You’ll hate yourself if you’re not early enough at the airport.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “How are you always right and rational even when I am very prominently trying for you to forget about everything, huh?”

He placed you back on your feet, now stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, gazing into your eyes, searching for any sign of ‘keep doing what you’ve been doing for the past five minutes’. Finding none.

“Need to put that on my resume,” you joked.

“If you were working for me? Sure. For anybody else? Uh, uh. Don’t need others thinking about you like this,” he whispered, eyeing you up and down.

“Possessive, are we?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Just in love.”

You smiled at him, and placed those final three kisses on his awaiting and slightly swollen lips.

“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I’ll miss you. I love you.”

—

Like in each and every relationship there were times where you didn’t agree on certain things. Times when you argued. Times when you had silent days. And during those silent days, Harry still, a little bit proud and sometimes with a bruised ego, didn’t want to speak. But he couldn’t live without kissing you. As confusing as it was, you appreciated that. Even though you both were angry at each other, or disappointed in one another, or too proud to admit that the other was right - you would never refuse his kisses.

Well, you once tried.

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” you said seriously, immediately going back to reading your novel.

Harry’s brows scrunched and he cleared his throat. That hurt more than the argument, he thought. But he wouldn’t say it. He was mad and promised himself, childishly, to give you a silent treatment. It was a one time situation that he never redid.

So he sat down next to you on the couch and waited patiently for you to speak up. He waited for hours till the moment you finished a part of a book that you had promised yourself you’d do. Then, you closed it and turned towards him.

“Are you going to talk to me now?”

He sighed, placing one hand on your knee, squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“For the argument and the silence that I thought would be the best,” Harry resumed his apology after you said yours. “I know, we agreed on communicating. I’m sorry.”

“We’ll do it next time. No one said that we are perfect and are going to stick to the plan all the time. Mistakes are going to happen, probably more frequently than not. It’s just the way humans, we, are.”

Harry smiled as you started stroking his cheek lovingly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“And you were right,” he added. “My ego couldn’t take it.”

“I understand. Mine couldn’t either. We need to keep each other in check, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes. But I have one request.”

You encouraged him to continue by nodding your hand.

“Never, and I really mean it, never refuse my kisses. It hurt me more than anything ever. No matter how angry we are at each other, just promise me, you won’t refuse a kiss from me.”

If it was possible your eyes would immediately flow with tears and sobs would come out of your mouth. Harry was too good and sweet for this world. And his obsession with kisses just added up to his lovingness in an attempt to make sure you knew how loved you were.

“Promise.”

And you sealed that promise with a sweet kiss.

—

There was one more special type of a kiss that Harry provided you with. One that just screamed: bedroom. Or, you know, just let’s go and be alone with each other. It was discreet so whenever you were in public, or with your family or friends, they wouldn’t know what was going on.

It was very simple. Harry would look like whispering something in your ear, but in reality he was kissing and sometimes slightly grazing the skin right under with his teeth, showering your body with goosebumps.

The first time he did that was in his bed, no one was around, just you and him. You were lying for him, just the way he wanted you to. In the middle of the bed, pillow under your head to make you comfortable and hands placed underneath it to forbid you of touching. You laid there at his mercy watching as he moved around the room in just his dress pants - belt forgotten on the floor (already done with its job), button and zipper open, his underwear peeking.

He finally stopped walking, standing at the end of the bed, right in front of you. Holding both of your ankles in each hand he moved them apart, placing them just far enough so he could fit between your legs. With eyes locked into yours, he kneeled on the bed, kissed one and then the second of your knees still not averting his gaze from you. Your breath hitched, a moan daring to escape your lips.

“Don’t hold it in. I want to hear you, sweet girl,” Harry said.

Of course he noticed the shallow and rapid breaths, warm skin and shy gaze from you. He noticed how you were forbidding him from hearing your voice, hearing how good he made you feel even though he barely touched you today. He needed to know your every thought and feeling right now.

He smirked when you moaned after he squeezed and then caressed your inner thigh.

Finally, to end your misery and yearning, he leaned down, bearing down on one of his forearms. His face daring closer and closer to yours, edging you endlessly. You wanted to just grab his head and kiss him right this moment, but knew that wouldn’t lead you to any good. You learned your lesson the hard way.

“Now,” he started, his face just inches away from your ear. “I think I can start to properly thank you, huh?”

You gulped, not knowing if the noise that would come out of your mouth would be a coherent sentence (a simple ‘yes’) or a loud, needy moan. You knew Harry would encourage you to speak up. He needed to hear you and he could wait more to just hear those three letters.

“Words, sweet girl. I need to hear you saying it.”

His hand once again moved to your thigh, his fingertips tickling your skin, so delicate, so familiar and needed. He was testing you, almost as he wanted you to fail his little test, wanting to see you crumble underneath him.

“Yes, yes. Please.”

He grinned, and it had nothing to do with a teasing smirk he liked to send your way nor the teasing smile he flashed you from time to time. That grin was just perfection, like showing your entire love on your hand, giving it away to that one and only.

And then he kissed that spot for the very first time. And you weren’t silent, loudly giving him a pointer that it was a way to see you fall apart from the simplest of pleasures.

“Mhmm,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna use it more from now on.”

—

a/n: a little challenge for myself to write something more intimate. i hope you liked it!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #boyfriend!harry

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mariespen · 20 days

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Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

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Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle.

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car.

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm.

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side.

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake.

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care.

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year.

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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Blushing Boy

Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary: There were few things that made Drew Starkey lose his confidence, in fact, perhaps only one could truly ever do it; you. He didn’t know how, or why, but you just seemed to have that goddamn effect on him.

Warnings: Nothing besties, just fluffy as heck

Author’s Note: Thank you so so much for the love on my other post, I just had to post this one too !! Please please send in any requests you have my angels <3

Not my gif

You were just about nearing the end of press for Outer Banks Season 3, and all bases had been covered - you’d done interviews to see how well you knew your cast mates, ones looking at scenes from the show, and, of course, the puppy interview. Today was your last day, though all of you were split up in different places, on different projects, and so the last day of interviews would be done over zoom. This was your first experience working on the show, having come in to play Rafe’s love interest as the start of the season. Thankfully, the fans had fallen in love with you, and especially with your storyline with Drew. So much so, in fact, that they’d started to ship you two as actors as well, adoring every moment that they saw you spend together. The two of you were just friends, but you can’t say you didn’t find it amusing whenever theories were made. And, being honest, some of the edits did make you two look cute.

That was your side of things, anyway. Drew had fallen for you at the same rate that Rafe had fallen for your character. He wanted to see you every morning you started work, waiting to catch sight of you on set. He wanted to film all of his scenes with you, watching in awe whenever you acted. He was mesmerised whenever he saw you at events, amazed by you from the red carpets to the earliest of mornings. Drew felt like a schoolboy around you, stumbling over his words, blushing at prolonged eye contact, ears pricking up at the sound of your name. And it only got worse the more he saw of you.

“Okay, thank you guys all for joining me today,” The interviewer begins, smiling widely into the screen, “We’ve got Madelyn, Chase, Madison, Rudy, Jonathon, Carlacia, Drew and (Y/N), the cast of season three of Outer Banks, now streaming on Netflix. How are you guys doing?”

“I’m good,” Madelyn smiles.

“I’m tired, I flew back from Paris today and I’m so jetlagged,” Madison laughs.

“Okay, we’ll start off with a question for Chase, how has it been with the new additions to the cast this season - with Carlacia and (Y/N). How does that fit in with the dynamic of you guys working together?”

Chase leans closer to his microphone and speaks, “You know I think we got really lucky again to work with another great group of people, we all get on so well and these two just fit in perfectly with that, and it makes it so easy to go to work when you’re with such a good bunch.”

“Amazing, and (Y/N), what was your experience like being on set?”

You shift in your seat, glancing at all of the faces on screen, “Like Chase said, it was just ideal getting to work with everyone, it’s like being on one long holiday all working together, you’re out in the sun everyday, you’re on the water, you’re doing stunts, it was just such a great experience. And I was so lucky to get to share the screen with Drew, he makes it so easy to come into work everyday and, I mean, it’s not exactly hard to pretend to fall in love with him.”

You glance at him on the screen and the way his eyes seem so transfixed as you speak, like he holds onto every syllable one at a time. He’s wearing a purple t-shirt that brings out his eyes and his hair is messy in that sort of perfect way it always was.

“And Drew, what was it like to be working with (Y/N) so closely?”

“Yeah, I mean,” He coughs over his words, “It was great, (Y/N) is just perfect to work with, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. She’s so talented, and kind and supportive as an actress and she just made me want to get up every day and come into work.”

You’re sure your cheeks heat with the vulnerability of what he has said. His are bright red too, and you’re relieved for a moment to share the same feeling even across the screen.

A few more questions are asked, Rudy explains about how many injuries he managed to pick up on set and Jonathon tells an embarrassing story about you and Madelyn from the wrap party. And then attention falls back to you and Drew.

“So, whilst I’ve got you guys here, I have to ask Drew and (Y/N) about the rumours that have been going around about you two, can you tell me anything the fans will want to hear?”

You laugh, slightly allowing yourself a bit more time before you figure out what to say, “You know, these things are inevitable when you play a couple on a show. But I think we take it as a compliment if anything, at least it was convincing enough for people to believe us, you know? Right Drew?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew chuckles dryly, “I’m just glad they know that we don’t hate each other.”

“Are you blushing Starkey?!” Rudy exclaims, coming closer to the screen.

Drew laughs and looks away, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth, “Shut it Pankow.”

Everyone laughs but it’s as if you can feel all eyes on the two of you, and in that moment, all you want it for him to be there with you to share the attention. For him to be close enough that your hand could brush his, your eyes could focus solely on Drew’s, your laugh in rhythm with his. And, in that moment, perhaps for the first time, you realise that maybe those edits had realised something before you had.

“Okay, well it’s been great speaking to you guys, thank you so much for joining me,” The interviewer finishes up, closing off before telling you that you’re all done and you can log off from the call.

You shut your laptop and pull out your phone to see notifications already bursting through. They’re all from the groupchat you had with the other girls.

Oh my god did you see his face?

Are you kidding me rn??? That boy is in love with you

I’ll never forgive you if you don’t date Starkey fr

You laugh, fingers hovering over the buttons as you try to figure out a response. You wanted to tell them that they were being stupid, that there was no reason for them to think like that. But you can’t bring yourself to lie to them.

You swipe away from that chat, scrolling the short way down to where Drew’s chat with you was. The last thing he’d sent you was a fan made video of the two of you, a video from set where he had you on his shoulders in the pool and both of you fell under.

When you go to text him, he’s already typing.

And this time, you’re the one that’s blushing.

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underratedmurder · 10 months

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Richie Jerimovich x Reader ~ Tastes Like Stew

__________________

Reader burns their hands and Richie offers to help :)

Stuff in this: Soft Richie, reader and Richie argue… a lot, reader is a little bit rude, Richie has a soft spot for reader but hasn’t come to terms with it yet, his love language is caring for others, he’s mean when he cares

Richie is my favorite character on The Bear rn, and I couldn't resist writing a short little something about him.

Just read this in his voice and it's great trust !!!

cw: mentions of death, getting first degree burns (ouch), very subtle sexual themes, that's it

And if anyone is interested in reading more about this dynamic or has a request I am totally open to that!

Note: yeah I know the title is so creative and beautiful and romantic thank you for noticing

Also sorry I called your eyes ‘freakishly blue’ Carmen, it’s just how I honestly feel

Okay just imagine the washcloth is tucked into his apron

__________________

Hot steam coated your forehead, as droplets of sweat dribbled down your nose. The heat and moisture from the giant pot of stew below you was starting to cook you more than the fire, and rolling up your sleeves didn’t seem to be enough to alleviate the sweltering conditions.

The Beef was bustling, more than it had been in weeks since Carmy took over. Customers filed in like sardines in a can, and the kitchen could hardly pump out sandwiches and fries fast enough.

You had been spending overtime at the restaurant since Mikey’s passing, and for Christ's sake, even your analogies were becoming food related.

The stained walls of that sweat box called a kitchen were starting to seep into your dreams. All you could see was the steam and the heat of the stove top, and the unforgettably annoying image of Richie's face. The bustle of the kitchen during lunch rocked your body like an earthquake, and yet you remained standing, somehow accustomed to the unsteadiness of it all.

Carmy seemed to have plans to fix the place up, though you weren’t exactly sure things would workout. But you hoped, you really, really hoped.

You at least wanted a proper AC. A thick stream of sweat nearly rolled off your nose and into the stew, before you caught it with your sleeve.

Alright, that’s it.

You sighed and snatched the nearest washcloth you could find, which happened to be the one attached to Richie’s hip.

You almost didn’t care to mind what you were doing, until you saw him whip around in shock.

You quickly wiped the sweat from your face and on your neck, then threw the cloth over your shoulder.

Richie, still exasperated, stared you down like you were crazy.

“Alright, give it back,” he stood there, hands on his hips as his eyes widened, like they did right before he was gonna start an argument.

“It’s literally hot as balls in here and I’m sweating my ass off, let me use the damn thing,” you turned away, not wanting to prolong the encounter, for you had a stew that needed attending to.

“Get your own damn washcloth okay, you sweaty freak, huh? You ever heard of deodorant?” He said it like he was a genius, carefully annunciating the “t”. What a dick.

“Uh yeah, I have Richie. It’s just that the sweat is pooling on my face and about to fall directly into the food. So, if you please, let me borrow the fucking washcloth, and just get another one” You clenched your fists by the sides of your face, pulling them down to exemplify not only the sweat, but also your growing anger.

“That’s my favorite one,” he said. You knew it was a petty lie.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s my favorite one, you can't just-,”

“Oh for fucks sake-

“It’s softer! And more durab-""Just get another washcloth Richie!”

Your voices were overlapping now, his neverending excuses piling on top of your unheard reasoning. His arms were waving all around like the fins of a windmill, almost hitting Tina twice. You swore the man didn’t know his own size. Standing above you, you tilted your head up to scowl at his face, washcloth still over your shoulder and unintelligible yelling spewing out of both of your mouths. It was chaos, verbal chaos that matched the actions around you, the scrambled nature of your mind. In the midst of all that chaos, you forgot all about the stew.

It was boiling over, hot and molten like lava it oozed onto the stove, getting everywhere.

“Shit shit shit. Fuck!” You scrambled over, and reached to move the giant pot from the heat.

“Here, let me help with that,” Richie offered loudly.

“No! I got it-” your hands touched the handles, and boom. Instant regret.

The pot was so hot you were burned instantly.

“Fuck!” You quivered and shook your hands outwards as fast as you could, before cradling them by your chest.

“Shit, are you okay? Let me see, let me see-” Richie quickly grabbed an oven mitt and moved the pot himself before reaching to grab your hands.

You shot back, “No Richie! I fucking got it, just fucking, back off!” The searing pain of the burns had relinquished any kind of filter you had, all your words were pure anguish.

“Come on, just let me see-” he took a step closer.

“No!”

“Whoa guys, what’s goin on?” Carmy was there in a second, hands on his hips and an equally chaotic look in his eyes that you could feel in your soul.

“Nothing, chef, I’m fine,”

“Uh, no, they are not fine. They just burned their hands on a hundred degree pot!” Richie stuck his bottom lip in his mouth, face contorted like a hysterical bird.

“And I have it handled, Richie!” You scowled at him again, part of you didn’t want to be helped, but really, you just didn’t want to place any extra stress on Carm. The guy looked like he was falling apart as is.

“I severely fuckin’ doubt that!” he inched closer, waving his arms again.

“Oh you severely fucking doubt it? Richie?” you met him just inches away, chest facing his with your hands still cradled close.

You started yelling over each other again, this time stew wasn’t the only thing that was breaking it up.

“Alright! Alright! Guys, please! Chef,” He looked at you,

“Go clean yourself up, there's a first aid kit in my office,” You nodded and headed out of the kitchen immediately, without seeing Richie actually reach out for you before you were gone.

“Cousin,” Carmy announced loudly. Even a foot in front of him, Richie couldn’t seem to listen.

His face was twisted with frustration.

“Go clean up that stew, and get another fucking washcloth, alright?”

Richie opened his mouth to speak, his head rolling back in that way it did when he was about to completely disagree with someone.

“Alright?” Carmy’s freakishly blue eyes were as wide and as commanding as ever.

Richie glanced over again at the door to Carmy’s office, you were out of sight. He sighed, and nodded.

“Yes, chef,”

Hunched over on Carmy’s swivel chair, you tended to your wounds. Or at least, you tried. Rubbing neosporin all over the swollen flaming mess on your hands didn’t seem to do anything to ease the pain. Looking at all the tools in the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but notice you had no clue what you were doing.

Your fingers twitched when you tried to soothe them, bandages stuck to your palms like tape, and worst of all, you hadn’t even stopped sweating.

You winced and quietly cursed yourself after accidentally pinching a sensitive spot, unrolling the bandage from your palm swiftly and without much care.

Your leg began to bounce up and down with anxiety and pain, gritting your teeth, all you could do was scold yourself.

Idiot, idiot, you fucking idiot. How the fuck could you let this happen, you’re such a fucking id-

Before you could finish the provocative thought, Richie was strolling his way through the door, a large bowl and water bottle at hand.

You looked up, a redness in your eyes that hinted at tears but would never dare to actually let anything out, the salt would sting like a bitch on the burnt skin.

Your expression quickly twisted into anger and annoyment.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m here to help,” he announced and walked closer.

“I don’t remember asking,” you mumbled, watching as he grabbed a stool from the corner.

“Yeah, cause you never fuckin’ ask me for anything. Could’ve asked for my washcloth, maybe then you would’ve gotten it,” He placed the stool down by your knees, then looked down at you.

“I did get it. And fuck you, I could name a million things that you haven’t asked for but should have,” there was a spiteful but honest gleam in your eyes.

“Yeah like what? A diploma in this cooking shit? A valid liquor license? Or- or- or what? An extra fuckin set of fancy kitchen knives?” He placed the bowel on the stool.

“Yes…?”

“Nah, fuck that fuckin bullshit, I have this place handled. And yeah, you did get it, but maybe you wouldn’t have burnt your hands if you simply said please and thank you,” he sounded so righteous, but also so full of it. He looked too serious to actually mean it.

“Oh do not fucking lecture me on manners, Richie,” you rolled your eyes, he could’nt be talking.

“Oh I think I fucking will, you got a lot a’ nerve just snatching shit from me. I’m not cool with that,” He seemed genuine, you paused.

“What’s the bowel for, anyway?” you shifted forward, and suddenly the view of his waist felt a lot closer.

“I noticed you didn’t wash your hands, that’s like the first fuckin step in treating a first degree burn,” his arms were crossed, and he actually looked disappointed in you, but more so, just worried.

“Ah… I see,”

Idiot.

“Yeah you fuckin see, whats the point of this neosporin bullshit if your hands aren’t even fuckin clean,” he guestured at the first aid kit.

“Alright, lets see those hands,” he held his own out in front of him.

“Just let me do this myself Richie-”

“No,” he commanded, hand still held out in front of him.

“Don’t you have a boiled over stew to clean up? You already told me what to do so just let me do it-”

“No,” he emphasized.

“The stew is fine where it is. Let me do this, I know what I’m doing,”

He made direct eye contact with you, his gaze honest and almost pleading. He wasn’t being annoying this time, just earnest. He wanted to do this.

You very slowly, very sheepishly held out your hands to his own.

His fingers were warm on your knuckles, but light, and more gentle than you had ever seen him care to be, at least towards you.

The last time he was decently nice to you was when you first met. When he reached to shake your hand and smiled, his cheeks were somewhat red. From the heat of the kitchen… obviously.

“Let's get this mess off,”

“Hey, I… tried,” you stammered, angry but also a bit embarrassed.

“You did a piss poor fuckin job is what you did,” he spat, fingers still entirely tender despite his tone.

“Watch it,”

“Just sayin’,” he tilted his head to the side and flattened his mouth.

He carefully unwound the gauze from its loose hold around your palms, slowly revealing the sticky, red, inflamed mess at his fingertips.

You winced when the final bandage was torn away, and he frowned.

“Look what you’ve done,” he sounded like he was just about to tisk at you, how dare he.

“Me? Look what you’ve done. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t scream in my face. I wouldn’t have forgotten about the damn pot,”

“Yeah but, you grabbed it,” he watched your hands as he grazed his thumb over yours, there was a slight tickle.

“No fucking shit, I grabbed it Richie,” you were just about to pull away at this point.

“Just shut up okay,” he muttered.

“Excuse me-” you exclaimed

“Shush,” he remarked even softer.

Suddenly his grip was around your wrists, and you had little room to protest.

He reached for the water bottle, and simultaneously guided your hands over the bowel.

With haste, he untwisted the bottle cap with his teeth and spat it to the floor.

“This might sting a little,” he said softly, all of you wanted to recoil, and push him away.

Your eyes widened with fear, “Let’s just do this at the sink-”

“Relax, I’m just gonna rinse them for now, Jesus. Plus, you really want Carmy’s voice ringing in your fuckin ear? He’s freakin’ out about that stew you know?” He grinned, you were less unnerved.

“Of course he is,” you smiled.

He poured the water over your palms, cool liquid buzzing on the heat of the burns, at first unpleasant, but then relieving.

You breathed in through your nose, mouth twitching into a frown.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing your wrist lightly to calm you.

You simply shook your head to reassure him.

It was so strange hearing his voice in this way, low and quiet, but still just as gritty as usual. It was strangely soothing. Way more pleasant than his loud nagging.

He set the bottle down and dug his fingers through the first aid kit, retrieving a small sachet. He fiddled with the package, clearly very focussed on opening it.

“Is that-,”

“Petroleum jelly. It’s like the ultimate neosporin,” he noted, eyes still trained on the square plastic.

Peeling the package open, he knelt down and reached to hold your right hand, and began to squeeze some of the cool jelly onto your palm.

“How come you know so much about treating first degree burns?”

“I know how to do things, you know? I’m not useless like you love to assume,” he uttered, and it hurt to hear him say it.

The jelly was like instant gratification to the highest degree, you wondered why people used neosporin at all.

“I don’t think you’re useless,” you paused, “I think you don’t know what the fuck your doing a lot of the time,”

“Well, some of us have a lot more on our hands than just working at a restaurant,”

You knew it was true. You worked at The Beef full time, and didn’t exactly have much going on at home. Your life was relatively quiet, no roommate, no partner, no pets, just a job and a few hobbies. Your life wasn’t boring per say, no not boring at all. Richie made sure of that.

Compared to Richie though, you had it undoubtedly easy. Between Mikey’s passing, his divorce with Tiffany, and working to keep The Beef afloat, he was being stretched thin, with seemingly no clear direction to head in. You wished you could help.

All you could do in that moment though, was sit there and listen, and just be there. Granted, you didn’t have much of a choice of leaving right then, but you could still just stay. You weren’t sure if anyone else had.

“I uh, used to treat Carmy’s burns when he was a kid, he was a fuck up in the kitchen before he got any good,” he smiled while smoothing the petroleum over your other hand.

“Oh really?” you snickered, that was fun to imagine.

“Oh yeah, he'd spill shit everywhere, and touch the stove when he forgot he even put it on. Mikey was pretty ruthless about it,” his smile slowly faded, his fingers tracing yours slower and slower, until they stopped.

You were both still, air quiet but not empty. It was filled with your heart, the rapid beating ringing in your ears. When Richie's eyes met yours, you were sure there was no other sound on earth. Just your heart and the pulse that you swore was his. His eyes were sunken and sad, but as you held his stare, they morphed into something like an aching hunger.

“What are you freaks doing in there?” Carmy’s voice rang from the other side of the door,

Your head snapped in its direction, loud ringing eliminated, but the breathless feeling still lingered.

“Fucking on your desk shit face!” Richie joked, a comment so out of left field you were about to become deaf from just how quickly the ringing returned. Suddenly your face was filled with heat, and it wasn’t from the kitchen anymore.

Asshole.

“Come on, you should be good now,”

“Mhm,” you nodded, face blank but barely stunned.

He quickly wrapped new gauze around your sensitive palms, his thumb lingering on your wrist longer than it probably should have.

Richie smiled at you, and suddenly placed his hand where your neck met your shoulder.

“No more touchin boiling hot pots, okay?,” he winked and lightly squeezed at the sensitive area. The touch caught you so off guard, you swore you were about to melt.

He quickly stood up, swung the office door open, and angrily announced, “And don't steal my god damn washcloth,”

He’s very concentrated and it’s very endearing

#thisismyrichiejerimovich #giverichiehairinseasonthree #richie jerimovich #the bear #ebon moss bachrach #the bear fanfiction #richie jerimovich x reader

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andorerso · 4 months

Text

A YEAR IN FICS - 2023

I'm a little late this year but I wasn't gonna miss out on my favorite tradition. Here we go!

you fit me better than my favorite sweater: Jyn has a gift for Cassian for Christmas, but she's worried about his reaction. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

give me a lifetime and then fifty more: Cassian comes home after a prolonged trip and only wants to see his family. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Trees exchange

i think i'm falling back in love with you: Twelve years after the last time they saw each other, childhood best friends Jyn and Cassian cross paths once more... (1/1) Modern AU.

Blood Red Rose: 1920, London. An unknown creature dubbed 'the Beast' is terrorizing the streets at night. Vampire hunter Jyn Erso and recently turned vampire Cassian Andor might just be the city's only hope to catch the monster... (23/27) chapter 23 written in 2023

let the cat out of the bag: Jyn's cat really likes her new fuck buddy. Jyn's not quite okay with this. (2/2) Modern AU. chapter 2 written in 2023 for a prompt

don't say you love me: Jyn's been in love with Cassian for eight years, but she never thought he felt the same. Right? Things get a little interesting when he asks her to be his fake girlfriend for a weekend... (3/6) Modern AU. Written for the Rogue One Crew exchange

objection, your honor: Cassian Andor hasn’t lost a case in two years, but what he doesn’t know is that neither has she. And Jyn decides he needs to be knocked down a peg or two.It’s so much more satisfying to win as the underdog. OR, Jyn and Cassian are rival divorce lawyers who also sometimes hook up. This can only end well, right? (1/2) Modern AU.

but will you return? i came looking for you: She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands. She just needed a location. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

fear conditioning: There was something wrong with Cassian. Something that made him look at her like she was a monster. (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

left behind: Rule number one: you didn’t fight a horde. You ran. (1/1) Zombie AU. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

tragedy in your blood: If she pretends it’s not happening, if she pretends she’s somewhere else, safe and warm in Cassian’s arms, it’s not real, right? (1/1) Major Character Death warning. Written for the Rebelcaptain's Whumptober 2023

Amas Veritas: Jyn's a young witch who's just trying to keep her head down. But when Orson Krennic returns to town years after he allegedly killed her father, she can't help feeling like this is her chance to get some payback. What's supposed to be a harmless hex quickly turns deadly, and Jyn must now make sure no one ever finds out what she did or risk going to prison. But the pull she feels towards Cassian Andor, the private investigator the Krennics have hired complicates matters, and it doesn't help that she's sworn off love years ago due to a nasty love curse that sits upon her family. On top of it all, Krennic's ghost might be haunting her... This Halloween is shaping up to be the worst one Jyn's ever had. (6/7) Practical Magic AU. chapter 6 written in 2023

so much for stardust: Nobody would be surprised that Galen Erso’s daughter and Director Krennic’s ward liked to do things the unconventional way. OR, Jyn grows up on Coruscant but that doesn't mean she won't fight the Empire (1/1) Written for the Rebelcaptain Secret Santa exchange

Prompts, requests and drabbles:

College AU

I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere

Total works: 15 (12 new ones)

Total wordcount: 72 494

Yeah, not as good as in previous years, but I was expecting that. Still better than I thought it would be so I'm quite satisfied! These little fandom events helped tremendously <3

#my fics #rebelcaptain #a year in fics

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gotham--fc · 2 years

Text

You’re What? - A Kellex/Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: I combined two here! First is kellex x adopted!daughter where R has a gf/bf and kellex get super protective of her and the second is R tells the team she has a gf and reveals it’s Jessie, enjoy!

“Mom?”

Kelley turned from where she was putting away laundry to see Y/N standing in the doorway.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

“Can I talk to you about something?” Y/N was wringing her hands nervously. Kelley immediately stood up straight and left the pile of laundry she was folding.

“Of course, come here,” Kelley climbed in bed and patted the spot beside her. Y/N joined her.

“How did you know…” Y/N said after a minute, “That you were… That you… That you didn’t like boys?” Kelley took a deep breath. She won’t lie, she knew this day would come. Y/N was getting older and it was only a matter of time before she started dating, but Kelley wanted to prolong the time she had left with her baby.

“Oh. Okay,” Kelley said, “Well, I always knew I didn’t feel the same way as the other girls did about boys. But I never knew there was another option until I went away to college and I met girls who were like me and who were happy. But it’s a personal journey for everyone. You might not always know, you might think you know then change your mind. But one thing is for certain.” Kelley nudged Y/N’s shoulder until she looked up. “I will always love you, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Y/N said quietly.

“Do you wanna talk about something with me?” Kelley asked. Y/N shook her head. “Okay then you can help me finish this laundry before your Mama comes home and yells at us.”

***

Alex was surprised when Y/N asked if she could come grocery shopping with her. Y/N usually never wanted to come along, because Alex went on Saturday mornings and Y/N wanted to sleep in. But Alex wasn’t going to say no to company, especially if it meant more hands to carry the grocery bags.

Y/N was quiet on the car ride, despite Alex’s attempt at conversation. She didn’t even perk up when her favourite song played on the radio. Alex was worried but knew Y/N would open up when she wanted to.

“When did you start dating someone?”

Y/N’s question shocked Alex. Kelley had shared what Y/N had asked her the other day, but Alex wanted to play it off as simple curiosity. She didn’t want to think that Y/N was going to start dating someone.

“I was fourteen,” Alex finally said, “And he played on the school soccer team. We dated for a few months before we broke up when he plagiarized my English essay and we both failed the assignment.”

“When did you start… dating girls?”

“I,” Alex took a deep breath, “I had a brief… relationship in high school with a girl but I didn’t start seriously dating girls until I was older. It was hard for me to accept myself and be out because I didn’t have anyone in my life to look up to. I imagine it’s easier for kids now because there’s so many people who are out and happy.”

“Like you and Mom?”

“Exactly,” Alex said, “Is there something that’s been bothering you?” Y/N shrugged, but didn’t answer. “Well, if there’s ever anything you know you can talk to me or your Mom about it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

***

Kelley walked past Y/N’s room and heard voices.

“No, I haven’t heard,” Y/N said, “I’ll have to ask.” There’s a beat of silence, then: “They probably will, I mean I normally do… No I didn’t… What am I supposed to say? They’d never let me leave the house if they knew.”

Kelley’s hackles instantly rise. What was Y/N plotting? She wanted to know so badly who Y/N was speaking to, so she could know who to scare away before they made Y/N do something rebellious.

“And it’s not like you’ve told anyone,” Y/N said, then she giggled. Kelley had heard many kinds of Y/N’s laughter. A snort at Sonnett’s stupid puns, a chuckle at a TV show, a full belly laugh when Kelley tripped over a rock in a parking lot. She didn’t know Y/N knew how to giggle.

“Stop it,” Another giggle, “I have to go, it’s almost time for dinner. No! Stop, I’ll call you later. Bye.”

Kelley rushed quietly from the hallway, knowing Y/N was probably going to come out for dinner and not wanting her to know Kelley had been eavesdropping. For the first time in a long time, Kelley had no idea what was going on with her child.

***

“Are you sure you still want to come to camp with us?” Alex asked. Y/N nodded. “You don’t have to, I know it’s probably not as much fun now that you’re older. There isn’t going to be any kids your age there.”

“Canada’s staying in the same hotel,” Kelley said, “That Fleming kid is going to be there. You’re alright hanging out with her right?” Y/N nodded, turning away so her moms won’t see her blush.

“Oh you’re right,” Alex said, “Well if you’re sure you wanna come with, we’d definitely enjoy having you there.”

“Yeah, so we can cuddle and snuggle you whenever we want,” Kelley grabbed Y/N and hugged her close, kissing her face while Y/N laughed and tried to squirm away.

“Oh let her go,” Alex said, prying Kelley off Y/N, “It’s my turn.” Then Alex grabbed Y/N and squeezed her tight, rocking back and forth.

“Okay okay we get it, you love me, let’s just go to the airport before I die of embarrassment.”

***

When they arrived at the hotel, there was a group of Canada players already in the lobby, Jessie Fleming among them. As soon as Kelley saw them, she grabbed Y/N’s arm and dragged her over.

“Hey! Great to see you all again,” Kelley said, “I just wanted to introduce Y/N to Jessie, since they’re the only teens here.” Kelley pushed Y/N forward.

“Um, hi,” Y/N said.

“Hi,” Jessie said back.

“Great! I’ll let you two chat while me and your Mama check in, okay?”

Before Y/N could say anything, Kelley was gone. The Canadian players moved away as well, leaving the two teens along. As soon as everyone was out of earshot, the two burst into laughter.

“You could’ve at least told her we knew each other,” Jessie said.

“I didn’t know she was going to do that,” Y/N said.

In all honesty, Y/N didn’t tell her moms the real reason she wanted to come with them to camp. She wanted to come just to see Jessie. No one knew except them but they were sort of maybe dating. Y/N was really happy, she was nervous of course, about how her moms would react, how their teams would react, but mostly she really liked Jessie. Everything was still new, they met a few months earlier when Canada and the US played a friendly and both Y/N and Jessie were there. They didn’t really try to be sneaky then, it just happened that whenever they saw each other, no one else was around, but the last night before they flew home they snuck out on purpose. They hid in the stairwell talking and when Y/N had to sneak back into her room before her moms woke up, Jessie had kissed her and they’ve been dating ever since.

“Well at least we won’t have to sneak around,” Jessie said.

“Yeah for now, but like…” Y/N looked at the ground and blushed.

“But like?”

“Well… maybe I wanna kiss you and stuff,” Y/N mumbled.

“That’s good, because I wanna kiss you and stuff,” Jessie said quietly back.

Y/N moved subtly closer until her pinky brushed the back of Jessie’s hand. They were both smiling shyly at each other. Y/N jumped when a hand clapped onto her shoulder.

“Got our room keys!” Kelley said, holding three room keys in her hand, “I’m glad to see you two getting along, but we should go unpack. I’ll see you around Jessie.”

“Bye,” Y/N said.

“Bye,” Jessie replied.

***

The next day after both teams were done practicing, the teams decided to take advantage of the nearly empty hotel and the free large conference room they hotel reserved for them. Kelley and Alex were getting ready in their room while Y/N lounged on the bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay?” Kelley asked, “We don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said.

“Are you sure? We don��t want you getting bored.”

“I’m okay,” Y/N hadn’t looked up at them at all, instead looking down at her phone.

“Who are you texting that’s so important you can’t look at me when I’m talking to you?” Kelley asked. Y/N looked up sheepishly.

“Sorry,” She said, “It’s just Jessie. She’s not going tonight either. She’s sixteen so… also can’t drink. Is it okay if I go hang out in her room while you’re gone?”

“Of course!” Alex yelled from the bathroom, “We think that’s a great idea, just try and be in bed by 11 okay?”

“Okay Mama,” Y/N said.

“If you promise to get at least six hours of sleep tonight,” Kelley said, “You can spend the night in her room.” Kelley winked at Y/N. For a moment, Y/N was terrified that her Mom knew. Then she realized if her Mom knew, she wouldn’t be letting Y/N spend the night with her unsupervised.

“Okay,” Alex said, coming out of the bathroom. “You know where we’ll be and call us if you need us, okay?” Y/N nodded. “I love you,” Alex kissed Y/N on the forehead.

“Love you too.”

“And I love you three,” Kelley said. She gave Y/N a hug, “Be good,” She said.

Y/N waited a few minutes after her moms left before she left and headed to Jessie’s room. Jessie had already told her that her roommate had left so they had uninterrupted alone time for a few hours. Y/N knocked on Jessie’s door and grinned when Jessie let her in. They sat down side by side on Jessie’s bed.

“So what did you want to do?” Jessie asked.

“Well,” Y/N bit her lip and let her hand slide over Jessie’s, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“And I thought that maybe… since we’re alone… we could… you know…”

“Yeah?” Jessie said, shifting closer. Y/N nodded. “I would like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N let her eyes slip shut when Jessie’s face moved closer to hers, their hands tangled together between them.

***

“And then we scrimmaged,” Jessie said.

They were laying in Jessie’s bed, Y/N with her head on Jessie’s shoulder and their hands raised above them, their fingers tangling together. They had kissed a bit (a lot) and now they were cuddling while Jessie told Y/N all about her day.

“And I scored,” Jessie said.

“You did?” Y/N said, “That’s so amazing, baby.”

“Baby?” Jessie questioned. Y/N blushed and hid her face in Jessie’s neck. “Noooo, don’t be embarrassed, I like it, it’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Y/N mumbled.

“You’re cuter.”

Y/N lifted her head to stick her tongue out at Jessie. Jessie just laughed and Y/N couldn’t help but kiss her again. They were so distracted, they didn’t hear the door open.

“Whoopsies!” Janine said loudly, “Didn’t realize you had company.”

The two sprang apart. Y/N watched Janine’s eyes widen when they made eye contact.

“Oh,” Janine said, “Jessie you dog!” Jessie groaned.

“Janine please–”

“I’m proud of you! I didn’t think you had it in you to bag Kellex’s kid, but I was wrong clearly,” Janine said, “I can leave if you two want privacy.”

“No!” Jessie said loudly. Janine blinked.

“No one knows yet,” Y/N said quickly. Janine nodded understandingly.

“I see, well your secret’s safe with me,” Janine zipped her lips, “But since we’re all here, can I give Y/N the best friend speech or is this not the right time? And I do need to say, Jessie, no way you’re switching alliances ‘kay? You can do whatever you want when I’m not here but Jessie we still hate the Americans.”

“You’re American,” Y/N pointed out.

“Eh,” Janine waved her hand, “Legally maybe. But not in spirit.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and soon Jessie and Janine joined in. After Janine changed out of her party clothes, she laid on her bed and the three turned on the only TV channel the hotel had. Y/N had to admit, it felt really nice to be able to open with someone, to not have to hide the fact that Jessie Fleming was her girlfriend. Maybe she needed to tell her moms.

“Jess?” Y/N whispered after Janine fell asleep. Jessie hummed in response. “I think I wanna tell my moms about us, if that’s okay.” Jessie nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking maybe I should tell my parents too.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered, “I’ll tell them in the morning, then we don’t have to sneak around so much.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jessie said.

***

“How was your night with Jessie?” Alex asked.

“Good,” Y/N said. Alex handed Kelley a water bottle which Kelley took with a slight groan. Y/N should’ve expected her Mom to get a little too drunk and wake up feeling a little worse for wear. “Actually,” Y/N said. Her moms both look at her. “I wanted to talk to you guys about her.”

“Why? Did something happen?” Kelley sat up, despite her earlier protests that her head hurt too much to move. “If she upset you in some way I will have words, no one hurts my baby.”

“No!” Y/N interrupted quickly, “It’s nothing like that. I just… I wanted to tell you both that she’s kinda… We’re kinda… dating.”

“You’re what?”

“Dating?” Y/N squeaked out.

“I didn’t say you could start dating,” Kelley said, “You’re still a baby, she’s way too old for you.”

“She’s only a year older than me!”

“That’s too old!”

“Mom!”

“And what did you do last night? I can’t believe we let you stay overnight with her, you are not allowed to be alone with her anymore,” Kelley said, “You’re too young for sex, you’re too young for dating.”

“Nothing happened last night!” Y/N said, “We were just talking!”

“Oh sure ‘just talking’.”

“Her roommate was there! We just watched TV and talked, god Mom I’m not stupid.”

“Kelley,” Alex said before Kelley could say anything else, “Let’s be adults about this. Y/N, how long has this been going on?”

“Just a few months,” Y/N said, “Since the last camp we were both at.”

“And do you like her?” Alex asked. Y/N nods emphatically.

“If she hurts you I’ll kill her,” Kelley said, “She’ll never play soccer again I can promise that.”

“Kelley!”

“Mom!”

“No one hurts my baby.”

“Look,” Alex put her hands on Y/N’s shoulder and looked into her eyes, “We just want you to be happy and if she makes you happy then we’re happy. Right Kel?” Kelley stubbornly glared at the wall. “Right Kel?”

“Fine,” Kelley said, “We’re happy. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to scare the ever living shi–”

“We’d like to meet her and get to know her,” Alex interrupted.

“I think she’d like that,” Y/N says nervously, worried about whether her moms will scare her girlfriend off.

***

“So,” Kelley started, “Jessie, tell me about yourself.”

The four of them, Kelley, Alex, Y/N, and Jessie, were out to dinner. Kelley and Alex arranged it, all Y/N and Jessie had to do was show up. Y/N was sweating, nervous about how her moms would act and how Jessie would respond. Y/N wouldn’t know what to do if her moms didn’t like her girlfriend or if her girlfriend didn’t like her parents.

“Well, I’m sixteen, I’m from London, Ontario, but I’m currently living in BC. I have an older brother and a younger sister. I play soccer, well,” Jessie blushed, “You already knew that.”

“And do you have any future plans?” Kelley asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah, well I’m planning on going to college. I haven’t committed yet but I’ve been looking into UCLA and I think I’ll uh, take some kind of engineering. But obviously, going pro is the goal.”

“What if Y/N decides to go to school elsewhere? How long will you want to do long distance? What about after your soccer career ends? What about–”

“Mom!” Y/N hissed, “Mama, tell her to stop.”

“Kelley,” Alex said. Kelley leaned back in her chair. “I would like to know your intentions with my daughter.”

“Mama!”

“Well, I really like her,” Jessie said.

“Just like?”

“Well, it’s not that… I mean, we’ve only been dating a few months and–”

“That’s such a short period of time, how can we know you’re serious about her?”

“I just meant–”

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you break my daughter’s heart.”

“I–”

“Mom! Mama!” Y/N snapped, “Stop it!” Her throat felt tight and she felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You’re supposed to be getting to know her not interrogating her! Why can’t you just trust me?!”

Y/N stood up and stormed away from the table, wiping her eyes furiously. She ignored the calls that followed her, focusing on getting away from the situation. Part of her felt bad for leaving Jessie alone with her parents but she needed to get away. Y/N slammed the stall door in the bathroom and locked it, locking herself away from everything. She leaned against the wall and tried to get her breathing under control.

“Y/N?” Alex voice sounded, “Baby? What’s going on? Please open the door.” Y/N ignored her.

“Y/N, come on, open the door,” Kelley this time, “Let’s talk about this.” Y/N ignored her too.

For a few minutes, Kelley and Alex tried, and failed, to convince Y/N to come out of the stall. Y/N didn’t want to face her moms, after how they acted. She was angry, she was embarrassed, and she was stressed. What if Jessie didn’t want to be with her anymore after that?

“What are you doing here?” Kelley’s voice had hardened. It was clear she wasn’t talking to Y/N.

“I just came to talk to Y/N.” Jessie.

“Well, we’re fine here.”

“Kel,” Alex said, “Just let her talk.”

“Y/N,” Jessie said, having moved closer to the door, “I know you’re upset and I would be too, but your moms just love you and I… They’re just trying to look out for you. They didn’t mean to hurt you and you don’t have to worry. Nothing they can say to me is going to make me run away. I meant it when I said I really like you, and I’d go through a hundred interrogations if it meant I still got to be with you.”

Y/N shyly opened the door, just enough to stick her head out so she could look at Jessie.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” Jessie said.

Y/N came out of the stall and let herself fall into Jessie’s arms. After a moment, and with one arm still around Jessie, she reached out to her moms, who came closer to join the group hug.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Alex said. Everyone agreed.

The walk back was quiet, with Y/N and Jessie walking together behind Kelley and Alex. Kelley and Alex were whispering together about something and Y/N, honestly, didn’t care to find out what it was. When they reached the hotel, they lingered in the hallway. Y/N was nervous about what would happen when they leave Jessie. Then, Kelley turned around and put her hand on Jessie’s shoulder.

“I won’t lie, I didn’t like you when tonight started,” Kelley started. Y/N rolled her eyes. “But then I saw how you handled what happened earlier and how much you clearly care about my daughter. And how much she clearly cares for you. So, all I want to say is that I like you kid.” Alex cleared her throat. “Okay, and I’m sorry for how I acted.”

“We just want Y/N to be happy,” Alex said, “And we’re happy that it’s you who makes her happy.” Y/N grinned.

“So you approve?” She asked.

“Yes,” Kelley and Alex said together.

Y/N turned to Jessie, who turned to her, and the two embraced and then Y/N nuzzled her nose against Jessie’s and then leaned in to kiss her gently.

“Okay don’t get ahead of yourselves now, we’re still your mothers,” Kelley said, separating Y/N from Jessie. Y/N giggled. “Okay that’s enough say goodnight to your girlfriend and lets leave before I change my mind and forbid you from dating until you’re 35.”

#alex morgan #kelley o'hara #kellex #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #alex morgan imagines #kelley o'hara imagines #kellex imagine #uswnt #jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #canwnt imagines #woso imagines

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youaintnothinbuta · 7 months

Text

“Why do we fight the way that we do?” - racetrack higgins x reader

Summary: you and race finally confront the sudden kiss you laid on him the last time you saw him. Sequel to “Feelin’ brave today, aren’t ya?” But can be read on its own <3

Pairing: reader x racetrack higgins

Word count: 965

Warnings: none, fluff, maybe some typos you know me

Requested by/written for @ariaroseloklover <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Gonna see the Manhattan boys?” Spot asked, grabbing your wrist as he passed by you, attempting to drag you with him.

“I’m not coming.” You shook your wrist free. His eyebrows shot up, incredulous. “Are you serious? It wasn’t an invitation, let’s go. Papes been sold for the day.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Is this about Race? Because you can’t stop seeing your friends all together just to avoid seeing him.”

“Spot, I can’t.”

“You can,” He mocked your tone, “to be honest, you kinda owe him an explanation. You can’t just go from yelling at someone to kissing them to pretending they don’t exist. Wouldn’t be right, especially since it looked like you both really, really enjo—“

“Okay, okay! I hear you. Jesus,” you interrupted, exasperation giving way to resignation.

Spot smirked slightly at how easily you’d given in, “Let’s go see Jacky’s gang, and you’re gonna face whatever the hell’s going on with you and Race.”

Reluctantly, you trudged along beside him and headed towards Manhattan, your cheeks flushing slightly every time you thought about the reaction you were bound to get after being MIA since, well, you know. As you and Spot arrived, the attention swiftly turned to you. Jack, with a grin, stood up to greet you both, a few of the boys trailing behind him. “Ah, there he is!” Jack declared enthusiastically, his eyes falling on you. “And, wait, who are you?” He teased, acknowledging your prolonged absence.

“Funny, Jack.” You responded with a wry smile.

Settling down with Spot and the other boys, you tried to regain your sense of comfort in the midst of familiar faces. Your eyes couldn’t help but steal glances in Race’s direction, their curious paths wandering over to him before darting away hastily.

After a while, you watched Race rising from his spot and make his way towards the lodge. Spot nudged you with a knowing look. “Go after him.”

A queasy feeling churned in your stomach, and you let out a reluctant groan. You knew that Spot wasn’t giving you with a choice.

“Race.” You spoke his name as you followed him inside. He paused, turning around at the bottom of the staircase. You stared at him for a moment, he stared at you, both of you expecting the other to speak.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him. “We should talk.”

There was a mix of surprise and uncertainty in his eyes. “Talk about what?”

You chose your words carefully. “About what happened…the other day.”

He frowned, his gaze intensifying. “What, you mean when you kissed me?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that.”

Race didn’t say anything for a moment, and you could feel his guardedness. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Look, I don't know what that was about, and I sure as hell don't know what you want to talk about now."

How? How is it even possible for this conversation to become an argument? Only you and Race could accomplish such a feat.

You took a deep breath, resisting the urge to yell at him, trying to gather your thoughts. “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. I— I need to know what you’re feeling.”

He looked away, his jaw tense. “What’s there to feel? You kissed me during an argument. That’s it.”

You were growing impatient with his stubbornness. “It wasn’t just that. You kissed me back and you know it!”

Race’s eyes darted back to yours, and you saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. “Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?” you pressed, your voice softening.

He hesitated for a moment, his admission carrying a rare openness, “I don’t get it, Y/N. One minute we’re fighting like cats and dogs, and the next, you’re kissing me, and then you disappear. It’s like you’re playing with my head.”

Frustration mirrored in your eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not playing a game, Race. I didn’t plan to kiss you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t stop thinking about that day. And it’s driving me nuts.”

He pulled his hat off of his head and ran a set of fingers through his hair.

"Do you or do you not have feelings for me?" you questioned, your voice escalating, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes.

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in frustration, “I don’t— I’d—“

“Yes or no, Race?” Your voice grew more insistent, him only becoming more flustered with the way you were putting him on the spot.

“God, yes!” He admitted, his hands moving to cup your cheeks as he leaned in to kiss you, passionately. Your hands instinctively found his chest, drawing him closer into the fervent embrace of the kiss.

Breaking away, he looked into your eyes, his voice sincere, “Is that what you want from me?”

Your gaze locked with his, your emotions laid bare, “Why do we fight the way we do?”

Race's fingers slowly slid from your cheeks to your shoulders as he continued to search your eyes for something, anything that could make sense of the what was going on between you two. He shook his head, his expression a mix of bewilderment and frustration.

“I don't know, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice softer and more introspective than it had ever been. “I don’t know how to handle being around you.”

A small, rueful chuckle escaped your lips. “I get that, too. Maybe we start by talking, like really talking, without the screaming and the insults.”

Race's fingers found yours, his touch surprisingly gentle. He squeezed your hand gently, giving a gentle nod, “We can do that.”

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dazaiandhislovelybandages · 1 year

Note

Heey how are you doing i hope u take this request when Mycroft Holmes says something mean to their S/O and they didn’t mean it can i request a long one please and thank youuu❤️❤️

Apologies {Mycroft Holmes}

A/n: I'm so sorry it took that long but I've been to busy with university so yeah it's a bit hectic. I hope you like it nonetheless

Pairings: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Warnings: strong language

It had been a difficult week for both you and Mycroft. The case you had been working on -as a detective for the Scotland Yard- was a difficult one. That meant that you had been neglecting your husband. Not that Mycroft was any different, he had been to busy with government documents that required him to stay at his office quite late.

But today, today was a special day. You and your team had finally solved the case and for once you would spend the night in, hopefully with Mycroft.

When you arrived at your house, you immediately knew that Mycroft was home. And not only that, he most probably he had arrived home a few minutes before you had. With a smile plastered on your lips, you climbed up the stairs that led to your bedroom. Mycroft was there, sitting on his side of the bed, a tea cup in hand.

“Hello dear.” You said. Your smile though dropped almost immediately upon seeing Mycroft's serious face.

Mycroft was the type of man to always hold a serious face when having a conversation with anyone, even with his own brother, but never with you. He had made a promise to himself back when you bought a house together to never -and he meant never- bring his work in your house. So it was most probably your fault. But was it really? You had barely seen each other this week.

“What's wrong?” Even if you wanted it to, you couldn't help but raise your walls and turn your soft expression to a cold one.

“I don't know. You tell me.” Mycroft wasn't looking at you.

“Well you can't expect me to figure it out without giving me a hint, can you?”

“You are the brilliant detective in this household.”

“Listen, I'm tired, you're tired, drop the act and let's enjoy our evening.” You headed towards your closet and began undressing yourself but you could feel Mycroft's eyes on you. “What is it.”

“Last night you slept at the station.”

“I did.” You couldn't lie of course. There was no reason for you to, you had been extremely tired and even though you were a police officer, the streets of London weren't the safest at night.

“And the night before.”

“I did, yes.”

“If you find the police station more appealing than our house and the company of your coworkers better than mine, then we can gladly get a divorce.”

It wasn't what he said that hurt you, no. It was his tone at the end of his phrase. So calm yet so cold and always so serious. You let out a sigh and turned around to face him, your stare was as cold as his was.

“Do you actually mean this?” You hated yourself for the overall expression in your face, your overall psoture was the one of a detective, not someone's partner. Surprisingly enough though, your prolonged eye contact and the way your thumb played with the wedding ring on your ring finger was what made Mycroft realise that he had acted on impulse.

“Stop playing with your ring.” Mycroft stood up.

“No, I mean, maybe I'll take it off.”

“(Y/n), I didn't mean it I'm sorry.”

“No, let's light this candle.” You didn't mean a thing you said but something had gotten into you and you didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the stress of this past week, maybe the tiredness...

“I wasn't serious, I'm sorry okay?”

You weren't planning to drop your facade so easily but the moment he pulled you in a hug you just melted and began crying, letting all the stress out.

Needless to say Mycroft and you spend the rest of the evening cuddling in bed while drinking tea

#anime and manga #writing #moriarty the patriot #mycroft holmes moriarty the patriot x you #mycroft holmes moriarty the patriot x reader #mycroft holmes moriarty the patriot #mycroft holmes x you #mycroft holmes x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #moriarty the patriot ff #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader

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emotionalcadaver · 3 months

Text

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: A situation with the IRA pushes Tommy and Lucy to seek out Grace for help.

Word Count: 3,220

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence and blood.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 13: The Sixth Chime

The red lighting around them caught against Lucy’s skin, turning it a red that was a shade or two lighter than that of her hair. Tommy looked back and forth at the crowds moving about in the marketplace as Campbell unfolded the Most Wanted paper for him to take a look at the photos. He scanned the faces staring back at him, then tapped the one in the top left.

“Malachi Byrne,” Campbell sounded almost impressed. “Brigade Commander of the South Armagh IRA. You hooked yourself a big fish there.”

“With these guns as bait, who knows what we’ll catch?” Tommy said. Lucy shifted from foot to foot beside him.

“We?” Campbell looked incensed. “Are you suggesting that you and I could work together as a team?”

“Isn’t that what we’re already doing?” Lucy asked around her cigarette. He had asked her to come along, both for the simple reminder that not everyone in the world despised him, and because he needed someone around to make sure that he didn’t pull out his revolver and shoot Campbell at the first opportunity.

Despite his protests at them working as a team, Campbell seemed amiable to the plan and requests Tommy laid out for him. But as a sweetener, he made a point of reminding him of that medal he seemed so eager to earn.

Campbell chuckled. “If I get a medal, I will have your initials engraved on the backside.”

He really couldn’t help himself, there. “My initials on your backside. That’s quite an image.”

Lucy choked and clapped a hand over her laugh in a helpless attempt to cover her cackle at the joke. Tommy elbowed her good naturedly, which only prolonged her stifled giggles. It might have caused a bit of a blow to his relationship with Campbell, but it was worth it to get to hear Lucy laugh like that.

Though even Campbell didn’t seem particularly angered at the comment, just turning away. That was something.

“Inspector,” Tommy called out before he could leave. “Since we’re getting on so well, can you answer me a question? Who gave you Freddie Thorne?” perhaps, if he could bring the name of whoever had actually turned Freddie in to the rest of the family, they wouldn’t be so angry with him anymore.

“As everyone in the city knows, it was you, Mr. Shelby,” Campbell flashed him a cruel, half smirk, and began to walk away. Tommy watched him for a moment, trying to discern if that was just an attempt to get under his skin, or if it was an actual, legitimate answer. To his frustration, he wasn’t sure.

“The fuck did he mean by that?” Lucy asked as they began to move through the market in the opposite direction that Campbell had gone.

“I want you to start keeping a closer eye on our men. Especially any of the new ones.”

Lucy’s steps stuttered. “You think we have a mole?”

He grunted.

“Campbell is probably just fucking with you.”

“Maybe. Just keep your eyes open for anything that seems off.”

“Yeah. Okay,” she tossed her cigarette away and slipped her arm into his. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Who? Campbell?”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, pressing her side closer to his instinctively. “I don’t even know what it is. There’s just something…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“What?”

“He’s cruel,” she said finally, shaking her head.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Shit,” she heard Tommy mumble the moment he’d set the phone receiver down in its cradle. Looking up from the last bit of paperwork she was finishing up before they stopped for the day and went to bed, she found him fumbling in a drawer, pulling out a map and making a few hasty markings on it with a pen.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was Byrne,” he nodded to the phone. “He’s coming now with two IRA men to collect the location of the guns,” he folded the map and tucked it into his pocket.

“At this hour?”

“Yes. And they want you and me to come alone.”

“Because they mean to kill us once you give them what they want,” she finished for him. “Fuck.”

“Call Campbell,” he pointed at the phone, standing. “Tell him we’re doing it tonight at the Garrison. I’ll be right back,” he didn’t give her an opportunity to ask anymore questions, already dashing out the door. She grabbed the phone, dialing the number for the police station. Campbell answered on the first ring, listened quietly to what she had to say, and informed her that he would send Sergeant Moss and some officers down to arrest the IRA men.

“Alright,” she looked up as Tommy reentered the room. “Thank you. I have to go,” she hung up before he could respond.

“He’s sending Moss and some men. They’ll come in on the sixth chime of the clock,” taking the coat he handed her, she pulled it on while following him to the door.

“Grace will still be at the Garrison, won’t she?” Tommy asked, checking his watch.

“Probably just closing up, but yeah.”

“Good. We’re going to need her help.”

“What–?”

“She won’t have to do anything but stand there and point a gun, don’t worry.”

There was no time to ask any follow-up questions. Not that she really needed to. She trusted him. Tommy banged his fist hard against the Garrison’s door once they arrived, the other hand clutching her fingers tightly.

“I still don’t like getting her involved,” Lucy said softly.

“I know,” Tommy sighed, banging on the door again. A moment later the locks clicked, and Grace opened the door. Tommy went barreling in, half dragging Lucy behind him.

“Leave that open,” he called over his shoulder to Grace when she moved to lock the door again. He let go of Lucy’s hand to check the door in the back, and she set to work arranging the tables and chairs. A moment later Tommy rushed over to help her. Moving to the bar, they removed their caps, Lucy running her fingers through her curls in an attempt to somewhat tame them. Grace moved to begin pouring them each a glass of whiskey, but Tommy held up a hand. “No.”

“Are you expecting trouble?”

“Yeah,” he pulled a revolver from his pocket. Grace eyed it when he set it down on the bar while beginning to explain the situation to her, and what he was going to need her to do.

“Now, you’re gonna be in that back room,” he pointed. “I’m going to be sitting there. Lucy’s sitting with me. They insisted that she be in on the meeting.”

“Because they know she’s your assassin,” Grace said simply. “And they want her somewhere they can see her.”

“Yes,” he affirmed before continuing to explain the rest of the plan. It really was just as simple as he had said; all she had to do was come out of the back on her cue, and point the gun at the right people. Easy enough.

Tommy grabbed at her arms, holding them up with the gun aimed, his chest to her back. “Just point. Right?”

Grace nodded. Outside, the clock chimed.

“All right, go. Go on. Go!” Tommy pushed at Grace gently, and she rushed towards the back.

“It’s going to be alright,” Lucy told her. After she’d disappeared to the back, Lucy went about helping Tommy grab glasses and bottles of booze, preparing the table, arranging everything to look normal. They sat down, side by side, Tommy’s fingers slipping into his pocket to check his watch. Lucy’s heart was hammering away in her chest. Glancing over her shoulder once, she squinted at the back of the pub. She couldn’t see Grace. Please, don’t let us get shot.

Tommy’s hand smoothed over her thigh, squeezing once before drawing back. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she forced her muscles to relax. The shadows of three men appeared in the window, the doors creaking as Byrne and his two comrades stepped in.

“Have your girl remove her gun and the bullets inside it,” Byrne ordered, hands clasped in front of him. Lucy glanced at Tommy. That was to be expected, but still the idea unnerved her. Tommy nodded, and she sighed, reaching into her jacket and pulling out her revolver, emptying the bullets out onto the table with little metallic clinks, placing the gun down onto the wood. She felt naked without it in her hand or snug against her ribs. Satisfied, the men sat down. Tommy poured them each drinks, though none of the men moved to touch them. At Byrne’s impatient demand for the location of the guns, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out the folded map. He held it up in one hand.

“Give me the cash.”

Byrne nodded, and the other man pulled a package from his coat and slid it across the table towards them. Tommy tossed the map down in front of Byrne.

“You’re going to need a shovel.”

Byrne took the map, glancing down at it, and then nodded to the man to his right. He began smiling, chuckling softly, taunting them as he lifted a gun to Tommy’s head.

“Make your peace, Mr. Shelby,” Byrne said. “You too, Ms. Winters.”

“I will make peace my own way,” Tommy picked up the glass Byrne’s man had pushed away, raising it into the air. Here we go. “To barmaids who don’t count,” he took a sip from the glass. Lucy heard the door behind them open, the sound of Grace’s footsteps approaching.

And then two shots rang out from the gun clutched in her hands. Tommy jerked forward, hands flung half up to cover his head. The man who’d been holding a gun to Tommy went limp as a bullet caught him in the chest. Byrne lunged across the table towards Tommy and the pair began wrestling, sending the glasses on the table flying before slamming into the bar. Lucy flung herself across the table at the other man, grabbing her empty revolver from the table and aiming a strike at his head with it, but he caught her arms, attempting to wrench the gun from her hands. Sweeping her leg out, she knocked his feet out from under him, but his grasp he had on her meant that she went tumbling down with him.

Struggling to wrench herself from her assailant’s grasp, the gun was knocked from her hands to skid across the floor, and an elbow to the stomach pushed all the air from her lungs, leaving her to gasp and cough while he climbed on top of her, large hands locking around her neck. Lucy’s fingers dug into his wrists, trying to pry them away as he started to squeeze. Black dots appeared in her vision, and before he could react she thrust a hand up, grabbing the side of his face, and plunged her thumb into his eye. It popped beneath her nail like a grape, blood spurting out to cover her hand. He let out a wailing scream, grip loosening on her enough that she was able to curl her legs up and kick him away. Coughing rapidly as air whooshed back into her chest, she scrambled up, climbing on top of him and reaching into her shoe for the blade she kept concealed there. He had one hand pressed to his eye, the other held up as he watched her draw the knife. Had she allowed him enough time to speak, she wondered if he would have begged for his life.

She cut his throat, slicing straight through the vocal cords, before he ever got the chance.

The blood poured out wetly all over her hands and onto the floor, his body making little gurgling, choking sounds before finally going still.

Head turning, knife still ready to cut anyone who came near her, she spotted Tommy on top of Byrne, slamming one of the spittoons over and over against his head. Grace was huddled against the bar, looking at Lucy and Tommy with enormous eyes. Tommy was still bringing the spittoon down. Over and over again.

“Tommy,” she croaked out, trying to stand, feet slipping in the blood pooling around her. “Tommy!”

He finally tossed the spittoon, dented and stained with blood, to the ground, doubling over, breathing hard. Scrambling to her feet, Lucy staggered towards Grace, kneeling next to her, hand seizing tightly at her shoulder. Tommy had pulled himself to his feet, glass crunching under his shoes as he moved towards them. Using two fingers, Lucy gently turned Grace’s face so she could examine the gash that had opened up across her forehead. She must have hit her head sometime in the struggle. Grace’s fingers traced lightly across Lucy’s neck, where she was sure that bruises in the shape of hands were already beginning to appear. Tommy made a sound that was close to a sob, reaching down to help pull both of them to their feet. One of his hands brushed carefully against Grace’s face, checking her head. The other grasped tightly onto Lucy’s shoulder to keep her steady. He grabbed Grace by the face, pulling her close.

“Why did you shoot?” he whispered. Grace whimpered. “Why did you shoot, Grace?”

Grace’s face crumpled, and she began to cry. Lucy wrapped one arm around each of them, clinging tightly.

“I didn’t know I had it in me like that,” Grace sobbed. Tommy’s lower lip trembled. He pulled them both closer.

“Now you’ve seen me. You’ve seen both of us.”

“And you’ve seen me,” Grace’s eyes moved between them, the hand around Lucy’s waist tightened, the other grasping Tommy’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy just pulled them both closer, the three of them squeezed into a fierce hug, heads resting against shoulders, arms wrapped around one another. The door creaked, and Tommy’s brows pinched. Lucy was the first to notice, giving Tommy and Grace one last firm squeeze before pulling away just before the police officers strode in. Moss’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Tommy and Grace still embracing, Lucy hovering nearby. When Tommy let Grace go and pulled away to face the officers, Grace grabbed tightly onto Lucy’s arm.

“You were supposed to come on the sixth chime!” Tommy bellowed. “You were supposed to come on the fucking sixth chime!”

Sergeant Moss didn’t say anything, just stared at the bodies before him. Tommy leaned back against the bar, eyes focused up. The white collar of his shirt was splattered with spots of blood.

Not caring what the officers might think, Lucy looped her arm around Grace while Tommy spoke with Moss.

“Are you alright?” Grace whispered, staring in quiet horror at Lucy’s throat. Reaching up with her free hand, Lucy winced when her fingertips made contact with the tender skin.

“I’ll be fine,” it didn’t feel like anything was severely damaged. She would just be bruised and probably hoarse for a day or two. Shaking her head, she pushed back Grace’s blonde hair to again check the cut on her head. “Come with me,” taking Grace’s hand, she started to lead the way towards the washrooms. “Gonna go wash off the blood,” she explained to Tommy, trying to keep her voice soft to not further strain it. Already she was starting to feel a burn in her vocal cords.

Grace showed her where they stored the rags, and she wetted one in the sink, the water hissing as it flowed from the tap. With ginger movements, she wiped at the cut on Grace’s forehead, cleaning away the blood and examining the wound.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Just keep and eye on it and try to keep it clean.”

Without a word, Grace nodded. There was a knock on the washroom door, and when Lucy pulled it open, Tommy was standing there, shoulders half hunched in and expression miserable.

“Moss says we can leave whenever,” he mumbled. Not speaking, Lucy pulled him into the room, using the rag to wipe off the worst of the blood splattered on his face. When she was done, Grace timidly shuffled closer, taking the cloth and brushing it across Lucy’s cheeks. For a moment, she was transported back in time, to the first moment she saw Grace, when the new pretty barmaid had reached across with a handkerchief to wipe a stray streak of blood off of her face.

It felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.

Once they were about as clean as they could all hope to be with only a single measly washbasin between the three of them, they filed out of the washroom. The officers were still in the pub, though a significant amount of the bloodied mess they’d made had already been cleaned away.

“Go get your things. We’ll walk you home,” Lucy whispered to Grace. She nodded, going into the back for her bag and coat. “Tommy,” she approached him carefully. Speaking was definitely beginning to hurt a little, her throat aching. She took his hand firmly. “Come on,” as soon as Grace was ready, she led them both outside into the cold fresh air. Tommy lit a cigarette, the three of them passing it between them as they started to walk down the road. None of them said a word. Grace kept her hands clutched in tightly to her chest, coming to a stop at a simple little building. She took one last drag of the cigarette before handing it back to Tommy.

“Thank you,” Grace’s eyes darted between them. Lucy reached out to hug her tightly. Tommy just looked down.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said, before taking Lucy’s hand and pulling her along after him, and down the road.

They went to her apartment, the locks clicking firmly into place, and then Tommy’s hands were reaching to skim along the bruises on her throat.

“You’re not going to be able to talk tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” she agreed in a rasp. “But it’s not that bad.”

Hands dropping to wrap around her waist, Tommy pulled her closer until she was practically crushed against his chest. Lucy closed her eyes, winding her arms around him and snuggling closer. Tommy’s lips pressed into her hair, kissing gently, spreading the pecks along the entire crown of her head. Cradling the back of his skull, Lucy fisted her other hand in the front of his shirt, pulling him in even tighter, tugging his head back so she could kiss him.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, once they’d broken away. “Grace is okay. You’re okay,” she stroked his face. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Tommy closed his eyes, throat working, and then he nodded.

“I’m tired,” she said softly, taking his hand. His mouth began to pepper kisses along her jaw, hands grabbing at her as if trying to convince himself that she was still there. Still whole. “Bed.”

He insisted on helping her undress, even giving her one of his undershirts to wear without his usual halfhearted complaints. In just her knickers and his shirt, she pulled his clothes off of him until he was only in his boxers, and together they climbed into her bed, snuggling together in the middle of the mattress, holding onto each other tight, as if afraid that the other would disappear.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#not an update #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #grace burgess #grace burgess x oc #tommy shelby x grace burgess x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lucy winters x grace burgess #lucy winters x tommy shelby x grace burgess #my ocs #my fanfiction #red right hand

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ssweetart42 · 11 months

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A Double Edged Sword

Chapter One: I'd Rather Be Invisible

Din is asked to transport someone who has some unusual abilities. Astral Travel, Distance Viewing, Slow Burn.

This is my first offering and I am such a noob I'm not sure what the protocols are. This is a slow burn and I want to thank dev1lm4n for encouraging me.

Word count: 3k

You had only been there 16 months. You’ve done your best to steer clear of the more populated areas. Outside of going in for supplies occasionally, you didn’t engage in conversations with people. You did the best you could to go un-noticed. When you arrived you specifically asked Magistrate Karga if there was a place you could settle where you could be mostly isolated. He has known people from all over the galaxy and didn’t find that request such an odd one.

At first it was pretty peaceful but the longer you were there and the townspeople grew increasingly curious….. you felt it all closing in on you again. Worse yet the Magistrate was fielding all kinds of requests from his people to ask you to find somewhere else to live. You could feel the tension rising and you knew you needed to find a place you could truly be alone.

Karga had approached Mando with the issue he was having and asked if he would be willing to relocate you. Mando had an encyclopedic knowledge of planets in the Outer Rim and Karga really didn’t want to drop you in the desert somewhere. He really was a decent guy. Plus with Mando being a man of few words who kept to himself he figured who better to transport an Empath.

“Yeah I saw this coming a parsec away” you grumbled as Karga and Mando approached your little cottage. To their surprise you were already packed. The Magistrate was trying to stutter step some kind apology, but was relieved that he didn’t have to do any convincing. You dropped your head and look up at him through your lashes and said “You didn’t think I could feel this?”, and added “Look, It’s not your fault.”

You grabbed your heaviest bag and shoved it in the Mandalorians’ arms like he was a pack animal saying “Well you’re the strong silent type.”, “Make yourself useful.” You started up the path towards town seeing no reason to prolong the inevitable. Mando cocked his head to the side looked over at Karga and gave him an exasperated sigh. The Magistrate raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders and remarked “Well Mando, she’s not wrong.”

Being abrasive was one of your more endearing defense mechanisms. You had gained quite a bit of ground on you way out of there when Mando and the Magistrate started after you. Mando says to Karga under his breath “What have you gotten me into?”.

“I heard that” you shout from a good distance up the path. Although “Heard That” wasn’t exactly accurate. It’s more like it’s in your head like you can feel it as the thought is being formulated.

You didn’t mean to be so pissy but this was probably the 10th place you had been urged to vacate in the last few years. It was gettin’ old.

You get to the Razor Crest and stand at its side waiting for The Madalorian to lower the ramp. He is momentarily surprised by the fact that you knew just where you were going until he recalled his conversation with Karga about how people had become uneasy around you because as he put it “She just knows things.” You board the Razor Crest and Mando stows your bags in the cargo hold and tells you “You’re gonna have to find a spot for yourself back here.” And turns to leave you to it. You holler up at him as he climbs the ladder to the cockpit. “I could sleep between two boulders if I have enough room to lie down.” “Good” is his curt response.

Frankly you could hardly wait to be off world and out of reach of those thousands of minds that invaded yours. You chuckled to yourself thinking how easy it would be with only one stoic Man of steel around. You wagged your head back and forth as you thought it and realized you were being a bitch again. “Hell I’m even sarcastic to myself.” You quip. “What?” you hear booming from the cockpit. “Nothing.” You counter. “Just talking to myself.”, and then THOUGHT to yourself “It’s the only way I can get intelligent conversation around here” Then you heard it. A chuckle. A chuckle from the Tin Man.

But did he hear you?. “Did I say that ….out loud?” You ask yourself. You couldn’t even be sure. It didn’t really matter. It was your way to isolate yourself so talking to yourself was pretty common. All you knew was that if he HEARD you then you would have to be more careful.

You got your sleeping area arranged and you decided that it was time to confer with your pilot about your destination. You climbed the ladder to find a spot to the right and slightly behind the Mandalorian. You offer a weak apology for being such a smart ass but then you reason “It’s better than being a dumb ass any day” You get a nod of agreement but you feel a slight grin. Your pilot asks where you want to go and is surprised to discover that you have no idea. Clearly he wants an explanation and you start by asking him how wants you to address him. “Mando is fine,” he says and you answer “If that’s what you prefer.”, It is”. He is indeed a man of few words.

“Ok” you start. “Our Lovely Magistrate seems to think that if anyone knows what can be found in the Outer Rim planets it’s you.” He simply nods. You continue “So what I need to find is a place where I can pull up a chunk of dirt to plant a garden and a couple of boulders I can lie down between.” Oh Boy, right back into smart ass mode. “Sorry” you whisper. “No need to apologize” Mando says. Damn he heard me again. “But most importantly,” you add “No people”. Your words just hang in the air.

You hear Mando mulling it over “Is that safe” he says but thinks to himself, Does she really want to be alone? “It’s just easier.” You explain as you let out a long sigh. “That sounds like defeat” comes from the Mandalorian. “Well I guess I’ve just had enough”. You realize that you just responded to a thought. An unspoken comment. It finally occurs to you that almost half of what passed between you was unspoken. You decide it’s time to shut up and hope you get away with that little slip. Apparently you didn’t.

“Please Explain” Mando prods. “What?”, “Why I feel the need to isolate myself or why I’m answering questions you haven’t asked yet?” You get another monosyllabic response “Both.” You take in enough air to tell the tiresome story you hate telling. “It’s a long story, Let me sum up. My Father was Hiraeth, 100% Empath. My Mother was Human, 0% Empath.”, “ After 3 years with a man who knew every thought that popped into her head she couldn’t take it anymore.” “She left, taking me with her.”. “So when my abilities started to become apparent she had me doing little tasks like finding people that were lost and healing people that were sick.”, “The problem was having had so little exposure to my Fathers race I had no training.” I have little or no control over it, I don’t know how to shut it off and I feel the pain of people that I heal and the anguish of people that I cared about or even anyone who just stood too close to me."

"I always ended up hurt or sick myself.”, "and any person within my range that had a nasty thought about me, hit me right between the eyes, ‘maybe she’s a witch’, ‘Maybe she’s a ghost.’ Even ‘Maybe she’s a Jedi” Their thoughts were sharp and painful. "I was just a kid and I didn’t understand.", " In my teens I discovered that it was a huge disadvantage with the opposite sex.", " There was this whole ‘get out of my head’ argument that I couldn’t control one way or the other. I finally said “Enough already.” By the end of your life story you had sunk down in your chair feeling awash in the darkness that always accompanied those memories.

The silence is only broken when Mando responds “Shit” slow and drawn out. Yes you actually heard that one. “Yeah, Shit is right”. You go quiet again trying to swallow the pain you feel. In an effort to squelch that line of conversation. Mando, ever the voice of reason says “Well”, “I’ll let you focus on where you want to be and then you describe it to me.” It strikes you that this is uncharacteristic behavior. This is a thoughtful and well considered idea. The only Mandalorians you had ever known in your life were warlike, reactionary and cold. This one seems…kinda warm and he actually has a brain in that bucket. Another chuckle from the Mandolorian. You snap your confused gaze in his direction “Thank You” he says. “What?” You ask, louder than you expected. He turned his chair to face you and with a nod of his helmet repeated “Thank You”.

“What the hell is going on.” You are unaccustomed to having people read YOU. “I can see I need to explain” He began. “My adopted kid has powers.”, “ He doesn’t really speak but makes himself understood.”, “ He has healing powers and he can levitate things.” “The time I spent with him has changed me.” I discovered that if I reached out with my mind to him, I could understand him better.”, I didn’t even realize it was happening but I found for the first time in my life rather than my only instinct being to hunt and kill it was being combined with a drive to protect.”

He went quiet for a minute but then told you that he had noticed this happening little by little but when you came onboard, he was picking up some of your thoughts. You had to admit to yourself that was a little unsettling. “Don’t worry,”, He said “I won’t abuse my powers” in an exaggerated fashion putting his hands up and wiggling his fingers around like a porg. “Ooh very scary” You tell him. He threw his head back and laughed. You could feel the Childs influence on him. This was NOT the run of the mill Mandalorian.

He stifled his jovial attitude as his memories turned a little melancholy. He told you that the kid was with the Jedi in training right now and he hoped to see him again soon. He wasn’t sure that the Jedi had the right idea when it comes to attachments. He is convinced that most of the kids powers are born out of love.

You shake your head taking all this in. This guy is deep. “Shit” you say to yourself and once again he surprises you. “Shit is right” he says with a nod. You decide it’s best not to question all of these occurrences.

You could feel the mood lifting the further you got from Navarro. You get the impression that Mando is also experiencing the relief that you are starting to feel. You wonder to yourself if this would somehow compromise him or distract him from the task at hand. Your worries were unfounded as you find his focus is snapped back into stoic Mando mode. When it comes to what needs to be done, he doesn’t play.

He prompts you by asking how you would search your mind for this place you need to be. You explain your process and how you need to close your eyes, breathe deep and just SEE. “I just need to focus on the environment I need to survive.” “Well, Go ahead.” Mando says “That chair reclines and there’s a headrest”. You hesitate but he adds “The sooner you do this the sooner we’ll have a heading.”

You lean back and start taking deep breaths. There is so much less psychic noise in the atmosphere being here on the Crest rather than in a populated place. You find you can easily focus. You begin to see green and you feel as if you’re flying over a valley. As Images start flowing in. Mando asks you to describe what you see.

He notices your responses are stilted as if you’re not all there. You tell him about the valley and how there are some trees and some grasslands. Your speech is slow and deliberate. You are doing your best to block out any distractions, as you are getting occasional flashes. You shake them away and re-focus. Mando helps by asking specific questions. “What do the trees look like?” and as fly by you see that they are fluffy looking. “More like deciduous trees rather than evergreens”. “What else do you see?” He asks. You see some rock formations and areas where water flows from springs through the valley making ponds.

He inputs all the information you’ve given him and searches an outer rim parsec. He narrows it down to three planets that are the closest to your current location. One is too heavily populated to be a peaceful place for you, one has an atmosphere unfriendly to oxygen breathing beings. Leaving only one in this parsec to check out.

Mando calls you over to see if it resonates with you and notices you’re a little unsteady on you feet. “Are you alright?” Mando asks. “Oh that’s just another benefit of no practical training”, “it takes a lot out of me.” Mando offers you an arm to steady yourself and you feel a sense of relief. He shows you what his scans have come up with and repeats the name of the small planet. “Farweh”

It tickles you that when he says it, it’s almost as if he’s saying “far away”. “Sounds perfect." you say but Mando asserts “We’ll have to make sure it feels right….The gravity is a little different.”. Different Bad?” You ask. “No”, he assures you. You’ll just feel lighter.”. Maybe that explains the ease that you felt flying there. “Well” you assure him “It sounds like it’s worth looking at.

You realize that you are lingering too long. Hanging onto his arm you notice that he is….warm. It’s almost intoxicating. It’s comfortable. Right up until he turns his head to face you and you can feel his gaze. “Sorry” you tell him. “I’m still a little wobbly.” You decide you’d better settle back in the reclining chair as you are still in this half floaty state from your little trip. You chalk up the effect you felt standing too close to him as ‘Distance viewing hangover.’ Yeah, That’s it.

You feel the need to lean back for a few to regain your equilibrium. All too soon the same pull that drew you in before is back but at a more calm pace. You try to snap yourself out of it but you are being pulled in again. The flashes you were getting before are back but are more persistent now. You have no choice but to allow them in. There must be something you need to know. You keep seeing a face. It’s not scary, it’s a kind face. It’s a beautiful man with eyes you could drown in. You can feel that he is somehow vulnerable and there is a touch of sadness in the depth of his eyes.

You are drawn to him. He seems to be taking you into a deeper state. Your breathing is deep and regular and you feel….receptive. Something in your heart wants to reach out and wrap your arms around this vision but that’s not possible in the astral plane. It’s not unpleasant so you allow yourself to drift.

You become aware that questions are being asked of you “Why do you hide?”, “Why cover yourself in these shrouds?” all of this communication is happening in your head , You don’t speak the words you just think them. “They help me…blend in.” .….“ It gives me a barrier.”….. “It makes me feel…protected.”, ”It shields me.” This presence that has joined you here has heard what you are asserting about your shroud but is still waiting for the real reason. “I’d rather be invisible.”

This response seems to disappointing to the man who inserted himself in your consciousness and he slowly fades away. With your vision receding now you find it much easier shake yourself back to a more aware and present state. As you ‘come back’, you become aware that Mando has been waiting for you to come around. He has turned his chair to face you manspreading in his seat, arms crossing his chest.

The mood is almost somber. His gaze is trained on you and turn to meet it. “Can you explain that to me?” He questions. “What” You weren’t sure exactly what he meant. “You were….gone.”, ‘ “For all intents and purposes.”, “ Do you actually GO somewhere?”. “Well, n-not all of me.” You do your best to explain. "With astral travel you have to SEE rather than open your eyes.”, “ You have to feel rather than touch.”, “A physical action can pull you immediately back to your body.” He seems like he’s pissed off about something. He huffs and swings back around to face the front of the cockpit. When his focus is off of you, you are relieved. You’re drained from your activity. You can’t really make sense of his level of annoyance. You draw your shroud around you like a cocoon as you wonder what you did to piss him off. There’s no point in trying to make sense of this now. You are too drained. Seeing you wrap yourself up, Mando huffs “What is that thing a blanket too?” You tuck you toes under the hem of your shroud and it renders you…..comfy. “Mm Hmm” is your last conscious utterance. You welcome the oblivion of sleep.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din dijarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mandalorian x you #mando x you #astral travel #distance viewing

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kayoi1234 · 6 months

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*still vibrating*

there's people who meta-vote, aka what happened in t1: it's when instead of voting according to forgiveness and personal opinion, you vote according to: - probable outcomes of verdicts - the public opinion going around and how much it is agreed on - what you think will happen to other characters if the current prisoner is judged forgiven/unforgiven

in t1 the reasoning was that by voting her unforgiven, it'd make her realize that shes doing bad things/the cult is wrong or something with "tough love", well guess what!! that only reaffirmed her more!!! because though love is exactly what the cult used on her!!!!!

also that bit about shidou: yeah he wont get shanked Now, but people still worry about her sabotaging his stuff. in the t2 voice drama she get her hands on scissors, hides them in her long sleeves, and tries to attack es (who is by all means untouchable if the intent of the prisoner is to cause harm), and while attacking other prisoners while es is awake is (iirc) impossible, who knows what she'll do between trials when theyre asleep for (probably) months !! she got the fucking scissors from a supply closet !! who knows what else is in there!!! (i havent read minigram but iirc they talk about it there? dont take my word for it)

meta voting Also happened to shidou, who has an interesting dilemma regarding his judgement: while he still thinks he shouldn't be forgiven, he sees how much he's needed in the prison (Triage: "Shall I fulfill your request and elect to live / ... / See, indispensable, I’m indispensable") and directly asks to be forgiven Because, after loosing his family, he has a reason to live again!! (Triage: "I want to be [forgiven], I want to live!" / "That’s right, there are lives that need safeguarding / So hey, prolong my life, I’m indispensable") all of that, regardless of what he actually did, got him a forgiven judgement anyway!!

it also happened to mikoto in t1 to a lesser extent (and i hesitate calling this meta-voting): tiktok people happened to found MeMe, saw the bathroom scenes, "damn he's hot *votes forgiven*". didnt really matter cuz his t1 ration is 31,57% forgiven to 68,43% unforgiven

this post got derailed but i hope you enjoy getting paragraphs from me first thing in the morning *hits send*

One: the beauty of being Australian is that whilst it might be morning for you it is like 7:20PM here so I am at the Exact Right Time to process new information

Two: Meta voting is such a wild concept and yet it is the exact thing that happens in real life when we vote for politicians lmao art imitates life or whatever lol.

But also it’s really funny that people did it the first time round with Amane, found out it didn’t work, and yet there are still people going “well maybe it’ll work a second time?” With the same amount of confidence as the person who planted bamboo in the ground and said “It’s not going to grow everywhere!”

Anyways also Shidou is real interesting because i’m ninety percent sure this isn’t going to do wonders for his mental health lol rip Dr Malpractice maybe you shouldn’t have stolen all those organs.

(Also poor Mikoto man. Wakes up in prison told he’s killed someone yet he can’t remember shit, gets called a murderer when he explicitly remembers Not Doing That, then the ps5 in his brain tells him he’s hot but also a killer and hey there’s another guy in here but no one ever tells him about the other guy in there because no one knows whats gonna happen if they do that all because some kid with twitch chat also in their brain ran a poll on some funky music video they got out of his head and went “Well sorry dude but unforgiven I guess”.

Also maybe there are actually three mikotos which is. You know the depths of the boy surely knows no bounds.)

#txt #ask #coffee-without-anesthetics #milgram #fuckin wild what you guys are doing #never stop

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sugawarassoulmate · 3 years

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Congratulations on 1k! I’m new to your blog and I really like your content. I’d love to join your event if that’s alright. Can I please request tsukishima x red dress 🍑. Thanks :)

ok consider this.....pussy drunk tsukishima???? 👀

words: 618

cw: fem!reader, body worship, unprotected sex, minors dni

tsukishima liked to pride himself on a lot of things but mostly his restraint and intelligence. nothing could catch him off guard and nobody could beat him in an argument. that was until you two started dating. your tall, quick-witted boyfriend didn’t have that much of a smart mouth on him when he was inside you.

“jesus,” he breathed when your hips met. he took a few seconds to get used to your warmth around him. tsukishima liked to fuck you deep but sometimes he needed a moment to gather himself.

“that good?” you teased, leaving kisses along his jawline.

tsukishima slaps your thigh in annoyance, a quick “shut up” leaving his lips. he finally bucks his hips, earning a surprised gasp from you. before long, he’s fucking you properly, thrusting into you with such force that you’re shifting up the mattress. he always manhandles you, his nails digging into your skin and leaving behind marks. “love this cunt so much.”

his long fingers find your clit, pinching it when his hips slap against yours. “yeah?” you sob, walls squeezing down on him just how he likes.

doing that ignites something in tsukishima, it gets rid of all his reserve and he can’t but help to fuck you into the mattress. filthy words spilling from his lips the entire time. “god, it’s like you’re choking my cock. bet you love that, huh? love it when i fuck this silly cunt, hm?” but his harsh words hold no venom, not when his honey-colored eyes are looking at you as if you held the sun. “your cunt feels like heaven—fuck, stop doing that, you’re gonna make me cum, stupid. don’t wanna end this yet. wanna be in you longer.” and you could have sworn you heard a “please” under his breath.

“oh god, kei,” you whine into his neck, pulling him close to you as his hips never falter. “please cum in me? want you to fill me up, please.” you really loved making this man suffer. he’s so mean and teasing all the time but when you’re like this, closer than two people could ever be, he turns into putty in your hands willing to do anything for you.

tsukishima curses under his breath, wanting to edge both of you to prolong this but you can tell he’s close. “such a stupid slut,” he gasps, still trying to keep up the façade. “gonna force me to make a mess? your pussy is already drooling all over me and you want more? shit—you better cum with me then, idiot.”

but his cock is practically kissing your cervix and his fingers abuse your pretty clit, you’re practically bursting with how bad you wanna cum. “kei!” you cry, doing your best to meet his movements, practically sobbing when you finally release. your walls involuntarily constrict, tightening around tsukishima’s cock. he goes feral, grunting, groaning, and cursing about how good your “fucking pussy” feels before he’s shooting his load inside you, seeing stars behind his eyes.

he collapses on top of you, a mess of sweat and limbs. sometimes you wonder who gets more fucked out between the two of you. the next few minutes are spent running your fingers through his hair and whispering sweet words. he only lets you coddle him like this after fucking your brains out. he props himself up on his elbows after a while, adoration in his eyes.

you can’t help yourself. “that good?” you ask again.

one of his hands reaches for your throat, not pressing down but holding you in place. “don’t make me fuck you ‘til you cry, brat.” he warns before kissing you. his own special way of saying “i love you too”

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei smut #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima #tsukki smut #haikyu #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #1k event #peach has 1k followers #🍑#🍑tsukishima #cardi b voice: pussy so good I put dudes to sleep like jigglypuff sksksksk

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noteguk · 3 years

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bro bad influence! jk and reader are 100% the type of couple to argue mid-sex i love this culture

They are!!!!

Taglist: @ft-multi @cryinginmypromdress @kooafraid @kissestothesky @dianaaviny @ggukkieland

[ ! ] this drabble is for “bad influence” — it can, however, be read as a standalone.

— words; 1.8k

— contents and warnings; hmmm smut, semi-public sex, oral (m rec and mention of f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of cum play, playfully “arguing” mid-sex, the endless adventures of bad boy!jk x good girl! reader

“I can’t believe you, Jungkook,” your voice came out as an irritated murmur against the warm skin of his neck, barely interrupted by a soft whimper. “We’re gonna be late for class.”

His hand grew tighter around your thigh, pushing your leg higher up. Jungkook was buried deep between your folds, filling you up in every way that you loved, and yet you were a bit too paranoid to fully dive into those sensations. “Hmmm don’t care,” he groaned, the slaps of his skin against yours filling that small cabinet in a rhythmic symphony. Twice already, a broom had fallen on top of you, knocking you right on the forehead, and so you refused to let it go. That entire scene was ridiculous. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned.

You rolled your eyes, amazed at how he managed to ignore everything else but the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The fact that you two were having a quickie in the janitor’s closet, exactly fifteen minutes before your most important class, was bad enough as it was. Your escapade was far from heavenly, with the stiff air impregnated by the nauseating aroma of a hundred different chemical products, the annoyingly flickering lightbulb over you, and, as stated, the paraphernalia that was knocked over every time Jungkook’s thrusts got a little too rough.

“God, why are you like this?” you complained.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your flesh. You could tell that Jungkook was starting to lose himself in you, for the roll of his hips started to get slower, less coordinated, as they always did when he was trying to prolong his pleasure. “Like what?” He breathed out.

You leaned your head back against the wall, looking at those devilish eyes of his. Jungkook’s hair was a mess, exploding around his head like a failed scientific experiment, and you knew that one look was all it took to know that it was sex hair. “Why do you always have to pick the worst time to do this stuff?” you clarified.

He scoffed. “Excuse me, princess, I think it was you who locked us in here,” he said. He wasn’t wrong, but, to be fair, you weren’t expecting that your make-out session would escalate to that. Then again, you were often naive when it came to his antics. “Now stay quiet or people are going to hear you.”

“Fuck off,” you whispered — whispered, because he was right. You had been controlling your moans and whimpers fairly well, but your normal speaking voice wasn’t a good idea either. There was no way to lock the room from the inside, and anyone could open that door at any given second.

Jungkook smirked like he knew what you were thinking about — that fucked-out, greek god smirk that had your knees weak for a second. His face was bathed by the golden light from the bulb, dripping in shadows and lustful gazes. “Wrong answer,” he teased. “You were supposed to say ‘Oh, Jungkook, I can’t keep quiet when you’re fucking me so well’.”

As if to prove his claim, Jungkook placed his face on the crook of your neck and pressed himself even deeper inside you. The feeling of his cock stretching you open was intoxicating, and the timid moan you let out was enough to make him throb inside you, gasping against the sweet scent of your hair.

Still, you wouldn’t bulge. “Gooood, shut up, please,” you whined, interlacing your fingers in his hair. There was a thin layer of sweat on his nape, the expected result from fucking in a hot, closed-off enviroment. “Are you close?”

“Yeah, almost there,” he moaned, picking his pace back up. You had to bite your lip to suppress a particularly loud moan after one of his hands slithered up your abdomen and grabbed your clothed breast, playing with it as he continued to seek his own high. His other hand still had its iron grip on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he continued to pound himself in and out of your wet heat. “Fuck, I love these skirts you wear. Easy access.”

“You’re such a caveman,” you said. Jungkook was breathing heavy against your ear, fighting for air as he mumbled sweet nothings just for you. You were almost overtaken by him — the pounding of his cock inside your pussy, his delicious moans and curses, the praises that he threw your way for being so good for him. Almost. “Don’t cum inside.”

Jungkook visibly tensed up at your request. You could tell that some part of his primitive brain was thinking of repeating one of his past endeavours — one that he came inside you, and made you walk around campus with his cum in you for the rest of the day. It was really hard to keep an upper hand when Jungkook was always knowingly smirking at you from across the room, loving the way that only the two of you knew of that little nasty secret.

(Miraculously, it was one of the few times that he didn’t feel slightly jealous when he saw you talking to other guys, but you didn’t have to know that).

Still, you weren't wearing pants that day, so the whole ordeal wouldn’t be so easy to hide.

A small whimper left his throat as he leaned forward, placing a wet kiss against your lips. You were looking at him with those big, doll-like eyes of yours, and he couldn’t refuse your request even if he wanted to fill you up so bad. “Awn, you’re so mean,” he whined, forehead touching yours. Every shove of his cock inside you had you bouncing up and down against the wall, that stupid broom threatening to tilt once again. “Can I cum in your mouth, baby?”

You hummed, trying to torture him with a fake thinking session. “Don’t know…” You hesitated. Jungkook cursed against your shoulder, his cock throbbing inside you once again. “Do you have gum?”

“Jesus, woman,” he complained, almost choking on his own pleasure. “Yeah, I have gum. Can I do it?”

You smiled. “Suit yourself.” You had to use all the force inside you to place your hands on his shoulders and push him away. Jungkook almost sobbed when he pulled himself out of your heat, his cock glistening with your wetness, swollen and reddened. “And cum quickly or I’ll kill you.”

You got to your knees before Jungkook had the chance to respond, your hand wrapping around his base and pumping him tentatively. He bucked his hips towards you, hissing at the sensitivity. “Listen, I’m really fucking close,” he told you, “and I don’t think you’d fancy a facial right now, so stop with that teasing.”

You chuckled at his comment, fumbling closer to him. “You know me too well.”

With that, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sinking his member inside your mouth until it almost reached your throat. Jungkook cried out in delight, louder than he had the entire time, and you were sure any passing strangers had heard him.

Yet your paranoia was forgotten when he started talking.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, placing his hand on the back of your head and tugging at your hair. Jungkook guided your movements with little force, watching as you had your fun around his cock — sucking and slurping him like it was the best thing in the world, the tears that accumulated at the corners of your eyes looking like a divine gift to him. “God, I love when you suck my cock, fuck—“

You moaned around him, the vibrations feeling like heaven to the boy. With a few more pumps of your mouth around him, Jungkook was coming undone with a loud hiss and a desperate buckle of his hips, calling out your name as he released his cum inside you. “Swallow everything,” his voice was hoarse as he told you that, meeting your watery eyes as you fought to drink every drop of his cum that you could. Jungkook smirked at your efforts, fingers caressing your scalp as you finished cleaning him up. “Good girl.”

You sighed happily at his praise, taking his hand as he helped you back on your feet. You could only hope that your knees wouldn’t be red by the time that you arrived at your classroom.

“Love watching you with my cock in your mouth, baby.” Jungkook leaned closer to you, wrapping his arms on your lower back. He gifted you with a quick peck on the lips, still breathing hard against your mouth. “I hate that you don’t let me snap a picture.”

You laughed at that, running one hand through his messy hair in an attempt to save it a bit. In the end, you decided it would be better if he just pushed it back. “I’m not an idiot, believe it or not.” You smiled. “Gum?”

Jungkook nodded and reached for his jacket’s pocket. “Here you go.” He handed you the small colorful wrapping. You promptly threw a piece in your mouth, humming at the sweet taste. He pouted. “You’re going to class like this? You didn’t cum, baby.”

“I’m aware,” you told him, fixing your panties and skirt. Jungkook didn’t seem to worry about the state of his pants, though, because he didn’t follow your movements. “But I’m not gonna be late to this class, today’s topic is half of what’s gonna be on the test. Pick me up after the lesson and maybe you can deal with my delayed orgasm situation. If I’m feeling nice.”

Jungkook smirked, pulling your body closer to his. “Hmmm, love when you boss me around.”

He kissed you again and, when the kiss started to get a bit too long for your liking, you pushed him away. “Jungkook, listen, I have two fucking minutes—“

“Okay, okay, go.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that his attempts at prolonging your little escapade wouldn’t be fruitful. Jungkook stepped back so he could tug himself back inside his underwear, and you turned around to open the door. As your fingers were curling around the handle, he made sure to add, “Don’t exhaust your wrist with all those notes, princess, you’re gonna need it later.”

And of course he smacked your ass when you walked out.

Thirty minutes after your class was over, Jungkook was happy to have his face buried between your thighs, eating you out on the backseat of his car. Suddenly, it seemed as if you weren’t so worried about being caught, because he never heard you moan so loud.

He made a mental note to do that more often.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

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thefanficmonster · 2 years

Text

Grey Area

Corpse Husband x Reader (She/They pronouns used)

Warnings: Jealousy, Swearing, Flirting

Genre: Fluff, Tiny bit of angst if you squint, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When Y/Ex/N is invited to join a game of Roblox, Squid Game edition, Corpse does not take it lightly, especially not when he’s flirting with his girlfriend Y/N.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete your request but I still hope you come across this fic and enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Note: Y/Ex/N - Your Ex’s Name

I stretch my up high, tilting my head to the side in an attempt to relieve the pressure that has been building up in my shoulders and neck for the past few hours. I’ve been working on a new animation project for a month now and, contrary to what I’ve been told, it doesn’t seem to get any easier. Worst part is that I can’t just get up and walk it off because I have a few more hours to sit through for a stream with my friends. Unlike the editing though, streaming brings me a lot more joy and is perfectly enough to distract from any pain that’s caused by the prolonged sitting at my desk with a below-par posture. Ok, that’s entirely my fault, but still!

The alarm I set on my phone goes off, signaling I should double-check the equipment and prepare to get on with the stream but not before saving the progress I’ve made with the project. I close the dozen tabs I’ve opened and the worksheets I didn’t even get the time to touch in the past forever but I promise myself I will.

While I’m doing so, I receive a text notification which is not too strange considering I can be quite an airhead to other things when I’m working on a project. And, to be fair, I have forgotten to tune into a stream in the past so my friends are just being wary and make sure to hold me accountable.

Checking it, it’s just what I expected - a text from Y/N.

Speaking of Y/N....I don’t know what to say really. I mean, we’re in this odd sort of grey area between friends with benefits (NOT the kind you’re thinking of, get your mind out the gutter) and actually dating. She’d never introduce me as her boyfriend but I would call her my girlfriend in a literal heartbeat. I’m head-over-heels for them and yet they never seem to be any closer to me than when we started talking. That being said, when someone asks me whether I’m single or taken, I can rightfully say that ‘it’s complicated’. But that be offensive to Y/N - she doesn’t see anything ‘complicated’ about what we have going on. She sees it as harmless fun, having no idea how much harm it can bring upon me if I start spiraling. They don’t understand that I often times feel like the problem is in me, that I’m the reason they don’t want to fully commit.

When I’m not spiraling, however, I tend to enjoy nothing more than just Y/N’s company. She’s a wonderful person despite all the back and forth that’s not even her fault. She’s done nothing to make me feel like I do. Yeah we talk a lot and yeah we’ve met IRL and we may or may not have kissed but that natural for two people with mutual attraction for one another. That doesn’t mean they are in a relationship though. I really need to stop projecting my wishes on what’s actually happening between us.

They promised me no promises after all.

Y/N: Heyy, stream in ten.

Yeah, just what I thought - a reminder about the stream My audience owe her a great deal for all the times she’s reminded me of a stream when I’d completely forgotten.

Me: Dw, I remember.

She sends back a koala emoji which invites a smile to dawn on my face for the first time today. That emoji has no real meaning to any conversation she sends it to, she’s just told me it’s her favorite so I’ve allowed her to spam me with it every time we talk.

I don’t mind. What makes them happy makes me happy too.

I go grab a snack in the ten minutes I have to spare until I have to start my stream, I take my medication and fill up a bottle of water which I promised Y/N I’d keep on my desk every time I stream and not only that but also drink it which has proven to be a challenge I ended up getting used to. I no longer lose myself in a stream so much so to the point of forgetting to hydrate. I owe them big time for that.

I settle down and start the stream, greeting the people who’ve been waiting for that for almost an hour now. As I talk to my viewers I jump into the Discord call where my friends have accumulated including Rae, Y/N, Sykkuno, Emma, Tina, Karl, Dream, Toast and Sapnap and a username I don’t recognize. I brush it off though, it’s far from the first time we’ve had people invited to the streams, it makes the whole experience more fun and more amusing for our audience to enjoy. It also benefits me personally, helping me with my social skills which I’d say are still under construction.

“Hey everyone.“ I greet them, “I’m on time for once, I think I deserve a round of applause for that.“

“Yeah, as if.“ I can practically hear Emma’s eye roll as she says that, making me wheeze out a laugh.

“Hey Corpse! I’d like you to meet someone!“ Y/N’s cheery voice emanates from the crowd, bringing that all-too-familiar smile to my face and warmth in my chest. “Come on, Y/Ex/N, say something!“

“Ok, ok jeez!“ Says a male voice which I don’t recognize, “Um...hi? I’m Y/Ex/N, Y/N’s ex boyfriend. I take it you’re Corpse, she’s told me plenty about you.“

I don’t really know how to feel about this. On one hand, she’s been blabbering to him about me which would typically make me grin like an idiot, but on the other hand, he’s here. He’s their ex and yet he’s here which means there’s probably no bad blood between them which, if I’m being honest, doesn’t sit the rightest with me. “Uh, yeah that’s me. Nice to meet you.“

He reciprocates my faux enthusiasm surrounding his introduction to me but I play it off cool as we get over that bump and start chatting about what level we’ll be playing. Emma, who’s just finished watching Squid Game suggested we do the glass bridge mod and, due to the excitement she said that with, we all agreed we could do that as a start to the stream.

“Remember how stressed you were while watching this scene in the show?“ Asks Y/Ex/N with a chuckle that causes Y/N to scoff.

“What I don’t understand is how you could’ve been so calm! I genuinely thought my favorite character would die!“ She complains, making him laugh which makes my blood boil - I feel like such a dick now that I admit it. It shouldn’t bother me at all. This is all in the past, they split back in August as far as I know, so none of it matters anymore. It’s been five months, why is it still bugging me?

“I’m never watching a show with you again!“ They continue, still with the same defensive yet accusatory tone.

“You’ve said that so many times, it never sticks! We’ve watched Bridgerton and the entirety of YOU since then!“ The guy says matter-of-factly and a little too casually for my liking especially since what he thinks is normal makes me clench my jaw and want to fake a technical issue and ditch this dumpster fire.

“Mark my words! We. Are. Never. Watching. Anything. Together. Ever. Again!“ She puts emphasize on each word, playing the picture perfect role of frustration but anyone who knows her can tell she’s saying it all with a smile and a barely contained laughter.

“Aww, did I upset you, koala?“ He asks in a mocking tone, causing my stomach to drop.

Koala....is that why it’s her favorite emoji? Is it because he used to call them that when they were in a relationship? Or is it a chicken and the egg type of situation. Did he start calling them that because it’s their favorite animal and emoji? I need answers. I need them but I don’t really want them. I don’t wanna know if the chicken came first or the egg - one version is gonna kick my heart’s ass and the other is still gonna sting like a bitch regardless.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to commit, cause she’s still hung up on him. Cause there’s still something between them even if they’re not in an official relationships. They are still hung up on one another.

Before I can carry out my dipping plan, Y/N is quick to speak up sassily as she usually does when confronted with fake mockery like that, “Indeed you did, which is why I’ll send my boyfriend to come kick your ass.”

The audibly confuses and shocks Y/Ex/N, “Uh, your boyfriend?” For the first time since knowing him, we’re on the same page about something - confusion.

“Yeah!“ They, on the other hand sound like this is a well-known trivial fact that he and probably the rest of us were supposed to know already, “Corpse.“

My stomach drops yet again but this time because of a whole different reason and caused by the complete opposite emotion. I mean, it’s still shock that’s at play but a different type of it.

“Corpse? Why didn’t you tell me you guys were dating, I would’ve congratulated you!“ Y/Ex/N sounds too genuine for me to be able to try and deny his honesty behind that statement, “Truth be told, you speak with such passion and adoration about him I could tell there were some feelings there but didn’t know you’d made it official! Congrats, I’m so happy for the two of you!“

He is, that’s the kicker - he actually sounds happy. And honestly I’m happy for us too.

“Don’t worry, Y/Ex/N, we were none the wiser up until this point either.“ Says Rae who too sounds astonished.

“Don’t worry any of you, I didn’t know either.“ I chip in, probably sounding convincing enough for them all to laugh, including Y/N.

I’m still caught up in the high, still overtaken by the aftershocks of that whiplash when my phone buzzes and scares the life out of me.

Y/N: :))

I can’t help but wheeze at the sight of that innocent text following the bomb she just dropped on the entire VC.

Me: I’d say putting someone in a relationship without their consent is highly inappropriate

My message is marked as ‘Seen’ immediately, the three bouncing dots appearing at the left bottom corner of my phone screen a second later.

Y/N: Well, if you had read the signs it wouldn’t have had to come to this, Corpse ;P

They’ve got a point there: if I had made my move the many times I had the chance to I would’ve saved us so much time and could’ve kept us out of that godforsaken grey area. I would’ve avoided so many sleepless nights and spirals in the shower. Instead, I could’ve spent so much time with her.

I’m a serious dumbass.

Me: Ok I guess that’s fair

Fuck you, grey area! I’m leaving you once and for all!

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Note

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #anon ask #anon request

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