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passerine-writes · 2 years

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Symbols - Chapter 32

Warnings: Very light mentions of s/h Word count: 3836

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Chapter 31 | Chapter 33

I sat next to Keiji and Koutarou to watch the next match, as sweet as Akane and Alisa were, I don't think I would have been able to sit through another match with two people I barely know. I felt Tetsurou's unease as he shook Daishou's hand. We all know they play dirty, they're nicknamed to be snakes just like how Nekoma is nicknamed to be cat like. The ref's almost never call it though. I remember Daishou from junior high, him and Tets' were always at each others throats. If memory serves me right, this is the first time Nekoma has played them since Tetsurou's first year.

"Hey, so what's the deal with Tets and Daishou?" I looked at Koutarou precariously, I didn't know how much I could get into without making Tetsurou uncomfortable so I have to find the middle ground. "Dammit, a dink on the first play?" I glanced back to the court to find out Daishou did in fact dink it.

"Kenma, Tetsurou, Daishou and I actually went to the same middle school." The two of them looked at me confused, clearly wondering why I had never told them about this person before. "He was always trying to get 'first place' compared to Tets. Chemistry, volleyball spot, measurements, you name it, this guy made it into a competition. At one point he tried to befriend me to prove he would be better than him or something like that? I don't know but it was dumb and I shot him down. He's said some choice words before, but this is the first time they've seen or played against each other in about two years." The two looked back to the court in disbelief. Tetsurou's frustration built up higher and higher.

8 to 8.

I grimaced as I saw Daishou woo the ref a bit by acting polite.

"Just like junior high." I grumbled, leaning forward in my seat and resting my forearms on my knees.

"What do you mean by that?" I glanced at Kei and back to the court.

"It's the main thing these two have always butt heads about. Daishou plays dirty, even tried getting Tets to do it too. Told him that if it gets the team points and you don't get caught, what's the harm? Tetsurou shut it down but that didn't stop Daishou from trying. Daishou went into detail about how if they lose a few points on purpose from doing something wrong, own up to and apologize to the ref for it, they can earn back even more points later. I see he's got almost all of Nohebi in on it now too." Kou started grumbling under his breath, eyes transfixed on the game.

15 to 13, Nekoma got a supposed net foul and Nohebi's in the lead.

My nails dug into my palms when they spiked the ball into Yamamoto's face. They purposely did it and tried to make it look like his error. My teeth ground together but I loosened up a bit when I felt two different warm hands slip into each of mine. Keiji holding my right hand and Kou holding my left. We took s breath of relief when Nekoma took their first time out, it was definitely needed.

19 to 16.

Another net foul, bringing Nekoma up to 17.

19 to 18, the gap was small, I hope they can close it.

Another cheap trick, trying to hide where the ball landed and making the refs change their mind. 20 to 18, the make or break point for any set.

21 to 19, their taunts made Yamamoto crack under pressure.

The three of us cheered as Yaku jumped over the barrier to hit the ball back over to Nohebi, earning another point, filling it to a one point gap. We sat in a tense silence when he hobbled back to the court with assistance, he sprained his ankle digging up the ball. The back up first year may not have experience but I feel Kenma's confidence. They're going to win.

We cheered loudly when Tetsurou dug up the jump floater, he had always been good at defense even though he's a middle blocker. His aura was almost threatening to everyone who didn't know him, but anyone paying close attention, could tell it was towards to captain of the other team. The same guy he just stuffed a spike from making the score 22 to 22.

25 to 26. We were on the edge of our seats as Nekoma finally got to set point. Back and forth and back and forth until finally, Nekoma took the first set with 26 to 28.

The five of us collectively let out a deep breath, some of the pressure and tension leaving our bodies. Whether it be our own or from the two boys down on the court, we were all feeling the same pressure. The two looked up at us three, Tetsurou blowing a kiss and sending a wink our way. I softly smiled, not knowing how else to respond but I froze when a certain almost serpentine stare turned my way.

Of course Daishou's watching Tetsurou's every move.

I shrunk down a little, hoping he would just look away soon enough.

8 to 8.

8 to 9.

10 to 10.

"They've been targeting Yamamoto, number four. He's the actual ace so they see him as a true threat. They don't just have him marked, they're trying to break him." I looked up at Keiji, nodding in agreement.

"That's just low. They're trying to psychologically break him, not even just keep a close watch on him or read block him." Kou grumbled out some indistinguishable words after me, clearly frustrated by the events in this game.

Thankfully, Nekoma stayed a point ahead for a while, finally making their two point gap when Yamamoto landed a line shot. 13 to 15, they're almost there. Just ten more points.

You guys can do this.

A loud whistle pulled me out of my thoughts, Nohebi called their first time out of the game. They're desparate to break this small flow starting and it's obvious. They're nervous.

"I can't sit still anymoreeee. Can we go stand down by the barriers? Please?" I looked at Keiji for the answer to Kou's question, we knew the hyperactive player couldn;t sit still for long so we nodded in sync and made our way down. We got down right when the time out finished, Kenma and Tets immediately spotting us, the latter sending us a smirk as they got back to their spots.

18 to 20. Five more points if this gap stays and they win.

I grimaced as the score went back to a tie. 20 to 20. My arms wrapped around my waist, trying to ground my nerves from this game.

It's so close, I don't know how it's going to end.

I tensed a bit but relaxed back into the muscular chest of Kou. He kept one arm wrapped on top of mine and the other around Keiji. We were all nervous, but we needed to trust them. They can do this.

Nekoma called their second time out, they know how close it is, we all see it. If Kenma has hope though, then we all do.

21 to 20, a frickin service ace. Yaku might've struggled to even dig that one up.

21 to 22, we cheered as Tetsurou spiked and got the point, his ego now going up and it reminded me of Kou. Certain things will get him to play more intense, this might just be something that gets Tets even more pumped.

22 to 22.

23 to 23.

We all winced a bit at the sharp sting on one of our finger tips. My eyes widened and before I could think, I started jogging over to the medical area they had set up when Tetsurou switched out.

"What happened?" He smirked as one of the athletic trainers gave him gauze.

"Hey pretty, didn't realize how frazzled a ripped nail would make you." I let out a heavy breath, letting my shoulders drop. "I'm alright, it's already clotting full of platelets and once I get a bandage, I'll be as good as new." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around why I ran over so fast in the first place.

It was like my body just moved on it's own.

"Nekoma High School advances to the spring tournament!" We both froze when we heard the announcers. The two of us broke out smiling, his good hand finding mine as he rushed us over to the team cheering and crowding in the center of their half of the court.

"Tets! I cant be out here! I'm going over to Coach Nekomata!" He gave me a strong, sweaty hug, spinning me around like Kou does before allowing me to walk over.

"I won't say anything, but that doesn't mean I didn't see anything." I blushed and looked at the floor as coach teased me for being on the court and how Tets acts around me. "How've you been Kaara? I don't see much of you anymore."

"I've been well, coach. I go to Itachiyama now and starting in the fall I will officially be their manager." He hummed and rubbed his chin in thought, letting the boys have their moment before giving them the post game lecture.

"I'll be sure to set up some more practice games next year then. Maybe with your help we can even get that old fart of a coach to come to our golden week training camp." I laughed at his remark, taking the seat beside him and the other coach.

"I'll work on that." He smiled and stood up, going to gather the boys now. "Oh and coach?" He hummed as he turned back to me. "Do you think you're ever going to see another trash heap showdown?" He deviously smiled and I already knew the answer.

——————

The five of us walked down the halls, everyone ready to go back to the Bokuto household after a victorious day.

"Burukiku, thought that was you I saw earlier." I glanced and continued to look forward when I saw it was Daishou trying to talk to me. "What? Not even going to say hi to me?" I stopped in my tracks when he stepped in front of me, all boys now on edge but two of them bordering on seething.

"No, now would you mind?" He smirked, a huff of laughter coming out.

"Classic Kaara." I glared, he knew he wasn't allowed to use my given name. Never was to begin with. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something but I never got the chance to. Well, until now that is. How's your mom?" My heart sunk to my stomach, all four boys now on the defensive at the mention of a sensitive topic.

"Didn't realize older women were your type. After all, I shouldn't be surprised you would want to find someone else so quickly, does Mika know how notorious of a cheater you are? Or does that habit only stay on the court?" Kenma snorted at my comment and Tetsurou stood proud. Meanwhile, Daishou glared at me.

"Hardy har har. It's not cheating if the ref doesn't catch you. You and Kuroo could never see that though." I looked at him completely unamused.

"I'm sure your girlfriend would love that logic, it makes so little sense, I'm not surprised you believe it." He faltered for a split second before he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He huffed and turned around, fleeing from our vicinity. The tension immediately dropped and we carried on to the bus stop.

I relaxed a bit when I saw these bus seats faced each other, but then I felt myself starting to sulk when that meant one of us would have to sit alone. I made my way to sit across the aisle, stopping when I felt a calloused hand grab my wrist delicately.

"Where ya going, pretty?" I looked over at Tetsurou confused until I saw an empty seat. Kenma was sitting in Kou's lap, the two taking a window seat with Keiji sitting next to them. Tets huffed out a quick breath and ruffled my hair before pulling me back to the two empty seats. He took the window seat and I sat across from Keiji. We all sat in silence for a moment, unwinding after a stressful day. Until Kenma spoke up.

"I know you all felt it earlier, but I'm fine. I'm not at risk or anything like that." I chewed on my lip not knowing how to help. Tetsurou leaned forward and gave him a saccharine kiss on his forehead.

"We're still going to talk about it later, just so we're all on the same page." Kenma sighed but nodded, slumping back further into Koutarou's chest. I let myself become distracted as my phone buzzed.

Ballsy Boys

From Blondie: So are we seeing you lot at Nationals next month?

From Sakusa: Yes.

From Komori: You know it!

From Blondie: Is short stack gonna be there too?

From Kaara: Yes, I'll be there. I have more than one team to support so I'll see you all there as well.

From Onigiri Man: What, not coming out to support us too?

From Aran: C'mon leave her alone Samu, it's Tsumu's job to antagonize

From Blondie: HEY!

From Kita: Ojiro has a point.

From Sakusa: He does.

From Kaara: I was mostly going to support Nekoma, Fukurodani and Itachiyama. I didn't even know you all officially made it in until now.

From Blondie: Ohhhh, going to support the soulmates, huh?

"So you talk about us huh?" I looked up at Tetsurou who leaned over my shoulder, smirking as he saw Atsumu's question. This piqued Koutarou's interest, as well as the other two but they were more nonchalant about it. "It's okay, we talk about you too, little atom." I fought the response to blush and promptly ducked my head.

"Isn't this our stop?" The four looked out the window and hopped up, hurrying to get out before we had to walk back to Kou's house.

Mama Mei stayed up later than usual, congratulating all four boys on their wins today and smushed us all into a hug one by one.

"It's so nice to see you again Kaara. We've all missed you. Are you managing for another school now? I know you always loved volleyball." I shifted my weight a little, moving my bag to my other side until it was completely gone. Kou now holding it along with his own.

"Not officially, I uh, I'm g-going to be managing at Itachiyama next year. I'm kind of an interim one at the moment." All four boys stared at me in shock, not expecting me to actually go through with the offer but I could still feel how proud and happy they were.

"That's great honey! Oh well don't let me keep you any longer, I know you're all looking to unwind after today and I need some sleep. I'll see you five at breakfast." She gave each of us a hug goodnight before turning in as we made our way upstairs to Koutarou's room.

"I can go and change in the bathroom if you want, instead of taking turns." My words faltered as Kou and Tetsurou took off their shirts, the two hot boxes warm enough already.

"Whatever you're most comfortable with Kaara, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say this cause none of us would be against seeing your body. You're gorgeous, but it's with whatever you're comfortable with. Alright?" I nodded, at a loss for words as he stepped closer to where I sat on the bed. My heart pounded in my chest as he hooked a finger under my chin, making me look up at him but I tried to look anywhere else instead of his toned chest or his hazel eyes. "Alright?" He asked again, pulling me away from spacing out.

"Yeah." He hummed happily and dropped my chin, stepping back to grab some of his spare clothes he keeps here. With an extremely warm face, I grabbed my bag and walked to the bathroom.

I grimaced when I looked in the mirror. The bruises had started to fade but now all of them were green or yellow, the green ones extremely prominent in comparison to my pale skin tone. I shook my head and tried not to pay any attention to it, not wanting to concern the boys.

I don't know how he thinks I'm gorgeous.

I'm not.

I slipped on a pair of athletic shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. Giving myself a once over in the mirror before deciding to adjust my messy bun and remembering to clean my piercings along with take off my minimal amount of makeup. With a huff, I went back to Kou's room. The two were still shirtless and in different pairs of basketball shorts, Kenma was in a t-shirt and sweats and Keiji was shirtless now too, adorning a pair of pajama pants to sleep in. Kenma sat at the foot of the bed on the floor playing his PSP, the other three strewn across the mattress. I sat beside the Nekoma setter and dug out my own PSP.

"Kenma, we're still talking about earlier." He sighed but set down his gaming device. "What happened earlier?" Kenma fidgeted where he sat, the other three coming down to the floor and making a half circle.

"I don't know. Okay?" Tetsurou slumped, not wanting to push too much and then it clicked in my head.

"Was it, how do I word this.. It's like, you feel a pain there and it just reminds you of the old feeling. The urge comes back for a split second, kind of like it's a phantom pain, and then it's gone." His eyes widened for a second.

"Like you know you don't want to but for a moment it just pops into your head." I nodded gently, the rest of the boys relieved now that it was put into words.

"The pain there reminds you of the old feeling and then you stop thinking about it when you realize it's a completely different pain."

"Exactly." I softly smiled at him, the two of his now having an understanding put into words.

"So that's all that happened?" He looked at Tets and nodded once, the middle blocker took this as an answer and nodded in turn. "Okay, I just want to make sure you all are safe. I don't like seeing any of you hurt." Kou leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, his own way of expressing emotions for a moment.

A flash of panic hit me, everything that's happened today felt oddly domestic or romantic in one way or another. Why am I only just now realizing this? This can't happen. I can't let them get that close. I need to keep the distance. Four guys dating and their best friend. So why don't I feel like a fifth wheel?

"Kaara, what's going on little atom?" My head shot up to look at Tetsurou, my mind racing a mile a minute.

"N-Nothing, just got lost in thought." He cocked an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word I said. I gnawed on my lip, trying to find a way out of this, but the only way out is by putting myself in another corner. "I was sore and I got concerned that you guys could feel it. I didn't want you to be even more concerned about any of our well-being's. Especially with what happened Friday and earlier. When it comes to people you care about being hurt, you have a really big heart." It wasn't a lie exactly, I was sore, and he does have a big heart for the people he cares about. His face softened a bit and he offered me some pain killers. "I should be alright, thank you though." He nodded, his own silent 'youre welcome' before turning back to the boys. "I do have something to tell you guys though, it's about what happened Thursday." All four sat up straighter, intrigued by my moment of upfront communication. I pulled my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees and arms around my shins. A slight blush forming on some of their faces. "Komini and I are on somewhat decent terms now. Our dad had us talk things out and we aren't at each others throats anymore. Then he dropped a bombshell on us and told us that Komini and Arise are going to be moving in. I had a really bad panic attack after and yeah." The air was tense at the announcement.

"I still don't trust him as far as I could throw him." Kenma muttered, making us all laugh a smidge.

"Pudding head, you wouldn't even be able to pick him up." Tetsurou chimed in, amused at the setters antics.

"Exactly." He deadpanned in turn, making all of us laugh some more. "Do you know why it felt different that time? I noticed it happened last week when Komini tried to hit you. Was there something different then what it would be for a regular panic attack?" I bit on my lip, cursing myself for not realizing at least one of them would put it together.

"I thought I was the only one who felt something different!" I huffed out a broken laugh from Kou's statement. Freezing up a bit when Keiji stretched up from where he laid on the floor, an elbow prolong him up, to tug my lip out of my teeth.

"It was uh, it was flashbacks. Of being at my moms." Everyone froze again, not knowing how to approach the topic. "It's fine. I'm not there anymore.. so nobody else there can hurt me again." My eyes darted around the ground, regretting my choice of words instantly.

"Who else hurt you?" Kou's voice was soft as he asked the loaded question. I simply shook my head and the four accepted that. They accepted not to push.

"Why don't we watch a movie?" Everyone agreed and we slowly sorted out our sleeping arrangements.

I took the far edge, curled up in my typical ball. Keiji beside me, Kou in the middle. Kenma using his pectoral as a pillow and Keiji using his bicep. Tets spooned Kenma, and I already knew I would end up in the cuddle fest during my slumber.

Like normal, I didn't last long while the movie played. It took about half an hour before I passed out, the same thoughts from earlier creeping back to my mind and then some. I pushed them to the side and succumbed to sleep like my body was craving.

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kirathehyrulian · 2 years

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💚🧡Wayward Sons Zine 2022🧡💚 🌧️Alleyway Rendezvous🌧️

Summary: Sam and Dean meeting up in an alleyway for a hunt on a late rainy evening. [Ao3]

For more art from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr. 👇(Art Notes and Bonus Art below the cut) 👇

Art Notes: I've been stuck in a drawing rut so bad lately. It was a struggle making this piece. But, I signed up as a pinch hitter, so I was determined to keep my word when they called on me. It's funny because I find drawing younger Jared/Sam and younger Jensen/Dean to be so intimidating because there's just a big limit on references from their younger years. But, then the mods made a post about being worried people would drop and that worried me. I'm a supporter of gencest and wincest things so I did want the zine to succeed.

So, I signed up as a pinch hitter with half of me hoping that I can do something at least half way decent if they call on me and the other half thinking that they probably won't even need me. I'm just a back up in case someone else can't do their work. But, come to find out for some unfortunate reason someone did drop out of teen section and I was called to make good on my promise. And for what it's worth, I did make good on it.

The mods gave me somewhere around, I guess, 2 months? I got most of March and then all of April to finish. Starting from March 5, I started brainstorming questions and ideas right away. I asked if there was a collective zine theme besides the boys being teens. The mod told me the main theme was them growing up together. And I was going to go for gencest (though if people want to see it as wincest Idc, go ahead) I chose the option to have the boys doing regular teenager stuff with a hunter twist.

After that I asked if there was any additional info I needed and if I needed to be aware of what others were creating so we all didn't create the same stuff, mainly because the last Zine I was in the mods were worried about that. There wasn't any additional info that I needed, but the mod I was talking to did say go ahead and run any ideas I had about what I wanted to do by them and they'd check if I was doing something too similar to another artist. So, five days later I came back with two ideas that I was toying with, "a hot summer day stuck in a cabin/house/motel, or Sam and Dean in some kind of a dark back alley with neon lights". The response I got back was that the latter idea was the most unique. So, I went forward with that idea.

So, before I started sketching Sam and Dean, I obsessively searched for refs of young Jared and Jensen and saving what I could find to my drive for ease of access. In the zine guidelines the teen section said 15-18 years old, which didn't specify if that meant 18 for Sam or 18 for Dean. I took it as 18 for Sam. Which even though gives me a bigger range to work with, ends up making Dean technically a legal adult than a teen. But, I don't specify the ages in this piece so I feel like there's some plausible deniability with Sam being somewhere in his later teen years but before Stanford.

Anyways, I tried to concentrate on refs around those times, but Jared's youth on the internet is pretty much non existent especially compared to Jensen. But, I tried my best even though I ended up mainly using refs from when Jared and Jensen were young adults. I did try to make them look younger than the refs tho, especially Sam. I shortened his chin a smidge and made him noticeable shorter than Dean who's leaning against the wall, not even standing at full height. I also had to brainstorm what kind of hairstyle I wanted to put on Sam. I decided to give him something similar to his main season 1 hair, but a little shorter in length. And that's mainly because I wanted this to look like Sam, rather than Jared and his other roles. I'm not sure how I feel about the final results. A lot of this work was me not really having concrete directions and me just playing around, for better or worse.

When I started, I sketched Sam and Dean first and then tried to sketch out a background that made sense for their positions. I keep trying to do backgrounds, but I don't know if I'm getting any better at them. It's definitely not my worst, but I feel like it could be better somehow.

On March 30th, the first check in was due and I had pretty much finished my sketch. I changed my mind on it being nighttime with neon lights in the background and wanted to color it with daytime in mind. I thought daytime might be easier to color and render. And, I told the mods that "I feel good about my progress, and I'm pretty sure I'll be done before April 25th," which was the final check in on the schedule.

After that I made the line art and colored in the base colors. I put a free texture on the brick wall, and copy, paste, and vertically flipped a reflection of the background building for the background pavement. I added in the signs and fonts with Photoshop Elements 15. But, when I started to add shading and lighting, I changed my mind again. I wanted it to be raining, and the boys are taking cover by some kind of overhang in the alleyway. But, I still wanted it to be daytime, but on like a really cloudy evening where light is barely shining through the clouds. In the end, it ended up being darker than I initially was going for. So, it like full circled back to nighttime by the end.

As some late additions, I added water drops to the foreground, because sometimes water gets stuck to the camera lens, windows, glasses, or eyelashes in rainy scenes and I thought it'd be cool. And, I added a faint passing car light to be the main light for Sam and Dean's shadows on the wall, or at least that was the idea, anyways. I also did try to add graffiti to the wall too, but it felt really distracting so I ended up making it really faint.

Towards the end, I pretty much got sick of looking at and fiddling with it. I get somewhat obsessive sometimes, where I can't let things go. And, it's like the little things in this piece would be driving me crazy, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I was at that point where continuing to try to fix whatever I was bothering me had just as much a likelihood of making the piece worse. So, on April 18th, I turned it in. And then, I waited for May 2nd when the Zine would be officially posted. The next day after I made and submitted my personal art posts. And that's pretty much everything.

Looking back at it now, I'm pretty happy with how my Sam and Dean turned out. I need to work on my background and composition skills (those seem to be what I always struggle with the most) but overall I feel pretty good about the whole thing. I probably need to force myself to experiment more with free flowing, simple, blurry styles instead of my go to where everything has a defined shape. But, saying it vs actually breaking out of my comfort zone is an up hill battle.

Bonus Art:

This is just a peek behind the curtains. I took out the rain, reflection, fog, atmosphere filter, some of the lighting, the car light, and one shading layer. In some ways this version is better for being less complicated, but I do like the moodiness in the official version. I'm mainly sharing this to compare and contrast with the main, and to show that yes, I did intend for daytime initially when coloring, lol.

Enjoy, if you can!♥♥♥

#gencest #samdean #weechesters #teenchesters #sam winchester appreciation #dean winchester appreciation #personal space who?#waywardsonszine 2022 #myart

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duskholland · 3 years

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Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date. or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact. a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3 +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot.

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland smut #y/n #self insert #smut #mob!tomfic

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lizzart-zardonicz · 3 years

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Hey Lisa your stuff is insane! I was wondering how you render faces so good? I really want to get my portrait skills up and I absolutely think you excel at that! Any tips?

Hi there! Thank you so much for this ask, I wanted to share some advice on this topic earlier, but oh well, uni life. So, here we go! First of all, have references ready, clean photos with natural lighting work best! If you are drawing a fan-art portrait of a certain character, it's also helpful to have a variety of angles of their face at the ready. • For DMC art, I sometimes use the ingame photo mode in DMC 5 to capture a certain angle. But this is how I mostly work:

• I use a software called PureRef to organize my references, this one didn't need as many refs because I had a fairly good idea already in my mind for the angle and layout. • There is this nifty video of a male head (upper right picture) where you can pause and rotate the angle of the lighting to help you with shadows and shapes. I pause the video with my desired rotation and then take a screenshot and add it to my refs.

• I prefer to not draw too detailed lineart before rendering. It confuses me more to stay in certain shapes and I simply don't have the attention span to do it. (lol) • The most important thing is to flip your canvas now and then, but don't overuse it! Your brain won't be able to differentiate between these two angles after a while and you won't be able to spot mistakes anymore, at least that happens for me. • If you struggle with shapes, just eyeball them first, put them where they feel right and then adjust, visually compare to reference, adjust, adjust and adjust. • Between adjusting, take breaks! You will automatically process your drawing in your brain, even when you’re not drawing. You are learning constantly, just by looking at other people! When I’m at my limit with correcting facial shapes, I take a whole day off of working on this particular artwork and focus it on a new sketch or even take a break from drawing at all for a day.

• As you can see, Dante went through many stages. And the more you draw, the less adjusting you'll have to do! It'll be a process, but it's fun to see it happen. You'll be able to locate the certain features more quickly, the more your eyes and brain train to draw faces. Hope this helps! ♥

#personal #ask #art advice #long post

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tiny-tigers · 2 years

Text

Ok Folks, if you are not interested or if it’s too long for you well…I will post a short version after this one and since it’s gonna be the longest post I have ever written here I guess I will put all under a cut.

♡ PART 2 of the story because I am too dumb to put all on one post . (Previous part HERE )

Read it or don’t it’s just has to come out of my chest not to combust of happiness with my flaming joyful heart

This time it might interest @lxndonorris and @dilfaz 😉 but mostly thank you for your enthousiasm @rollergoose I hope it was worth the wait.

The match

I realise I didn’t showed you the bag I prepared weeks ago and that I had to deliver. There was chocolate eggs as a reference for his shaved head and because we were in april 🐣/ cinnamon gums that are currently impossible to find except in usa because he always chews at least on one before a match / personalised golf balls to beat DK at his own game / the embroided cap to replace the one from Croatia and ( ! ) Before the match I added a little note and draw his face on it.

So at this point there might be blank spaces that @ledemidouverture and the @thechaoticrugbyfangirl will have to fill because my hands were shaking up so bad after he waved at me that I have lost my glasses in the pit for 10 sec, asked Nora to remake the bow of the bag because I couldn’t do it and was almost having a stroke. To tell you my mental state I was living the dream like I was (almost) a true WAG in real life, like my mom said that private message looked almost like 《a date 》👀

It really felt like he was acknowledging and remembering for later where I was just for after the game and a… “ ‘will come later ok, stay there will ya?”.. In fact when he finally turned to spot who was shouting so loud his name he had SUCH a genuine smile while waving oh hello there👋🙋‍♂️ . I mean… HE KNEW. Or as @thechaoticrugbyfangirl said : He can read.

The weather was so great it wasn’t too hot finally where we were there was a light wind and shadow and we could hear good songs of band like the killers / peter bjorn and john etc…

During warm-up JvP did some box kicks + scrum halves bonding time :D

At one point the players of the team sheet entered the locker rooms but I had the pleasant surprise to see only Matt scott ( hello @mlle-anglo 😌) and JvP on the pitch to do some suicide running drills. Longer on the pitch than expected? Alright for me! Such a treat 🍬 to see for myself those bouncing 🌰🌰

The match started on fire with all those early tries ! We had the pleasure to watch George doing his magic at least twice really close from us during one of the penalties and one conversion.

The first half was flying by in less than 1 second and it was really emotional to see tom youngs on the pitch to lead the team then at the break and at the end with his kiddos. During the break tho : huge sorry to tom youngs but I didn’t clap with the others for the second time because I was busy re-applying make-up to look a bit fresh for the end of the match. And let me tell you I will never put on that lipstick ever again the struggle was real and was way ugglier at the time than when I went out of my accomodation :(

The apprehension and tension was on inside of me at the time but the second half was a bit boring .. The match was pretty early on won by LT and they added few nails into the Bristol’s coffin that is all. The crowd around where we were standing was essentially composed of hardcore fans fed with only beer buckets and anger against the Ref or Callum Sheedy.. The poor Callum that we ripped into pieces unfortunately which was really bad and upsetting to see. Fortunately LHR was there for the poor sod. LHR had also his own struggles with those “fans” since they were counting on the seconds of his every mooves especially for box kicks and or to get the ball out of any ruck it was really stupid since Ben youngs is so slow he takes 3 x the time LHR takes. Anyways… I can’t have control over the bad behaviour of Leicester’s fans but I felt bad about it. All in all they were respectful of the kickers when they had to kick. Damned those Wiese’s fans in my oppinion.

When George went off the match wasn’t really much that captivating anymore, some brillant catch from Freddie and really pumped about his try otherwise I wasn’t that happy to see Wiggy. Poor Freddie Burns wasn’t in the mood either I bet when they called him George Ford ( sorry Freddie…) . A w k w a r d .

The end of the match

Since it was the birthday of JvP’s sister I was almost certain it could have gone another way and he could have been gone already but I kept hopes. The match ended and the players that were there for warm up entered the pitch to thank the other team and for the discourse of Ben and Tom youngs. George hugged Callum and LHR and then LHR hugged Cal while JvP was hugging Freddie Steward.Everyone go hug !

They then had that little tigers family moment picture that George almost escaped from because you know he had done his job and called it a day and was already to do his round to go back home. For real that “tigers family” was a bit of a joke to me at the start ‘cause I thought it was really used just as branding for Leicester Tigers but after that game I really get that feeling. Finally , Welford road is not that big and the distance you have while watching all of them is really disappearing when you are in the stadium. All feel at is place, you can feel complete and you really feel at home.Pure bliss. All is just so natural and easy. At the end of the day they are just people you know , you feel what I mean ? No distances anymore when you are part of the game even as fans. I felt that, like we were as much as important as the players, that we are the salt and spices of that perfect meal. Maybe it was just me putting all of them on a pedestal or something but somes of them have still that aura.

We didn’t recorded all because too much informations and events just happening right in front of our own eyes at the same time and I pressured enough that poor @ledemidouverture to take pictures of JvP . The quality of the camera of her phone is unmatched. The players involved in the warm up all changed clothes and I was so certain he would wears his orange shoes ! A detail but not for me haha.

Like George for example, no one actually asked him for picture, he is not the most comfortable around the team and really looks on duty more than just being here for the pleasure. I am sure if someone asked he would be going for it but much more for the club reputation than to please someone but that is just my gut feeling. No one wanted to disturb him and I didn’t wanted either when I saw him coming. We were in a special delivery mission anyways.

The meeting

The players that were on the team sheet were going for their walk, George leading the way. J was talking a bit to others players while beginning to walk for his run he was looking at the crowd I was really tense and cletching my hands to the bag and we locked eyes. In my head it was playing ☆

🌟This was my moment🌟

It felt like all the planets just felt allignated , he stopped entierely what he was doing and not going for the run with the others a bit like oh yes I have got unfinished business here. He just crossed the pitch perpendicularly on some meters just to go see me. We walked towards each others. He was just like an husband going down the aisle I swear to all of you. It surprised everyone that he was casually interupting the march of the others to go see me.

And I did mooved everyone of the way as I was walking just like I had blinkers on. All felt like even people knew because they did step aside I didn't told them to step away peasants ..but it felt really like they were all doing a backward motion to let me see him I was at the barrier before him and I will NEVER forget his expression, his smile.. his frown nose and smiley eyes who just let appeared all the dimples he was so happy !?. I had never seen that expression on his face and I look at him almost daily 😇. The walk towards me and that expression : I had just win the world. My heart was upside down I guess because all went so quick I just felt complete but wasn't part of this world anymore. He said something like "all for me!?😄"

but the crowd was too loud I couldn't clearly hear him. I DIDN'T ASKED FOR THE HUG. He just instinctively went for it when I gave him the bag he was already going for it. I wasn't gonna tell him no but he didn't asked he just touched me to initiate it and let me tell you: it was so natural that from this moment it felt like my head had always rested in the curve of his shoulder and neck. I didn't registered his body on mine my head was having an overdose of infos but I did registered all the curve of his body that I could touch in this fragment of time.

The fabric of his training vest was slippery soft and warm

That body is thin , I was expecting a lot of meat and not to embrace almost all his back with one arm

All felt so soft , genuine and warm

He doesn't smell I smelled the pitch only

I did registered a lot of back muscle there

We couldn't be in the closest embrace because of that barrier but still the gap was really thin and his body felt reeeeally light I was just gently pressed to it

I really think it was the perfect height difference because he didn't lied down or anything it just felt natural like puzzle pieces really I assure you it's not my imagination.

He was smiling all along while hugging me as well as before and after we met. His cheeks must hurt at the end of a normal day but he deserves the world and I would give anything to make him smile again. His friends are so lucky to have him in their life because he is the cutest softest human being. 90 % of his body is constitued of kindness and generosity.

It went really quick I just over and over replayed it in my head and overanalyzed it for me and for you to engrave it forever in my brain. Anyways he needed to do that run and go see his sister so I just asked for the selfie he said sure sure we went for it I took 3 horrible ones because I can't do selfies but wanted it anyways. While doing this he still had his hand on my shoulder and hair and I didn't even realised that ok? Since I tend to lose my hair and they are long so we have exchanged dna that is a sure thing. I hope they were soft for him and not felt like hay 😭. Even if farmer boy is used to hay. I also hope I didn't do any make up stain on his training vest omg. I was concentrate to do a proper picture or at least ONE. He said another time Thank you and then he left holding the bag really close to him while doing his round and @hold-to-love saw he had the bag when he went to her side of the pitch so she knew as well that I had met "love of my life" .

He didn't stopped for anyone else but me , there was people and children next to me but he didn't really gave a damn he went off pitch with the bag and that was it he had left.

We then took the cutest selfie with @ledemidouverture just to engrave the pure bliss of that moment and I did watched him do his full run. All the atmosphere was charged with heated air , fresh grass scent , earthy aroma and I could felt the plastic of that barrier warmed by the sun.

We did saw Freddie Steward really close to us making selfies with everybody but *sorry Freddie* the mission was complete,better than any dreams of mine and I couldn't add a cherry on top of the cherry. Really I felt that complete. I bounced jumped and shouted and danced and cursed.... and was IN SUCH A STATE when the realisation just hit me of what did just happened??? I was hungry but my soul was even more because in that minute I held all the possibilities I never knew I could ever hoping for so to all of you who have read until here : believe in your dreams and even a bit bigger. They can happen. Reality can overpass them.

Some valuable lessons have been learnt, they might feel like commonplaces but it's a good reminder anyways:

Dreams can come true after all.

Random acts of kindness will come back at you in the most surprising ways so be kind always.

Believe in your luck, the world is a magic place.

Trust people who make you feel like your place in this world is by their sides , people who know that your value lies in what you are not what you are doing or in your look. Being understood / loved and visible because of them but also supported to achieve your lifegoals because they trust you to achieve your aims and believe in you this much. They want you to reach that confidence you lack abd just care of you because you are you. You have a special place and they have a special place in your heart. Friendship and love have no boundaries.

Believe in yourself even if it's hard. You are so much more than that overweight , those zits, that sweaty body. People don't care about that. You can manage. You are not an uggly/stupid/uninteresting person. You are allowed to fail / to fall. All is a lesson for the future. Anxiety can eat you alive so let's center ourselves to what matters the most. People can give you confidence but it's in you and it's on your own that you have to believe that you are valuable.

World isn't that shitty, there is such beauty in little things. Everything is possible and everything can change in a beat.

NEVER listen to people dragging you down or devaluating what matters to you just for the sake of it. They are just empty shells. If it matters to you, you don't always need to justify. People don't have to know your reasons behind loving someone and how deep it means to you. Everyone as the right to find comfort in seeing someone. Be as much as a fan as you want to be and never apologize for it. Frankly, fuck people ruining hopes of others. 🙃

Don't wait on things to happen make them happen if you can. Don't settle for less settle for more.

Online friends are real legit friends and so PRECIOUS.

You are strong you can do it. If things didn't work out you can learn from it. Either by trying again or winning knowledge

Meeting your heroes is EVERYTHING it gave you confidence, trust in people , it gave you beauty / kindness /joy / happiness / sincerity / make you feel loved so much loved. You feel worthy and seen.

Hugs and hot beverages are officially and forever just the best things in the world.

People do care about you. They love you and you should too. FBY

Thanks to tumblr 10 pictures limit I will have to post you a part 3 with the next part of the trip what a shame

#jvp #leicester tigers #rugby #freddie steward #george ford #jack van poort...hug

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shyficwriter · 3 years

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Temporary Home: Chapter 13

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: Seems like that visit had quite the effect on you, enough to send you on a semi-bender. Should they step in? Should they leave it alone? Furthermore, what secret accidentally gets leaked to Yondu while this happens?

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @allylin05 for the scene suggestion (where Reader couldn't reach something!) And thank you to all the others who have suggested scenes they’d like to see in this series! (I’m still working them in!) As always, if you have a cute little scene you'd like to see in this story, feel free to send me a request! It might take me a bit to work certain things in, but I’ll try to add as many as I can! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 21 of the Guardians living with reader.

Word Count: 5,635

The guardians were getting concerned.

This was different from the other times you'd get sulky and avoid the others. Ever since that night that the couple came to the house, you had barely said a word. All you did was curl up in your room, and when you weren't doing that you were drinking.

They tried a couple times to pull you out of it, to no avail.

For instance, they had decided to begin sparring practice again after Fury's last visit. Two weeks was enough of a break, and they couldn't just sit around going soft while they waited for the negotiations to finish. If they ever did. The first couple times you had refereed for them, seeing as you couldn't join in the actual sparring with your arm injured, but each time they tried asking if you'd like to ref again after the night the couple came, you had refused, not even looking at them as you lay staring at the ceiling or curled on your good side.

Mantis tried using her abilities on you, like she did to make you feel better when Fury punished you, but you barely let anyone near you, and you certainly wouldn't allow anyone to touch you. You either pulled away or sternly told the offender to leave you alone, or in Peter's case, when he got the 'brilliant' idea one morning in the kitchen that you might cheer up if he tried tickling you, a swift knee to the crotch.

Either way, Mantis knew better than to push it. She had a feeling it wouldn't work this time anyway. The effects of her abilities were only temporary, it wasn't a cure. She can ease sadness away for a little while, and if someone was just a little sad they might still feel better even after the effect wore off, but if that sadness was too deep it would only wash back in once the person was no longer subject to the effects of her abilities.

A few times you could be heard walking around the attic, and a couple of those times sounds could be heard like you were throwing things across the room. One of these times one of the gang finally got the courage to go check on you, but they found you had locked the door behind you.

It seemed the "attic is off limits" rule still applied even when you were up there.

This annoyed Rocket, who had been reminded by this recent development that he had never gotten around to sneaking up there to prove to Groot that there were no monsters up there. The fact that you had been throwing stuff around up there didn't help that matter, only convincing the little guy that the noises were in fact coming from the monsters. After a few times of this he angrily went into your room, intent on getting the key and going up there to yell at you for scaring Groot, only to be disappointed to find that the key was no longer in the drawer and annoyed with himself that he wouldn't have thought that you'd have taken it up with you.

The third day of this Gamora pulled Peter aside. They knew Fury would be coming the next day, and she didn't know if telling them would only make matters worse. Did they tell, or stay out of it? Unfortunately Peter didn't have the answer either, he only hoped that'd you'd sober up by tomorrow. He didn't know what was going on with you, but he'd hate to see you possibly get into more trouble with SHIELD because of it.

There was also a bit of a selfish concern for them as well. What if Fury decided you were unfit to look after them and keep them hidden? Would SHIELD remove them from your responsibility and need to split the team up to hide them?

Later that night you left your room and headed to the cellar to pull yet another bottle of whiskey up and take it into the kitchen. No one was in there, just as you hoped. Unfortunately that didn't last forever.

You were mindlessly scrolling tumblr on your phone when Yondu sat down in the seat next to you at the table.

"Mind if we join ya?" he asked.

You glance up to see Kraglin had also sat down, and you wordlessly scoot the bottle in their direction to indicate you didn't care and went back to scrolling and sipping from your own glass.

"So how long are ya planning on taking this bender?" Yondu asked.

You glance up with narrowed eyes and as if to spite him grabbed for the bottle again to top off your glass before putting it back.

Yondu looked displeased. "That ain't an answer." he said cooly.

"Best you're gonna get," you say, slurring a bit.

Yondu leaned back in his chair with an expression Kraglin recognized. It was the same one he used to wear when someone thought they could get away with mouthing off to him. The look of mild bemusement that usually preceded a whistle or a scolding. Only this time he didn't do either.

"Why don't ya tell us what's eating you?"

Your eyes flicked up but you didn't answer. You didn't want to talk. You were sleepy. It was none of his business anyway. What came out was an elegant, "Nothing... your face." This was followed by your also very elegant flipping of the bird before you reached for your glass again.

Yondu, seeing you were clearly past drunk, got to it first, sliding it out of your reach. "I think you've had enough, little lady."

You pout at him. "Give that back."

"No." he responded flatly.

"Dick," you mumble, lowering your head to rest on your good arm on the table.

"Yeah, sit there and pout. That's gonna help." Yondu snarked.

You didn't answer.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, pipsqueak." Yondu scolded, sort of hoping that the childish name would get a rise out of you.

No answer.

"You think she passed out?" asked Kraglin.

Yondu reached over to grab your wrist, intent to do the whole lift and drop thing to see how out you were, but you only whined on contact and swatted him away, mumbling something about sleep.

"That answer yer question?"

Kraglin shrugged before nodding to the bottle. "I'm gonna get a glass, want one?"

Yondu nodded, not taking his eyes off you until Kraglin came back with a couple glasses and poured the two of them a drink. Something was definitely eating at you, and the way you were dealing with it just wasn't healthy. Even as a Ravager he still knew that. Sure, it hadn't stopped him from going on a few of his own benders over the years, but it didn't mean he had to just watch someone else go through one. Unfortunately he had no solution. Closest he had to one was cutting you off, which he'd already done, and getting you to talk about it, which you wouldn't, and if you were unwilling then there wasn't a whole lot more he could do.

He and Kraglin sat there for a bit, sipping their drinks and killing time with idle chit-chat. They could hear a movie playing loudly from the sitting room. Probably something from that Netflix Rocket had turned on. No matter. Didn't bother them any. Clearly wasn't disturbing you as you slept at the table.

That is, until the sounds of a crying baby sounded from the film.

Yondu noticed you groggily sit up and rub your eyes. You lightly smacked his arm and, still half asleep, mumbled out, "You fetch the baby, I'll make the bottle, ok?" With that you pat him on the shoulder as you sleepily went to stand.

Yondu's eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion. He shared a quick look with Kraglin. He had heard it too and his face shared the same sentiments. Baby? There wasn't any baby to fetch??

Before you could stumble away to prepare a bottle he was sure didn't exist, Yondu grabbed your good arm to stop you. "Hey there, where ya think yer goin'?" he said, his eyebrows knitted together. He really hoped this was just some sort of drunken sleepwalker dream on your part, and not you acting on some instinct he was sure there'd only be one way for you to have had. He tried gently shaking you.

You blinked a few times, finally seeming to wake up enough to remember where you were and who you were with, who had hold of your arm.

You didn't see your loved one's face, as you expected. Instead you saw a blurry blue that focused just enough into Yondu. You did still, however, hear the cry of a baby; but it wasn't- you knew it couldn't-

Yondu saw how you looked up and realized the sound, and how your expression changed from sleepy and confused to downright anguished. Your lip quivered and his eyes widened. 'No no no, none of that!' he thought, realizing you were starting to tear up.

You pulled your arm away and covered your mouth, turning so you wouldn't face him as pain tore at your drunken heart.

Yondu stood and caught you by the shoulders, spinning you towards the door at the far end of the kitchen, saying, "I think it's time fer bed! Someone's had a lil' too much t'night." He tried to keep his tone light-hearted, but he shot a glance back to Kraglin as he walked you out of the room. They didn't need words to convey what they were thinking. It seemed they might have just become privy to a bit of painful information you hadn't meant to share.

Yondu guided you up the stairs to your room, all the while he could hear you sniffing.

The clumsy opening of your door startled Mantis awake. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to see Yondu guiding a teary-eyed you into the room.

"Back to sleep, Bug." Yondu said. "Nuttin' to see here. She just had a little too much whiskey.

Mantis ignored him and stood from her bed, approaching the two of you as he tried to persuade you into sitting on the bed. Of course, being drunk and upset you weren't exactly very compliant. You kept trying to walk towards the attic door, much to Yondu's dismay and annoyance as he kept trying to tell you you needed to sleep it off.

Mantis watched the scene and knew what she needed to do. Before Yondu could say anything she had already reached out to your forehead and whispered, "Sleep."

Problem was you were a couple feet away from the bed and you fell backwards into into Yondu, who's arms shot out to catch your dead weight just in time with an 'Oof!' He sighed and maneuvered your now unconscious form to your bed, saying, "Ya couldn't have waited to do that until she was closer to the bed?" He wasn't angry, but a slight annoyance still coated his words.

Mantis twiddled her fingers sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Yondu stood, having managed to lay you flat on top of the bed. "It's fine, Bug. I know you was only tryin' to help."

"Is she going to be ok?" Mantis asked. "That's the third time I've had to do that in as many days."

Yondu raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"At night, when she doesn't think anyone can hear her, she cries. It started after that couple came and said those things to her through the door. I put her to sleep so she doesn't cry." Mantis walked over to your sleeping form and placed her hand on your forehead. Her antennae glowed and she described to Yondu what she read from you. "Her heart aches. She's angry, she's sad, but mostly she mourns."

Yondu swallows. Remembering what had just happened downstairs, another memory came to him. That night under your tree in the forest. He had said something about you maybe settling down and having a few little ankle-biters and then you... oh no. He had a suspicion that he knew what you mourned, and the thought made his heart clench. He still didn't know how that couple showing up might have triggered this pain in you, but if what he suspected from the pieces he could put together was true, then that was a hell of a loss, and it helped explain to him a little bit why you were the way you were. You were in pain.

Before Mantis could say more he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let's let her rest now, Bug."

***

You woke up earlier in the morning than you would have liked. You could blame it on your throat being dry as sand, the dull ache in your temples, and the feeling like your bladder was in a vice. Oh, the 'joys' of the morning after a night of drinking. Not nearly as fun as the drinking itself. Though, you were sure 'fun' wasn't exactly what you had had last night, even though you couldn't quite remember it.

No matter. Time to shower and get yourself presentable. Fury would be coming today for one of his weekly-check-ins and it'd be unprofessional to greet him wearing last nights clothes and possibly still smelling of alcohol.

Today you had a chance of being told you no longer needed the sling, so you tried to at least be happy for that as you gathered a change of clothes for your shower and thanked whatever higher-being that might be listening that the bathroom was free.

***

Fury showed up about mid-morning with the same doctor as last time.

You pretended to be a good little soldier and sat patiently as the doctor examined you, said you were free to remove the strap from your brace, and adjusted the hinge on your brace for the limited range of motion he would allow your elbow to move while it was still healing. You were given some therapy exercises to do and informed you were still under a weight restriction for that arm.

The first thing you did was utilize the full range of this new, albeit limited, range of motion, stretching your fingers and wincing as you tried to work a bit of the stiffness out.

Before the doctor had begun examining, Gamora quietly asked to speak with Agent Hill alone. They left the kitchen to speak in the hall mostly unnoticed.

"She took the brace off, didn't she?" Agent Hill assumed. "Knew it. She's so damn stubborn!"

Gamora shoot her head. "No, no. That's actually not it. It's something else."

"Really?" Agent Hill looked surprised.

"Yes. She followed all of Fury's orders. It's about something that happened the other day. This couple came to the house-"

Maria looked alarmed. "Did they see any of you? If you were compromised you shouldn't have waited this long to tell us."

"No, it wasn't anything like that" Gamora said, slightly frustrated with the interruptions. She explained that you seemed to know them, how you had closed all the curtains and shut off the lights just before they arrived and pretended not to be home. She told her how they had spoken to you through the door, and that you had been upset and closed off ever since.

Maria frowned. "Do you know what they looked like? What they said?"

Gamora shook her head. "I never saw them, but they said something about how something wasn't her fault, that they forgave her? I don't know what they were talking about, she wouldn't say, but she's hardly left her room since then and we're just a bit concerned and thought we should tell somebody."

Maria nodded. "I'll speak with her."

Gamora nodded in return. She got the feeling that Maria knew the significance of the couple's arrival, but wasn't going to say, so she didn't ask.

They returned to the kitchen just as the doctor was finished. Agent Hill requested to have a word with you in private while Fury briefed the Guardians on the lack of update on their situation.

You rose an eyebrow at her, but obeyed, and the two of you made your way out to the front garden.

Maria spoke first. "How long have we worked together?"

"Almost since I first started, you helped train me. Why?"

"And we've come to know each other decently well in that time, yes?"

You look at her, confused. "Yeah? What is this about?"

"You know you can talk to me, right? If something's wrong?"

"I don't need to talk-"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. Ms independent. Ms 'I don't need anyone.' I get it. I do. But maybe letting people in every once in awhile couldn't hurt."

"Are you going to tell me what this is about or not?" you say irritably.

"One of your charges has expressed concerns."

You looked confused and surprised. "Who? Why?"

"Doesn't matter. And they told me that you had a couple visitors the other day. My informant didn't know who they were, of course, but I have a pretty good idea, especially after I was told what they said to you."

You look off towards the road bitterly.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Maria asked.

Your gaze shifted from her to the ground and back a couple times. Finally you relented. "They said they forgave me. What am I supposed to do with that?" Your gaze was hard as you looked into her eyes.

"Accept it?" Maria said with almost a laugh, her eyebrows knitted together. "Maybe take a page out of their book and try to forgive yourself?"

"But it was my fault," you respond.

Maria can see the pain in your eyes. Her eyes soften. "It wasn't, though. It wasn't your fault. You have to understand that."

"No, you don't understand," you say, pain present in your voice. "Put yourself in my shoes. Tell me, that if it was you, that you wouldn't believe it was your fault then!"

Maria didn't answer.

"That's what I thought."

"Look, I have the ability to see reason because I'm not in your shoes. I can see that it wasn't your fault. You can't hold yourself accountable for what other people have done to you."

You give her a hard look but don't respond. After a few moments you see Fury come out the front door with the doctor and you finally say to her, "Are we done?"

She follows your gaze to see Fury before turning back to you. You can tell she wants to say no, but she settles for, "I suppose. For now."

The two of you walk back towards the front door to meet Fury. He tells you that he's pleased to see you followed orders, but to make no mistake, he still has Gamora looking out to make sure to follow through with the doctor's orders until your arm is healed, or until he can trust you no longer need that type of supervision. Whichever comes first.

You begrudgingly nod and they leave, you heading back inside.

***

You had decided to not confront them about who told Maria about the couple. If she was right, and they really were just concerned, then you decided it was better to just not make them concerned anymore. No concerned Guardians, no one getting SHIELD involved with your personal life.

You decided to not head back to your room after Fury and Agent Hill left, rightfully convinced that it had been how you more or less hid away for three days that alarmed them. Probably the drinking too, but jury was out if you'd stop that or not. What were they going to do? Stop you?

Actually... you did have a faint memory of Yondu pulling your drink away from you last night... Oh well. You were sure they wouldn't do it again, but that was a question for later. Now, you were going to go check your neglected garden.

Only, when you got there, you found it wasn't nearly as neglected-looking as it ought to be considering you hadn't visited it in over a week. You cocked your head and raised an eyebrow. Who had kept it?

On cue, Kraglin spoke up behind you. "Um, hey."

You turn to face him.

"Hope ya don't mind. Kinda kept it nice for ya, while you were- you know..."

You were taken aback. "Oh- um. Thank you. You didn't have to-"

"I know." Kraglin said, rubbing the back of his head. "Back before we- Yondu an' me- joined Pete's team we were on a lot bigger ship. Lotta crew. We had an areas for growin' food on board, helped keep fresh stuff around so people didn't get sick. Anyways- used have to shifts in those areas some when I was younger. Still remembered how to do most of it. Figured I should make myself useful when you couldn't do it- Ya know, something to do."

You glance back at the garden. "I guess, um, if you like it, I could let you help me next time, if you want, then," you reply awkwardly. "You did a nice job- thanks."

Kraglin smiled a bit. "Sure thing. Beats sitting around."

You crack a smile at that and look to the ground briefly. "Well I guess I'll find something else to do now, since this is done." With that you walked past him and back into the house.

You get back inside to a commotion in the kitchen.

Mantis is crying and panting and fanning her mouth, Gamora is yelling at Rocket, and Rocket is laughing his ass off.

"What's going on here?" you ask, brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"Rocket tricked Mantis into eating these," she showed you the jar of jalapeños, "and now she's in pain."

You sigh and glare at Rocket, who didn't look sorry at all. You guide Mantis to sit at the table and pour her a glass of milk, instructing her to drink it slow like you had Yondu when he ate them and informing her that it would help. At least you knew she didn't react to milk the same way he did. Gamora asked to make sure Rocket hadn't fed Mantis poison, but you assured her she'd be fine. It was food, just not something any of them were used to apparently.

Kraglin re-entered the house just then and took in the scene. A teary eyed Mantis sat at the table sipping some milk, and you stood behind her, rubbing a hand up and down her back comfortingly, yours and Gamora's eyes both shooting daggers at Rocket, who was still grinning.

You begin to scold Rocket. "What's wrong with you? I know you did that on purpose."

"You don't know that, how was I supposed to know she wouldn't like them."

Kraglin's eyes narrowed. He spoke up. "Now if I'd known you was gonna use them to be mean to Mantis there, I wouldn't have told ya when you asked me which was the hot things Yondu ate. She's too sweet for you to be mean to her like that."

Rocket gave Kraglin a look of betrayal. "Come on. It was just a joke. Did you really think I was asking because I wanted to eat them."

"I thought you was asking so you wouldn't eat them," Kraglin replied, annoyed. "not so you'd make the bug girl cry."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Lighten up."

"What's with you lately?" Gamora asked. "You're not even this bad on the ship. You behavior has definitely gotten worse since we've been here."

"Has not!" Rocket denied. "If anything you guys have lost your ability to take a joke!" He crossed his arms. "And how come nobody says anything when Star-Munch and dumbass there-" he pointed at Kraglin, "-mess around, but I always get yelled at! It's like I'm the only one not allowed to have fun here!"

You tilted your head at Rocket, contemplating a bit before saying, "Are you trying to say you're bored?"

Rocket threw up his hands. "Of course I'm freaking bored! What do you expect!? There's nothing to do! I can't blow anything up, or make any weapons, or make weapons that blow up! This place is like prison!"

You hummed and nodded your head. "I see..." You had an idea. You were normally against rewarding bad behavior, but you saw this more as an.. olive branch of sorts. Maybe if you gave him something to do he wouldn't be so restless. Wouldn't be so... rude. Give him a toy to play with, more or less. You nodded towards the back door. "Come here."

"Fat chance. Like I'd go anywhere with you." Rocket scowled, crossing his arms petulantly.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Fine by me. I won't show you the workshop then." A smile tugged at your lips but you suppressed it.

Rocket narrowed his eyes. "What workshop?"

"You already know I built you that bed. Where did you think I did that? The bathtub? It's in the shed."

Rocket eyed you, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to trust you or not. Gamora and Kraglin exchanged pleasantly surprised glances, intrigued that you were offering an olive brach of sorts to the bratty raccoon.

"Ok, but any funny stuff and I'll bite your good arm off." Rocket said, moving towards you in an almost cautious manner.

You roll your eyes. "There's no reason why there would be any 'funny stuff.'" you say. You start to turn towards the door, but stop. "Oh, one thing before we go. Apologize to Mantis."

Rocket glared at you. It was clear he didn't want to, but after a few moments he made an attempt. In a sarcastic tone he said, "Oh gee, Mantis, I'm SO sOrRy-"

You cut him off. "Like you mean it, or I don't show you the workshop."

Rocket grumbled something you couldn't hear under his breath before begrudgingly uttering a, "Sorry, Mantis."

Mantis, whose mouth was now much less burn-y than earlier, told Rocket she forgave him and you headed back outside with Rocket to see the workshop.

Kraglin and Gamora watched as you went, completely surprised that that had worked.

***

You led Rocket to the shed and unlocked it, opening the door and motioning inside. Rocket hesitated, but eventually entered after you took the first steps inside to turn on the light.

A workbench ran along the length of one side of the room. On it sat a chop-saw at one end, and a vice as well as a small cabinet of little drawers where you sorted your nails, screws, and other fastenings. Above this workbench ran a series of shelves housing various drills and tool boxes and other odd-n-ends. Under the bench laid an old forgotten and broken step-stool you had never gotten around to fixing.

A smaller workbench sat on the wall opposite side. Above that was a pegboard where you hung different wrenches and screwdrivers and hammers, and above that hung a short cupboard.

In the middle of the room stood a table saw, and behind that, at the back of the room, is what caught Rocket's eye most.

You had a welding station set up, and he immediately walked back towards it.

"I didn't know you had this in here!" Rocket exclaimed.

"You never asked," you reply, slightly grinning at his obvious interest in the welding area.

Rocket looked the area over. It was covered in a layer of dust, showing that it had been awhile since anyone had used it. "This still work?" he asked.

"It should," you say with a little uncertainty. "I haven't used it for years, but I'm sure the tank still has gas in it. We could always find out. I take it you know how to use it?"

Rocket looked back at you. "Of course I know how to use it. It's just basic fire welding, not like it's a plasma welder or anything."

You raise an eyebrow. Apparently he knew his stuff better than you thought... "Ok then. Just let me find the striker..." You looked around the welding bench, but didn't see it anywhere. "Hm... must have misplaced it... let me look."

You walk over to the small workbench, looking in the drawers, but came up empty handed. You check the drawers in the long workbench. Nothing. You looked up at the shelves. Nope, didn't see it. You walk back over to the small bench to look in the cupboard above it. No striker. "I know it's in here somewhere." you sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Then you see it. The edge of the striker glinting from on top of the cupboard. "Damn," you say, your gaze falling to the floor before returning to the striker.

You reach up in vain, knowing you couldn't reach it from the ground, even on your tip-toes.

"Need some help, shorty?" came Rocket's teasing voice. You obviously weren't short compared to him, but it didn't matter. You could have been seven feet tall and he still would have used the jab.

You throw him a look. "Like you're one to talk! And no." You try reaching again and sigh.

"Don't you have a chair or something to stand on?" He was chuckling at you now.

"No." you admit, gesturing to the broken stool under the other workbench. "Never got around to fixing it. Normally I just-" you cut yourself off as you tried to reach up again.

"Just what?"

You sigh. "Climb. Ok? Normally I'd just climb up there, but um," you gesture with your arm in the brace, "kinda can't do that right now." You try reaching again, but you give up. That tactic was obviously never going to work. You look around. "Maybe I can find something to knock it down..."

As you look around you see from the corner of your eye Rocket make a couple jumps to get on top of the cabinet, where he then grabbed the striker and hopped back down onto the workbench and held it out to you with a cheeky grin.

You exhale out your nose as you take the striker and say, "You could have done that this whole time?"

"Yeah," Rocket admitted. "but watching you struggle was funnier."

You ignored him and headed back towards the welding area. Yelling at him never seemed to do anything but encourage him anyway.

You attached a brazing tip to the line connected to the tank, turned on the gas, and clicked the striker up to the tip. It took a couple tries, but the flame finally caught with a whoosh and you laughed in surprise. "See. It works," you say to Rocket. "And as long as you don't burn the shed down or hurt yourself, you can use whichever tools you know how to use."

Rocket eyed you as you turned off the gas, extinguishing the flame. "What's the catch?"

"I just told you. Don't burn down the shed or get hurt." After half a second's thought you added with a slight grin, "Should I add 'don't break my tools' and 'lock up when you're done'?"

Rocket scoffed. "I'm not gonna break your tools. If anyone knows how to care for tools it's me! Hell, they'll probably be in better condition after I use them."

You shook your head in amusement. "Alright." Little guy could be so dramatic. "I know there's an extra key somewhere in the house, but until then you can use mine, ok?"

Rocket nodded but then asked, "Why keep it locked?"

You look out the open door. "Force of habit, mostly... keeps kids from getting in and hurting themselves too," you say, adding, "You know, like Groot. Wouldn't want him to go playing around the tools and getting hurt."

Rocket nodded again. He knew Groot mostly knew better from being with him not to play with tools, but he didn't argue.

"Anyway," you begin again, gesturing to the neat stacks of spare wood and metal material in the corner. "Knock yourself out." you placed your key to the shed on the small workbench. "Key's here. Lockup when you're done and leave the key on the kitchen counter after, ok?"

Rocket raised his eyebrow. "You're trusting me in here by myself?" he asked, sounding more suspicious than confused as you turned to leave.

You turn back to him, slightly grinning. "You said you know what you're doing, and I've already been told you used to work on the ships, so that claim has already been vouched for, so... yeah. Unless you're gonna give me a reason not to trust you, that is."

"No, that's all pretty much right," he said, eyeing you, still seeming unsure. As if he thought it might be a trap.

"Then we're good," you reply. You to leave again when you're stopped by him asking, "What's in this for you?" You didn't know whether to sigh or laugh, so you settled for a mix of both as you turn back yet again. "I figured maybe if you had something to keep you entertained maybe you'd be less of an insufferable asshole."

Rocket looked offended and you laughed. "Now can I leave or do you have anything else to ask?"

"Nah," he replied, taking his eyes off you to now look around the workshop. "We're good. Um... thanks..."

The 'thank you' honestly surprised you, but you only turned your look of surprise away as you exited the shed and said, "Don't mention it."

Rocket watched you leave before turning back to check out the welding bench some more.

Yes. This was just what he'd been needing. He could finally repair the device he smuggled.

#gotg #gotg fanfic #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu lives #yondu udonta #rocket raccoon #kraglin obfonteri #mantis #gamora

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jaypsnax · 3 years

Photo

Art Fight(and not) Things !! Welcome to the grey canvas show. Premature posting for over half of them and late posting for the rest, but reasons for that below the cut. As well as some context for each.

1st is a ref I made for my sona, which has yet to be put up. Been delayed due to working on other things and still not having a name. 2nd is a NB visibility Floofty I kinda just.... cobbled together? Not sure if it’s all that great, *and* it’s late, but... well. Hrgrhrhgrhgrhgr 3rd is the start of the AF things with @snakjomo‘s Journalist, whom I’ve become very fond of in my time consuming Bugsnax content. Their design might be subject to change, but I’ll love em either way <3 4th is Quillda Tiddlything from @calliopepreforms who is ADORABLE, I love her cute lil stubby legs, hair, and oversized glasses. She’s like prime pick up and cuddle material, absolutely amazing. 5th and 6th are both @cheesesteakphil‘s Orlifa Featherbean (sure do draw lots of journalists, huh?) and the first I got a bit too ambitious with while I hope they don’t mind the slightly shippy content of the second >.> If not then We Are Shaking Hands On Appreciating Floofy

So! Additional context... well, frankly, the Art Fight work hasn’t exactly been going swimmingly. I’ve been trying new things and have Sort Of had ideas, but it’s been just as much sitting still as moving forward, frankly. And I’d felt bad that it seemed like I had nothing to show, while getting frustrated with the inability to properly finish anything. Iunno, I’ve gotten impatient and also in some weird way showing stuff might help my brain move forward. I hope it doesn’t come off as... lazy or anything like that :l 1st image has already been pretty explained. I drew it shortly after the previous reference for a commission because I just wanted to do something new. It’s a little samey in expression and not as neat in terms of composition, while lacking in details like the headphones and lil cassette player, but I figured I could pair them together to shore up on any missing bits. 2nd also pretty self-explanatory, and shows a trend I have with expressions for SURE. Like, left corner of the mouth up type beat. I’m tryna break outta habits with this stuff, but it is Not Easy. That bow tie kicked my ass too. And I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with what I came up with, ultimately, but I didn’t want to wait too long either. Even though NB Visiblity Day’s already passed us up regardless. Floofty’s existence means a lot to me and I had to do *something*, y’know? 3rd has a bit of extra detail in that I meant for it to be a sequence. Like Buddy and Filbo sitting at the campfire and all that with a side of Gay Realization and such. The good stuff. Unfortunately, I’d been struggling a lot with composition and have No Idea have to do backgrounds. To the point where I couldn’t come up with anything additional. What’s there is ok, but the missed potential is horribly frustrating. Just hope it’s alright enough. Lighting’s kinda scuffed too, I know. ...I should stop looking so closely. 4th is yet another thing that doesn’t need too much explanation beyond “haha tiny journalist :)” tbh. It’s really not the best little sketch, but I also felt bad not including it? Have To Express The Love And If I Don’t I Die. 5th and 6th are a whole load because I originally started with the first bit from suddenly being struck with the idea of Orlifa in that comfy denim jacket from their ref in snow or smthn. While having a lil detail of when you do that like... exhale from the side of your mouth in the winter thing in mind. Got pretty experimental with the coloring and shading and things like that, which has been a learning experience for sure, even if I’m not 100% of the result. Backgrounds are not and will likely continue to not be my strong suit, but I’m hoping to get better about it. Probably not the best idea to be trying to go all out during a time limited event, however I uh... just care a little too much ahahhh... Had even been trying to take up painting to do a piece of Egg’s(Snakjomo’s) Neme and Cath. Or one of them, at least. SO much brain hurty. Anyway, with that second sketch I just thought it might be neat to do more than one thing for them. I like drawing interactions I know they like Floofty, so.. one thing led to another and there’s that. *Had* to do something with Orlifa for that sweet sweet Floofty Enjoyer and NB Solidarity. Then uh... that’s that. There’s other works, but they’re not really Bugsnax related, so I opted to omit them. While a lot of this stuff is sketchy af and ultimately unfinished, I hope they’re worth at least a little to everyone who got something. Might not be all there is, but my pace is gonna be horribly slow. So (maybe) stay tuned for any of that.

#bugsnax #my art

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

Frisky for a Fight - Jamie Benn

Word Count: 3,250

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut

Notes: So watching Jamie Benn fight the other night was just a turn on for me and I ended up writing a little something for it. I decided to use the reader from Ruined, hope you guys don’t care. As always I love to hear your feedback. Happy Reading!!!

(Also not my pic)

You didn’t see the exchange between Zadorov and Dellandrea, only the commentary from the announcers that the young pup had made a hit on the Blackhawk, and then words were exchanged. The television was always on in the training room for you to watch the game if, you weren't on the ramp. You’d been marking down a few things in your charts after taking care of a couple of the guys during intermission, which is why you missed Jamie drop the gloves when play resumed. As soon as you heard them say that, you picked your head up to see the exchange.

You had a love-hate relationship with Jamie fighting, always had. On the one hand, you hated it, because there was always this risk of him getting hurt. While on the other, you found it incredibly sexy. There was just something about seeing him all angry and fired up, that just did things to you, and this fight was definitely doing it to you now. Which was wrong, so wrong. Your panties she should not be getting wet at this moment, but the minute he threw that left uppercut right into Zadorv’s face, you felt your pussy clench.

The fight only last seconds, as the refs came in and broke it up rather quickly after that. You watched Jamie, skate over to the penalty box taking off his helmet, pushing his hair back once he got in, giving you a chance to see what the damage was to his face. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any, but you wouldn’t be able to tell until the second intermission which was a while away. There was no point in making yourself suffer, so you headed up towards the bench to see if you could get a closer look without seeming to be hovering over him.

You stood there on the runway, leaning against the wall arms folded as you waited. Jamie saw you staring, could tell by your stance you weren’t pleased that he’d got into another fight, though it was the first of the shortened season. He knew he’d be in for an earful the second the period ended. You kept staring at him over there in that box, all the while Jamie was fretting. Not about dealing with Bones, he knew his coach wouldn’t give him too much hell, but you; you were a different story and the last person he wanted to displease.

When they finally released him and he skated over to the bench to the sound of sticks taping once again cheering him on, you were able to assess the damage. He looked good, nothing seemed to be bruising or swelling, though he should probably get some ice on those knuckles; just for preventative measures. Jamie's eyes darted around to all his teammates before they laid square on you. His signature puppy dog's eyes coming out to tell you he was sorry. You simply shook your head and made your way back to the training room.

Bones talked to guys briefly after the second period before you went in. “So how bad are you?” you asked, grabbing his hands to see the damage. There were a few scraps but nothing that was bleeding or needing attention.

“I’m fine.” He snipped back, earning a disapproving glare from you. He could fight all he wanted with them, but he would not be picking one with you.

“I can see that,” you retorted. “Put some ice on those before they swell.” The guys went about their usual intermission break, making changes here and there with plays, and pointing out weaknesses they could try and capitalize on. All while guzzling Gatorade and something to give them a bit more energy in the third. Everyone started to filter back to the bench as the reprieve was over while Jamie lingered behind.

“Sorry I was snippy before. I just thought you were going to yell at me for fighting.”

“As long as you’re not hurt. I have no need to yell.” You shrugged off the matter, not wanting to get into how the whole thing actually made you dripping wet. He turned to head back down the ramp and out to the bench, a sulking look on his face as if he didn't believe that you were mad at him. "Jame," you yelled out, making sure there weren't too many prying eyes around before you grabbed him and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I'm not encouraging you to fight again, but I was very turned on by that punch to Zadorov's face." You couldn't let him go back out on the ice in a brooding mood, or he'd definitely be dropping the gloves in the third.

"Really?" His eyes perked up, and there was a distinct sparkle to them. One that you'd seen many times as before right before he ripped your clothes off, though that wouldn't be happening here.

"Yes, but if you do it again; you won’t be finding out exactly how wet I am,” you whispered, before swatting at his padded ass. “Now get back out there, captain.” The smile on his face told you, that you didn’t need to worry about him fighting the rest of the game, as he made his way back onto the ice; a little more pep in his step than before.

For the rest of the game, Jamie seemed to behave himself. There might have been an unnecessary check here and quite possibly a shove that wasn’t needed there, but at least his fists weren’t flying into anyone’s face. The game didn’t end how they hoped, as the Stars fell to Chicago. After a few words from coach, some of the guys, including Jamie, headed over to do media. You saw him roll his eyes at having to sit through what he considered the worst form of torture. It was even more so that, now that he knew how turned on you were after his fight. He was definitely distracted as the reporters fired off a few questions, little did they know where his mind actually was.

You finished cleaning up the training room, letting the athletic trainers go early as you waited for Jamie to finish up. He was just finishing buttoning up his shirt when you walked into the locker room. He spied you and his hands immediately stopped, leaving a good four buttons hanging undone. “So you found that little fight sexy, eh?”

There was no one else in the locker room as everyone else had left. So, you were free to saunter up to him and slide your hands up his torso until you could feel his exposed chest. “I’ll admit it was kind of hot.”

“Just kind of?” He grabbed your waist, pressing your body intimately to his where you could feel his erection.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.” His eyebrows lifted at your suggestion, while his hands roamed down the cheeks of your ass, gathering the fabric of your skirt as he went. It was nothing new for the two of you to get a little frisky when no one else was around. Jamie admitting once that he always wanted to have sex on his locker stall, was all it took to make that fantasy a reality, and while it didn’t happen often, it had happened a couple of times.

His hands worked the globes of your ass, the cool air hitting them as he hiked your skirt up to your waist. Fingers shifting, you felt him move to your core, where you knew he’d find your panties moist. “Fuck baby, have you been this wet since the second?”

“Uh huh,” you moaned before kissing him hard. To your surprise, Jamie moved his hand away and started shimming your skirt back down your lips. “Aren't we…” He didn’t let you finish, just grabbed your hand and headed out of the locker room. You knew you weren’t headed to the car, as he left his jacket hanging. “Where are we going?”

“I’m feeling frisky tonight.”

“I gathered that when you dropped the gloves.” He rolled his eyes as he looked back at you.

When he headed up the ramp that led to the bench, you pulled back on his hand. “Everyone’s gone.” He told you, and while you knew that all of the players and coaches weren’t there, there were still people that worked in the arena milling about. “Come on babe, trust me. Unless you just want to wait until we’re home?” His free hand, snuck between your thighs, letting his fingers dance along your folds.

You moaned in frustration. There wasn’t really a choice here. “No, I don’t.” The minutes the words were out of your mouth, he had your feet moving again. The arena was dark, except for the emergency lighting that dimly lit up the place. Shockingly, he opened the door to the ice though and stepped out onto it.

He picked you up and carried you across to the penalty box before you could even ask where you were going. “I couldn’t stop thinking about taking you here all third period. I’d like to say overtime too, but I was trying to concentrate on the game then.” You laughed, the sound echoing through the building, which made you immediately quiet again. “Thought we could actually do some sinning in this bin.”

He set you down inside the box first before coming behind you and closing the door. The wicked gleam in his eye matched the smirk on your face and the next thing you knew he was shoving you up against the glass, his mouth hot and heavy on yours. Your hands scrambled to undo his shirttails, while he shoved your jacket off your shoulders. His mouth was everywhere, on your lips and on your neck as they made their way down to your breasts. Jamie sucked on a perk nipple through the fabric of your blouse; your back arching into him.

You were so lost in the sensation of his lips that you didn’t realize the loud moan that escaped you. “Shh,” Jamie hushed before capturing your lips with his. Regaining some of your senses, you quickly undid his belt buckle, before sliding the zipper of his pants down. If you were going to do this you might as well, live out a little fantasy of your own. You pushed back on Jamie’s chest, causing him to pull back in question.

“Since we’re sinning. There’s a little something I’ve always wanted to do to you here.” Pushing both his pants and boxers down to his knees, you backed him up to the bench, where he sat only hours ago for fighting. As you stared over at him earlier your mind had wanted to do one thing and now you had the opportunity. He sat down hard with just a simple push of your hand. His legs spreading immediately, as you sunk down to your knees. You wasted no time, letting your hand drift up his thighs, before guiding his cock into your mouth.

Jamie hissed out his pleasure. His hand threading through your hair as you sunk down on him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good.” You heard his head hit the back of the glass, as he hit the back of your throat. You worked the length of him in and out of your mouth. Part of you wished that the camera that was there was on, recording this. You wanted to see Jamie caught up in ecstasy as you worked your magic on him, but that would have to be for another time. He gathered your locks into a loose ponytail so he could watch you bob up and down on his cock. “Jesus, you look so beautiful.” They were whispered words of praise that went straight to your core.

When you hollowed out your cheeks, his head fell back once again against the plexiglass. It was then that you picked up speed and added a little hum. The vibrations sending Jamie almost spiraling to the point of no return, but he held it together even though his hips lifted off the bench. He was close. You could feel it in the way that his balls tightened under your touch and the way he seemed to almost let go completely. He held on by a small single thread and you knew it was because he didn’t want to spend in your mouth. He wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy when he finally came.

There was both disappointment and relief in his eyes as you released him with a pop; saliva and precum dripping from your mouth. He lifted you off the ground, then brought your mouth to his in a soul-searing kiss. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” His hands worked the fabric of your skirt again, the cold of the ice making you shiver. Jamie hooked his fingers in the strings of your panties and ripped them off your body. You wanted to chide him for being so careless with the lace garment but that sheer animal magnetism of the action drew you to him even more.

You straddled him. Legs on both sides of his hips, as you slowly guided his member to your pussy. The feel of him deep inside you was like no other. It was like coming home and yet something new every single time. You’d been wanting this for the last couple of hours and now here you both were, though you hadn’t imagined it quite like this. Slowly, you swiveled your hips, making both you and Jamie hiss out in pleasure. You began to ride building up a rhythm that you both loved.

Jamie took hold of your hips, helping to steady you as you moved. Vaguely, you realized you pressed a hand to the glass behind Jamie and wondered if the imprint would still be there the next game. Would anyone realized that it wasn’t just someone trying to bang on the glass, but instead it was you being carried away in pure bliss as you rode their captain. Jamie brought you back to reality as he slid the v-neck blouse you wore off one shoulder so he could play with your breast. “I just want to rip this off you.”

“Do it,” you hissed out, knowing that he’d buy you dozens more to replace it. It was harder to tear than the panties but then Jamie was a man on a mission, just like he was earlier. His hands tore at the fabric the same ones that had punched Zadorov only hours ago. Now they were gentler, as they cupped your breast, tweaking and playing with the nipple. You threw your head back, only to have his mouth replace his fingers. He sucked on the turret peak then gently bit down. Your hips shot up, as a rush of wetness flooded Jamie’s cock buried inside you.

Suddenly, Jamie’s hands were on your ass and in one fluid motion he lifted you both up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as your back was pressed against the plexiglass; your heels digging into his ass but he enjoyed the bite. You clung to Jamie as he began to pound his cock into you. Foreheads pressed together, all that could be heard in the arena was the two of you panting as you sought that high you both craved. “Come on baby…” Jamie breathed out. “Cum for me.”

He was holding out, waiting for you and with a shift of his hips, he hit that sweet spot and sent you over the plateau. A silent scream was all that you let out as pleasure coursed through your veins. Jamie tucked his head into your neck, as he thrust a few more times before finding his own release. He held you up against the glass for a minute as your breathing calmed. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” You’d forgotten about your heels until he set you down on them, but Jamie’s hands lingered on your hips to steady you. Once you regained your balance, you shimmied your skirt back down, while Jamie righted himself as well. “Where are my panties?” you whispered, only the receive a smirk from Jamie. The dim lighting wasn’t really conducive to finding your clothing, which even if it was ripped you still wanted.

Jamie lightly chuckled before he said, “We could always leave them for someone to find.”

“Jamie!” It was a little louder than you intended but you’d be totally mortified if someone on the team found them laying there.

“Is someone out there?” a voice called out shocking you.

“It’s just me Bill,” Jamie yelled to one of the custodians. “I was looking for my mouthguard.” You looked at Jamie questioningly and he just shrugged, as if it was the best he could think of on short notice. When you looked down embarrassed that you’d been caught, you finally saw your torn panties under Jamie’s foot. You shot down and snatched the garment up and shoved it in Jamie’s pocket. “Found it,” he yelled out to Bill. “I’ll be out of here shortly.”

“No problem Cap.” You heard Bill start to leave only to stop short and turn back around. “Hell of fight tonight, Cap. Hope we get to see some more like that this season. It seems to gets everyone riled up.”

“It sure does,” Jamie yelled back at Bill while grabbing your ass at the same time. “It sure does,” he repeated only this time quieter so only you would hear.

“Don’t even think that this is going to be a little habit, Benn.”

“Aww, come on baby. You have to admit it was fun. I don’t think I’ll ever sit in this box again without having a little smile on my face.”

“Well don’t think that this is some kind of reward for fighting because let me tell you; the first time I’m stitching you up because someone planted a facer on you, I already have your punishment in mind and it won't be anything like this.” You opened the door to the penalty box and waited for Jamie to step out and carry you since you had heels on. Which he did of course.

“What kind of punishment.” He queried as you made your way across the ice.

"That’s for me to know and for you to hopefully not find out.”

“This isn’t going to be like when you tried to get me to stop chewing snuff is it?”

“It worked, didn’t it. You don’t chew that shit anymore.”

“No, because if I did you wouldn’t let me near you.” It was true, every time Jamie chewed snuff you made it a point that sex, including kissing and whatnot was off the table, at least until he brushed, flossed, and rinsed with mouthwash. You weren’t sure what Jamie’s punishment was going to be for fighting yet but it would definitely run along those lines. “What happens if they all end up like this?”

Hmm, well that might be an entirely different story, as you were still ready to continue what you started in the sin bin. “Hmmm, I guess we will have to see if it’s still a turn on when it happens again.”

Jamie came up and grabbed your waist hauling you against him. “I’m more interested if you’re still turned on now.”

“Take me home and let’s find out.”

#Jamie Benn #Jamie Benn Imagine #Jamie Benn Imagines #Jamie Benn Smut #NHL imagine #NHL imagines #NHL Smut #nhl fanfic #hockey smut #hocky fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

As you can see, I’m ALREADY pepped for

✨Kauri with sick jake✨

So don’t worry about that

Honestly, this is for @eatyourdamnpears and everyone else encouraging my silly whims

CW: Description of migraine visual aura, migraine, sick whumpee, some consensual spice refs/flirting at the end

It starts as a dot in the center of his vision, a bit of gray he can’t quite see around. Jake frowns, closes one eye and then the other, but it’s there in both of them when he tries to look at the clock on the oven. He checks his text messages and there it is, little gray dot, making it... not impossible, but difficult to read the message.

“What are you doing?” Kauri asks the question from the doorway, standing with his shoulder leaning on the frame and his arms crossed in front of himself, wearing nothing but one of Jake’s shirts, hanging off his frame in a way that somehow makes him seem more graceful, not less.

“Go get pants on before Ant comes down and blacks out from blushing so hard,” Jake says, voice still upbeat, but... is the spot getting bigger?

He picks up his phone and types in ‘signs of seizure’ into Google.

Nope.

‘Sudden changes in vision.’

Oh, well, the potential answers to that one are definitely fucking terrifying.

How about... ‘gray dot in center of eye’.

“What the fuck is retinal detachment?” Jake mumbles, squinting. The dot is definitely getting bigger, and it’s in both eyes, not just one. So... not retinal detachment, unless his eyes both did it simultaneously, which seems impossible, but...

Google seems very convinced he might be dying. That is not comforting him at all as he tries to read around the spot.

“Jake?” Kauri pads across the kitchen tile on bare feet, and his hand presses cool to Jake’s bare back, long fingers against his spine. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a weird-... a thing in my eye... or my eyes?” Jake leans slightly back into Kauri’s touch. He hasn’t stopped being grateful for Kauri’s presence, and so deeply aware of it. It feels fragile, whatever is happening now, even though Kauri has always been made of steel underneath his insistence that he was nothing but tissue.

“What kind of weird thing?” Kauri moves around him, to lean his back against the counter next to the stove, head tilted to look up at Jake.

Jake looks down at him, tousled black curls and the way his face has changed with time, cheekbones and jawline more prominent, but his eyes have never been anything but the widest, brightest blue, and he can see Kauri through the arc that the gray dot is forming in his vision as it expands.

“I can’t-... I keep seeing gray,” He confesses, shaking his head - and he feels pressure there, a sense of something just... sitting behind his eyes, over his eyebrows. Like the weight of a small animal is there, and getting heavier. “Just, like, a dot, but it’s getting... bigger. And... like, breaking up?”

He tries to look at Kauri again, and the dot is a half-circle now. There’s a flash in the rounded curve of it, and then another. Then a third, but this one is colors, and there are small rainbows flashing lights along the arch as it grows.

“Am I-... is this a fucking seizure? Or a, a brain tumor? Or...”

Kauri, to Jake’s shock, laughs. “Oh! No, Jake. No, that sounds like - you said it’s getting bigger?” He reaches up, going up on his toes as Jake leans down, and presses his cool hand against the side of Jake’s face. “Is it, like, turning into a circle? Do you see lights?”

“Um... yeah. Yeah, like, like a fucking rainbow strobe light on the right side.” Jake closes his eyes, and the pressure is getting worse.

“Jake.” Kauri’s voice is soft. “You’ve got a migraine. Or you’re about to have one. When did you last sleep through the night? Or, like, at all?”

Jake snorts. “You’re one to talk.”

“Answer the question, you.” Kauri pokes him in the side, with gentle affection, and Jake wishes he could focus on his face around the widening, flashing arch at the right side of his vision. At least it’s sort of framing Kauri, now, and Jake wonders at Kauri just... here.

No backpack by the door next to his shoes, ready to run. The backpack is in Jake’s room, and it’s empty. Kauri’s fucking... pet Roomba Keira is in her place of honor in the living room by the Christmas tree. One of the new rescues is convinced they can fix her broken wheel even though it’s been actual years since Keira could roll around on her own.

For her part, Keira informed Kauri in that... unsettling metallic female voice that her visual sensors were enjoying the shifting colors of the Christmas lights and that she didn’t mind playing a sort of living Wikipedia for the rescues - all former Romantics - learning about a world they were forced to forget.

Keira reported to Jake that the most common question she received was some variation on how many pets run away, and how many go back?

The numbers are getting bigger - and the amount that end up back in WRU custody or with their former owners is going down. That alone drives Jake to keep working, harder than ever, to give as many as he can somewhere safe to land.

“I don’t know. Chris is here for Christmas break, we have new rescues, there’s-... just been a lot going on, and-” He sighs as Kauri’s hand moves up, thumb rubbing soft little circles just above his eyebrow, and the pressure building behind his eyes seems to lessen, just a little, at the touch.

“So the answer is that you’re stressed and not sleeping. So this is definitely a migraine. Is it still getting bigger?”

Jake opens his eyes and looks down at Kauri’s face, giving a slight smile. “Uh, yeah. It’s... almost all off to the right, now. You’re pretty with a rainbow around you.”

“Well I’m gay as hell, so I should hope I look good in rainbows,” Kauri says, smiling with his nose scrunched up the way he does when he’s not being self-conscious about it, and then he takes Jake by the hand, pulling him back across the kitchen. “Come on, you. Time to lay down.”

“Kaur, the rescues will wake up any second now-”

“Antoni can feed them as well as you can - way better, honestly. He can just reheat those little pocket things with the cheese in them.”

“... Hot Pockets? I don’t think-”

“No, the thingies. The, um. The pirouettes?”

“Piroshkis?”

“Sure, that sounds right, too.”

“Well, pirouette is a ballet term-”

“Jake. Not important. Let’s just be happy I remember anything at all. Come on.”

Jake doesn’t feel like he follows Kauri so much as, like always, Kauri is a planet on its own orbit that Jake is drawn to, has always been drawn to, long before he could have had a moment with him like this. “But Chris-”

“Chris is twenty-three years old,” Kauri points out. “More or less. He can take care of himself, and right now you need someone to take care of you. And trust me, I have a lot of experience with migraines - and so does he.”

The rainbow flashes are fading out, moving so far to the side of his vision that they are effectively gone, but the pressure is still building and Jake squints against the way the first hints of sunlight hurts, a little, to see coming through the windows. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Kauri’s legs are pale where they show under the hem of the big shirt he wears, and Jake swallows against the way something in him stirs at the sight, but that bit of pain that had come with seeing the sun isn’t leaving. It’s getting worse. “When I stopped blacking out, I started getting headaches, migraines, lasted for days. Fucking hated it. I used to get them in training a lot, too.”

“You did?”

“Mmhmm.” Kauri pauses, briefly, at the top of the stairs. “When I relearned how to read, and when I looked at myself again, they came back. But I had to keep trying, anyway.” He glances over at Jake and gives him a slight smile. “All that time I spent trying to figure out what you were seeing when you looked at me. Migraines come with the territory.”

“Why don’t I know that you were getting headaches?”

“Because I didn’t tell you about them. We’re, um. We’re good at ignoring pain.” Kauri smiles, still, but there’s something a little more brittle in it now. “Chris got them, too, learning to read. And... probably before. But everything-... hurts so much, in training. You get used to doing everything with the pain instead of waiting until it’s over. You don’t have a choice. There we go, I’ve distracted you with a sob story long enough to get you back to your room.” Kauri helps Jake inside, closing the door, and Jake sighs in relief as the room is beautifully, perfectly dark.

“Our room,” He says, and his head is starting to really hurt, now. “I don’t have time to lie down, Kaur.”

“You sure as fuck do,” Kauri says cheerfully, getting him back to the bed, hands running over Jake’s shoulders, back, and sides as he lays down on his stomach, groaning. Kauri presses a little, here and there, gnawing on his lower lip. “You’ve got some serious fucking stress in your back, Jake.”

“When do I not?” Jake asks, muffled by shoving his face into a pillow.

“... good point. I’m going to get you something for your headache and tell Antoni he’s in charge today. You... don’t move. Or I’ll be very unhappy with you.” Kauri’s voice teases, effortlessly flirty, just a little with the graze of his fingertips before he pulls away.

He’s gone, for just a few minutes, and Jake’s headache seems to worsen by the second, moving from the first hints of pressure to a full-on pounding pain. He doesn’t dare pull his head up, afraid even the slightest sliver of light will be too much. His stomach twists and turns, too, and Jake’s glad he got up here before he ate anything.

That Kauri got him up here.

Kauri reappears with two pills, a glass of water, and a surprisingly bright smile on his face. “Well, I’ve embarrassed Antoni by stretching and forgetting I’m not wearing any pants, so... good thing I look good naked. Here, take this.”

Jake swallows down the pills and drinks the water until it’s gone, then hides his face back in the pillow. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Stay right here, dumbass,” Kauri says, softly, and he crawls up into the bed, lying down on his side next to Jake. Jake can feel the soft brush of his hair before he leans in and kisses Jake’s neck. “Stay right here with you. That’s my plan for the day.”

“I’m gonna be real boring,” Jake mumbles into the pillow.

Kauri’s voice is low, situated just above a whisper but below the threshold that would make Jake’s head pound any harder. “I spent years alone with a talking Roomba and some plants on a balcony. Boring doesn’t bother me. I’d rather sit in this bedroom in the dark with you being a big whiny baby than be anywhere else.”

“... ‘m not whiny.”

“He said, whinily,” Kauri teased, and snuggled up next to him. Somehow he’d taken his shirt off and Jake slid one arm over the warm skin of his back, pulling him close. “Hey now-”

“Isn’t sex a pain reliever?” Jake asks, eyes still closed, nuzzling into Kauri’s neck, the warm smell of his skin, with the faintest hint of Jake’s own cologne. Something about having known Kauri to never smell like the same cologne twice for so long, and to know now he only ever smelled like Jake...

“Not for migraines. Wait til your head feels better, dumbass.”

“Thought you liked my ass,” Jake murmurs, kissing just under Kauri’s ear, a spot he knows Kauri likes, a spot Kauri didn’t know he liked, because nobody ever bothered to explore Kauri the way he deserves. His hand slid down and between Kauri’s legs-

And then he winces and turns his head back to the pillow. “Ow. Okay, I can’t right now.”

“Told you so,” Kauri says, moving Jake’s hand back over his waist. “No sex until you feel better, Doctor Kauri’s orders.”

Jake pauses, and says softly, “I must be the only guy on earth who fucking loves hearing you say ‘no.’”

Kauri pauses, and then kisses Jake’s hair, the top of his head, and slides back into his embrace, the warmth that came with lying together under the blankets together.

“Yeah, maybe. But I like that you want to hear it.”

“Always. Whenever you need to say it. I love you, Kaur.”

Jake thinks he hears the faintest hint of hidden tears in Kauri’s voice when he answers, “Love you, too.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#erase to control #sickfic #sick whumpee #migraines tw #migraine #referenced consensual spice #headache whump #visual aura #migraine aura #trauma recovery #conditioning referenced #deconditioning #jake the shelter guy #sick fic #caretaker #whumpee as caretaker #caretaker whumpee

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gay-otlc · 3 years

Text

Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."

#tumblr kotlc fandom fandom #keepers of the chaos #shai types things #cursing tw #we must be g a y #shai's writing

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

Uh Oh Spaghettios (Uswnt x Swift!Reader)

Request- Y/n Get's hurt in a game, Taylor Comes to the hospital to take care of her and the fans find out about Y/n.

Hey dudes, this is part 2 of a one shot series I have labeled A Swift Life that will follow the characters in this universe. I’ll list the other parts down below. I still haven’t decided if it’s going to be a purely Emily/reader endgame or a Soran/Reader endgame. If you have any requests or suggestions, please feel free to hit me up. I hope that you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The smile that etched its way across your face when the ball found the back of the net for the 4th time was blinding. You sent the Australian bench a wink as you copied their own star forward’s signature backflip, being engulfed by your teammate the moment your feet were back on the pitch. The ref blew the whistle signaling that the first half was over, and you laughed as your team ruffled your hair during your walk back to the locker room. You were proving to be a problem like no other for the Australian team, and the dangerous looks crossing the defender's faces showed that they may not have the answer for how to shut you down.

Emily’s arm wrapped around you as you neared the tunnel, your cheeks flushed as she leaned in and placed a light kiss on your cheek.

“4 goals in 20 minutes, you would think the defenders went on break.” She joked, pulling you tighter to you. Your smile got impossibly wider.

“Well, not everyone can be as good as stopping me as you are.” You laughed, ducking your head as she kissed your cheek. You had really opened up to the team since you had finally told them about your family. You had become touchier with everyone, especially a blond-haired defender. You weren’t always good at voicing your thoughts, but the team was finding that you were much better at expressing yourself through body language and touch. Plus it helped that you were a secrete cuddle bug.

“Yeah kid, what’s gotten into you today? You’re like on fire,” Lindsey asked as she wrapped her arm around you from the other side.

“Taylor said that she was going to watch the game.” You shrugged, causing both women to laugh.

“She’s here?” Emily asked trying to untangle herself from you., her eyes frantically searching the stands for your older sister.

“She’s in New York, but she cleared her schedule enough to catch the game.” You said quietly, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling it back around you. You understood that Taylor was busy, and it made you feel warm inside that she always did her best to watch your games. She had almost flown out to watch this game live, but you had insisted that she didn’t need to. It wasn’t like the game mattered in the long run, and you didn’t feel right pulling her from her own responsibilities when the stakes weren’t that high.

“She’s still worried about the fans?” Lindsey asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm, something like that. I think she just wants them to know me for my footie skills and for her name.” You mumbled. It wasn’t that you guys were hiding from the fans. You just hadn’t explicitly admitted that you were related. You were barely on social media as it was, so your public interactions were limited. Taylor was also trying to protect you. She knew that you were shy, and when the fans finally put two and two together, they would be more all over you than they already were.

“I’m surprised that they haven’t connected all the dots yet.” Lindsey snorted. If any fandom on the planet was going to figure it out, it was them.

“Yeah, they’re like the world's greatest detectives” Emily smirked, and you rolled your eyes. Sure they were good, but considering that half of the fandom was still ignoring the fact that the subject of her songs wasn’t brit boy, you weren’t really worried about them realizing that you were a major part of her narrative too.

“They’re not Batman,” You grumbled, mumbling a thank you to Alex when she held the locker room door open for the three of you. She nodded your way, a smirk set on her lips.

“No, you’re superman, flying around and scoring goals,” She said as you passed her, and you frowned.

“Does that make Emily her Lois Lane?” Alex asked, causing the entire room to burst into laughter, and your cheeks flushed.

“In her dream” Emily snorted, untangling herself from you and pushing you away lightly. You averted your eyes from Lindsey’s I’m sorry eyes and stared pointily at the floor. You missed the glares your teammates were sending towards the blond defender. It wasn’t a secret to them that you had a thing for Saucy Sonny. They had bets going for who was going to make the first move and how long it was going to take for the two you to stop being oblivious.

“That’s enough ladies, we need to go over some things before the next half,” Jill interjected, before beginning to talk strategy. You knew that she was way out of your league, but hearing and seeing her disgust with the very idea of giving you a chance still hurt. You spent your halftime half-way listening to Jill drone on and on about positions and getting behind the defenders, while the other half of you was trying not to stare at Emily who was pointedly not looking your way.

Your thoughts were spiraling by the time you made it back onto the field, the playful atmosphere that you had stepped off the pitch with completely gone. You were distracted by the swirling idea that Emily would never want you in the way you so clearly wanted her. That you had been so stupid to even hope that she would give you the chance to prove that you could be a worthy partner.

From the time you were little, you had been told that it only takes a second of distraction for everything to go wrong. But here you were, waiting for Christen to take a corner kick, watching the way Emily was bouncing on her toes, rather than paying attention to the defender who was marking you. You didn’t see the ball flying in your direction, or the opposing defender that was leaping into the air to meet it. One moment you were looking at Emily and the next all you saw was black.

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

Alex had had a perfect view of the collision from the bench. She saw your eyes following a certain blond defender and not the ball. She had seen the opposing defender leap into the air, her leg catching you in the side of the head. She had watched you fall to the floor, and Kelley rushing to your side. Emily had flipped her lid the moment she saw your unmoving form on the turf, screaming at the defender who had hurt you and earning herself a yellow card.

Alex was at your side the second the trainers had carried your unconscious body off the field and loaded you into the ambulance. She had held your hand all the way into the hospital, only letting go when the doctors wouldn’t let her into the back with you because while she was your team mom, you didn’t share any blood relations. She had been regulated to the waiting room, where the team had joined her after their victory over Australia.

“Does anyone know why there are about a million camera’s out in front of the hospital?”

“I think that would be our fault,” Taylor said, rushing into the waiting room, her blond girlfriend skidding to a halt not far behind her. Alex felt her shoulders relax at Taylor’s voice.

“Thank fuck you’re here. They won’t tell us anything because we’re not “family”” She

“Not family my ass, you guys spend more time with her than anyone else” Taylor spat, finally taking in the exhausted faces of your teammates, her eyes lingering on Lindsey and Emily’s red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She wasn’t thrilled that you were going for someone (or multiple someones?), so much older than you, her protective instincts wanting her to make sure that you didn’t get taken advantage of. But on the other hand, they clearly cared for you deeply.

“That’s what I said, but it’s the policy or whatever” Kelley grumbled, pulling Taylor’s attention away from where Emily and Lindsey were curled together in the corner of the waiting room, both being comforted by Sam, Tobin, and Christen.

“Let’s go find the doctor babe,” Karlie said quietly, running a hand up Taylor’s back. Taylor sighed. There would be time to grill the two women who you may or may not be crushing on later. For now, your health was her first priority.

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

The first thing you noticed was the incredibly annoying beeping coming from somewhere in the room. It was probably your roommate's alarm again. You couldn’t remember what time you had gone to bed last night, but all you wanted to do was sleep a little more and the annoying beep was preventing you from doing that. Why you had been paired to room with Becky for this camp, you didn’t understand. She was a total morning person while you loved to stay in bed all day.

“Turn it off.” You groaned, your eyelids fluttering. God the sun was bright this morning.

“No can-do kiddo,” The voice beside you chuckled, startling you. That wasn’t Becky’s voice or anyone from the team.

“Tay?” You asked groggily, attempting to turn your head to survey the room, but realizing that that was a terrible idea as a wave of nausea hit you. “Whoa”.

“Stay still babe,” Another voice said from beside Taylor, a hand resting on your chin to prevent you from wiggling around.

“Yeah, I’m here, so is Karlie,” Taylor whispered quietly, hovering over your face so you could see her. You winced, moving Karlie’s hand and trying to sit up on your own again. Alex (who was on your other side) and Taylor immediately jumped in to help you.

“What happened?” You asked, wincing as the pounding in your head increased for a moment as you settled back against the pillows.

“You scared the shit out of us” Kelley grumbled from beside Alex. A small smile etched its way across your face at the sight of the 4 women who were more like parents than siblings sitting by your side. The 4 women who always supported you, and only wanted you to be yourself.

“You got hit in the head really hard. Try not to move around too much. ok?” Taylor said, running a soothing hand through your hair. You pouted. If there was one thing that you hated more than anything else it was being forced to remain still.

“You probably have a concussion kiddo,” Alex added, grabbing your hand and running her thumb over the back of your knuckles.

“No not that. Did we win?” You asked anxiously. The last thing that you remembered was being ahead, and if the team had lost because you got hurt, you didn’t know what you would do. It would probably mean that your USWNT career was over.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about,” Kelley sighed exasperatedly. You were going to have to learn that there were more important things in life than winning and losing. It was a little scary how much of your identity you based on your abilities on the pitch.

“Well did we?” You insisted, causing the women to chuckle again, Alex nodded and began to rub soothing circles on your shoulder again.

“I’ll find the game for you, just give me a second,” Karlie added, grabbing the remote control and beginning to flick through the channels to find the replay of the game.

“I’m going to go tell Em and Linds that you’re awake,” Kelley said after a few moments, rubbing your leg as she stood up and moved towards the door.

“They’re still here?” You asked, your eyes widening and your cheeks turning red.

“Trust me, kid, they’re not leaving until you do,” Kelley threw over her shoulder as she exited the room. The room was quiet for a few moments, the only sound being the soft murmur of the television. Karlie had changed the channel to the Sportscenter. You relaxed back into the bed, content to watch the commentators break down the game. Your breath caught in your throat as they played the collision again. It wasn’t watching the accident that made you freeze, but instead the photos of a very upset looking Taylor rushing into the hospital. You never wanted to scare or her them, and knowing that you did was really hard. You weren’t upset that the fans had figured it out, frankly, you were surprised that it hadn’t happened earlier.

“So I guess we should tell the fans that I’m not dead,” You mumbled after a few minutes, slowly turning to look at Taylor.

“You’re ok with them knowing?” She asked hesitantly, running the hand that was carding through your hair down your cheek in a soothing motion. You sighed into her touch. She wasn’t your mother, but she had always been nurturing towards you. She was the one who held you after a nightmare or a game that didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Your mom was a firm believer in tough love, sometimes too tough. She wanted the best for you, Austin and Taylor. That meant pushing you to your limits and expecting you to live up to the things your siblings had done. You knew your mother loved you, but Taylor was the one who filled the nurturing role for you.

“I’m not ashamed to be your sister Tay.” You whispered back, and she nodded. She never assumed you were. She knew her fans could be a little… much, and she had just wanted to protect you. Now you would be under an even brighter spotlight than you had been before.

“I never thought you were. I just wanted to make sure you were ready first.” She said back, placing a kiss on your temple. You hummed back, your eyelids fluttering. The fans were like a wave. You could watch from a distance and pretend you knew what you were getting into, but in all honesty, there was no way to prepare for them. You would have had to jump in sooner or later, at least now your teammates could post the videos of them annoying you with her songs online now.

“You know that this means that I get to talk about how awesome you are now right?” Taylor said with a chuckle, and you groaned. Taylor never wanted you to feel like you were in her shadow, and now that the fans knew she was related to you, she was going to take every opportunity to show them just how amazing you were. The fans were about to find out how big of a Y/n Swift stan she was.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #taylor swift fanfiction

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juunithebunny · 2 years

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you randomly made me remember you when randomly liking stuff i rbed! had to say the way you paint is SO GOOD! inspiring even and making me want to return to my older projects to continue proper painting in digital! if you have any tips, can i have some please? if not, that is okay. i hope you have a nice day!

Oh my, thank you so so much for this! I’m all flustered haha!

Glad to hear you’re returning to trying digital painting, I gurantee it’s the most fun one can have with working digitally (at least..for me)..

I’m probably not the best person to give out tips due to me forgetting to use my own rules from time to time, but there are three things that come to mind that have helped me to get better!

1. Inspiration/references. While yes, refs for drawing are important, what I mean by this is that I look at how other people paint. At one point I was super inspired by this cheesy and colorful fantasy artstyle so when I didn’t draw, I was looking at how people with that style did! Then when I try out to replicate say for example the way someone does rim light it can help me understand how I want to do rim lighting in future….if that makes sense.

2. Brushes. Really depends on what look you want for the painting, but getting to know what you can achieve with what brushes can set the tone. There are some great brush packs I can recommend for photoshop (they should work for CSP too) such as Kyle T Webster’s watercolor pack (I use Fat brush a lot), Iben Krutt’s traditional media brush pack and Jens Cleassen’s brush packs. These brushes are great for very textured painterly style! However, the greatest discovery that made me level up with my digital painting was that sometimes the defaut round brush is the best way to go. Nowadays I do 90% of my stuff with it, and use other brushes for specific things!

3. B&W. Well, this is just a helpful way to prepping honestly! If I’m doing a bigger piece especially, i like to do the initial phases of the painting in black and white first. This means sketch paint, quick refining, mapping out lighting and big shadow areas etc. It helps to piece out work with lots of elements in it when you don’t have to worry about colour at all! I wish I had done this all the time when I started out…

+4 do what feels best for you! If something everyone else does just doesn’t suit you, don’t force yourself. I for example couldn’t do comprehensible sketches for the life of me so I just stopped and started painting process right away! Now years later I’ve started to learn how to sketch properly and it’s fun! Also, I can’t do cleans lines, never have…. soooo…I don’t. If you see lines in my works, it’s something I do as last touch up after painting to make some parts pop out etc. Maybe one day I will learn, but right now I rather skip the hassle..

#ask #long ramble #lol sorry I’m bad at expressing myself so it just becomes wall of text #i hope these tips can give some ideas at least #also wow what a compliment…#to ask little ol me stuff like this #makes me super super happy ahhhh ty ty #<3

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ghstandpucks · 3 years

Text

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch.10

Chapter 10!!! Oh wow, we’re here! I was excited about this chapter, as I am with the next one! I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think of the series this far! I only have a few chapters left in my head to write for it, so we are getting closer to the end!

I hope you are all healthy and safe, and Happy Holidays!!! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the series! Enjoy!

Cutting Edge Master List

Returning to Denver after Christmas, you spent most of your time at the rink after practice working on polishing your own skating again. You had been informed that all skating coaches would be performing at the upcoming NHL All-Stars weekend, and every figure skater had been sent music to choreograph a routine to. Luckily for you, choreography was one of your strong points. You had always loved putting your own routines together, and this was no exception. You had been sent the song CHAMPION by Bishop Briggs and though you loved the song, you knew your routine had to be flawless to skate to it. You were the reigning Olympic champion after all. Nate would stay most of the time with you, trying his best to be helpful and give you his opinion when you asked for it. He admittedly did not know much about figure skating though and usually just told you everything looked great, even when you knew it probably wasn’t. You appreciated his support though none the less.

Two weeks before the All-Star break was set, you found yourself traveling to Dallas as the boys had a game against the Stars. Along with the Stars came the one figure skater you could live without ever dealing with again, Ashley Wagner. Beside Nate, no one knew the animosity that was between the two of you, and you were hoping to keep it that way. You didn’t need to worry the team with a petty feud between two rival figure skaters.

You were staring out the window of the plane when you felt someone sit down next to you. Turning, you saw Nate settling into the seat as he gave you a questioning look. “You okay?” he asked. He knew you weren’t looking forward seeing Ashley, and was not sure what this new environment would bring out. You smiled and nodded, opening your book again to distract you.

Nate was worried about you. He had been watching you stress yourself out over putting together a perfect routine for the All-Stars, not to mention helping Jeremy put his together over multiple facetimes. Apparently, you were the one to come to with routine questions. He thought it was amazing, how you could take a song and within two days have a mostly completed routine laid out, he would never be that creative. But between coaching, working on your skating, and running to dress fittings at a shop you found in Denver, he had never seen you look so worn out. Nate was worried that if Ashley pushed a button correctly, you would snap. Your smile may be able to fool everyone else, but Nate had been paying attention over the two months you had been together and was starting to be able to read you like a book. Though it was comforting to you that he knew how you were feeling without even saying it; it also put you on edge. You were used to concealing your feelings behind a smile, and with Nate you couldn’t anymore.

The team landed in Dallas the evening before their game, and you enjoyed dinner with them before heading to your hotel room. You were just crawling into bed with the cooking channel on when there was a knock at your door. Opening it, Nate stepped in quickly and shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?” you asked. When you traveled, the two of you didn’t spend time in each other’s rooms unless someone else was around to prevent any suspicion.

“No one saw me, we’re fine,” he said, placing a soft kiss on you lips. He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the bed, getting in on his side as you did the same. “I won’t stay long,” he said gently as you rested your head on his chest. His arm that was around you started drawing absent minded figures on your waist underneath your shirt, as his other hand held yours. “I’ll leave early before anyone should be up,” he said into your hair as you both drifted off.

Around 5am, you heard Nate’s alarm go off and felt him get out of bed. He chuckled as you mumbled incoherently and deftly reached for him. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. You sleepily watched him walk to the door and peak his head out, giggling at his large figure trying to be sneaky as he made his way out.

~ ~ ~

This was not happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Who does interviews before anything happens! You absentmindedly grabbed the figure skate charm on your necklace and bit your lip. You had just been told that you would be doing a pre-game interview. That wasn’t what was bothering you though. What was bothering you was that you would be doing the interview with Ashley. You knew someone had happened across your not so friendly history and planned this because you have never done an interview with any of the other skating coaches.

You were ushered to the area and sat down in front of a microphone when you were announced. Ashley walked in after, smiling brightly at you. You returned it, quickly snapping into performance mode. At first the questions were fine; how did you like being with your team, how were things going, did you miss skating yourself. Then the question came of how do you think your team will do in the game tonight. Ashley, being asked first, put on a brilliant smile that made you want to role your eyes. God she was so fake. “I think we’ll do great! I know how Y/N skates and I have prepared them for it. The Stars are a great team so we shouldn’t have a problem.” You kept your smile light, trying your best not to roll your eyes at her. The same question was then directed to you.

“I believe that the team is prepared. Similar to what Ashley said, I know how she skates and it should be a good game,” you answered. You heard Ashley snicker quietly and you had to bite your tongue. This was not the time or place to lose your temper on her. After a few more questions, you were asked to take a picture together. You had been fiddling with your necklace and didn’t pay any attention to it until you realized Ashley was looking at it.

“That’s new. Why is there a 29 on it?” she asked. You froze, but quickly recovered and turned the charm back around.

“It’s the maker of the charm,” you tried to shrug off. As you walked out of the room of the interview, Ashley followed.

“I’ve never heard of them. Where can I order one?” she pestered.

“It’s this little boutique in Denver. They don’t have a website,” you said off the top of your head.

“Well that’s too bad. Maybe you can take me to this 29 store the next time we’re in Denver?”

“Of course.” You both faked a smile at each other as you got to the hallway leading to the locker rooms. Unfortunately for you, Nate had stepped outside to see where you were. The team had seen the interview and you were taking a little long to get back. He volunteered to make sure you weren’t lost. Ashley didn’t miss him.

“What a coincidence, 29 looks like he’s looking for you,” she smirked, leaving for the Stars locker room. You walked over to Nate and started to push him back into the locker room. To say he was slightly confused was an understatement.

It was late in the third period, the score tied 1-1. The game had been highly physical, and you couldn’t help but be on edge. You were standing on the bench when the final buzzard went off, and the game was pushed into overtime. The game became even more physical if that was even possible, and you jumped as Perry checked Cale into the boards in front of you. A time out was called by the Stars, and you glanced briefly over to their bench. As you did, you saw Ashley say something to Jamie Benn, and he smirked looking your way. You saw him then eye Nate, and you had a bad feeling about it. Watching as Benn skated over to Nate, you could tell he was saying something. Nate tried his best to ignore the left winger, and you wish you could hear what was being said. The puck dropped, and as quickly as it hit the ice, gloves were also falling. You watched as Nate and Benn went at it, wanting to hide behind your hands but also not being able to look away. Without notice, you grabbed onto Tyson’s arm as he was the player you were standing behind. The bench was yelling, the crowd was cheering, and you didn’t know what to do. Watching hockey fights on tv or from the stands was one thing; but watching from the bench as the player you were dating was duking it out with another had you frozen in place.

To your relief, you saw Benn hit the ice with Nate on top and the refs scrambled to separate them. What you weren’t prepared for though was seeing Nate with a cut at his eyebrow, blood gushing from it. You unintentionally squeezed Tyson’s arm, and he turned back to you. “He’s fine Y/N,” he spoke lightly, patting your hand with his glove. Looking at him, you nodded and tried to compose yourself. Your first instinct was to run to Nate and see if he was alright, but you knew you couldn’t do that. All you could do was watch as he was escorted off the ice, his penalty longer than the amount of time left in the game. Benn had a bloody nose, and what looked like a busted lip, but that didn’t stop him from smirking over at you. You watched as Ashley tried to hide a laugh, and you were thankful that the game was about to resume or else you may have yelled something you shouldn’t. Unfortunately, a man down with Nate off the ice, the Stars scored first, effectively winning the game.

You were waiting outside the medical room wanting to see Nate as the Avs started to spill out of the locker room and head for the bus. You were in your own head, blaming yourself for the loss when you heard someone walk up to you. Looking up, you saw Tyson with a concerned look on his face. “You know he’s fine right? They probably just have to stitch up his eyebrow if anything,” he said, trying to judge your reaction.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” you whispered, tears starting to blur your vison.

“What do you mean? None of this is your fault Coach,” Tyson responded, confused as to why you were blaming yourself.

“I think he got in the fight because of me; because stupid Ashley can’t keep her mouth shut. And then we lost because we were a man down and it’s all my fault,” you swiped at a pesky tear that had fallen. Tyson wasn’t sure what to do, not entirely understanding why you were taking the loss so personally. They had lost a few times before and he didn’t think you had been this effected by it.

“You’re losing me. Why would Nate’s fight be your fault?” As Tyson finished his question, you grabbed the charm on your necklace and flipped it over to show him. You saw the moment his confusion turned into realization at what the ‘29’ was referring to. “Wait you and Mac?” he whispered, eyes wide and smile threatening to show. You nodded. “I knew it! Since when?”

“Since the home opener. But we’re keeping it quiet so you need to calm down right now!”

“Does anyone else know?” he asked, trying and failing to compose his face.

“Only Gabe and Andre on the team. Mel knows, and my best friend Jeremy knows, plus our parents but that’s it.” You said, then remembered why you were having this conversation to begin with. “But now I think Ashley knows, at least she guessed when she saw my necklace which is why this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been playing with it which drew her attention to it and it landed on the wrong side.” You wiped angrily at another tear that fell, annoyed. You had always been a crier when you were mad though; it was how you dealt best with the emotion. Tyson went to comfort you as the door behind him opened. You looked around him and saw Nate, with the outlines of an apparent black eye and medical tape over fresh stitches over his right eye on his eyebrow ridge. You rushed around Tyson and wrapped your arms around Nate’s sternum, hugging him not caring that he hadn’t showered yet. He held you with one arm, his stuff in the other as he looked at Tyson who was smiling like an idiot.

“See you two lovebirds on the bus,” the younger man saluted and walked off. Nate stared after him confused for a second, but then seeing no one was around he bent down and planted a kiss on top of your head. You separated from him, looking up into his blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry if this is because of me,” you whispered, not bothering to stop another tear that had fallen.

“It’s fine baby. Does Josty know about us?” Nate asked, wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb. It was a risk, being this close in public. But he hadn’t seen you cry before, and he wanted to be near you after what Benn had said on the ice. You nodded and grabbed his hand, noticing he had also split one of his knuckles.

“I was freaking out because Ashley saw the 29 on my necklace and I think she figured it out and said something to Benn. I feel like it’s my fault we lost and I ended up telling Tyson.” You were looking down at your hands, then looked back up to him, your heart clenching at how concerned he looked when it should have been the other way around. “Why did you get in the fight?” you asked softly.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault though. We’re a team Y/N, all of us. I screwed up and let what Benn said get to me. If it is anyone’s fault we lost, it’s mine,” Nate shook his head as you opened your mouth to protest. He really did not want to tell you what Benn had said as it had all been in regards to you. He had been vulgar, and Nate snapped. Giving your hand a slight squeeze, he continued. “I’m going to go change. Why don’t you get to the bus and I’ll see you in a bit okay?” You nodded, and Nate watched as you walked away. Though he was upset with himself for getting in a fight and subsequently losing the game, he would do it again for you in a heartbeat. And as you walked away from him toward the bus, he realized for the first time that he would do anything for you, and you were taking his heart with you piece by piece.

An hour later found you sitting against your headboard, giggling at Andre’s reaction to the Hallmark movie you had playing. He had complained about it at first, but your room your rules. He had surprisingly gotten into the plot, and was yelling at the man who mistakenly thought the main character was with someone else when he wanted to confess his feelings for her. After Chip Gate (what you loving dubbed Tyson and Cale’s chip debate after the first game), your room had become the place the team drifted to. Whether it was to conceal junk food that they shouldn’t be eating, an ear to listen to girl problems, or a comforting environment in terms of a loss on the road, you became the team’s go to person. Not to mention you had motherly tendencies and didn’t mind being there and fussing over everyone. It made you feel even more accepted as part of the team. This is why at the moment Andre was sitting on the floor leaning against the bed, Tyson had taken his usual spot laying across the foot of the bed, and Cale was sitting in the desk chair.

Before you could tell Andre to be quiet so you could hear what was being said, there was a knock at your door. Tyson got up and answered, Nate walking into the room behind him. His eye was swollen and bruising, but he seemed more relaxed as he walked over to the side of the bed and sat next to you. He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and placing a kiss on your head. “Did I miss something?” you heard Cale speak up and you looked at Nate with wide eyes and a slight giggle.

“Dammit,” Nate mumbled. He forgot Cale didn’t know. This was the first time he thought he could be open with you, forgetting the young defenseman was still in the dark about your relationship.

“Coach and Nate are dating. Now shut up so we can see the guy stop being an idiot.” Tyson responded. “Also Coach, I hate you for making me so interested in this movie,” he complained over his shoulder.

“You know you love it,” you teased, snuggling into Nate’s side. Cale kept going between staring at you and Nate, then the tv, unsure of when this happened and how others knew. Luckily for him, the movie ended 20 minutes later and he started asking questions. You told him how you got together and asked him not say anything because you were keeping it quiet.

“Of course, but why do they know?” he asked.

“I was on the phone with Burky and Y/N sneezed in the background, and Josty just found out today because…why again?” Nate asked you.

“I was freaking out about you getting into a fight,” you answered.

“Does anyone else on the team know?” Cale questioned.

“Gabe, but that’s it. So you are now sworn to secrecy,” you said looking over at him. Cale nodded, and then turned back to the tv. After another hour the three of them left for their own rooms, leaving you and Nate alone. You turned the tv off and turned off all the lights beside one on the bedside table. Nate took his shirt off and climbed under the covers with you, the both of you on your sides facing each other. You ran your fingers gently over his swollen eye. “Do you want me to get you some ice for this, or anything?” you asked. Nate shook his head.

“No, I just want to lay here with you,” Nate grabbed your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still feeling guilty over his fight, the team’s loss. Nate placed his arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were right, Ashley probably did figure it out. But I would fight anyone for you,” Nate said honestly, moving strands of hair out of your face.

“What did he say?” you asked. Nate shook his head again.

“He was being inappropriate to you. That’s why I took care of it,” he stated, and you didn’t ask any further questions. Nate was glad because he did not want to repeat the vulgar things Benn had said to him. He wishes he would have hit him a few more times just thinking about it. Nate was brought out of his thought by a soft giggle.

“You defended my honor?” you teased him. Nate chuckled and rolled his eyes at you. “My hero,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his. Nate returned your kiss, maneuvering himself so your back was flat on the bed with him hovering over you. The kiss became heated as Nate slipped one of his hands under your shirt.

“Any day,” he whispered before kissing your neck. After what became a heated make out session, you were laying with your back pressed into Nate’s chest, holding his hand that was slipped under your head as his other rested on your stomach, holding you close to him. And though you never wanted to be someone’s damsel in distress, with how protected you felt in Nate’s arms, he could defend you anytime.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @calesykar @comphybiscuit @andreiaafaria

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon x reader #Cutting Edge

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