#like. my heart aches for her thinking about what she's going through after london

[yusufstits]

thinking about nile having nightmares and not being able to sleep post london and then being very tired during the day and taking naps on whoever's around

#like. my heart aches for her thinking about what she's going through after london #debating whether it's safe to contact her family and knowing she'll outlive them and could put them in danger if she does contact them #her friends completely ostracizing her after she came back to life #(once again. what the fuck they should have been so happy??) #so she's completely separated from her former life and is dealing with that loss #the trauma of killing and being killed #like given that she had nightmares about the man she killed in afghanistan i imagine she would also have nightmares a #about the people she killed during the rescue #and this would bring up a lot of complicated emotions and possibly a bit of identity crisis/self reflection on her being a marine #all of this plus being dropped into a group of people who've known each other for hundreds of years + mortal andy - exiled booker #anyway... she is going through a Lot #but: going back to “tell us” i think they would try to take care of her #and talk about her nightmares #(but also. there might be reluctance from nile to share or joe/nicky/andy to ask when she wakes up gasping #because what if she dreamt of quynh. like that's a whole other dimension - do they want to hear about it because it means she's alive #or do they not want to think of her dying over and over. i imagine nile would wrestle with this at first) #ok i got off track the point is. nile taking naps on andy nicky and joe and being comforted. i think that would be nice for her and everyon #there is a lot happening emotionally and andy has to heal physically and they all need to heal emotionally #so. naptime #sorry these tags are so long lol i had more thoughts than i thought #the old guard

[in-a-mountain-pool]

The Boy Who Swallowed a Dragon's Fire

Aemond Targaryen x Original Character (Reader)

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: T

warnings: So fluffy it made me feel sick~

word count: 4500+

summary: Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. This is, until the night of the hunt to celebrate your younger sister's marriage to her Lannister lion of a husband.

"You live inside my memories, you live forever into the melody of a brook, in the colour of this sky, in the fragrance of flowers."

The Promise of the World

authors note: I have returned from my holibobs! I've been listening to Joe Hisaishi for weeks as I've been lucky enough to get tickets to see him in London! I couldn't stop thinking about Aemond whenever I heard "A Walk in the Skies" from Howl's Moving Castle, and suddenly this little plot bunny formed. As always, likes, comments and reblogs are not a requirement, but lovely to return to. Huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @bottlesandbarricades for reading over this!

You had always hated the hunt.

Even more so the feasts afterwards and the raucous way the men would stomp around in all their armour and grandeur, proud to be covered in the blood of whatever poor animal they'd had the dumb luck to stumble upon in the woods.

The grounds of the Eyrie were covered in a rainbow patchwork of tents of all shapes and sizes. From the sky blue and silver colours of your own family to the deep black and red hues of the house of the dragon; anyone who was anyone was in attendance for this summer's eve. Smoke and the smells of spoils of barbecued boar and deer filled the air, spilt wine and blood-soaked deep into the ground beneath their feet. 

And all of this, was to celebrate the wedding of your younger sister, the Lady Myranda Arryn, to her golden Lannister Lion of a husband. 

You were the second daughter of the Lord of the Vale, and much to your parent’s despair, the only remaining daughter unmarried; the Lady Robyn Arryn. You had been overlooked almost all of your life, the short one with mousy brown hair and a face you had been told was 'fair but plain' on more than one occasion. When you had been lined up to greet the crowds of prospective Lord's your father had hoped to wed you to, yours was a face they often forgot. 

Whilst your sisters had spent their opening seasons being dragged onto the dance floors of halls all over Westeros, you had often remained on the sidelines, slipping out as early as possible to peruse the vast libraries of the great houses you had been so lucky to visit. You still remembered the day you visited the libraries of the Red Keep after the wedding of King Viserys and Alicent Hightower. Even at the innocent age of five it had left a great impression on your mind and soul.

Ever since, your heart had ached to read every book you could get your hands on, to visit the great citadel at Hightower and to seek out the secrets of the magical world around you. The smell of an old library full of scrolls and parchment was your idea of home, of heaven… yet here you were sitting in a muggy tent at an ungodly hour, pretending to seem impressed when your new golden-haired brother-in-law brandishes the pike he'd used to gut the very boar you were eating. 

You can hardly hide the distaste on your face as he shoves the pike into his squire’s hands and takes a long swig from an obnoxiously large tankard of ale, with a bejewelled lions head on the side, before pulling your sister onto his lap to stick his tongue down her throat. 

With a snivelling sneer he proclaimed out loud, "I do not know what a finer conquest is, the boar I stuck this morn, or the falcon I'm going to stick tonight!"

The room explodes with the sounds of the laughter of drunken men, slamming their glasses on tables and cheering on the young lion who currently had his hand up your younger sister’s skirt.

You could hardly stand it, the disrespect, the brazen attitude of it all. Memories of your sister's childhood rush through your mind, her love of the great romantic knights, tales of gentle touches, roses and chivalry… none of which were present in this tent, at this lavish wedding party. Bile raised in your throat as a deep-seated anger filled your body, and you stand up suddenly to speak, the throw pillows underneath you falling to the ground.

Before you can spit out your vitriol, you feel a large hand on your shoulder. It was your father. He pulls you to the side pressing a goblet of wine into your hands, whispering harshly to you over bards playing the Rains of Castamere. You swore they'd already played it at least five times this eve.

"Robyn. You will do well to remember yourself. The Lannisters are family now. You should be proud of your young sister. Tis’ a good match." 

You barely get to open your mouth in protest when you notice your father’s eyes flash to someone across the room, and before you know it, his hand is pressed to your back, guiding you towards a crooked old man who must have been at least twice your age. 

"Lord Royce! Have you met my fair Daughter, Lady Robyn?" 

Lord Royce looks you up and down with a disgusting glint in his eye, licking his lips to catch the wine he'd almost poured down his chin just a second before. You see he has a few teeth missing, and a slight shaking in the hand clutching at his wine. 

"I do believe we have; I was present at her christening in the Sept of Baelor. My, how she has grown. A Lady now indeed." He drawls, slurring his words.

Your father gives him a tight smile and gestures between you both drunkenly, before shooting you a glare and all but shoving you towards the older man, "Well then, you will have much to talk about and catch up on! Mayhap a dance on this joyous of occasions?"

"Father, I-" There was no time to express your displeasure, for Lord Royce had already dragged you to the centre of the tent, his gnarled hand wrapped around yours in a vice grip and his ringed fingers digging into your skin painfully. He spun you around in time with the other dancers, his hand lingering on your waist for all too longer than necessary at every opportunity. The smell of his breath was pungent and rotten as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.

"To think I have not laid eyes on you since you were a babe." Lord Royce's hand slips down your waist to your hip and further still to squeeze at the soft swell of your behind with a wicked chuckle. "You are a babe no longer it seems…"

A soft yelp escapes your throat, your eyes wide with shock and fear. No one had even noticed you shriek, the music too loud, the flow of wine too heady, the heat of the night all too great. You wretch your body away from him in distaste.

"My Lord, forgive me but you forget your manners! Touch me again and I will summon my sword." 

A cruel grin spreads across his face, his missing teeth giving a lispy rasp to his voice as he suppresses his own laughter. "It makes no difference to me, I am afraid. Your sword is soon to be my sword, my dear. Tis' already decided. We had best practice our dances, for soon we will be dancing at our very own wedding feast."

 A cold chill runs down your spine as the reality of the situation hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. Father planned to marry you to Lord Royce. He needed to secure his Bannerman. You were the last unmarried daughter. It was two birds with one stone. 

You stumble backwards, almost tripping on a discarded tankard on the floor of the tent, shaking your head over and over. It couldn't be true. Surely Father wouldn't be so heartless? Your vision tunnels as your feet carry you away hastily out of the tent and into the humid summer air, all to the sound of Lord Royce's cruel laughter.

Your slippered feet ache as you run away, disoriented and panting, tears streaming down your face. Shakily you grab a black discarded cape hung on the back of a chair, shrouding yourself and running as fast as you can through the hunt. 

Colours of the great houses flash you by, the white falcon, the rich gold and reds of the lion, the silver wolf, all passing over you in a blur… and when you finally stop, you've ran so far you had hardly noticed the colours had turned black as night, with the blood red sigil of the three-headed dragon flying lazily upon banners in the dull summer's breeze. 

You were no longer in the Lion's den; you'd wandered somewhere far more frightening… straight into the Dragon's hoard. Only your father, sister and her new husband had been allowed into the royal tents, to present themselves to the good King Viserys. If they caught you here alone and unchaperoned your reputation would be ruined.

With shaking hands, you wrap the dirty cloak around your shoulders tighter to hide the rich azure blue of your dress, as you creep away from the large tents and towards the woods at the outskirts of the camp. It was either you brave the dangers of the wood for the night, or return to the clutches of Lord Royce.

With a heavy heart you plunge deeper into the darkness of the woods. Settling upon a tree stump beside a small creek, your gaze falls upon your once silver slippers, now ruined and caked in mud. There was once a time when you would have cared about such a thing, but now all you could feel was numbness in your soul which made your whole body cold. Your hands were tied and there was nowhere to run. Life was not a beautiful song, or a romantic tale of heroes and great loves. You break into a sob, burying your face into your hands, heaving breaths leaving your chest.

You had done well to get away without an arranged marriage for this long. At the age of twenty-five you had come to be considered an old maid amongst the court. Now, gone was the age of innocence, and the dreams that you might one day experience true love. 

*Crack* 

The silence of the wood and the night air was broken by the snapping of twigs underfoot, as slowly from the distance two figures emerged from the brush. Your body freezes as you see the sigil on their breastplates. A shower of pebbles upon an orange square. It was two knights sworn to the House Royce. They saunter over to you smirking, as you scurry off the stump to lean against a great oak trunk protectively. The larger of the two men places his hand to lean just above your head, peering down at you with a smirk.

 "Looks like a little falcon chick has lost her way."

 You shake your head nervously, paling as you realise that you are so deep into the woods that no one would hear you scream. No matter how hard you try. 

"No- No, I'm not lost. I-"

They share a look between them, reeking of ale and blood.

"I think this little falcon chick looks thirsty. I think we should take her for a cup of ale, don't you? Lord Royce wouldn't mind."

His eyes flicker to yours with a glassy look, he was drunk, they both were. And you'd heard stories of what drunk men like him did to women like you.

"No, no thank you. My sister will be expecting me."

They lean closer still, the smaller one getting so close you can feel the heat of his body towering over you.

"She's pretty cute for a little falcon chick. How old are you, anyway? You live up in the big castle, dontcha?" He tries to grab at your wrist, but you wrestle it away violently.

"Leave me alone!"

The taller man chuckled darkly, shooting a derisive look at the shorter knight, "You see? Your big old beard always scares off the pretty girls."

"So? I'd say she's even cuter when she's scared, don't you think?" 

You decide your only chance is to run. You'd never outrun them, but you had to try. Blood starts pumping through your veins, the adrenaline hitting you as you get ready to sprint, but as soon as you try to retreat away your back hits something hard and warm… and a slender hand places itself gently on your shoulder.

A deep voice speaks down into your ear, tickling warmly at the soft skin of your neck.

"There you are sweetheart, sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you."

The two men stand up straighter ready to fight with their hands upon the hilts of their broadswords.

"Hey- can you not see that we're busy here? Lord Royce wants her back in one piece." 

The cloaked man behind you grips your shoulder tighter still, almost protectively. The only part of him visible to you is the curling of his lips, which seemed to twitch at the knight's words uneasily. The deep voice behind you lets out a dark chuckle before he brandishes a large sword with a black hilt, shining in the moonlight… Valyrian steel.

"Are you really? It looked to me that the two of you were just leaving."

At the sight of Valyrian steel the two men cower and shift themselves quickly, bowing at the mystery man and sprinting off into the dark of the wood. Slowly the tall man takes down his hood, and the first thing that strikes you is the glinting of long silver hair in the moonlight… and a single lilac eye searching yours.

It was him, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Aemond One-Eye. 

He reaches up ever so gently to take down the hood of your dirtied cloak, his finger brushing your cheek tentatively as he does so before he takes your hand in his and bows down to kiss the back of it with the ghost of a touch of his lips.

"Lady Robyn Arryn. My apologies for not finding you sooner. Where to? I will be your escort this evening."

Words fail you as he continues to hold your hand in his like it was made of porcelain. He almost has to bend down to speak to you he was so tall and imposing, yet there's a deep kindness in his eye that has you transfixed. You'd never met him, but you'd heard the stories. He was quiet and cruel. Studious. A loner through and through. And a demon with a sword. 

"Prince Aemond- I-" you try to courtesy, but he continues to hold your hand firmly, shaking his head and chuckling. 

"That won't be necessary. Now tell me, where do you wish to go? You must be desperate to brave the woods all on your own." He almost whispers as he speaks, his words delicate and falling off his tongue like the sweetest honey. 

You decide to tell the truth, you had no choice, he was the prince, and… he was startlingly handsome in a way that made your chest ache and your fingers itch.

"Please, my Prince, if you would escort me home? I- I cannot go back to the camp. I must not. My father- the Lord of the Vale, he wishes to marry me to Lord Royce the Elder and-"

Suddenly he lifts his hand to quiet you and surveys your surroundings, his sharp jawline prominent and strong against the night. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders, cradling you to his side and walking you both swiftly forward, as his silver hair tickles you at the collar of your low-cut dress.

"Don't be alarmed, but we’re being followed by more of his men. Just act normal."

Aemond is so close you can smell him. He was still wearing his riding leathers from the hunt, smelling like sweat, ash and the damp night air in a way that was all too intoxicating. There's something else there too, something smoky that you can't quite put your finger on. Aemond's touch was different from any other man that had placed their hands on you. He felt safe, warm, inviting and oh so protective of you.

You steal a look at his face in the moonlight as you walk and find he's far more beautiful than the stories give him credit for. It was true what they said that Targaryen's were closer to gods than men, for the beautiful creature next to you could hardly even be human. His profile was enough to make you ache with desire in a way no man had ever produced in you. 

*Snap* 

Another twig cracked underfoot. Aemond's face dipped down once again close to yours to whisper into your ear, watching your face carefully. 

"More of Royce's men. It would appear I am to become involved in a scandal." Aemond sighs and growls slightly in annoyance. His hand releases your shoulder and slides down, enveloping your own in a strong grip. "Now, when I say run, run, ok?"

Further twigs start to snap underfoot behind you, the sound of chainmail in the distance now impossible to ignore.

"This way. Run!" He whispers, pulling you along with him.

His long legs pelt into the ground, his cloak billowing behind him, and his silver hair shining like starlight under the full moon. It's a challenge keeping up with him, his legs are so much longer than yours, but he never let's go for even a moment. All of a sudden you're pulled into a large opening in the woods and a strange burning smell fills your nose… as you’re brought face to face with the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar.

“Wha- Prince Aemond!? What are you suggesting? You can’t be serious!” Your feet dig into the ground as you pull against him, but this only makes him grin wider and chuckle darkly. The rational part of your brain tells you he’s insane, that the stories were indeed true and that you should scream… but then a flicker of wonder appeared in your mind, the very same flicker you felt when you stood in the library in the Red Keep all those years ago.

There in front of you in the flesh was a real dragon, over 150 years old. And beside her, a silver-haired, Targaryen prince. This is it; you think to yourself. All those books you had read, all those stories of old, stories of good triumphing over evil… here was your chance to live it.

“Oh, I’m deadly serious. You do want to go home, do you not? The Eyrie is situated on the top of a mountain, as I recall. Vhagar and I can have you home and in bed safe and sound in mere moments...” He teases excitedly, before his voice and face drops to a more serious and soft tone, his long index finger coming up to raise your chin to look him directly into his eye.

“… Can you trust me?”

The sounds of shouting and swords leaving their hilts echo behind you. Your eyes shift from his striking face down to his hand as he reaches it out to you invitingly. Inhaling a deep breath and closing your eyes for a moment, you utter out an answer grasping his hand in yours.

“Yes. I trust you.”

A small smile you almost miss etches itself onto his face before he leads you swiftly over to the old dragon, pulling on a large black leather coat and passing you his dark hooded cloak.

“You will need the extra layer, my Lady. Now... May I lift you? You will need to climb up to the saddle, and I fear we do not have much time.”

A deep pink blush covers your cheeks at the thought of his strong arms carrying you. There is barely any time to squeak out a small ‘yes’ before Aemond is grasping you at the waist and thrusting you up onto the ropes leading up to Vhagar’s saddle. His hands are so large on your body that they almost encompass your middle section completely. Aemond follows closely behind, catching you a few times to steady you as your foot misses the gaps in the ropes clumsily.

You pull yourself up with a strength you never knew you had, settling into the saddle nervously. You could feel Vhagar breathing underneath you, feel her stretching out at the command of Aemond who was shouting out words in a tongue you’d never heard before. Of course… he was speaking High Valyrian.

“Rȳbagon naejot nyke, Vhagar. Heed ñuha udra.” Ready yourself, Vhagar. Heed my words.

Aemond all but jumps up to the saddle, and with a heavy thud he settles himself behind you. When he scoots forwards to grab at the chains hanging at your side, an even deeper blush covers your face and neck, heat pooling in your stomach. The hard plane of his chest presses against your back, the top of his thighs nudging the underside of your own, now bare as you straddle the seat.

“My apologies, Lady Robyn, but I must strap us to the saddle, and you to me lest we fall.” He laughs softly as he feels you tense against him in fear. “But we won’t, I promise you. I’d never let any harm come to you.”

With deft hands he ties the chains across your lap and his, wrapping a rope around your waist to secure you to him. All at once it hits you just how crazy the situation had become.

“Prince Aemond… I’m frightened! Please, let me off! I can’t do this!”

Aemond leans forward to grab for the reins, his arms tight either side of you, and his chin just above your ear. With hushed tones, he stops you, whispering into your ear.

“Yes. Yes, you can. You are of the Vale. You are of the sky. You and I are made of the same… We own the skies, little Falcon.”

Determination fills you, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You had to do whatever it takes. You would make your own destiny. You would make it out of here. You place your hands on the reigns next to his, so small and delicate next to his large strong fists.

“That’s my girl…” He murmurs, and you swear you can feel the crinkle of his smile against your hair before he shouts out to Vhagar.

“Vhagar, ñuha jorrāelagon, urnēptre īlva se nūmāzma hen speed!” Vhagar, my love, show us the meaning of speed! 

Aemond places his hand over yours suddenly on the rope, making your heart surge.

“Hold on!”

With a deep rumble, the ground shakes, it feels like the Earth is turning when Vhagar moves to stand on her haunches. Already you are above the trees, and she had not even taken off yet. Vhagar lets out a deep roar stretching her neck into the sky, the screams of Lord Royce’s men in the woods beneath echoing around her as they scramble to run away. She stretches out her wings beating them and like a hurricane they ascend into the night sky.

The forests fade beneath you, deep greens become soft pillowy whites as you soar into the clouds together. After a short while Vhagar’s wings extend, bringing you to a slow glide just above the clouds.

“Now, straighten your posture against me… and see, you’re flying!”

A rich and infectious laugh leaves his throat as the wind surrounds you. The careful pins and ties in your hair are long forgotten, your hair now cascading behind you, flying free.

You can’t help it, you’re not sure if it’s the euphoria of the dragon flight, the drama of the night, or the way Aemond had wrapped himself around you so, but soon you’re laughing with him, exclaiming out loud in a way that was hardly lady-like.

“See? My dear, you are a natural!”

“Prince Aemond, this is incredible! Vhagar, she is magnificent!”

“Se dōna riña thinks iksā gevie, Vhagar!” The sweet girl thinks you are beautiful, Vhagar! Aemond releases a deep belly laugh, slapping the side of Vhagar’s neck fondly.

With a shaking roar, a shooting of flames and sparks spit from Vhagar’s mouth.

He cranes his neck to look at you closely, a warm smile gracing his cat-like lips. “I think she likes you, Lady Robyn! Why don’t you tell her yourself!”

“I am thoroughly impressed, Vhagar! You are a first-class dragon; I adore your spark!” You shout to the ancient dragon as loud as you can against the rushing winds, almost as if you were praising a rather large scaly cat. The rumble that leaves her jaws sounds like a purr, almost the same way her master was chuckling behind you.

Beneath you the clouds become a mismatch of greens and multicoloured tents as you approach the grounds of the Eyrie. From up here you could see the ancient castle in all its beauty. Situated in the Mountains of the Moon and surrounded by cotton clouds, at this height it almost seemed small, like a child’s playset. The waterfall, Alyssa’s tears cascaded down the side of the Giant’s Lance, reflecting off the marble walls of High Hall.

“It’s beautiful… It’s gorgeous, Aemond! It’s like a dream…” For the first time in years, you feel truly alive, and it’s all because of him.

With a whoosh of her wings, Vhagar descends towards the castle and the Maiden’s Tower and it hits you that Aemond really meant what he’d said about having you home and in bed before you knew it.

“Prince Aemond… You’re not- You don’t expect me to climb through the window?!”

A snickering laugh escapes him as he presses his head against yours. You swear for a moment you can feel him smelling your hair, the thought making your thighs clench.

“Of course not. I intend to carry you through the window.”

“What?!” You utter before he shouts over your protests to his Dragon.

“Konīr Vhagar, tegun īlva!” There Vhagar! Land us. 

Vhagar’s wings billow out behind her, as she hovers down, clutching to the mountainside and the tower, bringing you level with the balcony of your chambers.

Quietly and ever so gently, he undoes the chains around you both, and the soft rope securing you to his front. Aemond swings his legs to the side, and clambers down the ropes at Vhagar’s large neck. There’s a confident look in his eyes and a glint of warmth as he reaches his arms out towards you, one leg propped up onto the edge of the balcony.

“Come down with me… I promise I’ll catch you. Vhagar already loves you, she’ll be still.”  

You take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling before you climb down slowly and turn to face the Prince. His words from earlier echo in your mind… Trust me.

And you did. Without any hesitation you jump from the ropes and into the warm, strong arms of Aemond Targaryen. He cradles you to him in a bridal carry, strong legs pushing you forward through the balcony doors to place you down softly on the chaise lounge next to your fireplace.

A thousand thoughts run through your head as he lingers closely to you, laying you down gently. Aemond’s lilac eye searches yours intensely, his hand still resting beneath your neck, caressing the soft hairs at the nape.

“My lady… Robyn… you were spectacular tonight,” He swallows softly as his gaze slides down to your slim neck and collarbones, whispering your house words to himself as much as you in wonder, “As High as Honor.”

Slowly, he leans forward, staring at your bottom lip passionately. Your eyes flutter shut, your eyelashes batting against your cheek. With a gentle caress of your hair, he presses the tenderest of kisses, the only kiss you’d ever had, to your lips.

It lasted but a moment, but you knew it would stay with you forever.

Aemond pulls away gingerly, his silver hair tickling your chest. Like a knight from a storybook, he stands up tall and bows, taking your hand in his to kiss at the back of it with unearthly grace.

“… My lady, do not leave your room, keep the door locked… I will return to you soon.”

He moves to leave quickly, the sound of Vhagar rumbling outside the balcony doors. Before he can clamber over the side of the fencing you find the courage to stop him, calling from your room.

“Aemond! Aemond wait… Where are you going?”

With a flick of his silver hair, he throws a radiant smile to you over his shoulder, his lilac eye shining in the moonlight.

“To see my father. You will not be wed to Lord Royce… And I plan to fly with you till the end of my days.”

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #howl's moving castle #hotd fanfiction #aemond one eye #fics by me

[look-at-the-soul]

All we’d ever need (Part 5)

Tommy Shelby x reader

The master mind behind this idea: @lyarr24 Thank you Lee-Anne! For challenging me with this brilliant idea!

This series master list

Master list

A/N: ⚠️ There’s angst specially in the end, it’s a difficult topic, I kindly suggest discretion. I would like to clarify it doesn’t represent my thoughts or beliefs, remember this is fiction. ✨

A bottle of whiskey and a sleepless night had been his company when Y/N left.

There was a hole in his heart, a constant ache that he could feel with each breath, losing her was something he wasn’t going to allow, now losing her and his baby was unthinkable. He didn’t know how much he wanted it until he came back home late from the Garrison and started going through the things Polly had brought Y/N, there was a baby rattle and a mobile toy for the crib or basket that obviously she had made back then.

It was hard to believe that after his broken family, going to the war, being betrayed, he would find love, the kind that goes sneaking around without you noticing at first and then when you do realize, it’s all over the place and you don’t even know from where it hit you, it’s just there at every corner of his faithless soul to change everything around.

He was scared of not knowing what to do with that kind of love at the beginning but soon, Y/N started showing him around as the most patience tour guide.

Now, their love was expanding, growing.

But his worry over what could’ve happen to Y/N made him react in a cold way at first. The argument went out of hand, he should’ve calmed down, he knew that keeping from him the fact that she was pregnant wasn’t just out the blue, but he needed to know why Y/N didn’t go to him first.

Maybe he didn’t show it, but deep down apart from being scared, he was excited, thrilled to know he would be a father.

He had been visiting her daily, two or three times a day sometimes. The situation made him think as if he was starting a courtship with Y/N. Tea and small talk in the living room, and don’t you even dare to lean in to kiss Y/N or her father would shot him in the forehead.

There was a glimpse of sadness in her eyes, and it was killing him not being able to do anything. Tommy had tried to kiss her once, but apparently the taste of alcohol on his lips gave her nausea and she ran to the toilet to throw up.

There was a broken bridge between them now and he felt like he almost had to ask for permission to touch her.

“Miss Y/LN, Mr. Shelby is waitin-”

“Thank you, Rita I can announce myself.” And just like that, Tommy made his way inside of the room that Polly had for her in her house.

He was working on the task Campbell and the fenians gave him, needed her comfort, needed to feel her close to him.

“Polly is away with Michael, they went to London.” Stopping the drawing she was making, Y/N looked at the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you, to make sure you’re doing alright.” Slowly, Tommy approached her. “To ask how is the baby.”

Last night, alone in his bed, he had some time to think about it, the bed seemed so big and empty without her. He was willing to do anything to get her back. He was excited to see her body growing with his child inside, he wanted to feel the kicks and movements, wanted to hear her complain over how her clothes wouldn’t fit anymore…

But her gaze seemed so distant, they always say how pregnant women glow, but all he could see was worry. It felt like she was slipping through his fingers.

“I got you something.” Tommy murmured when he didn’t get a reply back. Clearing his throat, he placed the wooden storage case, it was full of pencils, erasers and drawing sheets made of the best quality.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to give me anything.”

Clicking his tongue, he smirked at her. “I knew you would say that.” Moving around the room, he called for Rita to bring what he left at the entrance. “That’s why I also brought this.”

It was the items that Polly intended to give her before everything blew up.

Y/N gasped, she totally forgot about that.

“You can’t reject a present that is not for you, it’s for the baby.” Tommy chuckled as soon as he said that. “And this is a present from Polly, not me, I’m just the messenger.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Tommy walked to the window, trying to distract himself with anything.

Slowly, he turned again to face Y/N, his voice soft but firm. “To show you how much I care and to ask you to come back to me.”

“Tommy honestly what’s with this sudden change? Now overnight you’re the family type?”

“Why not? Give me one valid reason.” His hands were inside his pockets, he seemed sincere.

“The letter Grace sent? Does it ring a bell?”

“Right, well now it is just ashes.” Lighting a cigarette, he started watching her sketches. “These are really good Y/N.” He realized he never admitted to her how much he admired her talent. “You should make a book.”

Ignoring his compliment, Y/N had to fight the urge to ask him to put his arms around her tight and hug her. Tell her all would be alright.

“This isn’t the first time she writes.” It wasn’t asking a question.

“No, it’s not… but I burned the previous letters as soon as they arrived.” If he wanted Y/N back he had to be honest.

“Not even curious to see what she had to say?” Tommy was shaking his head even before that Y/N ended her question. “Why did you keep it then?” She felt calmer now than she was the night they had the fight.

“I told you the truth… I was going to burn it at The Garrison when you stormed in, you just had the argument with Polly, which reminds me, what was that about?”

Y/N looked away, now that he answered all her questions it was her turn. After a long pause and a loud sight, Y/N spoke: “She wanted Michael’s address, said she would tell you of my pregnancy.”

“She should’ve told me.”

There were a lot of things that they didn’t say with words, but with their eyes.

Tommy walked towards Y/N, in a gentle motion, his knuckles caressed her cheek. “Let’s go back to my place, ey?”

“I can’t do that.” He was about to ask why, but she rushed her answer. “I have things to figure out first.”

There was confusion in his eyes. “What things?” He asked.

“This pregnancy.”

Tommy placed both palms on her shoulders. “There’s nothing to think about, we’re having a baby.” His eyes lighted up.

“This isn’t like a racehorse Tommy, you don’t handle it over to Curly to take care of it, it’s a life, it’s a responsibility what we are talking about, it’s sleepless nights, it’s giving up your pair of shoes so they can have theirs, it’s sacrifice.”

“You think I don’t know about that? I have been responsible for my siblings for years Y/N, I’ve been working hard for my family since I can remember.”

“Yes, and you’ve also said you rely on whiskey and bad choices. Do you really think is a good idea to bring a child into a betting shop?”

“I’m trying to turn things around, to make it different.”

“And exactly how different Tommy?” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she had to. “I accidentally overheard Michael telling Polly before they went out how a May Carleton was all over you after you got your new horse at the auction.”

Tommy’s neck snapped so hard by the force of his movement.

First the letter Grace sent, now this.

“I asked you to come with me to that auction, and you rejected me.”

“And that would’ve stopped her? And what about you?”

He didn’t have another choice but tell her the truth.

“I was planning on getting that horse and then, I was going to propose to you, I had it planned for weeks, that’s why I wanted to take you there.”

Y/N looked at him in shock, a bittersweet feeling running through her.

“You are just saying that because now you know I’m pregnant.”

“That’s it, I’m tired of your skepticism towards me, why is it so hard for you to believe I want to marry you? And have this child?”

“Because you never gave away any of it before, just now it suddenly hit you?”

“Oh, and just because I never said it, does it mean I never wanted it?!” He raised his arms dramatically, only to seconds later, let them fall hitting his sides. “You know me better than that.”

He was used to do the planning on his mind and not tell anyone until he had it all perfectly figured out. He never said anything to her before because, he was planning it first, have some things settle down before taking their relationship to the next level.

They had been arguing over the same thing by now, this unexpected change of attitude of him, she had caught him several times looking at her mid-section, telling her stories about when Finn was just a baby and how he had bathed him inside of a big pot because he was so scared that his little brother would drown like his mother, it was one time that Polly got sick and was in bed.

He seemed nostalgic sharing his memories, it sounded like the perfect older brother saving the day, but that is what he always did, he solved everyone’s problems… If one of his brothers screw up, Tommy would come to the rescue, he always had the perfect alibi, the cops on his side, always tried to do the right thing in the middle of chaos, so it wasn’t really a surprise he was thinking now of marriage and kids. It would be the right thing to do.

“You’re right, I know you, and if I remember correctly Lizzie had her mouth around your cock, Grace sends you letters, now May is going to train your horse, how do you think I feel about that? Always being chased by women, always afraid that you will go after any of them, that you will get tired of the crying and the mess. And what am I supposed to do if that happens?”

How could she make peace with the constant fear of losing him?

How could she really believe his words?

“You’re thinking things that aren’t happening right now.”

“Oh, fine then I just will wait by the door with my heart up on my throat until it happens.”

“That’s what you really think of me?” He was hurt by her doubts, but he couldn’t blame her either.

She was right, at everybody’s eyes he caused trouble, he was a womanizer, but he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Now he was upset.

“You want me to prove to you I’m worth this? Hmm?” He pointed his forefinger at her. “That what you need? You want to see if I’m going to be a good father? If I’m not going to abandon you like my father did?” He was pacing the room just like he did while planning the Epsom race take over. “Listen to me, I want you to remember every word… I want this, I want you and I want this baby, and you can think all you want, but please for the love of God you shouldn’t be listening to Lizzie’s stories, stop worrying about unread letters and horse trainers.”

Her words were just a whisper. “I want to believe you.”

Suddenly, Tommy stopped walking, he took a deep breath and looked at her intensely. “I’m going to do what I have to do in order to achieve what I always wanted. And I’m not going to stop it for anyone… not even you.”

“Tommy…” the words caught up in her throat, the fear, the doubts, the constant feeling of danger got the best of her. On top of the insecurities regarding the pregnancy.

“You really need some fresh air, being here locked up isn’t doing anything good to you.” Tommy took his coat and stormed outside Y/N’s room, not realizing how she was in tears.

“Oh, Miss Y/N are you alright?” Rita, the maid tried to offer comfort. “Everything will be fine.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, it won’t.”

Rita let her cry in her arms some more, since Polly had been so busy with Michael lately, wanting to talk to him all the time to get back the time they were apart, Rita had become the one who listened to her.

There has to be a way to get Tommy back.

“I know you are having disagreements with Mr. Shelby, but, I think there is a solution for your problem.” Y/N looked at her in confusion. “If you want to be on top of all the other women, perhaps you should get rid of your baby.”

***

Next part

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[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter twenty two

Chapter list

John

"How was she?" I asked Bonny, realising once the word left my lips that I could have been asking about any one of the girls. Ada had been pissed off and Esme had looked scared, she'd hidden it with a scowl, hidden it with sharp words but I'd known how she really felt. Didn't take much for me to read her these days, I could probably tell how she felt with my eyes closed. Just standing near her was enough.

Even now when she was locked away in that hidden room and I was sitting concealed in shadow on the front step, gun slung over my back, I could sense my girls fear, her racing heart. It wound my insides tight like a coil and had me fidgeting with my fingers, getting restless.

Bonny sat beside me, still and calm, his eyes watching the long driveway, his ears listening out for any kind of sound. He'd a knife he was fidgeting with, weaving it between his fingers absentmindedly as he concentrated on keeping lookout.

His dad was positioned at the back entrance the the house and there were Gold's and Lee's stationed all around, lurking in the shadows poised for a fight. All of them itching with anticipation the way Bonnie and I bristled now.

"Kitty was upset," he said, "cryin for her dad," he said with a sympathetic smirk, "she settled down a wee bit for Sonya though," he added.

"Yeah?" I nodded, "good," I said feeling a guilty little twist in my stomach as I thought back on all the times last year, when Kitty had asked if she could go to see her aunty Fen in London at the ballet, I'd given her an empty promise. Told her that we'd go and then never found the time to make the plans. "Think Kitty wants to be her Anty Sonya when she grows up," I grinned shaking my head and trying not to get soft. Wasn't the time for being sentimental.

Bonnie didn't say anything, just cracked a small smirk which lingered as he turned away, watching the dark garden quietly. He looked thoughtful but I'd noticed he was that kind of lad. The canny kind, probably could have been good in school if he was given half the chance, probably would have made more of himself if he'd been born to different circumstances. It was what our mam had always said about us though I had the feeling she was talking more about Tommy and Ada than me or Arthur.

"Fuckin hate sittin still," he said after another minute of waiting. He bounced his knee where he sat, a look of impatience in his eyes that made me smirk and nod my head.

"Yeah," I agreed, "this is the worst fuckin part ain't it, all the bloody waiting around, its like bein in a fuckin airport..." I grumbled.

Bonnie frowned for a second, brows knitted in confusion, his jaw caught half way between a question and laugh. In the end he just shook his head, let himself laugh.

"Aye," he grinned, "least an airports got a bar."

"Aye," I grinned feeling for a moment like I might be able to relax. Tensing in the next when a bird took flight and the sound of a disturbance in the trees reminded the two of us that we weren't supposed to be smiling. Just like that our smirks were gone, jaws tight, eyes dark and focussed, bodies braced and preparing for the unknown threat which lurked in every shadow, every slither of darkness we couldn't quite see.

The time passed slowly. A torturously long night of aching hours laced together by animal sounds in the trees, twitching branches, an owl taking flight, something snuffling through the shrubbery. The kinds of sounds which could be mistaken for trouble. The kinds of sounds with left our shoulders aching. Our jaws tight. Our eyes restless dry and sore. Hours passed and nothing changed, only my mood, ever darkening, ever convinced that somewhere something bad was going down.

"You think anyone's coming?" Asked Bonnie his eyes fixed on the shadows. When we sat quietly, no words passed between us the night was totally still. Made it easy to believe that the answer to that question was no.

"Who fuckin knows," I breathed sitting forward a little to get a better look at the troubled sky above us. Whether it was the Italians on our door or my little sister stirring trouble in some unknown corner of the country there was some kind of turmoil brewing in the air that night. A disquiet settling thick and heavy in the air between me and the younger lad. "I believe Sonya though," I said, "she doesn't know anythin."

Bonnie just nodded, sat quietly leaning against the wall, a flat cap lowered over his eyes so that I couldn't quite read his expression.

"Seemed innocent enough to me," he shrugged after a moment before pointing to the edge of the driveway, a shadow in the trees approaching quickly. "See that over there," he lowered his voice, one hand reaching round the back of his waistband, fingers curling around a handgun tucked away for safekeeping.

I bristled, trying to move quickly but quietly as I repositioned the machine gun I wore over my shoulder, aiming for the shadow, waiting for the first sign of trouble.

But when I raised my gun, squinting through the sight at the eery night I saw only my brother staggering with hands raised above his head so we wouldn't shoot him in the dark.

"Arthur?" I called out when he was within speaking distance.

"Brother," he grinned holding out his hand to haul me up to my feet. Bonnie sprung up to, as light on his feet now as he had been when he'd first come sprinting down the hall earlier that evening.

It was almost dawn now, that milky first sign of thin light shimmering on the horizon. The shadows slowly beginning to saturate and fade. Skeletons becoming trees once more.

"Where's Tommy?" I asked eyes searching over Arthur's shoulder but finding nothing, brows knitting when Arthur let out a laugh.

"Still out lookin," he sounded as though he'd been on the drink because absolutely nothing of what he was telling me warranted the chuckles which followed his excruciatingly vague sentences.

"Then you didn't find her?" Frowned Bonnie slipping his gun into his pocket about to say something else when Arthur carried on, grin wide and gleaming, uncanny under the pale morning moon.

"Nah not Sylvie," he grinned, "but the little rotter ain't half left a good fuckin trail..." He grinned rubbing his hands together and then clasping my shoulders, *ain't the fuckin Italians we need to worry about John boy I'll tell you that for nowt!"

I felt a grin threatening my own still expression, didn't want to smile too soon because Fen was still missing and from the sounds of it we still didn't have a clue where she was, but the hope and the glee in my brother's eyes was contagious. Even Bonnie was smirking now.

"Found that nonce Hackett fuckin dead for a start," he said, a growled laugh escaping him as he clapped me on the back and turned me in the direction of the front doors, "found him fuckin face down in his driveway, helmet caved in right an guess what... No fuckin bike... Now Tommy reckons Isaiahs done it, reckons he's with her, helping her get wherever she's going,"

"Isaiahs always hated the flash bastard to be fair," I nodded, "reckon he's been pining for murder since the day he met him..."

"He thought he was the porter didn't he?" Chimed in Bonnie, his dark eyes glowing with curiousity as he listened in.

"See!" Chuckled Arthur, "guilty until proven innocent, the lads still holdin a grudge or he wouldn't have told Bonnie would he!"

"Id hold that grudge to be honest like," chuckled Bonnie. I smirked, couldn't help but agree.

"Well yeah of course you would but would you shoot the poor fucker in the head and leave him for the fuckin badgers over it?" Asked Arthur unable to hide his delight. None of us had ever really warmed to our distant neighbour.

Bonnie smirked pretending to think about it for a second before nodding, flashing a cheeky grin.

"Probably aye,"

I laughed then, shaking my head, my grin lingering as we wandered slowly back inside. Shoulders relaxed at last knowing that with the sunrise we were safe. There were no Italians lurking in the shadows.

"So anyway Hackett's dressed in his leathers right, and he's got his helmet on and it's all smashed in yeah, he's bleeding out yeah, blood fuckin everywhere, bullets in his stomach it's fuckin disgustin right... But you know the most fucked up bit?"

"Go on?" I smirked uncertain it could get much worse than a man robbed of his midlife crisis motorbike and left to "the badgers" but when Arthur laughed again I grew all the more curious. "Spit it out Arth come on," I chuckled, couldn't believe the delight in his eyes.

"His fuckin jackets gone an all!"

"Well it's not like he needs it I spose," I smirked an impressed but oh so slightly disturbed pout on my lips breaking into a smile when I realised with relief what it really meant. Why Arthur couldn't stop grinning too.

"So she's fine then.. whatever the fuck she's playin at you think she's fine?" I asked as we took our time turning the lights back on inside, unlocking doors, checking the security panel once more to determine that this was it for now, that we'd been blessed with 'uneventful.'

"Aye brother, more than fuckin fine I think she's probably havin the time of her fuckin life!"

"Apple don't fall far after all," I agreed though I had to admit it troubled me to imagine my little sister riding a stolen motorbike, wearing a dead man's bloodied jacket. There was something tragic about it. It made me question whether it would have been easier to accept that she'd been kidnapped by the enemy than to accept that maybe she was more like the rest of us Shelbys than we'd imagined.

"His fuckin jacket," laughed Arthur rubbing his hands together. For a fleeting moment I wondered whether his near on hysterics was simply compensation for the same worries I was trying to swallow down but when bonnie chuckled I realised that perhaps it was only me searching for something to worry about, something to hold onto.

"Fuckin brutal," Bonnie grinned shaking his head as I stepped up to the safe room door and opened the control panel. I should have stopped a moment to wipe the smile off my face, to get my own relieved laughter out of my system. As it happened however I was still grinning like a teenage boy when the door slid open and so I deserved the smack Esme landed to my cheek before I'd even had the chance to look her in the eyes.

"John Shelby you fuckin dinlow bastard you wipe that stupid fuckin smile off your face this second!" she hissed her eyes welling with tears, her gritted teeth and tight expression holding strong for a minute. I wasn't sure they were going to hold strong for much longer than that.

I stood there stunned, my hand raised to my cheek as the sting wore off, my smirk lingering though it shouldn't have. The sight of it only making my poor girl feel worse.

"Fuck love am sorry..." I started with a sigh giving in when she pushed past me, one of the youngens bundled up in her arms fast asleep.

"Your kids need their beds," she said with a glare that sent a chill right down to my gut. A glare that made Arthur grin, unable to keep his own amusement down until Polly smacked him hard across the face to match.

"Fuckin stupid men," she said, her own look of disapproval far more calm than my Esme's, "you'd better have found our girl, turning up here smirking like that, she'd better be fuckin home..." she said.

I winced, eyes full of guilt flickering between Arthur and then floor. Between one of my lads leaning against Pol, holding her hand, his eyes barely open. He was smirking into her side at her temper and I couldn't help notice the way he grinned a lot like me. Still it was hard to smile when Pol gave me his hand and walked away. Inside I could see Ada waiting with Karl on her hip, he was stirring and she looked tired and impatient though the look she gave us when she passed and shook her head was far more forgiving than Polly's had been.

"Well?" she asked barely waiting for an answer before she smirked disappointed but not surprised, "didn't fuckin think so."

I crouched down to pick little Heath up, so that I could carry him and Kitty upstairs to their beds. Liam was awake, leaning in the door frame, old enough to understand that his mam and dad were fighting, old enough to understand that it wasn't normal to spend your Friday night in a glorified wardrobe. Old enough to be pissed off with his dad.

"Come on then wee man lets get your brothers and sisters up to bed eh?" I sighed offering him a sympathetic smile, feeling all kinds of exhaustion creep up on me then. As I stood up looking for Kitty I realised she was still bundled up with her Anty Fen, the two of them buried under a blanket fast asleep.

I turned to look at Arthur expecting a nostalgic joke at our sisters expense but he'd gone, probably gone after Ada or Polly thinking he could explain away their godawful night. Thinking he could justify it with his good news, the gruesome scene he had described so gleefully to me about to earn him another slap from someone.

The only other person left was Bonnie, standing dutifully by waiting for Sonya.

He looked at me and grimaced, rubbing his cheek and nodding to mine, a teasing kind of grin half hearted but enough to lighten my mood.

"Shoulda seen it comin really," I said with a shrug as I looked from him to my sister. I couldn't believe that after all this time, and after the night she'd had, she was zonked out asleep in the corner of the cramped little space. More than that, I couldn't believe that little Kitty was equally tranquil, her eyes fluttered shut, her thumb hovering by her mouth as she slept.

"Liam mate wake your Anty Fen up eh," I said nodding to my eldest watching as he hesitated for a moment before tugging the blanket down from them and tugging on Sonya's sleeve.

When she didn't wake up he looked back at me, his tired eyes sullen and questioning me, asking my permission to do it again. I chuckled and it drew a little smirk on his lips so that when he turned back to his anty to try again he did so with a little more confidence. Just enough mischief in the way he poked her leg for it to work.

When she woke up she flinched, her eyes wide like a startled rabbit. Her body tense and rigid. She held onto Kitty a little tighter and Liam jumped away from her startled by her shock.

"Oh..." she said quietly, only finding relief when her eyes rested on me and she realised that everything was fine. That the long night was over and she was still safe. "What happened did you find Sylvie?" she asked her eyes flickering between me and Bonnie before she felt Kitty stir in her arms and the little girl stole her attention.

It was amazing the way she changed, uncanny in fact. She seemed to relax completely, the lip she'd been chewing only moments before tugged into a smile for the young girl.

"Hey Kitty guess who's here?" she whispered gently, her voice full of that saccharine hope that always makes little girls smile.

I couldn't keep the grin off my lips when Kitty began to smile, slowly at first and then beaming when she looked and saw me. She pushed herself up in Sonya's arms and stretched her arms above her head and then out to me, squirming and sleepy, her eyes blinking heavily as she grinned at me.

"Daddy!" She smiled her words being swallowed by a yawn which shook her whole body and left me chuckling fondly.

"Come on princess let's get you up to bed eh?" I said watching Sonya kiss her on the forehead and whisper something in her ear before she handed her to me and helped me wrap the little girl up in my arms with her brother.

"Daddy look," she smiled pointing at her hair, the two french braids she was stroking proudly as she looked up at me with sleepy blue eyes.

"Beautiful darlin, you look just like your anty fen don't you,"

"Pretty!" She giggled though she only managed half the word before another yawn overwhelmed her and left her fighting to stay awake.

"Aye well, maybe you can be just like your anty fen tomorrow eh princess, you're fallin asleep," I grinned kissing her hair, letting her nuzzle into my shoulder, her little hand clutching the collar of my shirt.

Liam watched us cooly, his expression too serious for a little boy. He wasn't exactly much older than Kitty and yet he looked years apart from her then. This grave face that told me he was far more in tune to his surroundings than me or his mam would have liked.

And then I thought of his mam. The tears I'd seen in her eyes when she'd stormed past me holding our little girl in her arms. The guilt swelled inside me again and I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

"You look after our Fen for me eh Bonnie," I said finally, dragging myself away from my little sister, wishing I could have been there for her too, knowing I had to be dad and husband now, not brother. "Thanks for looking after Kitty," I said, "night love..."

She opened her mouth about to ask about Sylvie but because I knew I couldn't give her any good answers I pretended not to see. Told myself it was better to leave that to somebody else even though I knew it wasn't.

🌛🌼🌜🌼🌛🌼🌜

Esme was awake when I finally made it to bed. She wasn't even trying to pretend to be asleep. She just sat there on the edge of the bed, her eyes fixed on the first rays of milky glow out the window, the mist and the orange light of sunrise. It would have been pretty had I not been feeling so wretched as I sat down beside her. If when I'd gone to take her hand in mine she hadn't snatched it away.

"Don't,"

Looking at her through the dark of the bedroom she had appeared to be sitting still as a statue, the elegantly melancholic kind. When I crossed the room to stand before her however I could see that she was trembling. Her hands held in her lap, her rosary wrapped around them, holding them together, glimmered in the light from outside. A glimmer which shook subtly because she could hardly control her tremors.

She was trying so hard to be stubborn, to be angry instead of scared, to be angry instead of laden down with sorrow, with worry. With that doomed feeling I knew has been clawing at her now for weeks. She'd been warning me of bad omens long before the war had broken out and I hadn't listened. Too wrapped up in our companies' successes, the money and the fame rolling in from our numerous ventures.

Now I stood with her alone in a bedroom in my brother's mansion, far away from the country cottage we'd built together, the quiet, wild place we'd planned to raise the little ones. Now I stood there with her sitting on the bed, a quiet despair gripping her, knowing that she'd been right all along. That I'd been a fucking fool to ignore her warnings. That I was still a fool now, a desperate fool who didn't know how to make things right.

So I reached out and took her hands in mine, raised them up to unfold them, to unravel her rosary beads and place them down carefully on the bedside table. They glimmered in the light, still where they rested by the bed, the beads gathered in a little heap on top of the cross.

Esme remained still, her breathing was shallow, shivery and slow. Controlled, just about.

She was still starring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the hem of my t-shirt, refusing to blink because if she did she'd shed the first few tears and theyd make way for the rest.

"Esme love," I said quietly, my voice a little scratchy because I was trying to be gentle, trying not to let myself get upset.

She didn't say a word but she let me hold her hands in mine, let me place unfold her fingers and brush my thumb from the tip of hers to the center of her palm. Her hand felt so small in mine, so delicate. And though she wasn't a delicate woman I knew I needed to be delicate with her just then.

So I took her head in my hand, stepping a little closer to the edge of the bed until my knees knocked against the mattress and I drew her in towards my body until her head came to rest against my belly. I stroked my thumb over her hair gently, pressing her head against my body firm enough to ground her, to make her feel surrounded and secure.

And then I let out a sigh, I said I was sorry, I said I knew that that wasn't enough. Waited to feel her tears soak through my t-shirt onto my skin. When she finally did as I'd been expecting and burst into tears, they were angry and she clutched at my clothes, tugging me closer to her.

"Katie was cryin half the fuckin night John... She's always cryin cause you're gone so you're never there to see her fuckin cryin for you but she does an it's fuckin heartbreakin!" She cried, her anger muffled by my t-shirt as she squeezed her eyes shut tight. I let my arm come to rest around her, holding her in a loose embrace, one hand still holding her hair, holding her to me with no intention of letting her go unless it was to bring her somehow closer still.

"I know love,"

"No you don't know!" She sobbed, "you never see it John, you never see how scared they get, you just see the smiles when you come home... It's fuckin hard and it's gettin harder... They ain't all that little anymore you know... Liam knows that when you go away you might not come back... What the fuck am I sposed to say to them John... They're scared John, fuckin terrified!"

"I know," I said again, I didn't know what else I could say, felt completely defeated because everything she said was true. Because there was nothing I could do about their fears... I couldn't promise I'd always be alright.

I let her sob into my shirt awhile longer, let her roll through the usual script.

"I fuckin hate you," she said and I just stood there looking at the opposite wall, swallowed a lump in my throat, didn't say it despite it being true. I know.

I tangled my fingers in her hair, holding onto her as carefully as I could not wanting to hurt her. Knowing that if I held onto her as tightly as I wanted to then I would because I was filled with that silent desperation. That ache in my chest it was painful to breath around. That ache which made me feel more fragile than I was prepared to admit.

So instead I bowed my head, took her chin between my fingers and pushed her gaze up to look at me. I looked down at her teary eyes, her long lashes weighed down by the evidence of her anguish. I drew in a breath and tried to hold it. Tried to close my eyes and clear my head. Found it impossible to think clearly or rationally when I was looking down at her.

Realised I would say anything to comfort her, even if it wasn't true. Didn't say anything anyway.

She looked up at me, her eyes flickering with a moments hope but when I said nothing, when I tilted my own head back and closed my eyes, nose pointed to the ceiling, lips mumbling a little prayer, the hope which had flickered across her irises dissolved.

She let go of my shirt and wiped her eyes with her fingers, sniffled and pushed her hair from her face. She didn't force a smile but she held her palms over her eyes for a moment and then let out a little shivered breath.

"I love you Esme," I said, regretting how tired I sounded when I heard my voice calm and flat in the dark.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head against my belly, her ear pressed to my t-shirt as she watched the first rays of sunlight climb the bedroom wall. Her eyes stung and so did mine.

"Just come to bed love," she said squeezing my waist a little tighter, closing her eyes as she turned and rested her forehead against me, let her lips press a kiss to my t-shirt as she tugged me in closer, let her hands slip beneath the fabric, fingers spread as she held my back.

I stroked her hair with my hand and sighed, she'd given in now and so I would too.

"Come on then," I said nudging her back onto the mattress, "shift over, make room..."

So she did, leaning back on her elbows, looking up at me as she shuffled up the mattress and fell down on her side of the bed. One hand held her pillow as she rolled onto her side and watched me tug my t-shirt over my head. Watched me sit down and kick my joggers off, waited for me to lie down on my back and open my arms out for her to crawl into before she came to rest her head on my chest without closing her eyes.

She was watching the sunrise climb the wall. I had a feeling she'd given up on sleep when she let her chapped lips brush over my bare chest.

"I keep telling Kitty the Italians are like spiders..." She said after a minutes peace, if I'd not been so familiar with her brooding ways I'd have been surprised to find she hadn't fallen asleep. "You know, more scared of daddy than daddy is of them..."

"Yeah?"

"It's a fuckin stupid joke sposed to make her feel brave and I feel guilty cause I don't know if it's still true..." She was smirking at herself, not quite awake enough to laugh at herself the bitter way I could tell she wanted to.

"Am not scared of the wops flower," I smirked shaking my head, tilting my chin down to kiss her temple, missing because she'd smiled at the same time as I had, pushed herself up to catch my lips with hers, her smile tugging against mine as she kissed me and caught me by surprise.

#trouble #peaky blinders x oc #bonnie gold imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby sister! #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfiction

[iamlivingforturner]

Say yes to me

Warnings: smoking, alcohol, Angst, sadness that’s it really

A/n: this is my first ever fic any advice is appreciated but pls don’t be mean.

Y/n had known Alex since they were kids; they really were inseparable. Y/n has a crush on Alex.. well she wouldn’t have admitted it of course but it was obvious to everybody around them including Alex.

“Just tell her you’re not into her like that Al it’s y/n she will understand” Matt spoke to Alex trying to cheer him up. Alex had been thinking of how to break it to her all week but had no luck. He loved her but only as a friend. “I can’t Matt what if she never speaks to me again or something I don’t want to lose her” Alex had told him slightly overreacting about this whole situation but y/n really needed to know.

She sat on the steps of the building a cigarette hanging from her lips as she inhaled the smoke. London was bustling with people but Alex was on her mind. Why had he been so distant with her lately? She pondered over what she could have possibly done or said to upset him but nothing came to mind. Y/n decided to stop sulking and just ask him about it. Getting up she re-entered the pub and walked back over to their friends.

Alex looked at her straight away. She was a beautiful girl and he really didn’t want to upset her but he didn’t feel the same and that was how it is. “Y/n do you mind if we have a conversation outside please..” he asked her his brown doe eyes looking at his best friend with such security. “Yeah.. sure what’s up” she spoke softly as he took her hand leading her out of the pub. They both took a seat on the steps and he lit a cigarette. “Want one love?” He offered. Y/n was currently dying or so she thought her heart was pounding out of her chest and she was visibly nervous but she shook her head no to her best friend and waited for him to speak. A sickly feeling fell to the pit of her stomach and she had a feeling this conversation wasn’t going to be good, especially since he had been drinking and nothing is ever better over a few pints.

“I-uh well I just wanted to ask you something but do you promise to just tell me the truth okay” Alex said to her still gazing at her with those eyes. “Yeah, yeah what’s up Al” she said, brushing off her nerves. Maybe this was it he was finally going to tell her he felt the same? She hoped so. “Do you have feelings for me.. like not best friend feelings but you know more than friends” he asked her looking at her for a reaction, she looked terrified. “Who told you that? Was it Jamie.. it doesn’t even matter anyways because I know you don’t like me like that.” She sighed out and Alex couldn’t help but feel guilty seeing his best friend so sad. “Yeah y/n I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about our friendship like don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t want a relationship with you. You're just not my type..” He spoke quickly realising what he had said and she looked hurt. “Um and what’s so bad about me, why did you have to say it like that?” She said ‘I don’t want a relationship with you’ He had spat as if venom in his mouth that sent aches through her chest. “N-no it’s not you like you nice and sweet and stuff but your not exactly a relationship girl y/n you’ve never had a boyfriend in your life and you’re just not exactly you know..” he had told her the smoke leaving his mouth like poison she wanted to punch him stupid face in. “I’m not exactly like what Alex?” She said she was more angry than hurt at the moment.

“Y/n you're just not good enough” he spoke bitterly his face contorted in panic as soon as the words left his mouth. She got up from the steps and grabbed her bag and walked off tears catching in her eyes. She was absolutely devastated. How could he say that? After years of helping him, supporting him no matter what and for him to say that to her just hurt her heart. “Wait! Y/n I’m sorry I didn’t mean that please wait-“ he yelled after her but she ignored him and continued to walk away with small sobs leaving her chest as she walked home.

#alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfiction #arctic monkeys #hurt/angst #jamie cook #matt helders #nick omalley #tlsp2 #x reader #unrequited #smoking

[0ver-thinker]

So Long, London is part of the Acceptance stage ?

so we all know that TTPD goes through the 5 stages of heartbreak that are denial/anger/bargaining/depression/acceptance.

Now, So Long, London is track 5, and is supposed to be a particularly deep, emotional song. I was expecting something truly heartbreaking, full of angst, of aching, sadness etc., (like Dear John, or My Tears Ricochet) and I thought it was what it was at first, but when you actually lean into the lyrics, I feel like it’s actually more between anger and acceptance. 

okay so, the song is about a relationship in which her lover seems indifferent, or distant to her, something she mentions in many songs in Midnights, like « how can you say you love someone you can’t tell is dying », « don’t you ignore me » etc. in You’re Losing Me, but also in High Infidelity (« killing the one you love » by « never loving them enough »), which is interesting as she writes « every day-old affair » in So Long, London.

I feel like it's a real continuation of You’re Losing Me, as she feels like dying : she uses this metaphor with the sea: her relationship is a « ship » she’s been trying to save all that time, all while trying to prevent her lover from « drifting away » (+ « rift », « wet », « ferry »…). she’s desperately clinging to this relationship to work : she’s always « trying to make him laugh », and she accuses him of giving her false hopes, as she was waiting for a proposal (« dying at the altar » « give you all that youth »). 

Just like in You’re losing me both her and her partner « are sick » (the relationship isn’t healthy): on one side, the man holds a « quiet resentment » for her, he "doesn't want to be there" and on her side, it feels like DBAC « gave you too much but it wasn’t enough », as she’s self-destructing (« my spine split from carrying us », and she says she’s struggling to breath, like she’s drowning while refusing to let go (« I was going down with it » « every breath feels like rarest air »). 

I just love the parallels there are with You’re losing me, and the few differences that there are between the two is actually what I think makes So Long, London part of the Acceptance stage. In YLM Taylor is still clinging to this one-sided relationship, she’s still begging her partner to look at her and to lover her more. She says her « heart won’t start anymore for you », and you hear behind the music a heart pulse, but in So Long, London she said « I stopped CPR after all it’s no use », acknowledging the unhealthy aspect of her relation : she stops blaming herself (« I wouldn't marry me either »). She accepts that the relationship is hopeless (« we would never come to ») and that she has to let it go.

Even if the song shows that she is still longing for that person/relationship, as she shows signs of anger, resentment for letting him hurt her, and for trusting him, she also shows some signs of acceptance, of moving on: « I’ll find someone », « you’ll find someone », « had a good run » and « I’m just getting color back into my face » (as opposed to « my face was gray » in You’re Losing Me). 

#ttpd #taylor swift #so long london #track 5 #song analysis #I didn't just write a whole essay #5 stages of heartbreak #you're losing me #midnights #lover #acceptance #anger #denial #the tortured poets department #venting #crying

[genevievemd]

Lover

Book: Open Heart (Beyond) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 1593 Rating: M Category: Smut Trope(s): and there’s a birthday, and they were at a conference, and they went on vacation

Summary: Ethan spends the evening worshipping his wife on her birthday.

Warnings:  Strong Language and NS*FW content. Please use discretion and caution when viewing this work. By viewing of this work, you consent that you are 18+

A/N: A part of ‘tis the damn season, while Ethan and Gen are in London for a conference/her birthday, and right after they talk about him leaving for Brazil for two months. This is also now officially my longest smut, so enjoy lol

Final entry for @choicesficwriterscreations​ Naugthy or Nice event. Prompt in bold -- it’s the fluff prompt, too. So we’re naughty and nice in this one. 

The noise of the conference gala slowly fades as Ethan and Genevieve make it into their London hotel lobby and towards the elevators. The party had been no different than the other medical conference gala’s they’ve attended togtehr, until an old friend of Ethan’s offered him a temporary job they both knew he couldn’t refuse. 

He’d return to the amazon in two weeks, to spend the following ten weeks helping hospitals in need run as well as some of the world’s best. It was just the type of work Ethan loved and there was never any option for him to say no. 

And while Gen was proud of him, there was a small part of her heart that broke at the thought of being away from him for so long. He knew it, too — whisking her away from the ballroom and up to their room to focus back on her birthday and not on his impending departure. 

The elevator doors open, allowing a small group to entire the quiet lobby and the two entire alone. He pulled her into his arms the second the doors closed and she took the opportunity to nuzzle even closer. She looks up at him, expecting to find him lost in thought, but he’s already looking down at her. His ocean blue eyes as calm as the sea on a windless day, deep pools of blue that were reflecting every ounce of love he had back at her. 

It was enough to make her own eyes water, overwhelmed. 

“I love you so much.” Gen whispers into the silence surrounding them, tightening her arms around his waist. 

“I love you, too.” He lifts a hand off her waist, pushing a loose hair behind her ear. His fingers lingering on her cheek. 

“You also give the best hugs.” She smiles, the ache in her heart returning for a brief moment as she closes her eyes and lays her head on his shoulder. “How am I supposed to go two whole months without them.” 

“I’ll have to give you extra now before I leave.”

She can feel him chuckle, then pull away slightly. He takes her face gently in his hands, “I know downstairs you agreed, but I feel like I should ask again just to be sure. We can just lay in bed and hold each other if you’d rather not be intimate.” 

“I want to.” Gen stands on her tiptoes, even in three inch heels she is still too short to meet his eyes, resting her forehead against his. “I want to end my birthday making love to my husband.” 

Before she can seal her statement with a kiss, the elevator dings, thought it doesn’t deter her husband at all. He claims what has been his for almost as long as she’s known him, his kiss gentle but the promise of what’s to come lies just beneath the surface. 

Ethan guides her out of the lift, never breaking the kiss. His hands exploring every curve, their steps in sync as they walk down the empty hall. The warmth of his hands can be felt through the expensive fabric of her gown, dispelling the cold of his decision to leave her in sixteen days. 

In no time at all, they make it to the door of their hotel room. He presses her against the wall beside the door, his lips moving to her neck as he takes the key out of his pants pocket. 

“What would people think if they saw the ever stoic Dr. Ethan Ramsey making out with his wife in a hotel hallway.” Gen smiles as the door opens and he steps away, her skin prickles with heat at the look on his face. 

Kiss stung lips and disheveled hair, his eyes dark with desire for her. 

“They’d say he’s damn lucky to have a woman like you, Rookie.” Taking her hand, he leads her into the room, spinning her around as the door clicks closed. Her back to his chest, the harness of his body making her ache for him more. The way he towers over her, his broad frame enveloping, never ceases to amaze. 

His lips are back on her neck, sucking gently on every spot he knows makes her weak in the knees. She’s unable to quell the whimper that escapes, the sound halting his movements for the briefest of seconds. One hand then moves to grip her neck, while the other glides across her stomach and up her side, his fingers tugging at the zipper of her dress. 

“This needs to go.” He whispers the words against her shoulder, his beard tickling her skin.

The dress falls to the floor, and he pulls her even closer, as impossible as it may be. She can feel how hard he already is, and she moans in reponse. 

“Get on the bed, G.” His voice is deep and rough, commanding. 

Completely at his mercy, like she always is in moments like this, she listens. Moving to the king size bed, Gen lays across the middle, biting her lip as she watches him. Instead of joining her, he leans against the desk across from their bed, fingers slowing taking off his cufflinks and placing them on the desk. 

His eyes never leave hers as he works, his head tilted as he takes her in.

“Ethan.” She whines, petulant. 

The intensity of his gaze, his slow methodical movements as he takes off his tux jacket and then his shirt, has even more heat pooling at her center. Aching and wanting. 

“What do you want, Rookie?” 

“You know what I want.” She sits up, and moves to the edge of the bed as Ethan walks to meet her. She reaches for his belt and starts to undo it when he stops her, a gentle hand atop hers. “What?” 

“Not this time.” 

She pouts, exaggerated and frustrated. All she wants in that moment is to have him in her mouth. Feel his cock against her lips and tongue. “But I want to.” 

Genevieve shuffles closer, attaching her lips to his neck while her free hand moves to grip his hard length through his pants. 

Ethan grips the back of her neck, gently forcing her to look at him. “I know, but tonight is about you, birthday girl.” He pushes her back on the bed, then crawls on top of her, kissing his way up her body. “Save that thought for round two.”

“Yes, Chief.” 

“How do you make that sound so fucking sexy?” He groans against the skin of her chest, nipping at the top of her breasts. 

“It’s a skill.” 

“Mhm, perhaps I should show you mine then.” 

In no time at all, he has her legs draped over his shoulders and his mouth devouring her. His midnight blue eyes watching every expression of pleasure on her face. 

Like he can’t dare to miss a second of what’s he’s doing to her. 

A complete contrast to the only other man she knew like this. Ryan never did this with her, only every concerned with his own release. But Ethan…

Ethan drinks her in, laps at her like she’s ambrosia. He happily spend all night using only his tongue, never once thinking of himself and it heightened every sensation. Made her putty in his hands. 

“I’m gonna –” An almost embarrassing load moan cuts her sentence short, hands flying to grip his hair. 

“Good girl.” 

She falls apart at that, her body shaking with pleasure. The world around her going white. 

He helps her ride it out, kissing her inner thigh when she comes back down. 

“Come here.” Still desperate from him, Gen reaches for him pulling his face to hers. 

Their lips meeting in a fiery kiss, her legs wrapping around his waist as one of his hands takes ahold of her own and places it above her head. 

No words need to be said, both knowing exactly what the other wants. Ethan pushes into her, moaning quietly against her lips. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him down on top of her as he begins to move. The fingers of their still clasped hands intertwining. 

They move slowly, savoring every second of being together in the most intimate way. There was no need to rush, to vigorously race to the finish line. Their lips stay fused together, only breaking to gasp for a breath or let out a quiet moan. 

“I’m close.” Genevieve whispers, opening her eyes to look up at her husband. “Come with me.” 

“Fuck.” He captures her lips in another breath taking kiss, picking up the gentle pace they had set. 

With only a few more thrusts, he finishes deep inside her. The sensation sending her over the edge as well, his name on her lips as she comes. 

He falls ontop of her, the weight of his body crushing and comforting. Gen lets go of his hand, holding him tightly to her with on arm and her other hand moving to his head. Fingers twisting through his sweat slicked hair. 

After a few more moments, Ethan rolls off of her and pulls her into his side. She lays her head on his chest, his heartbeat in her ear. 

“That was a much better ending to my birthday. Totally made me forget that you’re leaving me for two months.” 

He laughs quietly, kissing her head. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll make you forget again.” 

“You sure you’re up for it?” Gen tilts her head back, smirking. 

“I’ll take that as a challenge, G.” 

“Good.”

A/N: Development as been made, my dudes. I don’t feel like going off and hiding this time. lol 

(tagging separately)

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #cfwc naughty & nice #ethan x gen #ns*fw

[ofknowlcdge]

Victorious | Age Dependent | Genderfluid | Time Lord

Victorious doesn't want to be the Doctor anymore, they lost Donna and ran when she was safe, but not into the stars really. Wilf spotted him a few times. Though there seems to another him running around anyway, so what's it concern him. (a mix of Alec Hardy and Tenth Doctor)

"That's not my problem anymore."

Victorious was once the Doctor, and maybe he still is sometimes.

But he's not anymore, problem with timelines is that there are so many and he went in a completely different route to say what could have happened to make him regenerate. Though he didn't stray so far off the path that it didn't happen.

If he had he might be different now, but she's not even remotely different or changed for that matter.

"You really are asking me? I'm not the Doctor anymore."

The Doctor ran, for a time lord like him it might be a strong word seeing as he does run often. But that's what he did, he ran, ran somewhere with his TARDIS, for a while, a little more than a while it supposes he stayed in london.

He tried to isolate himself, in london watching wilf, the nobles because he lost his best friend. The one human he adores and he wanted to keep adventuring with, for the better he supposes. But this doesn't mean it makes his hearts ache less. He ran, always running, he didn't want to be seen but wilf, wilf saw him sometimes and he felt guilty.

Watching from afar.

Then he tried to go on adventures on his own as usual, but that was what got him into trouble.

Sometimes he can't help himself and get involved. Trouble happened. Trouble with a lot of capitals, including doing something he really shouldn't have and he said there were fixed points, fixed points he shouldn't mess with and the Doctor got it into his head.

He didn't want to. He didn't. He's not sure what happened or if anything did. If it did, it messed something up and he doesn't know if it was him.

How could you tell if anything happened, but it did apparently. What with them- but everything had gone down and he wasn't right, he did't feel at all right. He doesn't know how to anymore, how to be the Doctor anymore. He doesn't think he is the Doctor anymore.

Gone was the bounce, gone a long ago after everything he used to be when he regenerated with Rose. He's sure he did, again but that seems wrong? He's still here and he shouldn't be.

(based off the bigeneration of the specials)

Lord knows he wasn't going to start being overexcited like this or anything really. But the guilt, he missed her still. It wouldn't heal his hearts if she wasn't there and he just ran. He could admit he ran, just ran.

"Did you think that was really necessary?"

He's pretty sure he is someone else now, it was going to come to this by now.

Turns out he also knows there's another version of himself, one that was gangly. Not sure how that works, but that's what it is. So it's not like he has to run around and do anything.

A lot of it is a blur, he's not entirely sure what happened in it but something must have, it would be rather silly not to have. It's just he ended up having a life and a name. Like he just passed through it and he ended up somewhere he's a little unsure of.

But he eventually ended up somewhere, some small town. Small in comparison he has to admit. But he still sometimes goes, it's ahbit but he stays about.

Victorious is mostly found in a corner in a cafe, willing to ignore everything and avoid people. But sometimes he just can't avoid people.

Turns out things are just so very confusing after a while.

#doctor who au; not the doctor: victorious #[ victorious thread ] #「 paved the way ― bios 」

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

A Slip In The Rain

When Robin woke up, for a moment, she had no idea where she was. Blue-black landscape flitted past behind a rain-spotted window that her temple was leaning against. She blinked sleep-encrusted eyes and craned her aching, stiff neck. The smell of wool and tobacco was in her nose, the hum of a car’s engine in her ears, and she was covered by something warm and heavy.

A coat. Cormoran’s coat.

She was in his BMW, on the passenger seat.

“Hey there. You okay?” his deep, rumbling voice asked softly from the driver��s seat, and, as Robin turned to him, memory rushed back in.

Her father had died suddenly, a few days ago. An aneurysm had burst that no one had known about. Emergency surgery had saved her father’s body, but not his brain. They’d let him go the day after, organ donor forms filled out and still in shock and disbelief. The funeral had made it real a few days later. It had been at the graveside that Robin’s dam had finally broken and the tears had come, so long and hard her eyes were still red two days later.

Strike had been there through all of it. He’d insisted on driving her to Masham and stayed there, immovable, like a Cornish piece of rock, steady, solid and unshakeable. Familiar with handling a sudden death in the family, he’d helped organize things as well as served as a chauffeur or sounding board to anyone who needed it. Even Robin’s mother, bereaved and scared, had warmed to Strike’s unassuming, helpful presence and sent him off today with a grateful hug.

Tactfully, Strike had stayed at a B&B close to Robin’s family home. After all, he wasn’t her boyfriend. Or was he?

They’d come closer, these past few days. He’d held her hand more than once, and the line between comfort and affection had blurred. There had been hugs, and a gentle kiss on her forehead after the funeral. A stubby thumb wiping a trail of tears from her cheek. All of which could have been the caring gestures of a best friend. Or more?

Right now, safe and warm in Cormoran’s car, on their way home to London, it didn’t seem to matter what exactly they were to each other. All cried out and empty, the only thing that mattered to Robin was that he had been by her side, without question, without fanfare, without fuss.

“Robin?” he asked again, frowning in concern. Night falling, he looked so dark beside her, hair and eyebrows and beard and all, she could barely see his eyes in the gloominess of the car. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I fell asleep.”

She thought she sounded more like herself again, less breakable than these last few days.

“Yeah, you were wiped out.” Strike turned his head and focused on the road again. Rain was sloshing against the windshield now. “No wonder, after everything.” He motioned to the back seat. “There’s tea if you want some.”

Robin yawned and smiled at the same time. She hadn’t smiled since… Well. Since.

“You brought tea?”

“In a thermos, yes. Biscuits, too. Can you believe it?”

Robin felt rather than saw his lopsided grin and his comically raised eyebrows.

“Cormoran Strike,” she sighed, sadness and comfort battling for prominence in her chest. It resulted in a teary-eyed smile. “I love you.”

The words had slipped out without thinking. Robin froze. Her heart broke into a drum solo. She hadn’t meant to say this. She wasn’t even sure how she’d meant what she’d said.

For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the rain. And the only movement was the BMW cruising along at a steady pace.

Then, without turning his gaze away from the road, Strike said, very softly, “I love you too, Robin Ellacott.”

A heartbeat.

And then, “Will you pour me a cup as well? And open the chocolate biscuits first. I found the other ones in my duffel bag, and they may have expired since Afghanistan.”

Another first since her father’s death: Robin, relieved and confused and grateful, burst into mirthful laughter.

You can also read and comment on AO3:

#whumptober2022 #no.4 #dead on your feet #waking up disoriented #cormoran strike #bbc strike #robin ellacott #fanfic #emotional h/c #grief tw #make of this what you will #i don’t know either #🤷🏻‍♀️

[ffb6c1lover]

thoughts on my ttpd first listen

Fortnight (feat. Post Malone): I've been saying her relationship with alcohol was not healthy bruuuh. I love how she takes her life, which the vast majority of her listeners would not be able to relate to, and makes an "understandable" metaphor out of it. But it must break her to do so. Love Post Malone's voice here, he really compliments her well. THE MV THO with the dead poets <3<3<3<3<3

TTPD: girl go get your lover tf 😭😭😭 whole era dedicated to this muse, incredible.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys: getting mad MATHP vibes from the storytelling here.

Down Bad: now I'm starting to really get dragged in the album. The first verse rewired something in me, Idk. also if I speak about the muse... The New Romantics mention, I died dead. Also someone needs to edit kenstewy to the "hostile takeover" bit.

So Long, London: my favourite so far, I am in love with this vibe. It's giving YLM. Also I love the style of the intro, it's channeling the waves in a way, up until this point the album has a very distinct "look" and I can see it so clearly. My real question atp is how are we supposed to just, go on as normal after this album. She is baring her soul in a way she's never done before and it's not a happy soul, so how is just going to go on keeping her happy persona at Eras and how are we going to let her. I think the management is probably gonna make the last songs be happier ones to get back a bit of the persona. Like atp I'm not convinced the 5 stages of grief was her idea and I don't think this mental state is related to a specific breakup or a specific event, this is a cluster of stuff she's been carrying.

But Daddy I Love Him: "growin' up precocious sometimes means not growin' up at all" holy fuck, mood. My heart aches for her, this anger and resentment must have been burning holes through her and people are still probably not gonna see her as she wants to be seen even after this. She couldn't make this pain any clearer and tomorrow she is still gonna have to play pretend.

Fresh Out The Slammer: still breaking these chains!! If anyone at all is listening, there is a Taylor before this album and a Taylor after. Full stop, no going back.

Florida!!!: I LOVE THIS COLLAB I NEED A FULL ALBUM.

Guilty as Sin?: looove the beats on this one.

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me: "don't you worry folks we took out all her teeth" and the circus life, I am broken. This album is supposed to be her breaking her chains and the general reaction is "what ex caused this". I wouldn't be surprised if she committed mass murder.

I Can Fix Him (No, Really I Can): this song is giving cowboy - Lana Del Rey - old americana vibe and I'm into it. It's a new thing for Taylor but it suits her well, especially with her country past.

loml: feeling the "All Things End" by Hozier vibes. Now that I think about it the whole album is kinda Hozier-y, like very heavy on lyricism, dark storytelling and kinda giving whiskey/soil/heavy clouds. I am obsessed.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart: girl go to therapy I am begging you.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: THE SOUND!! THE WORDS!! THE TRUST ISSUES!! I love this song.

The Alchemy: psych ward mention in the obligatory football song, I see you, Miss Swift, trying to see who's actually listening. Well, I am.

Clara Bow: Nothing New bridge meets The Lucky One. I don't think anyone wants to be part of the industry after listening to this album, Tay, but we appreciate the sentiment.

The Black Dog: okay MsKingBean89. Also the location, she is hilarious.

imgonnagetyouback: bpdlor shining through, love you queen.

The Albatross: she hates her fans, and she is right. The Matty thing was heinous.

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: beautiful song. I don't have many thoughts about it, it's deeply personal for the people involved (like much of the album), and since I'm not one of them I can just say she evokes images so beautifully with her words. She is extremely skilled and talented.

How Did It End?: the sound really captures the image of someone lost in thought at the grocery store, idk what else to say.

So High School: was she sick while recording this?

I Hate It Here: my anthem. me. myself. I.

thanK you aIMee: cute metaphors

I Look In People's Windows: Ebenezer Scrooge-ass anthem (I am crying does anyone remember my "on the glass wall" post, I'm adding this song). I know it doesn't make sense, but to me it sounds like she hadn't been singing for a while and she is incorporating vocal exercises in her songs, Idk why. (like "oh this exercise sounds fun, should insert it in a song").

The Prophecy: oh boy, oh boy, this one hit hard. Like really hard. "Shades of greige" is the perfect way to describe this album, it's rather monochrome and monothonous like sadness often is.

Cassandra: I love me a good Greek mythology reference. Incredible imagery. Bruno Madrigal's anthem.

Peter: yes. yes. this. Peter Pan imagery + Daisy Buchanan vibes, I died dead.

The Bolter: called me tf out. The leaks in the rowboat, my God...

Robin: not crying, you are.

The Manuscript: that's the ending I was talking about. There is no real happy closure, she had to go back 15 years to find a past that doesn't haunt her anymore, that's disheartening. I guess we'll see how this plays out, but I'm afraid she's not all that better. Hope she can take a break and get better soon.

Overall, I loved this album so much. It's everything I hoped Midnights would be and Midnights is in my top 3, so that's saying something. Considering how wordy it is, I think most songs will grow on me even more, looking forward to that.

#ttpd #ts #🌙 #taylor swift #the tortured poets department

[randomshyperson]

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary:  The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: (+18), smut, sexual themes, strap on use, teasing, fingering, sexual suggestions, explicit language, explicit, obscenity, a bit of praise kink, dom/sub dynamics, bottom reader mostly, switch dynamics, power dynamic changes, slight possessive sex, brief angst, alcohol mentions, arguing, jealously, fluffy.

Words: 7.935 K

A/N> Instead of writing my series, I'm continuing works that were finished already. This is basically porn honestly haha No, but jokes aside, we have fluffy moments with a lot of smut. Good reading everyone!

Part One | Part Two | All Works Masterlist || AO3

//-//-/////-///-//

Love is Outside the Screen - Part III

Northern Ireland, two years ago.

You slipped under the long wooden table as the script indicated.

Your character was supposed to give a slight nod, and then gasp because of the torso injury, and you followed the script perfectly.

When the director yells cut, you stand up, trying not to bump into the makeover they did on your clothes.

"That was great, guys!" Shouted Alex Graves in the direction of the cast scattered around the medieval set. "Let's call it a day."

You were exhausted.

The Game of Thrones footage was absolutely grueling, and time-consuming, although it allowed you to learn something new with almost every scene.

Walking back toward the dressing room to clean up your makeup, you smiled shyly at the girls in the salon who congratulated you on the day's performance while helping you to remove your costume.

While they were going through your hair, you decided to check your cell phone.

There were two missed calls from Lizzie, and you felt your heart swell with guilt immediately.

She had also sent you messages asking if everything was okay, or if you were busy, and saying that she missed you, and you wish you had answered them all, but your routine had been completely absurd.

You felt your chest ache with longing every time you thought of your girlfriend.

When you signed the contract, you knew the conditions, and so did Lizzie. But nothing prepared you for the real thing.

Almost three months without a decent conversation, not even video calls, and the lack of her in your life was making you frustrated and irritated all the time. You were sinking into the screenplay and the recordings, because you simply hated not having Lizzie in your day-to-day life.

"Thank you girls." You said as soon as you noticed the makeup completely removed from your abdomen.

The change in the script killed your character sooner than expected, and you should go home early, even though it was going to take two or three months, it was much less than originally planned.

Grumbling softly, you went back to the dressing room, deciding to call Lizzie now that you would have a little time alone.

She doesn't answer until the second-to-last ring.

"Yes?" Her husky voice signals that she was asleep, but all you can feel is your body shaking at the sound.

"It's me, baby." You reply tenderly as you sit back in the armchair, pressing the cell phone to your ear as if you wish you could reach into the device and touch your girl.

"Oh, hey." She comments sleepily, and you wonder if she has closed her eyes again, or even opened them. "It's late."

"I know, I'm sorry." You say leaning back in the armchair. "I wanted to check that everything was okay because I couldn't answer you earlier."

"Don't worry, darling." She says softly, almost sleepily. "I just missed you."

"Me too, my love." You assure her, feeling your chest tighten slightly. My god, you just want to see her, hold her, touch her. "Lizzie, darling, are you asleep?"

"Yes." She whispers, making you smile.

"I love you baby." You say. "Call me when you wake up, I will interrupt as many scenes as it takes to talk to you."

"Behave yourself in the studio, love." She mumbles sleepily, and you laugh lightly. It was the same warning she gave on your last day in California, on the way out of the airport. "I love you. And I miss you."

You cursed the entire movie company at once when you could perceive the upset in Lizzie's tone, even in her sleepy state. You repeated that you loved her one more time before hanging up the phone.

As you put your cell phone away to grab your keys and head back to the hotel, you wondered if a breach of contract was really so bad.

//-//

Present, California.

You felt Lizzie's arms wrap around you as soon as you made mention of getting out of bed. You smiled, turning your body to look at her.

Her sleeping figure with her eyes closed, her hair slightly tousled made your heart warm with affection.

You loved her so much.

Raising your hand to her face, you stroked her cheek gently with your thumb, and watched the woman sigh softly, and even in her sleepy state, lean into your touch.

"Lizzie." You called softly, trying to wake her up. And did so again until she mumbled softly, leaning her face against the pillow. You let your hand wander to her hair, enjoying the softness as you stroked her scalp with your fingers. "We need to wake up baby."

Lizzie just mumbled again against the pillow cotton, making you smile at the cuteness of that scene.

You moved closer only to deposit short kisses across her face, and only stopped when she let out a husky giggle.

"Good morning, love." You whispered against her ear, and were about to pull away, but she tightened her arms around your waist, keeping you almost on top of her, making you smile.

"Good morning." She sighed back against the skin of your neck, and you blushed slightly when you felt her inhale your perfume and then tighten her fingers around your waist. "Fuck, I love you."

You laughed softly at her sudden, hoarse confession, but let your arms slip around her shoulders, burying your body against Lizzie's. The tenderness was wonderful, and she moved one hand up to caress your back while the other remained on your hip, her thumb moving across the skin beneath your blouse.

You tilt your face away just to look at her, and already you find her with her eyes wide open, a shy smile on her lips.

"I love you too, babe, but we need to get up." You tell her, and you almost get the impression that she's not even listening, because all she does is look at your face with adoration.

You bite back a smile as you feel her legs move beneath you, her bare foot caressing your ankle before she spins you around quickly and stands over you, the sudden movement making you sigh and tighten your arms intertwined around her neck.

"Lizzie!" You exclaim humorously, but all you get is a low murmur as she sinks her body against yours and buries her face in your neck.

"How much time do we have?" She asks against your skin, her lips dangling on that sensitive part of your collarbone and sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

"Enough." You reply already affected by her touch, closing your eyes to enjoy the sensation.

Lizzie smiles against your neck, beginning to deposit chaste kisses against your skin, making you sigh softly.

It didn't matter how many times you had been together or for how long, your body reacted to her in the same way. You only hoped that you wouldn't be late for your appointment with the Marvel directors, but when Lizzie slipped her hand up into your pajamas, you didn't care about that anymore.

//-//-//

London, 1 year and 9 months ago.

It's your third time on "The Graham Norton Show."

You finished taping Game of Thrones the day before, and this was your last appointment before returning to California. To Lizzie.

Part of the cast is sitting next to you, and you are glad for that because you are distracted this evening and can use the time they answer questions to think about your girlfriend. And you miss her for sure.

Graham, the host, asked questions about the final season, and about day to day life on set, and after Kit Harington and Emilia Clarke commented on everything being amazing, and not telling anything about the plot since they weren't allowed to, you were slightly surprised that the subject shift went directly to the romance rumors between the cast.

"I hear that some of you have been becoming close friends outside the set." Graham begins with a chuckle, and you and the cast share a chorus of dissatisfaction that makes the audience laugh. "Which is normal in a long series of course. But we wanted to bring that in because we love gossip."

"Since I'm married, can I have a drink in the dressing room?" Kit jokes, drawing laughter from everyone.

"You're supposed to help us with the arguments". Graham replies humorously. He leans back in his chair slightly to point to the monitor behind him. "We have some behind-the-scenes photos here. And Miss Clarke looks very comfortable."

The audience laughed at the comment, and you tried to cover it up with an awkward laugh. It was a picture of Emilia Clarke, your colleague who plays Daenerys Targaryen, on your lap. But the moment was badly misinterpreted. The photo was taken right after one of the prom rehearsal scenes, and Emilia had gotten one of the coordinations wrong, and you laughed when she fell on you.

Of course, this kind of insinuation was happening because to the media, you two were two single women. And you were used to this kind of questioning, but still, it was always uncomfortable.

"We were dancing, Graham." Emilia argues humorously. "It's not what it looks like."

The audience lets out a chorus of disappointment, and you and Emilia giggle awkwardly.

"Was that the mating dance, ladies?" Graham teases and you want to dig a hole in the ground, but all you do is keep up with everyone's laughter. "Despite all the jokes, I think Marvel's couple is going to be threatened."

The comment makes your heart race, but the audience is very approving, applauding heartily.

At least with this you can talk about Elizabeth.

"Is tonight the night you are going to take over America's dream relationship or can we just keep saying that you and Emilia are together, since there is not the slightest chance that someone that attractive is single." Graham tells you with humor making the audience and cast laugh. You try to keep up, not wanting to seem rude. You wish you could tell him that there is nothing wrong with being single, but you don't think you want to create an awkwardness so you just settle back in your seat as you joke:

"Unfortunately I will deny it again, Graham" You reply. "And I'm not dating Emilia either, I assure you."

You spend the rest of the evening dodging the comments, and are exhausted by the time the interview is over.

"Hey, are you going back to the hotel already?" Kit asks you just as you walk back to the dressing rooms, and you deny it with your head.

"No chance, I'm leaving." You reply. "I'm going straight to the airport, I have a flight in two hours. What about you, Harington? Aren't you going home to see your wife?"

"I didn't know we were talking about wives." He jokes making you blush and look away. Kit didn't know about Lizzie, but he knew you had someone. "Of course I want to come home, but I still have some appointments here. And Rose is in Spain."

"That sucks, man." You comment and he murmurs in agreement, shrugging.

"Yeah, but longing sure makes the sex better." He retorts with amusement and you grimace before laughing.

"You're unbelievable." You joke before waving yourself off in farewell, turning in the direction of your dressing room.

As soon as you enter, you take your cell phone out of your pocket and try to call Lizzie, but it goes to voicemail. You leave a message saying that you can't wait to see her and get your things ready to leave.

After saying goodbye to the cast again, and taking a taxi to the airport, you receive a message, but it is not from Lizzie.

*Sara evil agent* sent you an attachment.

You frown at the matter. "Off-screen romance? Would GOT star Emilia Clarke be dating queer Marvel protégé?"

You call Sara the same minute.

"I literally said I wasn't dating her!" You complain as soon as she answers and hear Sara laugh on the other end.

"Oh, honey, I told you, the media loves a little gossip." She says. "And you need to stop setting up fake girlfriends so quickly, I can barely keep up."

You grumble in irritation and your agent lets out a giggle.

"Don't be so grumpy, it's just a rumor and the last time I checked you were a single woman so I don't see a problem." She says and you bite the inside of your cheek. Since your lack of excitement about GOT, Sara suspects something. Neither of you says anything, but you know she's not an idiot and figures you have a girlfriend. "Are you going back to LA already?"

"Yes, I'm catching my flight in an hour."

"I hope you're ready to record, Lady Vision." She jokes. "Your scene schedule is getting closer."

"I plan to rest this week." You warn, slightly distracted. "Game of Thrones really was something different."

"I just hope people like the ending."

You giggle and Sara wants to know why, but you don't give her any spoilers. After asking if everything was okay, and assuring her that you had eaten something before the interview, you hang up.

Lizzie didn't text you back and you fell asleep on the plane.

//-//-//-//-//

California, three years and eleven months ago.

Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.

But Lizzie's hand in yours was doing a good job of calming you down.

Maybe it was just because you had waited, or maybe it was because you were so much in love, but you don't remember feeling so nervous about the idea of having sex with someone. Not since your first time.

And well, now with Lizzie, it was actually only the first time you two were going to sleep together. You didn't have to be nervous, but you were.

Liz opened the bedroom door as soon as you two reached the room, and dragged you inside with her. You closed the wood as you entered.

The tension was palpable in the air, and you wondered if you stayed still long enough, she might hear your heartbeat.

You looked at her, your eyes locked on each other, and a shy smile on your lips as you approached, stopping inches from her body.

Lizzie holds her breath.

"Are you nervous?" You ask in a husky voice, raising your free hand to go around the length of her arm with your finger, admiring the way her skin shivers at your touch.

She just shakes her head and you smile, resting your hand on her cheek.

"It's just me." You comment as you lean your forehead against hers, and you both close your eyes in anticipation. "We can stop if you're not sure..."

"I'm sure." She interrupts half breathlessly, her hand tightening its grip before letting go of yours, so that she brings both hands to the sides of your neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You assure before breaking the distance, bringing your mouths together in a firm kiss that draws a sigh from both of you as your hands move up to Lizzie's waist.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to deepen, your tongues fighting together and the sensation making your head spin and your body heat up.

Lizzie gasped against your mouth before parting for breath, and you used the opportunity to let your fingers run down to the hem of her shirt as you pulled it up. In motion the piece was off, and she copied the same to remove your blouse.

You bit your lip as you looked at the sight of Lizzie's exposed torso in front of you, her nipples hardening in the air making you feel the tightness beneath your stomach increase.

You lunged forward, grabbing her left breast with your mouth, and Lizzie let out a loud noise in her throat, throwing her head back as your tongue skirted her left nipple.

She was so hot and smelled so good, and the sounds she was making were driving you insane.

You moved your hands up to her breasts as soon as you brought your mouths together again, your tongue circling hers as you played with her hardened nipples, and it wasn't long before Lizzie began to whimper, closing her legs and thrusting her hips towards yours for more friction.

You smiled against her lips, you would give her exactly what she needed.

//-//

California, one year and nine months ago.

Leaving your keys on the counter, you were surprised by the silence as you entered.

It wasn't that you wanted Lizzie to stay late to wait for you, except that it was exactly what you wanted.

You left your bag on the living room floor and called her name twice before assuming she was asleep.

Sighing slightly, you went up the stairs to your room, but it was empty. All the other rooms were empty, which made you frown.

Okay, you didn't expect Elizabeth not to be home just the day you were returning, after months of not seeing each other.

But you didn't have much time to think about what might have happened, because a clearly drunk Lizzie stumbled into the house, fighting against the lock and her own balance just as you were coming down the stairs.

"You're drunk?" You ask in a voice in a mixed tone of disbelief and concern upon seeing her, and Lizzie is startled for a moment before giggling.

"Look who's here, California!" She announced to the room with irony and with open arms, stumbling inside. "Hollywood's most eligible bachelorette, watch out ladies and gentlemen."

You frowned at the little scene, Lizzie walked with difficulty to the kitchen as you finished going down the steps, she murmured quietly and you with your arms crossed, trying to understand exactly what was going on.

"What happened to you?" you ask as you follow her across the room, Lizzie takes off her shoes with difficulty, almost falling to the floor at least twice. When you make mention of helping her, she holds up her hand for you not to, and you are starting to get worried.

"I went to have fun." She replies with a humorless laugh. "I can have fun."

"Of course you can." You retorted with a raised eyebrow, watching Lizzie take a deep breath and close her eyes as she leaned her back on the countertop, probably getting a headache from the way she buried her face in both hands for a moment. "Who did you go with?"

"I don't know, Mom." She sneered wryly, and you clenched your jaw. Lizzie laughed at your expression, and pouted. "Oh, did I upset you? Sorry, darling, I'll try to be a good girl for you."

You shook your head slightly.

"Babe, what is happ..."

"Don't call me that." She cuts off quickly and you look at her in surprise. Lizzie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she looks at you again, she has thick tears in her eyes and you feel your heart soar. "I saw the pictures on television, Y/N. I saw the pictures, I saw your interview, I saw the videos on instagram. And I guess I understand, because she's beautiful and we haven't seen each other in months but I thought you loved me..."

"wow, what are you talking about?" You interrupt, confused and frightened, and Lizzie looks like a complete mess. She is crying and you reach up to touch her face, and try to calm her down. "Babe, breathe, I don't understand."

She whimpers softly, and you wonder how much booze she really has consumed.

"You are going out with that woman and I love you and everything is horrible." She declares in a whiny voice and you look at her with a frown.

"Lizzie, what..."

But she pushes you and walks off toward the bedroom, and you try to keep her from falling over drinking at least three times until she can get up the stairs properly.

"Lizzie, wait, talk to me." You beg but she keeps walking and you enter the bedroom a moment after her, watching her walk to the closet and start throwing all her clothes out while mumbling about cheating.

You take a deep breath with your hands on your waist, letting out a humorless laugh. It was an absurd scene to say the least.

"Elizabeth Olsen, stop this immediately!" You command as soon as she steps out of the closet, and she widens her eyes slightly as she shifts the weight of her feet before veering to the floor. You sigh as you walk toward her. "Babe, look at me."

"No."

"Lizzie."

Reluctantly, she does so. You soften your expression, feeling your heart soar at the image of her face, longing invading your whole heart.

"God, I missed you." You confess half breathlessly and Lizzie looks on the verge of tears. "Darling, where did all this come from? I'm not seeing any other girl."

"I saw the pictures..."

"Lizzie." You interrupt seriously, shaking your head slightly as your hands land on her shoulders. "I have no one but you. I would never cheat on you, I don't know where that came from. I wish you hadn't drunk so much so we could have a serious talk."

Lizzie gives a mischievous little smile, her gaze half lost because of the alcohol.

"I'm not drunk." She mumbles clearly intoxicated, making you chuckle slightly.

"Of course not." You said as you pushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. "You made a mess in the bedroom, babe. Why don't you try to sleep while I clean up?"

Lizzie sighed, clearly tired but shaking her head in denial

"I don't want to sleep." She said as she brought her body closer to you, her hands squeezing your shirt. "I want you to fuck me."

You bit back a smile, looking at Lizzie with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah?"

She murmured in agreement, her fingers trying to open the buttons of your shirt, but she was clearly in no condition to do so.

"I'd like that too, but you're drunk." You say as you move your hands to hold hers, smiling at the grumble of frustration she lets out. "Go lie down, I'll get some water."

"But..."

"Bed, Lizzie." You ordered again as you intertwined your hands to lead her to lie down.

She was reluctant a few times but eventually agreed and lay her down on the mattress, placing the comforter on top.

When you made mention of getting up, she held your hand.

"Don't go." She asked softly with her eyes almost closed. You smiled.

"Aren't you thirsty?"

Lizzie denied and pulled your hand, you moved closer to lie beside her and she wasted no time in entwining her body in yours.

You let your fingers run through her hair and she sighed lightly, not taking long to fall asleep. You waited a few more minutes before moving, getting out of bed as gently as possible so as not to wake her.

After collecting the clothes Lizzie had thrown across the room and putting them away in the closet, as well as putting the party clothes she was wearing in the wash, you went back downstairs, looking for your bag to take to your room.

Your cell phone vibrated as you walked up the stairs.

It was a message from Scarlet, and you laughed lightly as you read its content.

“I heard you're coming home today, right? Lizzie was really upset about the rumors that you were dating, and asked me to take her out for a drink. I dropped her off at home, but she was pretty shaky. I didn't know you two had a thing, can we talk about it over coffee tomorrow?”

You were relieved that Scarlett was the person accompanying Lizzie, but now she knew you two had something. You were tired of it honestly. The secret. All you wanted was for everyone to know how much you loved Lizzie. And judging from recent events, that was a problem for her too. Or at least it was enough for her to drink more than she should.

But you would have to wait until Lizzie woke up to have this conversation, so you went back to your room, and after putting away the clothes from your bag, you took a shower and put on your pajamas, wasting no time in joining Lizzie in bed again.

//-//-//

Caribbean, one year and six months ago.

Following the music, you continued to dance slowly, your hand around Lizzie's waist while the other was entwined in the air with hers.

The luxury hotel where you were staying that week was hosting a Hawaiian themed evening, and well, after spending the day in the pool area, you decided to dance a little.

In that moment, with Lizzie in your arms, you were at peace completely. Moments like these, like waking up with her in your bed, or cooking together, or rehearsing your lines while curled up on the couch under the blanket were more than enough to make you sure that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Lizzie.

You smiled before pulling your body away slightly, just to look at her. And she looked back at you with the same adoration, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You spun her into your arms then, making her laugh as you pulled her back, your hands resting on her neck as your hips swayed to the rhythm of the ukulele of the band playing on the stage.

There were a few other couples around, but you could hardly notice anyone but Lizzie.

You continued dancing, and you rested your forehead on hers, closing your eyes and breathing in her perfume. Lizzie smiled, stealing a quick kiss before resting her chin on your shoulder, following the rhythm of the dance.

When the show ends, you follow the crowd in the clapping for a moment before Lizzie entwines your hands and pulls you toward the bar.

"That was fun." She comments with cheeks flushed from the dance, her smile soft as you stand near each other, your hands intertwined as you reach for the menu.

"Dancing with you always is." You retorted charmingly, releasing her hand only to fit it against your waist, drawing a chuckle from Lizzie.

You ended up sharing some drinks and snacks, and you were starting to feel higher with each sip.

Lizzie was in the middle of a joke when you interrupted her.

"Marry me?"

She blinked in surprise, a confused chuckle escaping her lips.

"What?"

Maybe it was the drinking. Probably not, because with the emerald eyes looking so intently, you suddenly felt very sober. Your heart raced too, but you were never more sure of anything than you were now.

"Marry me." You repeat with a confident smile. Lizzie blushes with wide eyes.

"You... Are you serious?" She asks in surprise, and you let out a sigh, moving closer to take her hands and put them down on your racing heart.

"I love you." You tell her with nothing but sincerity. "I want to spend my life with you. I was planning something bigger, perhaps, at your parents' summer house. I would get down on one knee in front of your family and hand over the ring I've been carrying for three months." You confess and watch her look at you in shock. "I've been waiting for the right moment, Lizzie. But I've just realized that every second with you is the right moment. I want you to be my wife. Do you want me to be yours?"

It took a second for her to react, her expression changing from shock to pure happiness, the tears appearing in her eyes and the smile so big it made her eyes small.

"Yes, yes, of course." She replied between one shy laugh and another, moving forward to kiss you over and over again.

You couldn't stop smiling as you kissed her, and you giggled against each other's mouths, pulling apart to embrace each other.

It didn't take long for the people around the bar to notice and start clapping, but you didn't care.

All you were seeing was your future wife.

//-//-//-//

California, 1 year and 9 months ago.

You finished putting the coffee jug on the tray, the last missing item, before carrying it to your room, taking careful steps not to trip over anything on the way.

Lizzie was already awake, but still in bed. The glass of water in her hands and the missing pill on her bedside table indicated that she was already treating her hangover.

"Good morning, darling." You greeted as you entered, walking over to the bed to leave the platter on top of the sheet next to Lizzie.

"You're home." She commented in a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, you just made a noise with your mouth as she sighed, running her hand over her face, probably because of her headache. "When did you get home?"

"Last night." You respond by watching her. "Just before you."

"Sorry." She says moving closer. You gently pull away from her attempt to kiss her lips, and Lizzie frowns. "What?"

"I was worried." You state seriously. Lizzie lets out a sigh, leaning her back against the bed completely. "I thought you were going to pick me up at the airport, but you didn't call. And then I find the house empty. Until you arrived, completely drunk at dawn."

Lizzie crossed her arms, looking away. It was your turn to sigh.

"What's happening, Elizabeth?"

"It 's nothing."

"Elizabeth."

"Stop it." She asks impatiently, turning her face to you again. "Don't call me that."

You just frown in confusion. "It's your name."

"No." She exclaims annoyedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "You only call me Elizabeth when you're angry. And you can't be angry at me because I have the right to go out!"

You watch her stand up, as if running away from the conversation, and you sigh impatiently, massaging your temple with your finger. Lizzie begins to remove her dress, clearly intent on going to take a shower.

"I never said you had no right to go out, Elizabeth." You retort ignoring the annoyed grunt she lets out at you continuing to call her by her full name. "I just think I have the right to ask why after we agreed on something, you changed plans at the last minute and decided to disappear."

"It's funny that you want to demand something from me when you've spent the last few months without giving me any satisfaction of where or who you were with!" She accuses angrily and you grimace in indignation.

"Oh, so it's about my work?" You retort angrily. "The last time I checked we had decided that I was going to record and come home. You said you were fine with that!"

Lizzie gave a humorless laugh, her dress falling to her feet as she worked to remove her bra.

"Well, you know what, I wasn't!" She shouts angrily, throwing the bra angrily into the closet. You need to remember that you are angry with her as you have the vision of her breasts exposed in front of you while she is yelling at you. "I didn't agree to the endless get-togethers with all those sluts around you! And I sure didn't agree with your flushed face on television flirting with Emilia Clarke in front of the whole country!"

You stared at Lizzie in shock, but she just grunted in irritation before turning to go to the bathroom.

"No, I think it's so funny you bring that up, you know, Elizabeth." You spoke aloud as you stood up to follow her. "Because when I said Aubrey Plaza was flirting with you, you told me it was just business. But suddenly, Emilia is something that bothers you!"

"God, this is so different from Aubrey!" she retorts in irritation, finally naked, before stepping into the shower. You were beginning to find it hard to remember why you were fighting now that you had the view of her wet silhouette in the shower stall, as she raised her voice to be heard beyond the sound of the water. "We were supposed to be flirting in the interviews, it was all for the movie. You were just falling all over Emilia for no reason. All those smiles and giggles." She declares angrily, making you bite back a smile. Lizzie naked, angry and jealous was hot as hell.

"I really can't believe we are having this conversation." You complain as you unbutton your pajama shirt. "The most absurd part of it all is you thinking I would have anything with anyone else."

"You say these things but don't live up to them with your actions." She retorts, annoyed. "I wouldn't think anything of it if you didn't flirt with other people!"

"I didn't flirt with anyone!" You return defensively, your blouse finally coming off. Lizzie's annoyed expression almost falters, but she keeps her gaze above your breasts as you take off your pants. "And honestly, none of this would be happening if everyone knew we were dating!"

Lizzie frowns, her anger finally dissipating with your sentence. You step into the shower stall with her, and she looks at you dubiously.

"You...you want to go public?" She asks, studying you as the water falls on her back. You swallow dryly, keeping yourself in front of her.

"Only if you want to."

Lizzie holds out her hand for you to take, and when you do, she pulls you gently until your breasts are almost touching.

"Do you think we're ready for that?" She whispers as your foreheads lean against each other. You sigh as you rest your hands on her waist.

"With you, I'm ready for anything, Lizzie."

She sighs against your lips, her hands moving up to your neck.

"I can't think about that with you naked in front of me." She mumbles before moving forward against his lips.

Kissing shouldn't feel this good.

You slide your tongue over hers a moment later, and you both sigh in need, feeling the effects of so much time apart. Your hands move down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing her against you, and the direct contact of exposed skin makes Lizzie whimper.

You press her against the glass of the shower stall, feeling the shower water against your back as you hold your mouths together in a passionate, hungry kiss.

When air was needed, you ran your kisses down your girlfriend's exposed collarbone, enjoying the way she sighed in anticipation, her hand moving up to the back of your neck to encourage you.

"God, I missed you." You sighed before sucking on the sensitive spot on her collarbone, making Lizzie whimper as she dug her nails into your shoulder.

She pulled your face back to hers, kissing you urgently, and you pressed your body against hers, your hands moving down to her thighs and up so that she entwined her legs around your waist.

The contact of your exposed intimates together made you both gasp in the kiss, but you slid your tongue against hers again, savoring her taste as your hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them with a full palm, your fingers playing with her hardened nipples and making Lizzie sigh wetly.

"What is it baby?" you teased when she was unable to keep up the pace of the kiss, throwing her head back as she felt your hands pressing her breasts hard, and Lizzie grunted as she bit her lips to keep from moaning, looking up at you with dark eyes, clearly struggling to keep her expression impassive. You smiled, pressing your hips forward and watching her close her eyes tightly, unable to contain a low moan that escaped her throat. "I want to hear you, baby."

"I'm still mad at you." She declares in an affected voice, and you murmur in understanding, lowering your face to her collarbone, and licking and kissing the skin, making her shiver.

"Is this angry sex, then?" You sneer as you move your hips forward again, the sensation bringing a rising wave of pleasure to both of you. "It doesn't seem like it."

Lizzie sighs impatiently, and puts her legs on the floor, pushing you away by your shoulder.

You are so stunned by the sudden break in contact that you barely have time to absorb her turning off the shower before she pulls you by the hand out of the stall.

You were about to ask what she was going to do, but she pushed you onto the bed, and disappeared into the closet.

"Lizzie?" You called out uncertainty, preparing your apology speech for what exactly you couldn't say. But she walked out next, and the sight made your mouth go dry. "Damn."

Elizabeth was wearing a strap-on, the rubber penis already fitted in the front and ready for use. And from the determined expression on her face, she was more than willing to prove to you that she was pissed.

"Fuck me." You breathed aroused by the view, and Lizzie gave a wry chuckle as she approached the bed.

"Oh, I will." It was her only warning before she broke the distance, kissing you fervently, her tongue exploring your mouth and pulling the air from your lungs, making you see stars.

You let out a low moan, moving your hands up to her waist to pull her to you, but Lizzie pushed your hands away, breaking the kiss and moving one hand up to your neck, squeezing lightly as she made you look at her.

"Knees, ass up." She commanded in a husky voice, her gaze glittering with lust, you bit your lips to keep from moaning again, feeling your pussy pulsate with desire as you obeyed, turning on the bed quickly as Lizzie positioned herself behind you. "I'll teach you not to flirt with other girls."

"I was n-fuck." Your speech turned into an horsy whimper as she suddenly penetrated you with the dildo, you were so wet that she had no problem at all, the toy slipping into your folds with ease, filling you completely. Lizzie chuckled breathlessly, her hands steadying your hips.

"God, you're so hot." She murmured, moving slowly inside you, the action making you clench your fists in the sheets and arch your back, your pussy clenching against the dildo.

"Fuck, Lizzie."

She thrust again, this time hard, her hands squeezing your hips as she went deep inside, making you moan loudly.

Before establishing a rhythm, she leaned against you, her hand coming up to your hair and pulling you back as she brought her mouth to your ear.

"You are mine." She whispered before she thrust hard inside you, making you moan. "Do you understand?"

"Not quite yet, try harder." You teased breathlessly, the pleasure at having the dildo all the way inside you making you half dizzy. Lizzie grunted angrily, this time stroking even harder, making you see stars as you whimpered, your body beginning to tremble.

"Quit being a brat or I'm going to fucking stop." She warned against your ear, thrusting more slowly this time, and you moaned breathlessly, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Lizzie set a slow pace, but thrusting hard as you moaned and whimpered, every time the dildo entered you making you even wetter and aroused, to the point that you were unable to hold back the loud moans, and she giggled.

"Look at you, a horny, begging mess." She sneered against your ear. "You are mine, and only mine."

She whispered, her strokes deep inside you. "I want you to remember that when you flirt with other girls. How good I make you feel."

You whimpered, your pussy clenching against the dildo for more, Lizzie keeping the strokes torturously slow. Seeing your state, she laughed softly, pulling out of you completely.

Before you had time to complain, she turned you over on the bed, spreading your legs as she bent down, thrusting deep inside you. Your moan died against her lips as she kissed you hard, laying against you as she buried the dildo inside you.

You could feel Lizzie everywhere. Her breasts against you, her lips on yours, and it was too much. She thrust hard again, deep and fast as you had your legs around her waist, and her tongue on yours, and you began to tremble in spasms, pleasure spreading throughout your body.

Lizzie smiled against your lips as you lost the ability to respond to the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the closeness of your climax. Her mouth moved down to your neck as she kept up the pace of the thrusts inside you, and your hands tightened around her waist, pulling on her hips for more friction.

It wasn't long before you fell over the edge, the tightness under your belly exploding, the pleasure spreading to the tips of your feet as you moaned against Lizzie's ear, crumbling under her.

As you tried to normalize your breathing after such an intense orgasm, she straightened to look at you, her eyes had adoration in them.

"You did so good." She praised against your lips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"I did." You replied in a husky voice, taking a deep breath to control the effects of climax.

In one swift motion, you spun you two around on the bed, sighing as you felt the toy move inside you.

"Now you will learn to honor your appointments, Miss Olsen." You warned as your hands moved down to the latches of the strap, removing it as Lizzie bit her lips, looking at you with a mischievous gaze.

You shifted to remove the strap and toss the toy on the floor, returning to sit on Lizzie's lap, your mouth returning to hers immediately.

When she began to move beneath you, you smiled against her lips, pulling away as you rested your forehead against hers and let your fingers play with her wet entrance.

"Use your mouth." She asked breathlessly, her nails digging into your arm.

"My baby wants my mouth?" You teased, moving forward to lick her lips and pulling away with a short laugh when she moaned as she chased your mouth unsuccessfully. You circled her clitoris with your fingers, and Lizzie gasped. "The next time you want to get drunk, at least text me, my love." You warned as you penetrated her with two fingers at once, feeling her hot and slippery, while Lizzie moaned loudly against your mouth. "Do you understand?"

You removed your fingers, playing with her entrance until she nodded frantically, pushing her hips toward your hand. But you laughed lightly, pulling your hand away completely, and leaving her with a confused expression.

"I thought you wanted my mouth." You scoff, already ducking, as Lizzie looks at you expectantly.

"God, you always fuck me so good." Lizzie comments as you kiss her thighs, moving down. You smile against her skin, finally reaching her pussy.

You stare at her before moving forward, your tongue against her clitoris as she sighs with need.

"Don't torture me." She begs breathlessly, her wrists locked on the bed, you smile, lingeringly licking her, and she closes her eyes tightly.

"I won't, my love." You assure her before returning your mouth to her pussy, kissing her entrance before you begin to suck and lick, devouring her with desire.

She moans loudly, letting out affected sighs with each movement of your tongue inside her, and you hold her thighs to keep her open for you as you eat her out.

It doesn't take long for Lizzie to reach her edge, already near the limit from fucking you, but it's still delicious to have her crumbling against your mouth like a weeping mess, her orgasm on your tongue as she screams your name.

You climb your body back up onto her, and kiss her tenderly, unlike anything so far.

Lizzie is trying to control her breathing from the climax, but sighs in satisfaction as she tastes herself on your tongue.

As silence falls over you, you sigh lightly, your hands caressing her face.

"Are we okay, Lizzie?" You ask as you settle down to lie across from each other. She leans into the touch of your hands, as her hands come up to your waist.

"I don't know." She confesses. "But I want us to be."

You smile, using your finger to take a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

"Do you think going public will make us better?"

"I don't want to love you in secret anymore." She says and you feel your heart soar. "Do you understand?"

You smile. "Yes, babe. I feel the same way."

She gives a relieved smile, her gaze passionate. You break the distance, and kiss her gently.

When you break the kiss a moment later, you look quickly at your bodies. "I think we should have this conversation with clothes on." You comment and Lizzie giggles.

"Later. Now I show how much I missed you in my bed." She says before bringing your lips together again.

You certainly wouldn't object to that.

//-//-//

Atlanta, three years ago.

You hesitated at the entrance to the restaurant.

Through the window you could see Lizzie, and all your cast mates, as it was the closing celebration of the WandaVision filming.

You swallowed hard, the object in your pocket suddenly becoming too heavy.

You startled slightly when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"I guess we're both late, huh?" Kathryn Hahn, your cast mate, remarked gently, putting her car keys away in her pocket clearly having arrived right with you.

You gave her a lopsided smile and she noticed your hesitation, assuming a worried expression.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

You shifted your gaze to the window again, watching Lizzie giggle shyly, her gaze shining slightly. She looked around too, searching, and you knew it was for you.

"Yeah, I just...I was just having a moment of doubt." You say still looking at Lizzie. Kathryn followed your gaze, and smiled, but didn't comment on it.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out the object.

"Wow, are you going to...?" Kathryn asked in surprise but you gave a humorless laugh.

"No, I couldn't." You say swallowing dryly, and looking away from the velvet box. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"And when either of us are?" Kat returned, making you smile.

"How did you know you were going to say yes to your husband?" You asked next. Kathryn sighed thoughtfully.

"I didn't." She replied. "There's no way to know until you get asked. But what I did know was that I loved him. And that's what really matters."

You absorbed her words in silence, and then put the box back in your pocket.

"I think she loves me." You say. "That will be enough until I find the right moment."

Kat murmurs in understanding, and then pushes her shoulder against yours lightly.

"Just don't wait too long." She warns with a smile, nodding her head signaling for the two of you to enter the restaurant and join the rest of the team.

When you enter, any thoughts of Lizzie denying your marriage proposal are driven out by the image of her contented smile when she sees you arrive.

//-//-//-//

A/F/N> I'm not even gonna try to say this is the last time i'm continuing this work because at this point, I just know I don't believe my own words anymore haha. Tell me what you think people.

Tag> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x yn #Elizabeth Olsen x Reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x yn #elizabeth olsen x !bottom reader #dom lizze #dom!elizabeth olsen #avengers imagines #brat reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #elizabeth olsen smut

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter

Chapter 5

Author’s note: I use Grammarly to fix my mistakes, but there could still be some so sorry for that. Also, I am getting back into writing and am hoping to have a few more works out soon! Please reblog, like, or comment feedback is appreciated.

Word Count: 4,400

Warnings: None? Sirius being a d*ck? Maybe language, but I don’t think so.

Regulus wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he stroked his niece's hair. He was mad at his brother for basically throwing away the only good thing that had ever come from the Black family. Sirius was too blinded by the past to see what was right in front of him. As children, Sirius often told Regulus that he was their family's favorite and that it bothered him, but if he knew what it was like to be less loved then how can he love Harry more than Ali? He understood that Harry was Sirius's Godson, but couldn’t he love Ali and Harry equally? If Sirius made the effort maybe Ali and the other children could even be friends. His heart ached from the emotional battle that Ali was going through right now. Even if Sirius didn’t see it, he and Remus did. Ali’s light was dimmer than before and when she was lighting up again after finding out Sirius never came for her, Sirius just had to go and snuffed it out.

Carefully sliding out from under Ali and placing a pillow under her head Regulus left the room. He shut the door behind him casting a locking spell so she wouldn’t be bothered. He needed to speak with Remus first before doing anything. They needed to decide what to do about Ali. As much as Regulus wanted to spend time with her before she went back to school he didn’t want her to be this upset anymore. He walked into the study to find Remus and Nymphadora sitting near the fireplace.

“How is she?” Nymphadora blurted the question as soon as she saw her cousin. Remus had owled her after Ali had gone to her room. The older sister in her wanted to go up to Sirius and give him a piece of her mind, but she knew that it wouldn’t do any good.

“She’s asleep for now. All the fighting has exhausted her. I honestly don’t know what to do. I want her here, this is her home, but if Sirius doesn’t stop acting like the brut that he is it is going to hurt her more. Speaking of Sirius, where is he? It’s quiet.” Regulus flopped down on the chair across from Remus and Nymphadora raking a hand through his hair. His worry for Ali was causing him a headache. On one hand, he wanted to send Ali to stay at the Malfoy Manor for the remainder of summer, but on the other, he wanted to hold her close and have her stay in her home where she belonged.

“Sirius left with Harry after you went upstairs. He hasn’t been home since. The Weasleys stepped out to Diagon Alley to get the kids stuff for school.” Remus replied. He was secretly thankful that the house was mainly empty. This way at least Ali could come down if she felt like it without the chance of someone bothering her. Remus was having the same thoughts as Regulus about keeping Ali at home virus's sending her to the Manor. He just wanted his niece to be happy. The hope that he had of Sirius and Ali having the father/daughter relationship was gone. If only Remus could get Sirius to open his eyes to the pain he was causing to the girl, but Sirius was nothing if not stubborn.

“I think I am going to write to Cissa and see if she can keep Ali for the rest of summer. If that’s what it takes for her to be happy then so be it. We can see her off at the -“

“I don’t want to leave,” Ali’s voice interrupted. “I want to stay here with you. Please don’t make me leave. I can handle it, I promise.”

Ali knew that she and Regulus were going to have to talk about the fact that she called him dad, but that was a private conversation. Right now she needed to convince the adults in the room that she didn’t need to leave. She could take Sirius. Yes the words that he had said hurt her and the actions he did tonight furthered that hurt in her heart, but she was done. She didn’t owe him anything, and it was clear she knew that he didn’t want to be her father. She had meant what she said to Regulus. He was her father in all the ways that counted. He loved her unconditionally, was always there for her, and protected her.

She went and sat on the couch in between Nymphadora and Remus who wrapped an arm around her pulling her close to his chest. “It might be best if you went and stayed for the rest of the summer at the Manor, Al. This isn’t good for you mentally. We all can see how drained you are.”

“No, this is my home. I can handle it. I have you all plus the older Weasleys and Fleur. You'll protect me and if I need to get away for a little bit I’ll owl Blaise or Draco to go to Diagon Alley or something. I want to spend time with you. Times are hard right now and you never know when you are going to lose someone and I would like to have as much time with each of you just in case.”

Regulus leaned forward taking Ali’s hand in his, “Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to happen to us. I love you more than you could ever imagine and if you want to stay here you can.” Ali smiles brightly at that before Regulus cut her off, “but you have to tell me, Remus, or Severus, if anything happens. And you have to come out of your room. I am not having you locking yourself away again. Got it?”

Ali pounced on Regulus, hugging his neck tight. She was excited to spend some more time with her family. She had meant what she said about never knowing when something was going to happen. Wizards had been disappearing all over London and she was genuinely scared something was going to happen to her loved ones. She was going to make it a point to take plenty of photos and make enough memories to last a lifetime the next couple of weeks.

Regulus held his niece tight, fighting back the tears when she whispered, “Thanks, Dad,” into his ear. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but this was one title he was going to wear proudly.

Remus’s voice interrupted the moment, “wait for a second, why are you going to owl Blaise? We have an agreement, young lady, no boys till you're thirty!”

Ali’s giggle was music to those in the room with her, and for the first time that summer they all saw Ali smile at home the brightest she had since everyone arrived.

————

The rest of the day was eventful which was something that everyone was thankful for. Nymphadora left shortly after spending some time with Ali since she had something to attend to with Moody, so that left Regulus, Ali, and Remus to watch the Star Wars movies in Ali’s room. Kreacher brought them snacks while they made a fort on the floor. Ali was incredibly content laying on the mounds of pillows in between her Uncles. When she was younger they would have movie nights like this once a month until she started Hogwarts. Even then she and her friends carried on the tradition in the boy's dorm since Draco was often present at the ones hosted at home. She wished that she could have Draco over now, but knew that if she brought him here then everyone in the house would throw a fit about it, maybe it was something to bring up to Regulus later.

Molly called them all down for dinner shortly after the second film ended. Leaving the mess on the floor the trio made their way downstairs with Ali trailing behind her Uncles. She could feel her nerves spike the closer she got to the dining room. She thought about excusing herself stating she wasn’t hungry, but the loud growl in her stomach gave her hunger away. Everyone had already sat down beside Harry and Sirius when they got into the room. Regulus pulled the seat out next to him for his niece. Fleur shot her a smile when she sat down by her uncle with Charlie on her other side. At least she was sitting near someone who didn’t hate her.

Chatter and the sounds of forks on plates filled the room as everyone got their fill of Molly’s meatballs and onion sauce. Everyone broke off into separate conversations. Remus, Regulus, and Arthur talking about the Ministry, the younger Weasleys, and Hermione talking about Quidditch, Bill and Fleur about their upcoming wedding, and Charlie and Ali talking about his work in Romania. “What are you planning on doing after you leave Hogwarts?”

Ali shot a glance over at Remus who was doing a terrible job of disguising his eavesdropping on the duo. “I am thinking about becoming a professor. I like creatures obviously so I was thinking something along those lines, but I also like Herbology. So maybe that. I just know I want to teach.”

Charlie shot her a grin. “Have you thought about where? I know Hogwarts has Sprout for Herbology and Hagrid was doing Care of Magical Creatures, but you still have three more years of school so maybe they’ll need someone by the time you're done.”

Ali shrugged her shoulders. In all honesty, she wanted to leave England and travel for a bit but knew that if she brought it up now it would be a fight or something so she bit her tongue. “Maybe.”

The noise came to a halt when the door slammed open in the living room. Everyone hopped to their feet, wands at the ready. It felt like hours had passed before the intruder walked through the door. “Sirius! Harry! Merlin, you scared us all.”

“Sorry, it’s raining hard and we were in a rush to get back home.” Sirius shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Everyone retook their seats beside Milly who served Harry and Sirius. Ali tried her hardest to keep from looking at the latest duo that entered, not wanting to cause any more trouble or to give Sirius a reason to lash out at her.

Dinner passed rather quickly, conversations flowed in their small groups. Charlie had gone with Fleur and Bill on a scouting mission shortly after eating, while Fred and George worked on new products for their shop. Ali was in her head thinking about asking to go to meet Pansy in the coming days to look at a new book shop. Pansy wasn’t much of a reader but was always looking for an excuse to get out of her house. She was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up Molly was smiling softly at her while handing her a letter in a dark blue envelope. She instantly knew who the letter was from since only one person used that kind of envelope when writing her.

“This came for you, dear, when you were with your uncles. I didn't want to bother you then I almost forgot just now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Ali smiled at the kind woman. Despite her feelings towards most of the Weasley children, their parents were quite nice.

Molly patted her cheek before walking off. Ali started to rip the top off when she got Regulus’s eye and he winked at her. He knew who the letter was from having met the boy a few times already. Her cheeks flushed and continued to do so while reading it.

Dear Supernova,

I hope you are surviving the dreadfulness that is upon you right now with all the people in your house. Yes, Draco told me what was going on yesterday when I finally threatened to out his crush if he didn’t explain why we hadn’t been seeing you a lot this summer. I have to say I am quite hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself. Best friends I thought. Just joking, but seriously you could have told me about him and I wouldn't have said a word to anyone.

I miss you, Supernova. We’ve only got to see each other once this summer and we both know when school starts you will have a book shoved in front of your face in the first three minutes. Could we get together sometime this week? It has been awful at home and if I have to hear Draco's voice one more time without you there to tell him off for being annoying I may throw myself off the astronomy tower.

Your uncle may not agree, but you could come to stay at mine for a night. Mother agreed to it as long as Regulus does and we have separate rooms. If you can't, maybe I can come to you? I don’t really care what the redheads have to say about me being there so don’t worry about that. We have much to catch up on; like the fact that you got Headgirl and also didn’t write and tell me. I had to find that little tidbit out from Parkinson's. Don’t worry we’ll catch up whether that's soon or on the train.

love,

Zabini

Ali felt a pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. She hadn’t meant to forget to fill Blaise in on her life but it had been so crazy recently she hadn’t got to write anyone much. In all the truth no one knew that she had gotten Headgirl. She had gotten the letter from Flitwich a few days after the Weasley’s arrived and completely forgot. Although she told her Uncles she didn’t want to go anywhere spending some time with Blaise sounded nice. Deciding to just rip the bandaid off she looked up to find Regulus and Remus looking at her with amused smiles on their faces.

“What’s you got there, Ali?” Remus asked, causing her cheeks to flame red. She wasn’t scared to say that she wanted to hang out with a boy. She did it all the time whether it was Blaise, Theo, or Draco; it was more to do with the fact that she was about to ask to spend the night at a boys' house. Even if they were going to be in separate rooms and they had fallen asleep cuddled together weeks prior at the Malfoys, something none of her Uncles knew, it was going to be a little fight to get Remus to agree as he made the ‘no dating till you’re thirty’ rule when she was five and asked for a boyfriend for Christmas.

Looking around she noticed all attention was on her even if the other adults in the room were making it seem like they weren’t listening while the children openly gawked. “Uhm,” she was cut off by Severus stepping into the room. Great, now she had to face all three Uncles. Where were Dora and Cissa when she needed them?

Severus hugged her quickly before taking a place by Regulus. “Who's the letter from Ali?” He asked her letting her know there was no getting out of it and that she was going to have to spill the beans.

“It’s from Blaise,” A look of amusement passed Regulus’s face, making her think that he knew what was in the letter already while Remus looked like he was going to snatch the letter out of her hands and read it himself if she didn’t hurry up.

“And what possibly could it say to have your cheeks looking like the inside of Gryffindor common room?” Regulus teased further.

She coughed trying to get her nerves resealed. “He was saying that we need to catch up before school starts, and invited me to come and stay with him and Mrs. Zabini for a night this week.”

Remus grunted while Regulus smiled. Ali had to hide a giggle as she noticed all the other mouths in the room had dropped to the floor. Ali knew that except for Hermione and Harry the Weasley’s never stayed or had anyone else with them.

“Can I, please? His mother said we would have separate rooms and she will be there as well as the house-elves. We only got to see one another once this summer. He said if I can’t he could come here, but honestly, I think the first option is better. Please?” She pulled out her best puppy eyes and pouty lip. She was not above begging for it but didn’t want to do so with everyone staring at her.

Regulus looked over at Remus. Ali could see the silent conversation going on between them. Regulus’s head inclined slightly toward Ali which she hoped to Merlin was a good thing. Remus looked back at his niece with a look in his eye she couldn’t read. “Rosalynn said you’ll have separate rooms?” Ali nodded her head so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “And you’ll stay in them?” Once again she nodded, although she knew that they more than likely would be in the family room till late hours in the night. He looked back at Regulus, “you have no problems with her going?”

“No, I already knew about it. Rosalynn wrote about two days ago. If she wants to go, that's fine. You know Rosalynn will look after her as she does Blaise. And the Heavens know that boy would jump in front of the Knight Bus for Ali.” Regulus chuckled at Ali's shocked expression.

“Y-you knew? Why didn’t you say anything?” Ali struggled to get the words out.

“Rosalynn said Blaise wanted to ask you. She was just giving me a heads up, knowing how Remus is with boys and you. You know we talked quite often, Als.” Regulus winked at her.

“You may go,” Remus stated. She was shocked she didn’t have to put up more of a fight.

“WHAT?” Sirius shrieked. He knew that Regulus would let her go to the Death Eaters house, but Remus? He thought he could count on his ‘friend’ to at least say no. “You’re letting her go to the Death Eaters house? AGAIN? Who's also a boy and staying the night? Are you mad?”

Remus looked at Sirius with disdain, “No I am not. She is a good girl and Blaise has been her friend for years. Rosalynn loves her as much as we do and would never let anything happen. And for God's sake quit calling everyone a Death Eater.”

“Outrageous.”

“Sirius, you have no say in what she does. You gave that up last night. Ali is a good girl who makes good choices. Not only that but she also deserves a little something since she got Headgirl this year, don’t you think?” Regulus smirked as he saw the Granger girl's face fall.

“You got Headgirl?” Hermione whispered to Ali with disbelief lacing her voice.

“Yeah, I did. Draco got Headboy I believe, but it may be Theo. I haven’t asked yet.”

“Why do you and Draco get Head of Houses? Why not Hermione and -“ Ali cut her dear Godbrother off.

“And who? You? Ron? Why would any of you get Head of Houses with all the trouble you bring in? Sneaking out, stealing things, picking fights. We do have the highest marks in most classes as well as treat others equally unlike the likes of you.”

If looks could kill Ali would be dead three times over. In all honesty, she kinda felt bad for the younger Weasley boy seeing as all of his older brothers, bar Fred and George had been Headboy. But then she thought about the trouble he and his friends had caused her and her friends as well as others over the years. Harry preached about equality among the houses but she had witnessed many times when younger Slytherins were picked on by Gryiffndors. Hufflepuffs generally didn't have any problems with the other houses so long as everyone was being just. Ravenclaws tended to keep to themselves unless it really involved them. Whereas Slytherins preferred to stand up to those picking on other Slytherins especially the younger ones. Slytherins were always made out to be the bullies when in general if you got to know them people would notice that they are a lot more than what their parents used to be.

Ally had heard the stories of how mean James and Sirius were to those in Slytherin even if they never did anything to them. She believed in harmless fun could be had pulling pranks, but tricking someone into going to a place where a werewolf was was downright cruel. She had no doubts in her mind that James and Sirius were once good people like her Uncle Remus is now, but seeing as Sirius still acts like a child those doubts were becoming known.

“I just think that Slytherins shouldn’t be Head of House when all you will do is favor your own, and treat everyone else like dirt,” Ron stated.

“Ronald Weasley! How dare you say such a thing?!” Molly exclaimed.

“It’s alright Mrs. Weasey. I am used to hearing such things come from them and others in their house,” Ali looked Ron in the eyes, “You seem to forget that I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. I do not favor anyone and will not when I start Head Girl duties but know this. I will give you as many detentions as you deserve if you are caught bullying, harassing, belittling, any of the other houses. You may think that Gryiffndors are the bravest of the houses and maybe you are in some ways, but you are cowardly in others. Maybe some Slytherins are as bad as you make them seem, but Harry,” she turned her head slightly to the side, “you seem to forget just which house Peter Pettigrew was in when he was the one who betrayed your parents. And Regulus was in Slytherin but seems to be more loyal to his friends and family than that rat was.”

“It seems that Alianova has given you all something to think about as you're getting ready for bed,” Molly stated looking at all the children present in the room. Her face grew red when she saw that none of them had moved a muscle. “Now.”

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, jumped from their seats and booked it to the stairs scared of Mrs. Weasley’s wrath. At some point, Charlie, Fluer, and Bill came back from scouting. Charlie ruffled Ali’s hair causing her to grin. “Good job, kid. You’ll make a great Head Girl.” Bill and Fleur nodded in agreement. “Nothing happened while we were out. We’ll give a full debrief tomorrow, but we will be heading to bed as well. Good night everyone.”

Molly walked to Ali and pulled her up out of her chair before placing both hands on Ali’s pale cheeks. “Don’t you worry, dear, I will be talking with all of them in the morning. You made a lot of valid points, and I for one am proud that you are Head Girl.”

She kissed her forehead before taking her husband to go to bed after waving her wand to get the kitchen clean once again. Arthur offered Ali a small smile before disappearing behind his wife. Sirius scoffed at the behavior which everyone heard but chose to ignore.

Ali turned to her three Uncles, waiting for the answer about going to her friends, and the scene that just played out in the kitchen.

“I am proud of you as well, Alianova. You have done excellent, and I know it is Remus and Regulus' decision about going to Blaises’, but I see no problem with it. I will stay in the guest room. Come get me if you need me. Good night, Ali.” He hugged her tightly, making Ali tear up slightly at the thought of Servus being proud of her. It also made her giddy at the thought of rubbing it in Draco’s face since Severus is his Godfather and never said such a thing to him.

Remus followed after Servus, wrapping his niece in a bear hug around her shoulders. The height difference amusing Regulus to no end seeing as Ali only came about midway in Remus’s chest. “You may go as long as it’s okay with Reg, and you stay in separate rooms. I am a little mad though that you didn’t tell me yourself about getting Head Girl, but I am still incredibly proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do, not even Harry.” The last part was whispered in her ear. He kissed her forehead, before heading to his room.

With the three Blacks being the only ones left in the room. “I don’t think you should go.” Sirius’s voice was venomous as he thought about his only child, his legacy, spending time with Death Eaters.

“It’s a good thing it doesn’t matter what you think isn’t it?” Regulus smirked at his older brother. He was not going to take this away from his child. “Ali, you may go so long as you stay in your separate rooms whenever the two of you decide to go to sleep because I know from having all your mates over it will be late.” He walked to Ali cradling her freckled face in his hands. “I am so proud to call you my daughter. Even after all that you have been through in your life you have still managed to form your own beliefs and thoughts as well as stand up for them. You deserve Head Girl over anyone else, and hopefully, you get to share it with one of your friends.”

Ali dove into her Uncle's chest. Tears welling up into her eyes at the thought that he really did think of her as his own even if she already knew it. It was nice to hear out loud. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I love you, dad.” She kissed his cheek before heading to her room to write Blaise.

Sirius felt his anger sore to new heights when he heard Ali call Regulus dad. He had enough courtesy to wait till she was out of earshot before grounding out, “We need to talk, Regulus.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #regulus black x niece!reader #remus lupin x niece!reader #harry potter oc #severus snape x niece!reader #sirius black x daughter!reader #draco malfoy x platonic!reader #blaise zabini x reader

[tommyspeakycap]

that little shelby and uncle charlie fic was so sweet, if you could write more of the two that would be fantastic :,-)

first one here, they’re not directly related but enjoy little shelby (probs about 17/18) telling uncle Charlie about her new boyfriend before anyone else.

terrible liar

There’s an extra skip in your step as you easily manoeuvre around the scrap yard that you knew like the back of your hand towards where you knew your uncle Charlie would be at this time in the afternoon, grooming the horses and mucking out the stables with Curly. It’s Curly who notices and greets you first as he was standing outside the stables lifting a shovel. “Hello, miss Shelby,” He greets with a smile and a curt wave that makes you giggle. “I’ve told you Curly, you can call me (y/n).” You insist kindly, offering him your signature sunshine smile, the kind of sweet one that lights up the day for the people who you spend it on.

“Exactly Curly,” Charlie adds, “You’ve known her since she was this big,” he gestured with his hands to the size you were as a baby. “You’re family.” You state. That makes your uncles friend grin largely and almost bashfully, a little bit of kindness never lost on him and you always seemed to have it to spare.

Curly shoots a smile back to you and heads back into the stable before Charlie turns to you. “Better mood today then, love?” He rumbles with a grin as you nod vigorously and blush ever so slightly just at the thought of the reason you were in such a fantastic mood. “Mhm,” you hum gently, doing a little spin as the wind flutters through your pretty dress that Tommy bought you upon Polly’s advising that you had seen it in a window when you were walking through London and your face had lit up. He gifted it to you this morning and your squeal of excitement, followed by a hug that very nearly knocked the stocky man off his feet had set him up for a day where he does everything while thinking about how he can better the life he’s trying to create for his family. He wants to be able to buy you everything you could ever want to see that beautiful smile that ached your cheeks. “And why’s that? Who’s given little miss Shelby her sparkle back?”

Charlie knew full and well that he had asked, but he truly wasn’t expecting the answer to be as it was. He thought that his niece would giggle as she often does and say something about a kitten she saw this morning or a hug and a kind word from her brother or maybe she tasted the most fantastic pastry on her lunch time walk here (and he knew you did have a pastry because there was still a little smudge of chocolate by the side of your mouth that you hadn’t noticed).

Instead, you do not say that. You don’t say any of those things and Charlie is forced to shoot straight up from where he was bent over shovelling fresh hay so quickly he knew he’d have a twinge in his back for a week when his sweeter than candy little niece says;

“Well i met this boy-“

“You what!?” He booms out. Curly’s shovel clatters to the ground in shock at the sudden burst, and you jump back slightly, wincing at his reaction. “Now see that’s what i thought you’d say, but he’s really sweet and i th-“ Charlie cuts you off as he turns to you looking somewhat appalled. You had chosen him as the first person to tell as you felt he might have the most calm reaction. Maybe you were wrong. “Do your brothers know about this? Does Tommy know?”

“Does Tommy know what?”

You literally jump five feet into the air and yelp loudly, whirling around and placing your hand over your heart. “Jesus Christ Tommy! Don’t do that!” You exclaim wildly, a flush dancing over your soft cheeks in your shock. Tommy raised his eyebrows in question and looks between you and Charlie somewhat conspicuously. It isn’t like his uncle to look irked or sound so appalled and shocked as he had when Tommy heard the tail end of the conversation. “Sorry darling,” he says softly, turning to face you, “Are you alright?”

You nod your head and Tommy squints his eyes. “Yeah i’m alright, what’re you-“ His action cuts you off before you have the ability to finish asking what he was about to do. He had ever so slightly licked his thumb and reached out to swipe the small smudge of chocolate from your lunchtime pastry away from the side of your mouth just like he used to when you were little. “Tommy,” you whine in response, thwarting his hand away the best you could. He just shrugs his shoulder. “Sorry love. Force of habit.” He offers, albeit unapologetically as he lights up a cigarette.

“Now, tell me what?” He repeats, his eyes again darting between you, Charlie and Curly. You open and close your mouth a few times, but words fail to find you. Tommy notes that you look to Charlie almost threateningly, like you were trying to master that Polly Gray look unsuccessfully. You were a Shelby, after all. You looked a lot more like Tommy did when he attempted to enforce unspoken words with merely his eyes. Though, you were too soft to appear menacing. “Tell your big brother, ey?” he prompts, “Whatever it is, i can help.”

That makes you cringe, almost wince even, before offering him the most pained grimace you ever had. “Y’know, i really don’t think you can this time. Just lady problems.” The shaky words leave your mouth a whole lot less convincingly than you had anticipated, and Tommy gives you an incredulous look with one eyebrow raised higher than the other and his cigarette paused in between his lips like he were a freeze frame. Tommy doesn’t tend to shy away from typical lady problems. He wasn’t insecure enough in his masculinity for his sisters (or anyone really) natural bodily functions and/or femininity to threaten him, and it certainly did not discomfort him. She dealt with much worse.

Your nerves aren’t lost on him. There are few times you won’t look him in the eye, preferring to focus your head towards the muddy ground beneath your boots. This is usually when you’ve done something wrong, gotten in trouble or are afraid he’s going to be mad at you, or even disappointed. He was rarely either.

“I can help.”

“She’s missing your mother, Tom.”

Tommy looks up at his uncle who had interrupted him. Charlie offers you a small look that told you the secret you entrusted to him would stay as such for now. You didn’t know how long that would be the case, but it seemed as though he would keep it from the lethal hands of the head of the family. “She didn’t want to upset you, talking about it. But she misses her mother.” He explains. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely wrong. You did miss your mother and you were scared to bring her up, but it was something you had dealt with for such a long duration of time in your life that you had grown accustomed to that nagging pain. Tommy looked at you with eyes full of sorrow. His mother was one of his softest spots in his heart.

Charlie tapped Curly on the arm and the two left you standing there a few feet away from Tommy, who was just kind of staring at you weirdly. “She was beautiful.” He says finally. “Just like you. You have her heart too, love.” He takes a couple steps closer to you and wrap his arms tight around you, “Always hoped you’d turn out more like her than the rest of us. Think we’re all glad you did.” The thought of being like your mother made your head leap with joy. You wished there was a way she could know you today, know you now. Talk to you about boys, this boy, her boys. Help you understand the world. You didn’t have that.

“I love you, Tom.” You say, words muffled against the material of his coat. “Yeah yeah,” he mutters back, “Now off you go. We can talk more later. A scrap yard like this is no place for a beautiful, smart young lady like you.” You giggle at the words he speaks when he lets you out of his arms, that gentle smile of his tugging up the sides of his lips ever so slightly. His nods his head for you to go off, and you knew what he meant was really that he was going to be discussing some business with Charlie that he didn’t want you hearing about for his obsession with your safety and normalcy. “Bye Tom.” You grin, stepping up to your tip-toes to peck a little kiss against his cheek before you all but skip off. Tommy’s heart warms at the sight of his sunshine little sister heading off with such a happy skip in her step and so much love ready to give

He then feels the presence of his uncle appear beside him again. “She really is like your mother, Tom.” He states, a heavy and painful sigh following. “Yep.” Tommy replied shortly. “Better thinking like that than thinking it’s her boyfriend that’s put that skip in her step. eh?”

“You bastard,” Charlie chuckles as he shakes his head, “You know?”

“Course,” Tommy states simply, “My mother was a terrible liar, Charlie.”

“And?”

“Well our (y/n); she is just like her mother, isn’t she?”

#charlie strong #charles strong #charlie strong x niece!reader #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders blurb

[newtonsheffield]

Part 2 was amazing Molly. Neddy is the sweetest little thing comforting his dad and thank the lord that Anthony and Kate steered the discussion in a way that there could be a resolution.

That I ask for a part 3 goes without saying but I also have another pressing question. Does Alistair accompany Anthony in this trip or is he back in London? Not that anything saves him but I do believe that Mary and Violet will skin him, burn him and burry him alive, Anthony just might be a tiny bit better. Of course only bc his son wants to go to the park or he wants to go buy dinosaur shoes and he ain't got time to loose.

I got so many requests for part 3 of this it’s insane.

Alistair Cowper is in New York at present, where he promptly gets fired and left, with very little other than a punch in the stomach. Anthony’s very busy. Edmund has heard of somewhere that makes dinosaur donuts, and Anthony needs to buy out the whole store.

Anthony couldn’t make the pieces fit, he really couldn’t. Her words playing over and over again in his head, and they didn’t make sense. He must have read that last letter from her hundreds of times in the last five years, letting her words deep into his skin, until they branded him for what he really was. Failure repeated again and again across his chest. And ever once had she mentioned a baby. If she had he would have sprinted to Mary’s house, where he had known she would be and beat the door down until she opened it, begged her to give him one last chance. But she hadn’t. So he hadn’t.

“Right, Anthony, I don’t really have anything left to say to you, so I’m just going to take my son home now.”

She’d moved to step around him, bringing her closer to him, and he just couldn’t let her go. His hand shot out unthinkingly, closing around her upper arm. Kate jerked backwards wildly, spinning towards him her eyes furious.

“Don’t fucking touch me Anthony. I know it was difficult after your Dad died, but you had no fucking right to say those things to me. I’m sorry, my family’s poor, and we’re common, and I’m sorry I fell in love with you when it was just a fucking game to you, but there was a better way to deal with it than sending your chief of staff to evict me from your mother’s house like I was your whore who’d stayed too long.”

Anthony’s head was spinning, nothing made sense, he’d never- she’d left. She had. He had the letter to prove it. “Kate, you left me.”

Her laugh was chilling, tearing through him, ripping at his chest. “If you want to look at it that way, I suppose I did. And when I realised I was pregnant I thought No, Anthony wanted a baby, and he has a right to know, I should tell him, and you didn’t even have the decency to respond, Ant.”

He couldn’t breathe he really couldn’t “I don’t understand, you never sent me a letter, Kate, you didn’t- You said you had to leave because this wasn’t what you wanted and I-”

“And the worst part is when I saw you this afternoon, For a split second I actually thought maybe you still loved me too.” He’d never seen anyone look so heart broken, tears streaking down her face, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

And Finally Anthony broke. “Kate, you have to listen, please, please just listen to me. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but I didn’t know about him, I swear I didn’t, I would have come and found you on my fucking hands and knees if I had. And I never sent Alistair to see you. You left me in a letter.”

Kate stumbled backwards, her head shaking, “No, you did, you sent him to tell me to go.”

His chest was aching, his own head shaking as he took a tentative step towards her, “I didn’t Kate, I never would have. I loved you so much I thought I could never hold it all, even after my Dad died.” She let him lay his hand on her arm now, his head still spinning, but he couldn’t stop, not now he had her here. Not now he had a reason, “when I think about that time, all I think about is how you saved me. And I wasn’t good enough for you for a second, Kate, but I loved you. I still do.”

Her mouth had fallen open, her eyes flicking over his face as she stood frozen in his hands for a long moment before her hand reached up, pushing his hair back from his eyes. Her voice wavering. “The only letter I wrote you, was to tell you I was pregnant. And to tell you I still loved you, and if you needed time I could give it to you, if you would just tell me, I’d wait for you.”

Anthony felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, the pieces finally clicking into place, Alistair, the grand mastermind. A thousand seconds making sense all at once, but he couldn’t think about that now. He had Kate right here, his forehead was pressed against hers, their eyes caught together, and his heart still beat in his chest just for her.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Hurry up and do it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, he leaned down, claiming her lips, his pulse thundering in his ears as they moved together, his life finally feeling complete again, like he’d found a missing piece of himself. Something he could never be without ever again as their tears mingled together.

“Daddy?“ Edmund’s voice interrupted them curiously, his tiny hand pulling at Anthony’s trouser leg, pulling Anthony down to his level, though Kate’s hands still clutched him, as though she was afraid he’d disappear if she let go even for a second.

“Yeah, Buddy what’s up?”

“Um, I know that Santa probably didn’t send you here for this, but my shoelace is untied.” He was looking up at Anthony so curiously, testing him almost, as though checking he was a real dad.

Anthony nodded desperately, “I can do that, Edmund, I can do that.”

His fingers fumbled over themselves to tie it, his little foot, resting on his leg.

“Um, Daddy, there’s a shop near here.”

Kate groaned as though she knew exactly what was coming. But Anthony was fixated on him, on his beautiful son who had his hand pressed against Anthony’s neck.

“And they make dinosaur shaped donuts. And I really like dinosaurs. And donuts.”

“Neddy, sweetheart, I said, we couldn’t do that today and Daddy’s had a really long day, he um- maybe he can-”

Anthony interrupted her, his eyes catching hers again, letting her feel the weight of his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Kate. I’m here now. I’m not going home until you come home with me. So let’s get a donut.”

She stared back at him for a long time, her eyes questioning before she relaxed, a beautiful smile, just like the one he’d very first fallen in love with spread onto her face. “Okay, Bintang.”

Edmund whooped excitedly, jumping up and down as Anthony stood, pressing another kiss to Kate’s forehead, and then he stopped, tugging in Anthony’s hand. “I saw in a movie once, um a Boy’s Daddy, he picked him up and put him like…” he patted his own shoulders, his eyes shifting nervously. “Here.”

Anthony’s chest was aching, already so in love with this tiny boy, who was so ready to love him, though he’d done nothing to deserve it, and he’d be damned if Edmund was going to be disappointed. Anthony stooped before he could even get his question out, catching him around the waist and planting him firmly in his shoulders.

“Okay, let’s go. Hold on tight, bud.”

And then two things happened at once, as they exited onto the street. Kate caught him by the arm, her lips claiming his roughly for a very long moment, her voice a whisper as she pulled back “I love you, I love you so much, Anthony.”

And Edmund called to random passerby “This is my Daddy! And look how tall we are!”

#a crumpled up piece of paper #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #aus on stacks #molly’s asks and answers

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

i don't know if you getting requests but can you write something like the reader (a slytherin if it makes a difference but don't really matter) gets jealous about Draco with Pansy and give him the silent treatment, at some point he lose his patience and fuck the brattyness out of her

pairing: draco malfoy x reader 

warning(s): 18+, dom!draco, orgasm control/denial, edging, choking, degradation

word count: 1.7k

a/n: as a self proclaimed brat, this will be my fantasy of the week. this one goes out to all my bratty draco lovers - enjoy!

“What the fuck is your issue Y/N?” Draco asked, storming into your room. 

The day had been a never ending saga of you giving Draco the silent treatment and him growing increasingly more frustrated with you. But really, it wasn’t your fault. It was his own. 

It started last night at the party. Draco, your fucking boyfriend, decided it would be a wise choice to spend his night hanging out with Pansy instead of you. Sure, you were having a good time with Theo and Daphne, but he was more than welcome to join. What he wasn’t welcome to do was schmooze with his ex-girlfriend where everyone could see. 

And then it continued at breakfast. And although he took his normal spot at the table beside you, he kept whispering in hushed tones with Pansy all throughout. 

So you decided to give him the silent treatment all day, much to your friends dismay. 

But now here he was, in your room, boiling with anger, and he expecting you to talk. 

Not going to happen. 

You simply looked back down at the book you had been flipping through to kill time, not even sparing him a second glance. 

“What the fuck am I missing? Because the last time I checked I didn’t do anything to warrant you acting like a fucking brat,” he said, walking quickly through your room to stop at the end of your bed, leaning against the footrest. 

You only looked up at him and raised a brow, internally applauding yourself when you saw how utterly confused he looked.

“I’ll give you one last chance before I take matters into my own hands, and you’re not going to like that. So. What. Is. The. Issue?” He asked slowly, emphasizing every word. 

You had to give it to him. If it had been anyone but you, his little display would have been intimidating. If it had been anyone but you, they would have spilled all of their secrets right then. But you saw right through the act. And honestly, you were quite intrigued by what he meant by ‘taking matters into his own hands.’ 

So once again, you said nothing, just turned back to your book and ignored him. 

You weren’t even sure how he got over to you so quickly and silently, but the next thing you knew the book was getting thrown across the room and you were getting flipped onto your stomach, your legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

“I gave you so many chances today, Y/N,” he said, a faux sympathy in his voice that was dangerous and arousing all at once. “But if you’re going to be a brat, you’ll get fucked like one.” 

With that, his hands were ripping your pants and underwear down your legs in one go just before you heard the noise of his belt coming off. You were growing wetter by the second, completely caught off guard by his behavior, a fact he was all too aware of due to the fact that you were displayed in front of him. 

“And you’re already fucking soaked,” he commented, a finger coming up to run through your slit. “A bratty little whore. Is this what you wanted? Wanted to get punished like a little slut?” He asked, but you both knew he wasn’t getting a response. 

His finger left only to be replaced by the tip of his cock, which shocked you at first. Normally, no matter what mood he was in, he’d make sure you were stretched enough to take him painlessly. Clearly, that care had flown out the window today. He did say you were going to get fucked like a brat after all. 

You did your best to relax your body as he pushed inside of you, his cock filling and stretching you more than it ever had before. But your efforts were futile, a whine coming from your throat as he continued to fuck into you without letting you adjust. 

“Aww, does it hurt?” He asked, mockingly. “Maybe you should have thought about that before acting like a dumb fucking brat all day.” 

He fucked you harshly, not holding back a single bit. You did your best to stay quiet just to toy with him some more, but his efforts didn’t go unappreciated. A few moans had slipped through, only egging him on. But the moment he pounded against your g-spot, you completely lost it. 

“Draco, please,” you gasped, needing him to do that a million more times and then some. 

“So she fucking speaks,” he said harshly, coming down to drape his chest along your back, his face aligned with yours. His thrusts never faltered as one hand left your hip and creeped around your neck, pressing down just enough to make you dizzy. “You love getting fucked like this, don’t you? Love when I treat you like a fucking whore?” 

“Yes,” you hissed out, trying to control your breathing even as he fucked all the air out of your body. 

“Well that’s lovely because you’re not cumming until you tell me what the fuck is wrong,” he told you, not even out of breath. 

Your heart jolted at his words, not wanting to give up the act yet. But you desperately wanted to cum. He was pushing you closer and closer with every thrust, so you knew you’d have to make a choice soon. 

“I don’t want to tell you,” you argued, but even you knew it sounded pathetic at this point. 

You heard him scoff behind you, but your words only made his double down, practically forcing you to the brink of an orgasm. 

“That’s not going to work. Tell me,” he said, his grip tightening threateningly on your neck. 

When you didn’t even make a sound, he completely stopped moving inside of you, planning on waiting you out until you calmed down. You let out a whine and tried to fuck yourself back onto him, but his hand on your hip immediately forced you back down on to the bed, your plan now useless. 

And you knew you were fucked now. He was in full control of your entire body and the entire situation, leaving you no other option but to tell him. 

“There’s such an easy fix to this, Y/N. You tell me why you’ve been acting like this all day and you get to cum. Don’t think I won’t leave you aching,” he told you, his hips beginning to roll into yours again slowly. 

“You’re a dick,” you bit out, enraged that he had you trapped. But you couldn’t deny his plan was utterly fucking genuis. The man knew what he was doing. 

“And you’re a brat. I wouldn’t have to be like this with you otherwise.” 

That only made you roll your eyes, but it didn’t stop the moan from leaving your lips as the tip of his cock moved directly over your g-spot over and over again, bringing you right back to the brink. 

“Tell me,” he demanded, squeezing your throat before loosening up, the raspiness in his voice letting you know he was close to his own orgasm. Not that that would stop him from torturing you. He’d edge himself for hours if it meant getting what he wanted out of you. 

So you gave in. 

“You were flirting with Pansy all last night and this morning,” you gasped out in one breath, hoping he knew you were being truthful. 

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said, giving up the mean dom act and staying true to his promise of letting you cum. 

The hand that had been on your hip snuck in between your body and the bed, going directly for your clit. The second his hand was on you, you let out a loud moan and felt your walls constrict around his cock. He barely had to move his finger until you were cumming around him with a scream, him following you right over the edge. 

You both laid breathless for a moment, his body still draped over yours, as you both silently came back to reality. He rearranged you easily until you were lying back on the pillows before coming down to lay beside you, facing you on his side. 

“Is that really what all that was about today? You were jealous of Pansy?” He asked, his voice soft now, as he brushed some hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said, too tired to defend yourself. 

“Darling, you do realize how ridiculous that is, right? One - you shouldn’t be jealous of anyone. You’re it for me. And two - there was nothing to even be jealous about,” he told you reassuringly, making you feel a bit better but you still had a bone to pick. 

“What do you mean there was nothing to be jealous about? You were with her practically all of last night and this morning at breakfast the two of you were whispering and I was right there,” you said, growing more defensive the longer this conversation went on. 

He sighed but looked at you carefully, deciding if he wanted to say what he had to say. He must have seen something because finally, he opened his mouth to explain himself. 

“It was meant to be a surprise, but she was helping me plan something for you. Her father knows a guy who owns a hotel in London and I was thinking about getting us out of here for a weekend,” he explained and suddenly you felt so foolish for the whole thing. 

“Oh,” was all you had to say, no longer willing to make eye contact with him. 

“See how easy this could have been fixed if you just told me what was wrong when I first asked?” He asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice before you even looked up to see it. 

“I guess,” you agreed with a shrug, not warning to admit total defeat. 

“But no, my girl had to go and act like a brat just to drive me fucking crazy,” he said with a chuckle, pulling you into his chest with ease. 

“It’s fun being a brat sometimes. I got great sex out of it,” you finally said, your eyes twinkling with mischief when you looked back up at him. 

“What am I going to do with you?” He asked, rolling his eyes, before connecting his lips to yours. 

Little did he know, you had a lot of suggestions for what he could do with you next time.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy blurb

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

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