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notmuchtofind · 6 months

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"you're doing a sex scene?!" | d.s

word count: 1.8k

tw: mentions of manipulation and aggressive behaviour

synopsis: drew reveals his role requires a sex scene and this causes explosive disagreements | slight fluff slight aggressive

you place the bag groceries on the kitchen counter and begin a sigh of relief, the lift in your apartment block is broken and climbing 5 flights of stairs with 3 bags of groceries isn't so fun..

As you walk over to your hallway to kick off your shoes you hear a few thuds at the door, in a beat you're so familiar with. You were expecting Drew around 9ish, you quickly check your watch to see it's 8:47pm... you giggle to yourself slightly and grin with excitement "he's early" you mumble to yourself . A wave of eagerness rushes over you as you lean over to grab the door handle and twist the recently locked door. opening the door, you look up to see Drew, all sun kissed and beaming. He's been in South Carolina for a couple months shooting the latest season of obx so it doesn't surprise you to see his slight tan, you'd imagine he's topless half the time, so it explains itself...

"baby!" he exclaimed with a devilish yet blissful look on his face

"I've missed you!" you say whilst being engulfed into a hug by drew, you feel his arms wrap around you, becoming tighter with time as you stand there swaying back and forth for a while... He places his hands on you shoulders and pushes you back slightly so he can begin to look at your face.

He places a kiss on your forehead "i've missed you y/n/n" he mutters, he looks almost taken back by you, as he makes eye contact, forcing nerves into the pit of your stomach.

"trust you to come 5 minutes after I've just had to carry all the groceries up the stairs by myself!" you tease

"work those muscles baby" he chuckles

After a few long weeks of being away from each other it's nice to be back in each other's company, Drew helps you put the groceries away and you quickly hop in the shower, you change into your trackies and settle on the couch with Drews head in-between your legs. you run your hands over his buzz cut hair, feeling the individual strands poking at your palm whilst you binge watch.

"hey y/n/n"

"mmhm?" you murmur

"i've been meaning to mention...I think, maybe, like the next season of outer banks; rafe develops a love interest and I... um-"

you're suddenly all ears "a love interest?" you interrupt, sitting up slightly, causing Drew to sit up so he's now facing you on the couch.

"yeh, I think so?" said with slight tension

" but I think Jonas is wanting a few urm...like, a few" he stutters and your eyes widen "some sex scenes between me and Fiona..." He paused as you gave him a slight glance

"You know Fiona, right? you met her when you came to visit me shooting last month?" he questions

Yes, of course you know Fiona, is he kidding!?? she's gorgeous, she's bubbly and she's funny she's-...

'fuck, am I jealous?' you think too yourself

"umm, yeh Fiona, she was really nice when I met her" you state through gritted teeth

drew chuckles nervously "I just thought I should let you know...I mean obviously it's all professional but you know... I-"

"No, don't be silly, I know drew. It's your job. I expect it...obviously " you say, getting up off the couch and heading over to the open plan kitchen...'did that come off slightly passive aggressive?' you think too yourself.

Drew leans back into the couch, watching you from afar, you can feel his eyes burning into your back as you grab a glass from the cupboard.

you're aware it's his job, but surely anyone in this position would feel slightly jealous, he's going to have to act intimate with someone and it's then going to be seen by the rest of the world, you're unaware of how sex scenes operate...how far will it have to go and how much skin will be seen?! uncontrollable thoughts run through your mind, you find yourself questioning the love Drew has for you. Are you good enough? Will an on screen romance become an off screen one? In all fairness, Drew and the cast spend more time together within the 6 months of filming than you and Drew do within that 6 months alone...you feel yourself snap.

by snap I don't mean scream, nor shout, nor cry.

However, there is a slightly toxic side to you, one which is created by past relationships, people that have made you feel less than. Before you met drew, you'd been through some shit and it's always been difficult for you to trust...you're subconsciously 'triggered'

" She's pretty right?" you say, turning to Drew and catching his eyes with yours.

you stand there with an empty glass on the counter as you wait for his response.

"umm.." he stutters, taken back by your question

"she's a nice girl y/n/n...why?"

you nod slowly, pouring a drink into the glass..."yeh,she's a nice girl" you repeat, again, through gritted teeth

Drew squints his eyes over at you as he tries to figure out what your trying to do..."listen baby, its professional, you can't-"

"I can't what?" you interrupt with a slightly raised voice

There was a silence that filled the room.

"I'm going to bed," you murmur as you grab your glass off the counter and take your first step towards your bedroom.

"y/n/n?" drew exclaimes, but you ignore him

"fuck sake" you hear drew mutters under his breath, followed by a sigh as he tilts his head back into the couch.

Darting your head over to his direction, you interrogate.

"Am I too much for you?" you exclaim

"what?" drew says confused whilst frowning "no y/n I-"

you interrupted "so why are you making me feel like you dealing with my emotions is a chore?!"

"Yes, I'm slightly pissed off drew. but there's nothing I can do about it. just let me have some time, don't sigh at me like I'm so difficult for you?" you say, raising your voice slightly more. He stands up and raises his hands slightly in-front of his chest whilst he gestures "are you fucking kidding me?" he chuckles sarcastically. "I've hardly said a word this whole time, you're being manipulative y/n. stop?" he demands

"manipulative? drew? really?"

Drew walks over to you, and you can now see slight anger in his eyes, his energy feels cold.

"yes!" he exclaims, he comes close to your face and continues to gesture "asking me if I think she's pretty? What kind of question is that? you're trying to catch me out y/n?!" he lashes

"I was just asking you a question drew I-"

"are you fucking kidding me!? you want me to turn around and tell you that, yeh! yanno what, I cant wait to fuck her!? is that what you want? please tell me y/n '' drew shouts.

you're taken back by his aggressive body language and his raised voice and the words he's just spoken. you can feel slight tears forming in the back of your retina, the ball in your stomach grows bigger and you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You're not usto arguing with Drew so explosively, you're not used to seeing his aggressive body language and if you're honest, it scared you. you could either lash out, you could scream...but you're suddenly engulfed by a wave of upset.

"I'm going to bed" you state. turning on the balls of your feet to continue to walk down the hall. A single tear escapes your eye but you're waiting to reach the bathroom before you can let all your emotions overwhelm your being. you didn't give yourself time to see the expression on Drews face after he'd stopped shouting but you didn't have to look to tell that he instantly regretted what he said, you could feel his energy change as you walked away.

_________________

you've turned to face the wall, struggling to sleep when...A few thuds at your bedroom door, in the beat you're again, so familiar with. you haven't been able to fall asleep and to be honest you were hoping Drew would knock and come in, he knows you hate sleeping without resolving an argument. it could be the biggest argument or the smallest argument you've ever had but you always make sure to have it somewhat sorted out before either of you say goodnight, whether he's 3000 miles away or just next door.

"hey y/n/n" drew whispers as you heard the door shut quietly behind him but you didn't turn around. "hey...are you sleeping?" he questions before you feel the bed slightly dip and a creak from the headboard.

It takes you a minute but you eventually turn around, to be greeted by the back of Drew, he looks to have his head in his hands sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm awake" you mutter.

He turns slightly, greeting you with an apologetic smile, he then goes to grab your exposed arm and rubs it with his thumb. his energy is warm and calm, much different too before. it makes the nerves form again in the pit of your stomach, like butterflies. "Listen baby" he states "I'm sorry about the shit I said and urm... the way I raised my voice. my actions were out of order and for that i'm sorry..." he sighs apologetically

There was a slight silence whilst you thought of what to say, but before you could speak he began again "you know I love you? right? It upsets me that you worry about my opinions on anyone else because, I'm sorry but, in my mind no one compares to you y/n/n, I honestly do think you are. thé. most." drew emphasises "perfect girl in the world for me" he finishes, looking at you with a devilish grin

he knows how to capture your heart...you roll your eyes playfully trying to shy away from the fact he's made you weak... whilst a smile creeps upon your face you push his arm and chuckle slightly.

you sigh.

"i'm sorry about my outburst, it was out of order" you admit "I was slightly jealous and I-"

"only slightly?!" drew says with a sarcastic shocked faces as he interrupts you, playfully teasing

"fuck off" you chuckle, pushing his arm

"Yes, it's because everyone wants you...what can I say, it's hard being me!" rolling your eyes, teasing him back

He engulfs you into a hug and plants kisses all over your face and neck, almost like he's attacking you. you giggle and say stop, but really you need him to carry on.

"fuck! I love you drew"

"fuck... I love you" he reiterates.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #the other zoey #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outer banks #obx #rafe obx #fluff #fanfic #zach maclaren

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suugarbabe · 4 months

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[Chapter 8]

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drunkeness, mentions of blood, kidnapping, torture, use of torture curses

An: so sorry this took so long, I was sick and mentally exhausted from other things and also debating where to end the chapter and where to start the next one; hope its alright :)

Enzo clutched his arm, rubbing the spot you had just harshly hit with your fist, “Okay, ow! You didn’t have to hit me that hard, Angel. T’was just a joke, yeh?” You rolled your eyes, picking up the box in front of you and setting it on the pallet. “You know she wouldn’t have hit you if you weren’t being such a twat,” Pansy spoke without looking up from her clipboard, marking off which weapons from the artillery stock you and Enzo were packing for the next ‘business meeting’ and what was left.

You shot a sickly sweet smile Enzo’s way, “Yeah, Enz, don’t be such a twat.” Enzo scoffed, “I was not being a twat! I simply asked if I could have your room since you and Riddle obviously sleep together. There’s no point in you each having your own room and I know for a fact he gave you a bigger room than mine.” You reared your fist back as if you were going to hit him again, causing Enzo to flinch slightly. You smirked at this, “You’re the most dangerous of the family but you’re afraid of lil ol’ me?”

Enzo shook his head, “Nuh-uh, I know there’s something else deeply hidden within you that we haven’t seen yet. I’m not pushing my chances. And you’re avoiding the question.” You huffed, placing two large rifles in a long wooden box before turning to face him, hands on your hips, “For your information, if Mattheo and I do sleep in the same room, it’s my room. I’ve never in been in his room. So maybe you should go ask him if you can have his room.” Enzo’s face dropped slightly, “Mmm no, I think I’m good. But answer me this,” the smirk that formed on his face gave way that you were going to hate what he was about to say, “Does Riddle make you call him boss during sex?”

A low groan left Enzo’s throat as he clutched his arm once more, “Shit, Pansy! In the same spot, really?” You high fived Pansy, “Serves you right.” You stuck your tongue out at Enzo, who mirrored your action. Pansy opened her mouth to tell you both to stop acting like such siblings when Draco’s voice rang between your ears, Family meeting, dining room, five minutes. You glanced between the two in front of you, “We all heard that right?” Enzo nodded, “You mean the annoying voice of a ferret ringing in my head?” Pansy slapped Enzo in the arm, in the same place of the two previous punches, “Merlin’s beard, can I not have any fun anymore?”

The three of you apparated back into the foyer of the house, making your way into the dining room to see everyone but Mattheo already sat at the table. You took your place to the left of Mattheo’s chair, still glaring and making faces at Enzo sitting across from you. Theo leaned closer to Pansy on his left, “What’s with those two?” Pansy shook her head, “Please don’t ask.” Theo opened his mouth to respond again only to be cut off by Mattheo walking in to the room, his presence alone enough to silence the table.

All eyes focused on Mattheo sat at the head of the table. “Tonight is an important deal for us. The De Luca family has been making deals with us since the beginning, they’re some of our most trusted muggle allies. Theo and Enzo, you two will load the pallets on the truck while Blaise, Draco and I go and meet them at the discussed location.” The boys all nodded at their assignments, not questioning what they were told. “What about us?” You motioned between yourself and Pansy, essentially halting some of the boys midway as they had begun to stand up. Almost as if he anticipated your questioning, Mattheo had a simple answer for you. “You’re not going.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “And why the bloody hell not?” Mattheo’s jaw clenched momentarily as others around the table widened their eyes. No one spoke to Mattheo that way, not when it came to business deals. Taking a deep breath to center himself before turning to you, his eyes a dark onyx as he spoke, “You’re not ready.” You narrowed your eyes at him, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Mattheo mirrored you, not stepping down from his decision, “I understand this may be frustrating, but I’m not willing to risk a repeat of the last time. You’re just not ready yet.”

It was your jaw that clenched now, “A repeat of the last time?” Mattheo had his tongue in cheek, clearly trying to keep his composure and his tone authoritative, “Yes, the last time. Lest not forget you nearly getting sexually assaulted and the boys and I having to kill five fucking people, or has that occurrence slipped your pretty little mind, Princess?” You tensed slightly, your eyes squeezing shut at the memory. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze you tried to match his demeanor, “No, Mattheo, it has not.” He gave you a saccharine smile that you took as anything but sweet. Leaning back in your chair you crossed your arms, pouting in defeat.

Mattheo felt a strange pang in his chest, like a tight ache that was telling him to change his mind, but he had to stand his ground, “You and Pansy have the night off. Enjoy it. It won’t happen much in the future.” He avoided your gaze, looking everywhere but your eyes because he knew once he did he would give in. Instead he kept his stare the the black mahogany beneath his tapping fingertips, “I’m doing you a favor. You have the night off.” You leaned forward on your elbows, making sure to keep your tone sweet and even, “Thank you, boss, I truly appreciate it.” The use of his title stung, but he did not have the time to dwell on his feelings.

Giving the boys all a curt nod, the group stood. Each man disappearing with a chorus of crack-like pops. When the last one was out of site you turned to Pansy, letting out a frustrated, “Can you fucking believe that?” At the same time she blew out a laughing, “You are so fucking lucky, Birdie.” You blinked at her in confusion, “Lucky? How am I lucky? I essentially just got sat from a business deal because other men can’t handle I have fucking tits.” Pansy just smirked, shaking her head, “The sooner you acknowledge your feelings for each other the better all of our lives will be. I mean him too by the way. That little lovers quarrel you guys had at the table had us all at the edge of our seats. You should’ve heard the things Theo was saying.”

You groaned, “Spare me.” Pansy couldn’t help but laugh, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s go shopping or something, get your mind off it. We have the night off, remember?” You smiled then. A slow, almost sinister smile that had Pansy shaking her head. You stood up, walking out from the dinning room. Pansy was quick on your heels as you hustled up the stairs, “No. Birdie, whatever it is you’re thinking the answer is no.” You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the wheels in your mind from turning, “He told us we had the night off, Pans. Then let’s do what any hot, single women would do…let’s go out.” You walked into your room, making a b-line for your closet, “Help me pick out an outfit.”

You turned to see her still standing in the doorway, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. “Oh come on,” you walked back towards her, grasping her wrist and dragging her inside fully. “Help me pick one out and I’ll pick one out for you. You know they never come back from these business deals until the next day, hell, sometimes the next evening depending on how it goes. We’ll go out for a few hours, have some fun, and then we’ll be back here asleep in bed before they even knew we were gone.” Pansy chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Just one club?” You took your index finger, lifting it up to the center of your chest and making a small ‘x’ motion, “Cross my heart.”

Pansy’s shoulders relaxed then, her smiled growing two fold, “Okay…then I say wear,” she flicked through your options, giving a sad pout after a moment, “Wear something of mine, because for Salazar’s sake, Birdie, we need to take you shopping.” You groaned out a slight giggle, “I know…maybe if I play my cards right I can convince Mattheo to buy me some.” You were mostly joking, but the look Pansy gave you told you it would be worth a try in the future. After a few outfit changes, the two of you were turning in the mirror and examining your final choices. After much debate, you finally landed on a blood red corset top with a black leather skirt while pansy opted for a black body-con minidress.

You let out a low whistle as you took in your reflection, “Salazar’s fucking sake we look good.” Pansy nodded, “If we don’t get free drinks tonight, there’s something wrong with the male society.” You huffed a laugh in agreement. After a few finishing touches to your hair and makeup, the two of you apparated down the street from the dance club. As the two of you made your way down the pavement, you were acutely aware of how different you felt compared to a few months ago. “You know, Pans, I haven’t been out like this in a long time,” you hooked your elbow with hers as you guys approached the line to get in. Pansy leaned her head on your shoulder briefly, “We’re gonna have a good time tonight, Birdie. You deserve it. Just relax and let loose. Who knows when we’ll be able to do this again.” You giggled, smiling sweetly at the bouncer as he nodded and let the both of you in without hesitation.

As you entered the club the sound of bass was nearly overwhelming. You could only mildly hear the melody to whatever song was playing, let alone your own thoughts. Pansy hooked her fingers with yours as she led a path towards the bar. You could feel men’s eyes on the pair of you the whole way up. While at your own club Pansy was stoic and focused on her job, this seemed to be an environment where she thrived. Pansy gave a particular pair of tall, handsome men a wink as she squished the two of you between another pair of guys. “Oh, excuse me handsome, we were just trying to get a few drinks, maybe a shot or two,” Pansy’s tone was coated in honey as she batted her eyelashes at the broad blonde next to her.

Her seduction trick was flawless, the blonde man buying both shots and both cocktails. She thanked him and gave a pat to his cheek before dragging you to the dance floor. This became a repeated pattern for the night: bar, batted eyelashes, dance floor. You had to give it to her, the routine worked. “Go on, Birdie you try. How about…” her eyes dragged over the sea of bodies near the bar, “him.” Her manicured finger pointed at a taller man near the center of the bar. He was handsome sure, tanned skin and dark curls on the top of his head, “Why him?” Pansy gave you an incredulous look, “Because he looks like Mattheo.” You were thankful for the amount of alcohol in your system to help hide the burning blush that flooded your cheeks, “Okay, fine.”

You made your way to the bar, Pansy close behind. As you got closer you tried a different approach than Pansy’s earlier tactic. Coming up to the man you stood directly behind him. You motioned for Pansy to stand next to you, her giving you a questioning look. The bar area was crowded, and all you needed for you plan to work was exactly what was about to happen. As another group of people tried to squish through the crowd behind you, your body was bumped forward, causing you to put your hand out and catch yourself on the man in front of you. As you’d hoped, the man turned around and you made your eyes wide and innocent as you looked up at him through your lashes, “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. These crowds are terrible.”

The man smiled down at you, his eyes weren’t the same as Mattheo’s. The man’s were more of a walnut brown and felt cold, like this was all a game to him just as much you . His smile also was nothing near as stunning as Mattheo’s…but regardless the man was clearly falling for the charm you’d put on, eyeing you up and down as he spoke, “Oh it’s quite alright, beautiful.” You let out a bashful laugh, looking down at the ground. The man caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your gaze back to his, “Let me buy you a drink, your friend too.” His eyes flickered over your shoulder to Pansy.

“O-okay,” the boldness of his touch causing you to stutter over your words. Your chest ached once he turned to order the drinks. The interaction didn’t leave you as satisfied as it did Pansy, if anything it left you yearning for something else. You turned to Pansy after the man handed you the drinks, “I didn’t like that.” She hummed in acknowledgement, “Yeah I was more so testing a theory.” You raised both eyebrows at her, “Mind telling the whole class, Miss Parkinson?” Pansy shook her head, smiling as she downed half her drink, “Not, yet, Professor.”

The more you drank the more your chest ached. And the more you felt yourself longing for him. You were far beyond inebriated, not thinking clearly, but what Pansy couldn’t hear couldn’t hurt her. Mattheoooooo, you closed your eyes and called out to him, not even knowing where he was with the deal, if he was possibly fighting someone. You just wanted to hear his voice. Princess…what’s wrong? You smiled to yourself. You were sure to Pansy it seemed like you were just enjoying the music as your body still ebbed and flowed with the beat.

Mattheo’s frown turned down further, something that wasn’t unusual during business meet ups, but this one was going fairly well. “What’s up, boss?” Enzo leaned in to whisper to him. Mattheo held up a finger, trying to focus on your voice in his head, Teeeooooooo, miss youu. Mattheo’s jaw clenched, Birdie, where are you? You hated using your legimens, the fact that you were communicating with Mattheo that way, along with how you were talking was causing him high concern. I’m dancing wiff Pansy, she’s such a good dancer, Teo. I wish I was dancing with yoooou. Mattheo eyed Draco, silently telling him to take the lead before Mattheo walked off back towards the truck. Birdie, are you drunk? There’s no fucking dance floor at the house? Where the fuck are you?

He rubbed both hands over his face, trying to control his breathing. Not drunk…maybe drunk…don’t member the club name, like a pretty flower. Mattheo walked back towards the others, “Are you happy with the product or not?” He was being stern with the man but Mattheo needed this deal over with. The De Luca family member nodded his head, “Yeah, we’re happy. Well wire you the money first thing in the mornin’. Always good doin’ business with you, Riddle.” Mattheo nodded, shaking the man’s hand before grabbing Enzo’s collar and dragging him away with it. “Ow, woah, hey what the fuck?” Enzo was confused by the motion. “Birdie and Pansy went to a fucking club and now Birdies drunk, we have to go get them.”

Theo jogged to catch up, “Which club did our little trouble makers go to?” Mattheo scowled slightly, “This isn’t a fucking joke, Nott. And she said something about a pretty flower? She’s fucking drunk, she’s fucking talking to me through legimens and even then I can tell she’s slurring her words. You were a man whore in your prime, Nott, which club is that.” Theo huffed out a snort but didn’t deny Matthoe’s allegations, “Sounds like probably The Dahlia.” Mattheo nodded, “Draco, Blaise, you two take the truck back. Enzo, Theo, you’re coming with me.” The boys all nodded at their assignments as Mattheo reached out to you again, Stay put, Princess, I’m coming to get you. He rounded the corner with the other two boys to make sure they were out of sight before apparating to the alley down the block from the club.

Your voice rang in his head once more, Are you going to dance with me Teo? I miss you so m- Mattheo stopped in his tracks the moment your voice cut out causing the two behind him to almost smack into his back. “What is it, what happened?” Enzo was taking in their surroundings checking for threats he may have missed. “Her voice, it just…cut out. She was talking to me and then it was like something cut it off before she could finish.” Enzo wore a worried look, glancing over at Theo whose lips were downturned. Mattheo started walking again, only faster this time. As they approached the entrance to the club, the bouncer must have recognized Theo because he pulled back the rope and allowed the three men in without question.

As they approached the edge of the dance floor Mattheo gave one instruction, “Find them.” The three spread out, weaving through swaying, sweaty bodies as they tried to catch a glimpse of anyone that looked remotely like either you or Pansy. Running into Theo, Enzo asked if he had any luck. Theo shook his head, “Not yet. Every bloody black haired woman looks like Pansy out here and I can’t catch a glimpse of Birdie anywhere.” Mattheo approached the two, eyes asking the same question Enzo had moments before. Theo shook his head, Enzo’s height giving him an advantage in the middle of the crowd. “There,” he pointed over the heads of those around him. Theo and Mattheo turn, following his indication until they’re face to face with a very far gone Pansy.

She pouted as they approached, assuming they were there to break up the fun. She opened her mouth to complain when Matthoe effectively cut her off, “Where’s Birdie.” Pansy rolled her eyes, turning around the point at the person behind her. Only you weren’t there. Pansy turned in a circle, once, twice, three times before stopping and facing the men in front of her. “I swear, Mattheo, she was just here. She’s been by my side all night. We were dancing on each other not even five minutes ago.” Mattheo’s face grew hot, a sense of worry rushing over him that he’s never felt before for any kind of person, “What do you mean she was just here. Where the bloody fucking hell would she go?”

———-

You groaned lightly, your head pounding as you tried to sit up. The floor beneath you hard and cold, your outfit doing little for warmth. As you pushed yourself to a seated position you felt a weight in one of your wrists. Looking down you saw your wrist wrapped in a thick metal cuff, a chain attaching it, and effectively you, to the wall behind it. “What the fuck…” a low whisper left your lips as your eyes started to adjust to your surroundings. The floor below you was concrete, leaving a persistent chill running throughout your body. Around you seemed to be the layout of an old factory, abandon machinery and materials littered about the space. It was darker in the building, the emergency lights appearing to be the only functioning electricity around you.

Hugging your knees to yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to call out to Mattheo. You repeated his name, over and over and over. You groaned out in frustration, slapping the floor next to you, causing the chains to rattle. “Whatever it is you are trying to do will not work.” You stiffened, the sound of his voice was something you thought you had forgotten, but hearing it ring through your ears once more brought a flood of painful memories with it. You looked around, trying to anticipate the direction the voice was coming from, the the old walls of the factory had the sound reverberated from every direction. “You know I didn’t think you’d be knocked out this long. But then again, your drunken state must have heightened the effects of the Stupefy charm.”

You watched his figure emerge from the shadows, the fear you once felt quickly returning like a white hot burn all over your body. You scooted yourself back until you were nearly flat against the wall, your knees hugged to your chest as his name fell from your lips like a ghosted whisper, “Damiano…” He smiled, flashing all of his teeth like a snarling predator as he towered over you, “Hello, Sunshine. Did you miss me?” You stayed silently, trying to press yourself impossibly further away, leading him to let out a low and menacing chuckle. He squatted down to your level, forearms resting on his knees as he balanced himself on the balls of his feet. He reached out slowly, like he was going to touch your face. You turned quickly, swatting his hand away.

He smiled once more before grabbing your face harshly, forcing your gaze to meet his, “Don’t be like that, Sunshine. I’m being very nice only chaining one arm down, but if you misbehave I have no qualms doing the other.” You huffed out your nose, still refusing to speak to him. You closed your eyes once more, desperately trying to reach Mattheo, or anyone from the family for help. Damniano applied more pressure to his grip, surely leaving the beginning of what would be a bruise on your face when he was done. “I already told you…your little tricks your new boyfriend taught you aren’t going to work. I figured he was a legimens like his failure of a father. I put a spell on the building; he can’t hear you and you can’t hear him.” Your lip quivered slightly, a new sense of fear enveloping you.

Damiano tsked at you, “I knew it. I always knew you were a stupid, weak, little witch.” He let go of your face before swinging his palm and slapping your cheek with enough force to split your bottom lip. You gasped, coughing slightly to catch your breath again, spitting blood onto the cold stone before you. You glared at him, “You think I’m weak because I’m not like you? Abusing and torturing those that don’t agree or don’t do my bidding? Why am I even here, Damiano. What do you want with me?” He looked down at you once more, a devious smirk adorning his features, “This is why you’re stupid, Sunshine. Can you not see it? Godric, okay. Let me spell it out for you. I don’t want you. You’re nothing to me. Even when you were mine you were nothing, just a tool. And that’s what you are today. Well…more like…a tool.”

Your face fell, which only caused a laugh to emit from his throat, “Oh dear girl, don’t worry. We’re not going to kill you. But we’re going to make sure Mattheo and the rest of his little group get the message. He stole something valuable from me. You, Sunshine, were nothing, but your abilities were everything. I can’t just steal you back or he’ll sick his fucking dog Berkshire. Can’t have that can we? But what I can do, is send him a fucking message.” He drew his wand as he stood a few feet away from you. You held your breath, trying to prepare for whatever he was about to unleash, but nothing could help with what he casted. With a red light leaving the tip of his wand your body was instantly aflame with pain, your muscles and limbs contorting and squeezing with agony. Your breath felt like it was knocked from your lungs, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

Two more figures appeared beside Damiano, their wands also drawn and prepped for whatever torture they were directed with. After a few moments he broke the spell, grinning as you gasped for air and tried to hold your body up from the floor. “You know, I was really hoping you would scream. I sometimes find myself missing the sound of you squealing in pain when I used to punish you. No one has quite the same ring to it you had. Guess I’ll just have to up the intensity of it all. Boys,” he turned to his cronies on either side of him, “together this time.” In perfect unison the mumbled the spell together Crucio. Immediately your back arched off the floor, your arms and legs contorting awkwardly as the searing pain once again entered your body. A blood curdling scream left your throat, the sound nearly as defeating as the pain you were feeling. Your eyes rolled at the immense pain, your mind going blank.

As you felt like you were on the brink of passing out, Damiano instructed them all to stop. He turned to them once more, giving specific instructions, “I want you to rough her up a bit more, but don’t touch her face. I want her to be recognizable when they find her. The two men nodded before approaching you together. You managed to sit yourself up again, holding yourself up on wobbly arms. This position didn’t last as one of Damiano’s men quickly landed the heel of his boot to your shoulder, your collarbone cracking with the action. You flew back slightly at the action and collapsed on your back. You groaned in pain, clutching the area and turning to your side. The men began kicking you; in the stomach, in the ribs, in the back. You were a rag doll for their game of human football, barely audible grunts and moans slipping past your lips. “That’s enough,” Damniano’s voice rang out. You coughed, spitting out more blood that seemed to fill your mouth.

The two men left your side immediately, walking back to their previous positions to watch as Damiano approached you. He crouched over you again, taking your face in his hands. With his thumb he spread your blood over your lips, “I always did like red on you.” You tried to pull away, but your strength was null, “Like I said, Sunshine, you…are weak. But you were mine first. And I can’t let you, or anyone else, forget that.” He shoved you from his grip, you falling back down to the ground. You were limp on the cold concrete as Damiano lifted your skirt over your hips. You felt him grip the meat of your thigh closer to your hip before the tip of his wand began to dig into your skin with a white hot burn. A whimper left your throat as he carved into your skin; you could smell it burning. Once done he grabbed the back of your head, tilting your neck awkwardly so you could see his handiwork on your body. On the outside of your thigh, closer to your hip was a small symbol that would make it impossible for you to ever see it without thinking of Damiano. A sun.

A single tear fell down your cheek, Damiano leaning in and licking it off your face with a satisfied hum. “You know I love it when you cry, Sunshine. But I can’t stick around to watch. As soon as I’m gone, the blocking spells will be lifted. Then you can call your little dark lord boyfriend. You’re at 1538 Woodbury Lane in London. Really wish I could see his face when he finds you.” He pulled your skirt back down over your legs once more, patting your leg where he just carved your skin before walking away and apparating out of sight with a low popping noise. You waited a few moments, just to make sure he wasn’t coming back, before tightly shutting your eyes, your entire focus on Mattheo and anyone else in the family that might be able to hear you.

1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. You repeated the address over and over again until finally you heard him, We’re on our way, Princess, don’t move. You opened your eyes, at the sound of his voice, tears now flowing freely down your face. The irony of that statement ‘don’t move’ was not lost on you, causing a forced laugh from your lungs. With Mattheo’s confirmation that he was coming, you finally allowed your body to relax into the concrete below you. As if that was all the permission your body needed, your eyes felt heavy and soon, everything became dark.

#Protego series #mafia!matheo riddle #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!blaise zabini #mafia!enzo berkshire #mafia!theo nott #mafia!draco malfoy #mafia!pansy parkinson #Mattheo riddle x you #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle angst #Mattheo riddle fic #mafia!au #mafia fic

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 7 months

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“I don’t care about you like you think I do” - Loki x reader imagine

Notes: this is my first ever proper written smutty thing so please be kind and I hope people like it 🥺

Summary: Loki wants to dominate you but doesn’t really care about you or so he thinks. You make him realise what he really needs

Word count: 2,000+

Loki watched you from his spot on an unused balcony of Starks party, looking at you like a lion at prey, seeing the way your body swayed to the music was breath taking.

‘She’s just another midguardian’ he’s been telling himself over and over the past few weeks he’s been here, but some how his body says otherwise.

The way his face goes red every time you ride the elevator together and he can see down your shirt or how his dick goes hard every time he watches you bend over to lift weights of spar at the gym, just proves you’re more than that. Maybe it proves that he thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous and he wants you to be all his.

On the other hand he’s also noticed the way his heart flutters every time you’ve helped him when he gets lost in the labyrinth that is the avengers compound, or how he painfully hides his smile every time you ask him how he’s going. All of that is obviously ridiculous though as you’re just a regular and weak midguardian; his feelings for you are purely sexual.

He continued to watch you as you leave the dance floor to get a drink at the bar. Sweat clinging your hair to your forehead and a tipsy smile plastered on your face as you smirk at Natasha who was preparing you another cocktail.

“You know lover boys been watching you like crazy since you arrived.” Natasha smirked at you.

“Oh trust me, I know. Why do you think I wore this dress? Dark green and a size too small? I know he likes the colour and my ass and tits look amazing.” You laugh along with her.

As soon as he saw you make your way to the public toilets on this floor, he was on the move, following swiftly behind you as you went through the toilet doors. Loki closing the door behind you and locking it as he walked in behind you.

He expected your head to whip around or for you to gasp but you just casually watched him in the mirror as you reapplied your lipstick.

“Hello, Loki.” You said calmly looking at his eyes in the mirror.

Your calmness shocked him but he managed to keep his composure and didn’t say a word, instead creeping his way up behind you until your back and ass were flush against his front and crotch as a hand wrapped around your throat and a tight grip was on your hip.

Again he was surprised as you leant back onto his shoulder and smiled with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You know Loki if you wanted me this badly you could have just asked.” You tell him moaning slightly as you grind down onto his hardening member.

‘Stupid midguardian! Thinking I’d ask her. She’s mine to take not to ask and beg!’ He thinks to himself, slightly annoyed but also slightly aroused at your confidence.

“Why would I ask when I can just take what I want!” He says harshly as he roughly pushes your face down onto the bathroom counter, expecting a whimper but instead receiving and moan and a laugh.

“Why are you laughing?! You think you’re stronger or better than me, midguardian? You thi-.” His ramblings were cut short as you push him off of you and onto the ground as you sit on the counter.

You smirked as you watched him struggle to stand to his feet, stuck on his knees and hand behind his back. Before he could question how he was stuck he felt the water on his wrists and ankles and saw your hand moving slightly.

“You have water abilities?” Loki looked at you smirking.

“All four elements, but yeh. Look Loki I’ll let you go but if you really want me that badly.” You tell him as you stand right in from of him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, leaning down and whispering in his ear.

“You can just ask me, little prince. If you need me I’m sure you’ll work out how to find me, baby.” You whisper hotly in his ear, making breath hitch quietly.

With this you smirk and walk towards the door.

“How dare you? I don’t care about you like you think I do! You a harmless pathetic midguardian whore!” He yells at you with his voice weaker this time, confidence weaving.

“Okay, darling.” You tell him gently as you smirk, releasing him and opening the door again.

For the past week Loki couldn’t get the image of you standing above him out of his head. He didn’t want to admit it but he needed you to take control of him and make him do whatever you wanted him to.

You knew this too.

The last week you’d been doing anything you can to both tease and avoid Loki. No matter how hard he stared at you or how much he went out of the way to be near you, you just walked away or purposely ignored him.

One night you left your room to get a drink of water but were quickly stopped in your tracks as you heard your name being moaned from Lokis room.

“Uuuhh, y/n, mmmmhh mistress, aaahh.” You heard as you stood right outside his door.

This caused you to smirk as you swung the door open and saw Loki spread out with his cock in his hand, precum leaking all over this hand. As soon as he saw you his hand quickly left his cock and his eyes went wide.

“No, no, y/n.. I-I.” You giggled at you saw him fight for dominance or maybe he was trying to apologise, it was hard to tell. Before he could finish however you’d taken the soil and rocks from his plant in the corner, using it to tie his hands above his head, his legs to the corner of the bed and a gag in his mouth and around his head.

“Oh, my soft, sweet, darling, little prince.” You cooed as you crawled between his legs, your flat palm running from his balls, over cock, his stomach, chest and up to his neck, simply placing his palm over his throat and your other hand beside his head.

“What was it that you said, darling? ‘I don’t care about you like you think I do’? You just wanted control? You didn’t want me to hold you down and make you beg? You don’t think I can’t take care of my little prince? Well I’m offended, sweet boy.” You tell him as your grip gets tighter and tighter around his throat as small whimpers escape him.

You slowly begin to strip out of your clothes as you stare at him intensely.

Looking at him with a smirk you slowly lean down to kiss his gag covered mouth before quickly pulling back fully to sit on your knees.

“You know, Loki, I really did love it when I heard your sweet little moans and I especially loved it when you called me mistress.” You smirk as you took a hold of his cock and began lightly stroking.

You could hear his moans through the gag and see his head fall back as his eyes closed. You wanted so badly to hear more of his pretty moans. As you took your hand away his eyes shot open and stared at you worried and pleading.

“Now, sweet boy, I’m gonna take your gag off but when I do I want you to beg. I want you to beg for forgiveness; if mistress is happy then she’ll give you whatever pleasure you desire, but if she’s not happy, then I’ll leave you wanting and begging for hours and I’ll leave this room and I won’t allow you to cum. Do you understand, my little prince?” You ask him as he vigorously nods his head.

“-es -issess.” He begs you through the gag.

“Good boy.” You smirk as you lightly tap his nose and make the gag disappear.

“Please mistress! Please! I’m so sorry! I need you badly! Please give me whatever pleasure you wish to give me! My the 9 realms, please I’m so sorry mistress.” He begs you with worry in his eyes and his voice, worried that you’ll never touch him again.

“Okay, my sweet prince. Mistress forgives you. Now what would my sweet prince like? That was such a lovely apology and mistress is feeling kind tonight. What would you like me to do?” You ask as you run your nails lightly down his chest.

“Ride me! Please mistress! Please ride my cock! Please!” He begged as a looked at your body hungrily.

“Okay, my prince, I will.” You say to him sweetly rising to line up your pussy.

“Wait! One last thing!” Loki says quickly.

“What is it darling?” You ask him gently stroking his face as he nuzzled into your palm.

“Please let me touch you, mistress, please let me feel you. I want to touch your hips and your waist and your breasts please. Please let me taste you, please.” Loki pleads with you with both fear and excitement in his eyes.

“Alright, my darling, I’ll give you your hands but your feet stay bound. You also won’t touch me until i give you permission. Do you understand me?” You ask him sternly as you grab his face tightly with your hand, while I other rests on his chest.

“Yes, mistress.” He replies quickly.

You nod and smile proudly as you realise his face and unbound his hand. Like the good boy he is he kept his promise and his hands gently fell to his sides. You gave him one last kiss and you slowly sank down onto his cock.

As you sank down a guttural moan left Loki and you almost screamed with pleasure.

“Can I touch you now mistress.” Loki asked between moans and gasps.

“Not yet, sweet prince, wait until I tell you. You’ve been such a good boy so far, keep being my good boy for me.” You pant as you hold onto his chest riding him harder and harder.

Loki looked like he was about to burst, all he wanted was to touch you but without your words he wouldn’t move a muscle. After mere moments of teasing him however you knew you needed to feel his hands on you just as badly as he needed to touch you.

“Okay, darling, touch me.” You sighed with pleasure.

As soon as the words left your lips Loki sprung up and began kissing your neck and squeezing your breasts, as if kissing you and touching you was what gave him life.

“Can I fuck into you mistress? You’re- a-aahh- mmh- fucking me so well but please, as-ah, please let me fuck you.” He weakly pleaded as his kisses became more rough.

“Do it, my prince, worship me, fuck me. I want you to rub my clit and make me cum too. Okay, baby?” You ask him holding his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

He only nodded as he grabbed your hip with one hand and started meeting your thrusts with such power and force it made your head spin. With the other he played with your clit, making your head fall back and your mouth fall open.

Loki held his face into your breasts as he chanted ‘thank yous’ and ‘I’m yours mistress’ like they were a sacred prayer.

You both felt yourselves getting closer but before you could cum you took Lokis hands off of you and slammed him into the bed with his hands held above his head as you looked him straight in the eye.

“Now, my darling, you don’t have to ask me to cum but when you do I want you to say thank you, but you do not cum before me.” You tell him as you roughly hold his hands down with one hand and play with your clit with the other.

Only seconds later you felt great pressure explode through your body as you screamed out in pleasure. Coming down from your high you continued to ride Loki as you allowed his hands to return to your hips. Just after a few more thrusts his head threw back.

“Aa-aaah! Thank you! Thank you! Thank, mistress! Thank you!” He scream over and over as he came inside you.

You both rocked into each other looking at each others eyes for a moment more before you collapsed on top of him his softening cock still inside you. His arms carefully held you as you looked at each other and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

You slowly began to get up as Loki made sounds of protest.

“Loki I have to get up to clean you up.” You chuckle as you slowly walk to his bathroom, untying his legs as you went by.

Loki watched you with adoring eyes as you left and promptly returned with 2 wet cloths. You came and laid back beside him first cleaning the sweat off his face and then the mixed cum off of him then you took the second cloth and cleaned yourself up.

Scooping him into your arms you held his body against you as you gently stroked his hair, the both of you drifting off to sleep.

#loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #sub!loki

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keep-calm-and-drink-caf · 6 months

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“He was a Punk, She did Ballet Bharatanatyam”

A Hobie oneshot

The idea for this oneshot was based almost completely off of @hobiebrownismygod ‘s post here! <3

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x Indian!Reader who does Bharatanatyam

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Uses of Y/N, reader pushes herself past her limits a little bit?, reader’s just a teensy bit rude to Hobie at first, my ✨interesting✨ attempts at writing Hobie’s accent and slang

A/N: I wrote the reader to be Gayatri’s cousin because I thought it might be interesting to look through the perspective of someone who knows Pavitr from Gayatri’s side! And partly because I used to be in a similar situation - my younger cousin would always randomly call me and spill all the tea of whatever had happened in school :) (she still does haha. mwah i love you my little butterfly xx 🫶)

Originally intended for it to be romantic but it I think it could also be interpreted as platonic!

(he’s so gorgeous akdjsbcjdbcjcnd i love him sm <333)

——————

It was late.

Late enough that you should’ve been packing up and heading home, not inside an empty dance studio practising your steps till your feet ached and your legs felt like they were liquefying slowly.

You were trying to perfect the fast-paced jumps and footwork, pushing yourself ruthlessly despite being on the brink of exhaustion, and now your heels hurt from the force with which you were slamming them into the ground. The ghungroo bells that were strapped around your ankles jingled almost tauntingly as you kept going off-beat.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you sat down on one of the benches placed on the side, sliding your ghungroo bells off your ankles and stuffing them into the side pocket of your bag. You were about to gather the strength to get up and go home when you heard the door swinging open and your gaze darted toward the sudden creak.

“Oh, hey Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Pavitr stood in the doorway, looking completely soaked to the bone and struggling to open an umbrella.

Gayatri was your slightly younger cousin, so naturally you knew Pavitr quite well since she would call you and gush about every little thing he did that she found absolutely adorable. Initially you had been frosty and skeptical towards him and he found you downright terrifying, but over time he had managed to charm you with his sunshiny personality and deep affection and respect for Gayatri.

“Hi, Pav. I was trying to practise my bharatanatyam but I think I should call it a day,” You responded, stretching your sore legs out and squinting through the glass panels of the door. “Is it raining?”

“Yep, we got caught in it while-” He cut himself off with a yelp as the umbrella opened suddenly in his face and he instinctively moved it behind his shoulder. You heard a soft ‘mmph’ come from someone right behind him who he had accidentally hit with the sharp spikes of the opened umbrella edge.

You tilted your head to look behind Pav as the person who had been hit stepped forward into the light, his hands out to prevent any further attacks from the umbrella. He flashed a charming smile at you, the studio’s warm light glinting off his piercings.

There was something slightly… odd about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t his large wicks that were, somehow, completely dry though he had clearly been with Pavitr in the rain, some drops still sliding off of his spiked vest. It wasn’t the small, silver-spiked red fabric sticking out of his pocket either that he tucked out of sight the moment he saw your eyes drift toward it.

His outline - if you could even call it that - appeared to be in constant motion, seemingly shifting and changing colours every few minutes. You blinked a few times, simply chalking it up to your tired brain playing tricks on you.

“Oi, watch where you’re pointin’ that thing, mate. Y’might jus’ take someone’s eye out.”

You raised your eyebrows as you heard the sharp cockney British accent.

“Yeh aadhmi British hai. Vah yahaan Mumbattan mein kya kar raha hai?” (This man is British. What’s he doing here in Mumbattan?) You asked in Hindi. You realised, the moment the words left your mouth in your mother-tongue, that you were being quite rude by talking in a language he probably didn’t know. His eyes darted toward you, studying you intently as if trying to understand what you were saying.

“Vah itna bura nahin hai, mujh par bharosa karte hain. Aur vah sirph… yaatra kar rahe hain.” (He’s not that bad, trust me. And he’s just… visiting.) Pavitr gave a sheepish chuckle, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his rain-soaked hair. [I know that yaatra technically means travelling, but I can’t remember the Hindi word for ‘visit’ so if anyone could tell me how to say visiting instead I’d be very grateful!]

“‘Ello to you too,” He laughed it off, the smooth, rich sound filling the air. “My name’s ‘Obie. ‘Obie Brown. Nice to meet you.”

You assumed he was saying Hobie and gave him small smile, getting up to go over to them and shake his hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Hobie.”

Pavitr leaned forward to whisper quietly to you, his tone lightly teasing. “Hamne aapko kaanch ke darvaaze ke maadhyam se naachte hue dekha. Vah ghoorana bandh nahin kar saka.” (We saw you dancing through the glass door. He couldn’t stop staring.)

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at his words and you scoffed, suppressing a smile tugging at your mouth. “Aur vah bilkul bhee daraavna nahin hai.” (And that’s not creepy at all.)

“Well, I was just about to head out,” You would’ve liked to properly get to know Hobie, but your vision was starting to swim in front of your eyes and his subtle flickering didn’t help.

“Careful. There’s a ‘ell of a lot o’ pleasure and pain out there.”

You blinked in surprise and glanced at Pavitr for an explanation, trying to understand what Hobie had just said but also not wanting to come off as rude.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Pavitr translated, snickering slightly at your confusion before your unamused eyebrow-raise shut him up.

“I have an umbrella. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Besides, it’s just rain.” You took out your umbrella, looking through the glass into the rain. It was pouring quite heavily, but you’d just have to manage.

Pavitr got a gleam in his eye that told you he was plotting something. You narrowed your eyes with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”

“Ah, nothing, but we were headed that way anyway, for that padoka stall a little further on. We can come with you!” Pavitr gave you a grin and held his umbrella out in front of him, pretending to examine it critically. “The only problem is… my umbrella can only cover one person.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you realised what he was playing at. “Pav. Ab matchmake ka samay nahin hai,” (Now is not the time to matchmake) You hissed under your breath, giving him a death glare.

Pavitr simply ducked his head, giving you and Hobie a little wave as he moved to stand outside in the rain, the umbrella spread over his head. “Well, are you two coming or not?”

Hobie chuckled softly, turning to you. “Let’s go? I can walk in the rain if you want, I really don’t mind getting wet.”

“No, no, you can stay with me. Sorry if I was rude earlier.” You opened the umbrella more skilfully than Pavitr had done, angling it so it could shelter both of you as you stepped outside into the rain and followed Pavitr.

“Nah, you’re good. It’s nice ‘earin’ you and Pav talk Hindi, actually. How long ‘ave you been doin’… what’s it called?”

“Bharatanatyam.” You giggled softly at how Hobie’s eyebrows lifted at the word, his piercings sailing up along with them. “Quite a while. It’s almost like an Indian ballet, if ballet was more about fast-paced movement and quicker beats rather than grace and controlled technique.”

“S’different from what I’ve seen. More chaotic, but beautiful. Do y’always wear those jingly things around your ankles?”

“Ghungroo bells? Yeah, they just serve as something to accentuate the rhythm that we tap out with our feet so that the audience - and the dancers themselves - can hear it better.”

Hobie’s eyes - were they always that shiny…? - were on you as you talked, slightly wide as he took in what you were saying with the utmost attention. “Hey, lovebirds! The rain stopped, in case you didn’t notice. Y/N, you’re here.” Pavitr’s teasing voice cut through your thoughts, which were albeit a little foggy the moment you saw how pretty Hobie’s eyes were.

You put the umbrella down and, sure enough, the rain had almost entirely stopped, reduced to tiny droplets that drizzled pinpricks of water on the pavement. Well, that was Mumbattan weather for you. Pouring one second and sunshiny the next.

“I’m never making gajar ka halwa for you ever again if you don’t stop talking,” You warned as you heard Hobie chuckle slightly awkwardly at the nickname Pav had given you both.

“Nononono please— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that!”

You rolled your eyes and closed the umbrella, glaring at him.

“Fine, fine, just stop giving me that look. You’ll get your gajar ka halwa.” You softened your expression into a smile as you turned to look at the man you had just met. “Bye, Hobie. It was really lovely meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

Hobie smiled at you, dipping his head in a nod of farewell. “Yep. See y’around.”

You keyed open the door to your house, closing it behind you only to be greeted by Gayatri lying sprawled on the couch. You were used to her visiting unannounced, and your mother absolutely adored her, so you’d often come home to see her waiting for you, with new stories - whether they were scandalous gossip from the modelling agency, a few texts or actions from Pavitr that had made her lose her mind with how adorable he was being, or just random shower-thoughts she’d have (not to be confused with the ‘deep philosophical ponderings’ she had at 3am in the morning that she felt the urgent need to share with you straight away)

You could smell the sharp tang of spices wafting out from under the closed kitchen door as your mother cooked.

“Pav told me everything,” Gayatri giggled before you even had a chance to properly say hi to her. You groaned and flopped down on the couch next to her, moving her legs to rest over your lap so she didn’t take up all the space. “Brilliant. What did he say?”

Gayatri smirked up at you. “You met his friend Hobie? The one who’s visiting?”

You considered reaching for the cushion a few inches away on the floor, wondering if you could take it and throw it at her before she could bat it away. “Yeah, I did.”

Gayatri made her eyebrows jump up and down teasingly. “Do you think he’s cute?”

“Gayatri—”

“Oh, come on! This is totally like a rom-com. He was a punk, she did ballet — but make it Indian!” She mimed clicking a camera, now fully laughing, her eyes scrunched up mischievously. “Wow, and the guy’s British too. Who’d have thought? I think he’s here for a few more days, in case you want me to ask Pav to set up a date—”

You reached for the cushion, snatching it up and holding the fluffy patterned corner as threateningly as you could.

“Chhoti behen?” (Little sister)

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you.”

“Yep.”

“But stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

——————

Gajar ka halwa is a carrot-based sweet dessert pudding made by placing grated carrots in a pot containing a specific amount of water, milk and sugar, cardamom and then cooking while stirring regularly.

A pakoda/pakora is a fritter originating from the Indian subcontinent. They are sold by street vendors and served in restaurants in South Asia. It consists of items, often vegetables such as potatoes and onions, coated in seasoned gram flour batter and deep fried.

‘Pleasure and pain’ is Cockney rhyming slang for rain. (At least I’m pretty sure it is because I saw another website saying it’s ‘ache and pain’ so I’m not really sure which one it is)

Ghungroo bells are anklets that consist of small metallic bells (going from 50 to more than 200 bells depending on factors like the expertise of the dancer and the desired amplitude of the bells) knotted together. Ghungroo bells are used in many Indian classical dances such as Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, Lavani, Odissi, Mohiniyattam, and Kathak.

I don’t do Bharatanatyam, so some of this might be wrong. Please lmk if anything is incorrect! <3

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lovintasteslike · 9 months

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Tiktok Live

One where Tiktok betrays Niall, the millenial.

a/n: This is my first time writing fanfiction (idk if I'll ever do it again lol). I saw a tiktok of him fighting the filters and found it funny.

...

"How do I turn this shit off"

You walk into the room seeing Niall squinting at his screen, a disapproving look on his face. Unbeknownst to his situation, you pout your lips and lean against the door frame, examining his frustrated demeanor.

He shakes his head, "This is ridiculous."

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head in question as he looks up from the screen. Niall lets out a puff of breath, making eye contact with you and immediately mouthing a, help me. You bite your lip to hold back your laughter as you realize he's live on tiktok for Meltdown promo.

"Pleeease, come onnn guys" He shakes his head in a disapproving way, begging the fans to cut him a break, only increasing the volume of the gifts, and thus filters.

You roll your eyes, smiling, as you head out of the room, taking a glance back at him. A small frown is set on his face as he plays with the ends of his hair. Trying to read the comments, a flower crown appears on him, once again adding to his frustration.

You hear Niall sigh, remorse flowing through his veins of even thinking about doing a tiktok live (and you know his publicist, Jen, will 100% be making him do more). In an attempt to ignore the filters, or perhaps to show the fans his supposed "carelessness," he starts talking about Meltdown, putting himself back on track towards the purpose of the live.

"Yeah the idea of the song came from- look at this fucking thing!" He exclaims, once again distracted by a filter, this time a cowboy hat. Exasperated by his fan's antics, you see him actually tilting the phone away from his face, hiding, from the filters while he attempts to act nonchalant talking about the song. You clasp a hand over your mouth to hide your amusement, taking quite the piss out of his frustration, but your body shakes in laughter.

"Are you lau- Stop laughing at me" You act shocked at his confrontation and turn away from him, bending over your knees as you try to catch your breath, now audibly giggling. Niall's eyes fall to the comments as the fans realize the humorous exchange between him and his girlfriend.

"See her being no help at all." Sarcastically he lets out a sigh, "So mean she is, really." Rolling his eyes, he too finally gives in and indulges in the fun of it, snickering at himself.

"Yeh take your pictures, have your fun." He says, framing his face with his free hand.

After posing for a few seconds, Niall decides they've seen enough. "Alright I'm out, thank you for all the love and support on the new single, save it, stream it, tell all your mates. Umm I'll be in touch, thanks for everything. See you soon." He blows a kiss to the screen, "love you lovers," then takes a moment to end the live.

You push yourself back up, walking towards him.

The phone falls from his grasp onto the surface of the table, his head dropping into his hands as he lets out a deep breath.

"God almighty, I'm never doing that again.."

"Really? Personally, I think the 'grandpa from Up' glasses suit you very well" You say with a smirk, only half-joking, while he glares at you, clearly unimpressed.

"Hmmph." He brushes past you, retreating into yours and Niall's bedroom.

You pout. "Oh come on, I was only joking....don't have a meltdown over this."

A load groan comes from the bedroom, making you burst out in laughter again.

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan fic #niall horan blurb #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan one shot #niall horan x reader #niall horan x y/n #niall horan smut #one direction #the show #meltdown #hello lovers #solo niall

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ammonitetheartist · 4 months

Text

Welcome to paradise

(Also yeh I used the Eldritch Uzi design by @electrozeistyking bc. cool 👉👈)

EhehrheEHEHEHHEHEHE-

Judging by when I ended up finishing this, ig here’s your (early/on time/late depending on your timezone) Christmas gift (or general gift if you don’t celebrate it) from me: PAIN

I’ve recently been noodling with the idea of Cyn’s original consciousness being in a little mindspace of some kind, and then I started noodling with the concept I saw brought up by this comic: of the Solver taking Uzi as a host like her, aaand this was born!

Also I was originally gonna draw the panels individually, but since tumblr doesn’t have a way to exceed 10 images on mobile (as far as I know), I had to get creative

Edit: ghgghhhhGHHG WHY IS TUMBLR NOT LETTING ME LINK THE COMIC HHHHGGGGGRRGG- it’s the “She’s Gone” comic by the person I tagged near the top; you can find it in their top posts

Putting the image ID under the cut bc holy fricj-

[Image ID: A comic featuring catified designs of Uzi and Cyn from Murder Drones. The first drawing shows the first four panels; a front view of Uzi in her Solver mode over a snowy night sky, wings outstretched and a yellow X over her visor, then the same drawing with a perspective blur, then a black background with a yellow flash, like a TV turning off, and finally a completely black background.

The fifth panel shows a blurry drawing of Cyn looking down to the viewer, a black blur effect around the edges. The third drawing shows the sixth and seventh panels, starting with Cyn standing over Uzi, who is lying down, followed by Uzi jerking back in surprise upon noticing Cyn.

Panels 5-14 feature a dark, mottled yellow-green background with faint, pale yellow polygons of varying sizes to signify the mindspace. In addition, both Cyn and Uzi’s designs in this mindspace become solid color, with colored lineart. Cyn’s text is yellow and Uzi’s is purple.

The 8th panel shows Uzi on the right side of the drawing with a confused expression, uttering ‘Wh-‘. The 9th panel shows her head whip around in surprise. The 10th panel shows the background giving way to a drawing of Solver Uzi in the center, with her usual colors (very darkened), a glitch effect, and a yellow AbsoluteSolver symbol over her visor.

The 11th panel shows mindspace Uzi with a shocked, lost expression as she mutters ‘Wha…’ in a small voice. In the 12th panel, she turns to the left side of the screen, adding ‘Wh- where…’

The 13th panel shows Cyn sitting on the left side of the screen, a blank expression on her face. In the 14th and final panel, she wears an empty smile, and a dark tear slips from under her visor as she simply says, ‘Welcome to paradise.’ End ID]

#murder drones #murder drones uzi #uzi doorman #murder drones cyn #md cyn #murder drones solver #solver uzi #absolute solver #comic #md comic

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p4rsuade · 2 months

Text

paraselene woman, i’m your man in the moon ➤ alex turner

𝓼ummary. it’s been a long year of touring, but he’s finally coming back to her.

𝔀arnings. age gap (sort of but vaguely implied)

𝔀ord count. 951

the car!alex turner x female oc

her 26th birthday was coming to an end. she watched as the time on her home screen flash to 00:00, and she lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

alex hadn’t sent her a happy birthday text, or called her all day. she tried not to think about it, she celebrated her birthday with her friends, and surely that should be enough for her, but no, she missed him with every bit of her being. she missed their cuddles in the kitchen, the way his hair would flop over his face as he slept, the orange hue of the sun slipping through the white voile blinds, landing onto his face, making him groan in utter annoyance from the sun disrupting his sleep, his stupid, soppy love poems he writes out of the blue, just so he could see that huge smile on her face, showing off her little fangs he always adores, ‘you’re like a mini dracula, y’know that’s adorable love.’

God, she missed him. she turned off her phone, and rolled on her side. happy birthday to me, i guess. she closed her eyes and slowly but surely, she had fallen asleep.

—

4:10am

there was a sudden dip in the bed, and it startled her awake. her heavy eyes opened slightly and before she could do anything, she felt arms wrap around her, the familiar fluffy hair grazing against her cheek as he kissed her neck. “hiya, love.” he murmurs against her skin. “missed meh?” he hums.

alex.

without another second thought, she quickly wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “woah, woah, woah..” he chuckles. “i guess yeh did.” he smiled, pressing more kisses along the side of her neck.

“happy birthday.” he whispers softly, and it warms her heart to its fullest. “how was your day today? i’m sorreh i didn’t get back earlier.” he asks as he eventually lifts his head up to look at her, a grin playing at his lips.

she smiled happily, the happiest she’s been. “it’s been okay. i missed you though.” she responds. “i’m sorreh, love. i would’ve been there but management has been on me arse, and the other lads wanted to—“ he was cut off immediately as she presses her lips against his, and he sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he moves her hand to the back of her head. “i missed you so much, aly.”

he chuckles against her lips, biting her bottom lip playfully. “i can tell.”

but then he sighs, and pulls away, burying his face into her chest. “i missed you too, love.”

it was as if he suddenly remembers something, because he suddenly lifts his head up quickly, and rolls off of her and he gets off the bed.

out of the darkness, he pulls out a box and something large, but she couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“happy birthday, darlin’.” he smiles before getting back into bed, laying on his stomach as he handed her the gifts.

it was a small box, as she guessed, and a vinyl. from the fontaines d.c. “i got ‘em to sign it.” he grins.

“aly..” she mumbles breathlessly as she takes in the signatures on the front of the vinyl. “remember our first date when i took ya to see them?” he hums and she smiles and nods, “how can i ever forget? i thought it was a little over the top for a first date.”

“yeh, and you kept arguin’ about it on the way, but i knew you loved it.” he chuckles, moving up to press his lips against her temple. “open the box, babe. you might like this one.” he smiled as he sat up beside her, wrapping his arm behind her back.

she looked at him with narrowed eyes, before placing the vinyl down, and she picked the box up, inspecting it. “what is it, al? why am i nervous?”

“open it and you’ll see, love.” he laughs, before slowly moving in front of her, waiting for her to open it.

she looks at him for a moment, before her gaze went back to the box. she unties the gorgeous bow that adorned the box, and she opens it, the box opening with a click as it pulls up.

in the box was a silver ring adorned with diamonds, and she lets out a tiny gasp. “simone..” he began, and she shakes her head in disbelief. “simone, look at me, will ya?” he laughs, before gently taking the box away from her grip, and he shifts, placing his knees on the bed.

“i thought about this a lot when i was gone, si.” his smile weakening as he was about to turn into an emotional, soppy mess. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to meh. and i wish you were with me on the tour. i couldn’t stand not seeing yer beautiful face for a year.”

“face-time doesn’t count.” he lets out a weak chuckle. “simone darlin’, will ya make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he finally asked.

she was in disbelief, and she felt tears brim her eyes, without a word, she quickly moves closer to him, and she wraps her arms around his neck. “what kinda question is that?” her voice broke. “of course i’ll marry you, al. i love you so much.” she murmurs as tears ran down her cheek. “so that’s a yes?” he smiles as he places the ring down onto the sheets and wraps his arms around her. “yes, you dope!” and he laughs, burying his face into her hair.

“i love you so much, darlin’.” he murmurs into her hair.

“i love you more, aly.”

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys x reader #arctic monkeys x oc #alexander turner #alexander david turner #fluff

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watermelonsugacry · 2 years

Note

i wonder if anyones told harry lately that respectfully, his tits looks amazing

YN has...and disrespectfully

"Fucking hell." Harry huffs out. "What am I at?"

"About to reach three minutes." YN tells him from her seat in front of the plastic tub. It's been almost an hour after Harry's show in Cologne and since his back has been acting up again, he was sent promptly into an ice bath.

After taking some pictures and changing out of her fabulous Midnight Memories t-shirt outfit, YN is now an oversized Pleasing hoodie and some biker shorts. She sits in front of Harry's bath, her sock covered feet propped up against the edge of the tub where she'll occasionally tap her toes with his cold, bare ones.

"Tell me something to distract me." He breathes out with his eyes closed. YN quickly racks her brain for anything distraction worthy and only one thing comes to mind.

"Yeh tits have been looking really good lately."

"Fuck off." He huffs out a laugh at the unexpected compliment, peeling an eye open to look at her.

"They're real yummy looking. Just might have to take a bite out of one."

"Shut up."

"Yeh do it to me all the time. Gotta motorboat me too--hey!" YN laughs when a piece of ice gets thrown at her. But Harry hisses out from the movement of the cold water, squeezing his hands into fists above the water. He thumps his head back against the ledge, taking in a deep inhale through his nose and some of his hair falls over his eyes.

He hasn't cut it in a while and it may or may not be entirely YN’s fault.

She had told him that she likes his new length because it kind of reminds her of when he had his long hair all those years ago. And with that, she shyly admitted how much she wondered what it would have been like to have been romantically with him during that time. So how can even think to give his hair a trim when he loves the feel of her gripping onto it when he's going down on her? Or when he's hovering above her and she tugs on the ends so hard and so good that he leans his head back at the touch. Or even when they're just cuddling and he has his head on her chest, her fingers threading through his curly locks?

To help rid her wandering mind from continuing further, she decides to tease him and take a playful jab at his ego.

"Come on, H. You're barely at five minutes. Don't be such a baby."

"A baby?" Harry scoffs. Yn tries to hide her smiles behind her sleeve-covered hand as he takes the bait. "Lovie, please. Yeh wouldn't be able to be in this for the other five minutes I have left."

"Is that a challenge?" YN raises an eyebrow.

He flashes her a cocky smirk and a shrug on his shoulder. "More like pointing out the obvious."

If there's one thing that her and Harry have in common, it's their huge, often sensitive, egos. He knows her like the back of his hand. He noticed the poke at his ego right off the bat and he knows he pinched at hers. Harry knows she got a taste of her own medicine when she stands up and places her phone on the foldable chair.

He raises his eyebrows in amusement and excitement when she crosses her arms over her torso, grips the bottom of her hoodie and tugs it over her head. After she plucks off her socks and shimmies out of her shorts, a bright smile paints itself on his face when she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. It's like watching a child on Christmas morning. He acts like he didn't just see her naked the night before.

He throws a nod her way. "Panties too."

"Nuh uh." She throws her hair in a bun on top of her head. "You kept your bottoms on, so m'keeping mine."

He sits up a bit more to make as much room for her as possible. He watches as she grips the edge of the tub and slowly sinks a leg inside the freezing water. She lets out a heavy, staggered breath but quickly tucks her lips in to not let her boyfriend reel in the satisfaction. But Harry can honestly care less about being right at this point when his eyes are glued to his handwriting on her skin.

His eyes trail from the red, cursive honey text on her upper thigh to the love me please? right below her left breast as she lowers herself in the tub with whimpers and heaved breaths.

"S'better when you go in all at once."

"Yeah, I got that. Now shut up." YN furrows her eyebrows and Harry puts his hands up in defense, a smile still sitting on his lips.

This isn't the first time her and Harry have delved into cold waters. During their time in the band, and when they went solo, the two have always been down for a spontaneous dive in a lake somewhere during the Winter where ever they were in the world. It soon became a tradition that anywhere they went with a body of water near by, they had to take a dip if it wasn't frozen over.

Once her shoulders barely hover over the surface, Harry tugs her over to him so her back is to his chest. The water overflows over the edge a bit but either one pays mind to it.

He hugs her close to him, arms over her chest and the side of his face pressed against hers.

"S'n-not so bad." She shudders, clearing trembling in his arms. "This is nothing, yeh b-big baby."

"Yeah, y'really showed me." He teases before pressing his cold lips to her temple.

"But the good thing is that at least I get to lay on these pillows on yeh chest. Might just go ahead and take a nap on 'em--hey, hey! Harry not the hair! Not the hair!"

MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @theekyliepage @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles and reader #harry styles and y/n

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turnertable · 10 months

Text

tolerate it

Alex Turner x Reader (am era !)

written by: me, first time doing angst

requested by: @bellaturner <3

music for the fic: tolerate it by Taylor Swift

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angsty, sad, slight sexual references and pushing about

The future looked bleak for them but for Alex, it had never been more bright. He had recently cut his hair short, Y/N hated it. He claimed it was for the new album but all she could see was her teenage love fading away before her eyes. Their love was something the tabloids had praised from the dancefloor days. "The High School Sweethearts of Sheffield" plastered on the front page of newspaper after paper, her face started to come out of print in the last year.

Y/N found herself perched on yet another stool out of the frame of the newest photoshoot of her boyfriend, scrolling her phone aimlessly and barely noticing Alex's next move. If those ridiculous rockabilly sunglasses left his face, Y/N might have taken interest but at Alex's rate, they had likely been surgically screwed to his nose bridge.

He posed relentlessly and attempted to look over at Y/N, realizing she had no idea what was even happening. Once that was clear, Alex huffed and rolled his eyes beneath the shades, remaining focused on the shoot because he couldn't care less about her opinion at this moment. He was Alex Turner: the acquitted persona of rock and roll in Britain; Olympic opener and soon to be Glastonbury sensation yet again.

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

The shoot concluded in due time and Y/N mumbled to herself, "Thank fucking god." as she threw my phone into her bag and stood up. Alex read her lips and huffed slightly with frustration, as he thanked the photographer and went to leave. They met at the door and he nodded at her wordlessly, not wanting to talk to her til they had a minute to discuss her annoyance. She led them out and they stood at the cub by the door of the studio: Alex immediately got his cigarettes out and offered her one,

"Fuck off with that." Y/N scolded him viciously, "It doesn't make you cool." Alex sighed and pulled out his lighter, a silver Zippo with the band's initials carved into it.

"You used t'smoke, me luv. 'member at The Leadmill when you'd pass em owt to anyone?" Alex reflected as he lit the cigarette. Y/N noticed his accent slip at the use of "the" and looked down.

"I was a kid, Al. We found them around Jamie's that one weekend." She muttered in response to try to entertain his idea, not wanting to see that version of her Alex relay nostalgia to her.

He smiled slightly with an exhale as he looked over, "Oh yeh, he still talks about tha, tha knows. Still got ya tho.." He tried to cheer her up because he did love her endlessly but he knew this was a lot for her to process.

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

The last few months had been frequent fights and sex to make up for it all, where Alex would promise nothing had changed and it would be ok until the next designer jacket would come home and rinse repeat. No amount of money could fix it either for Y/N. Yes, it was nice to be personally styled for an awards show but where Alex would come home and laugh all night with her being himself again, the persona never dropped nowadays.

Y/N nodded and went on her phone to call the taxi, letting Alex finish the cigarette in silence as she stepped away and only demonstrated the metaphoric distance between them. She spoke quietly and got the taxi booked, forcing herself not to think of Sheffield, circa 2005. Sitting on the curbside, her lips never leaving Alex's the whole way home. Drunk and giggling at the way the city looked at night from the taxi window. He'd carry her home as she kicked her legs with excitement to be in bed with him yet again. However here she stood with a smartphone and a man she no longer recognised as the love of her life.

As the taxi pulled up, Y/N opened her own door and got in, finally looking over at her boyfriend as she spoke to the taxi driver promptly, desperately wanting to be in solitude. She looked at him with a neutral look of almost curiosity, searching for any and if so, some glimmer of hope in him and love that would last. No dice. Alex looked over and offered her his hand to hold, a common quirk of his. Y/N took it and looked out the window, the tears pricking at her eyes as the taxi pulled off. A solemn silence hung over them like a ghost in the passenger seat the whole journey home. It could be dealt with at the house, like usual.

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

As the taxi rounded the corner by the house, Alex thanked the driver and nodded at Y/N to say, "in we go." Y/N offered the taxi driver a thank you as well and stepped out of the car, letting Alex open the door and not even attempting to get her keys from her bag. Alex unlocked the door and kicked off his shoes, leaving Y/N to shut it and lean on the wall of the hallway.

"What the fuck is up nah?" Alex started the argument, making Y/N prick up. He finished the conflict but it was unusual for him to bring up an issue without prompt. Alex stood arms crossed at the silence before removing his glasses and rubbing his temple. "Just tell me, please Y/N."

"Why did I have to come to that?" Y/N met his tone and removed her own shoes. "That's the third this week…" She continued and reminded him of how much this weighed on her schedule.

"Well excuse meh for bein successful suddenleh, didn't seem t'bother you when I were 19…" Alex retorted to push her buttons yet again with the memories of their relationship. He tried to walk off to go get a drink, he'd been drinking a lot more frequently since the fighting started. While Alex could hold his drink, it was a new habit he had picked up with the look.

"Yeah well my teenage boyfriend with spots had some fucking intellect not to just lap at anyone who offers him a moment in the spotlight!" Y/N raised her voice and rolled her eyes, trying to stop him from drinking, "I swear if I see you drinking again for another night…" she continued in the cold tone.

"Oh fuck off, 'm 27 now and so are you, act it." He said sternly and lightly pushed her out of his way. "I'll do what I wan, babe" He stormed off to the kitchen to get a glass and the bottle of whiskey on the side, half empty from how often he had been consuming it.

Y/N followed in a huff and tried to keep fighting him, "You really wanna talk about acting, Alexander? What the fuck are you wearing?" She scanned his body and outfit of a leather jacket and tight blue jeans, making Alex smirk slightly as he knew what to do.

"Jeans, you like em babeh?" He tried to give her the eyes that said "you want me really" and stood over her to offer her an embrace. "Can get me out of em if you're nice to meh…" He chuckled softly and held her lower back where he was met with a scoff and a push.

"Get off me, James Dean. Tell me when Alex is back…" She went to sit at the table, making Alex huff and turn back to his drink with annoyance.

"You make me fucking drink…" He mumbled to himself quietly enough for her to miss it. "I'm not gonna be tha kid anymore, you do realize tha, reyt?" He announced as he poured the whiskey and recapped the bottle. "I hate who I were, a spotteh teenager with a squeaky voice on stickeh stages an people throwing shit at meh." He turned to her and finally admitted.

"I fell in love with that kid, Alex." Y/N let the truth slip too, "and I still do love him, ok?" he continued as she looked down sadly, sniffling at the words. "My Alex is gone, he was my home, my safety and you're just this husk of who he was. You're everything we mocked in bars while I waited to hear the same 10 songs every night." Her voice trembled at it all as she looked up at him where all his anger had turned to sympathy yet again.

"But babeh…you could make new memories with new Alex." He heard himself and mentally cursed at his words but persisted on: "We could 'ave a famileh and get married and the band will onleh get more famous and you'll reap t'benefits wiv us.." He tried to reassure her as he leaned down to get her level. "We could be happy again one day, me love. This is just a rough patch…"

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

Y/N listened intently and her face soured at the idea that the band was involved with the future of them. She thought and chose her words carefully as she knew the band's importance to him, especially with him bringing it up here.

"Alex, it's not been a rough patch for you though, has it? The tears started welling up in her eyes, continuing through the melancholy. "You'll be ok, babe. I just won't be. My boy is gone and maybe that's the problem. I'm just not happy anymore…"

His face dropped and his chest went tight when he heard her claims, "You're n-not 'appy? As in wiv me or??" His voice shook as he spoke quietly, staring at her with torment. "I can get ya someone to talk ta, I promise babeh please…" He begged at her feet practically.

Y/N shook her head and looked down, "I'm so sorry, Alex…I love you so much but this version of you, I'm not in love with him. Please just make me proud…" She gasped between sobs and watched the tears roll down her chest. Alex's eyes began to water at the realization of the situation, the blunt actuality of her saying that to his face. How long has she been thinking of telling him?

"Are ya sayin what I think you're sayin?" Alex mumbled as he wiped his nose slightly. Y/N simply nodded and he sighed to himself, "Well shit, tha's about 10 years of me life gone. Is there anythin I can do at all to change yer mind?" He pleaded incessantly through his tears. "I love you, Y/N. Please…"

Y/N sat up straight and held his face softly, kissing his head, "It's ok Alex, we're just different people, darling…" She wiped her eyes and smiled gently at him. "I love you too, Al."

The knife stuck in and twisted at the nickname, it was hers from the moment she muttered it at 17 when they met. Alex's eyes were full of sadness but he nodded and tried to smile, "I understand and I respect yer decision but you do realize t' next album is gonna be so bloodeh sad nah…" He managed a laugh that Y/N echoed.

"Oh yeah, I want sad proses about me now…" She cupped his face and delivered the last kiss, "if that boy ever wants to come back to see me again, he's more than welcome…" She said softly and wiped his eyes with a smile. He nodded and smiled back.

"I think this might be t' soppiest breakup ever…" Alex hums, stands up to get his drink and reaching for another glass before turning to her,

"One for the road?"

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x fem reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfic #Alex turner angst #alex turner imagine

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

Text

At the Cabaret Pt. 4 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: Tommy fights his inner dialogue while Lenore recovers from the very serious trauma that has occurred. Will she actually ever be able to recover and will she ever actually forgive Tommy for his role in what happened? A rift has set in between the two key-players and yet at the same time, Tommy begins to fall in love.

Warnings: Mentions of the previous sexual and physical assault. Lasting injuries and recovery, stitches and pain. Polly discusses domestic abuse. Mentions of semen and some minor graphic details from the previous chapter. I used the word "r*pe" once or twice when referring to the assault (because that's what it was). This chapter focuses on the deescalation of the previous events. Read with caution and take care! The next few chapters will be much less intense. Thank you for baring with me!

word count: 4720k

I Know It's Over- Jeff Buckley 🎵

Radio- Lana Del Rey 🎶

Don't Hate Me- Lola Young 🎵

Check warnings!

Lenore had James’ eyes. They could have been twins if they weren’t two years apart in age. It was hard for him to see Lenore after coming back because every time he spoke to her, he saw James in her face. Seeing her like this… it felt like James was during all over again and there was nothing that he could do. He shouldn’t have left her, she was right. She was so right and he cursed himself for being so blind, so selfish, and stupid. He sat there as she slept and cringed at the feeling in his heavy chest. He’s always thought Lenore was beautiful, but more in a younger sister way. Even though James was now dead, he always felt like James would kill him for touching her, thinking about her in that way. He hadn’t thought about her in that way until he saw her at the Cabaret after all those years they had been apart.

She knew all about his sex-life and the whores he took to bed. Why did she care? Didn’t she see that he couldn’t feel the same way about people that maybe she could? Love was hard, it was a shell of a feeling that he couldn’t quite crack open. It’s not that he didn’t want to love but that part of his soul seemed closed off to him. Seeing her dance at the Cabaret made him want her… sexually. He stopped seeing her as a sister and as a woman he wanted. He shied away from the way she made him feel. He felt it was wrong in the way he wanted her. Up until now, he’d only seen her as a baby-sister, the sister of his best friend. But he cared whether she lived or died. He wanted to see her perform without a deep dreg of guilt. He wanted to take her home and make love to her. He wanted her to be his in every way.

She slept for another hour and he stayed with her until she awoke, shifting against the sheets restlessly. When she opened her eyes, stale tears lingered beneath her eyelashes.

“Tommy?” She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to collect the pieces of her fragmented mind. He hummed a response.

“Tommy?” She said again.

“Yes?”

“Will you take me home now?” She asked softly and he nodded.

“Yeh, come on.” He helped her sit up and she winced. “Careful now.” He warned as she swung her legs over the bed. He helped her rebuckle her shoes that the nurses had taken off and supported her hip as she took a few tentative steps forward.

“Alright?” He asked as she hobbled forward.

“Think so.” She mumbled, her eyes set straight in careful concentration. They got through into the waiting room and Tommy spotted his brothers and aunt Polly waiting on a set of metal chairs. John and Arthur were arguing and Polly was smoking a cigarette quietly, rolling her eyes as the boys talked. When she saw Tommy and Lenore, she stood and stubbed out her cigarette.

“My God, Tommy.” She muttered under her breath and Tommy shot her a threatening look.

“How are you, girl?” Arthur asked with a small brotherly smile.

“I’m alright…” She answered,

“As much as one could expect, eh?” Polly cut-in and shook her head. “Come with us, Lenore. We’ll get you home.” She got her handbag and Arthur harassed John for the keys to the car.

“Let John drive. He’s less drunk.” Polly snapped and followed them out. Tommy slipped off his heavy black coat and put it around Lenore’s shoulders.

“Come on then?” He rubbed her shoulder as she walked down the steps to the waiting car. Polly was sitting in the backseat and helped her climb inside. She patted her thigh affectionately and glanced over at Tommy.

They said nothing as they drove, except Arthur who caught Tommy up on the recent developments. They’d bought the racetrack at a cheap price and were officially switching owners.

“Mm good.” Tommy nodded, distracted and lit a cigarette. He offered it to Lenore who took a long drag and exhaled with her head falling gently on the backseat.

“We’re taking you home with us,” Tommy told her, “to our place in Small Heath.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be safer for you there,” was all he said. It was dark outside by the time they parked the car outside their building. Tommy helped her out of the car and through the door, directing her to the kitchen where she could sit by the fire. Finn, only ten or so, stood just outside the door into the pantry and watched as Tommy set her down in a chair. Lenore still felt as though she were crying though no tears actually fell. She felt like she was sobbing but she made no sound.

“Finn, go to the Garrison and get some whiskey.” Tommy ordered and Finn scampered off with his hat pulled down over his head.

“We’ll uh, leave you alone.” Arthur cleared his throat and pulled John away from the kitchen. Polly rolled her eyes again and clicked her tongue at Tommy.

“Go with them, Tom. I’ll sit with her until the whiskey gets back.”

Tommy looked at Lenore and sucked on the inside of his cheek before following John and Arthur into the other room. With Tommy gone, Lenore felt colder. She pulled his jacket closer around herself and slipped slightly in the seat, hissing in pain.

“Poor girl.” Polly tutted and pulled up a chair opposite her by the fire. “Now I know this is all still fresh and painful but I’d like to know what happened, Lenore.”

“You’re Polly?” Lenore asked carefully, recognizing her face from years before. Polly chuckled.

“Right. I knew you and your brother well. I knew your mother too… god rest her soul,” she paused and lit a cigarette. She handed one to Lenore and lit it for her. “I’m sorry about your brother James. I’m sure you already know how much Tommy loved him. It’s a shame what happened to him, and I’m sorry.” She stared into the hearth and flicked her cigarette onto the hot smoke. Lenore exhaled a string of smoke up into the air and nodded.

“I know.” Was all she could say.

“And I’m sorry about what happened today too.” Polly looked back at her with knowing eyes. Lenore said nothing but bit her lip and tried to hide her black eye in the shadow of the fireplace.

“He gave you quite the shiner, eh?” She tried to smile, “I used to get them nearly everyday from my late-husband.” She crossed her legs.

“You did?” Lenore asked.

“Oh yes. He beat me almost every chance he got. And then he died in some accident and I’ve never had one since.” She looked up at the ceiling and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“You’re a Cabaret dancer, yeah?” Polly asked.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“So you’ve seen it before, haven’t you? The things those men will do to working girls?”

She nodded again and looked away, remembering the bruises and cuts girl’s received when they returned from the back alley or back rooms, hoping to make a little more money and getting robbed of it instead.

The front door opened and Finn ran in with a bottle of whiskey. He set it down on the kitchen table and ran into the other room to find his brothers. Polly poured them both a tall glass and handed one to Lenore.

“Now, Lenore, tell me what that son-of-a-bitch did to you.” She said calmly and swallowed half of the glass. Lenore watched her, tears coming to her eyes as she remembered the pain. She downed the glass of whiskey and nodded, preparing herself to speak. Tommy and John sat silently in the next room listening. Arthur took Finn outside to fool around and distract him from what was happening in the kitchen.

“Tommy took me to the races so that I could distract Billy Kimber while he tried to make a deal with his men and everyone else could deal with the croons stealing money from gamblers. I did as he asked, and I danced with Kimber but Kimber was… so mad.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath before continuing, “he was so mad that I had arrived with Tommy and pulled me off the dance floor. He said that since he’d been so kind to me or something before, I had to pay him back. He forced me through the room and off into a bathroom. I tried to fight him but he pushed me and punched me. He held me down…” she paused again. “He held me down and slammed my head against the floor whenever I tried to fight him. I tried to scream for Tommy but he covered my mouth. He couldn’t get it up so he rubbed himself for a while before he could….” She swallowed. “It was so disgusting to hear him and I felt like I was going to get sick over and over again but I didn’t. I wanted to faint but I couldn’t. When we heard Tommy’s gunshot, he tried to finish faster.”

“Did he cum?” Polly asked matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but he was so small I don’t think it got very far…” She almost started laughing because it was all too much to handle.

“Of course he was. That just makes sense.” She chuckled and nodded her on.

“When he finished Tommy got up to the door and tried to get in but he couldn't. I tried screaming and when I did, Kimber kicked me with the toe of his shoe. I was worried that it might have broken something but I think the doctor only had to do some stitches.”

“Where did he kick you?” Polly raised an eyebrow. Lenore pointed to her crotch slowly.

“Here.”

“Jesus, he kicked you right in the cunt?” Polly grimaced and shook her head.

Arthur cringed in the other room and instinctively covered his groin. Tommy ignored him and spun his cigarette slowly in his fingers.

“Then Tommy got in and shot him. I had his blood on me…” She shivered. Polly patted her hand gently and inhaled deeply.

“I want you to know that I understand. I know.” She said evenly and Lenore understood what she meant.

“Has it happened before?” Polly asked.

“No, usually I can say no without it becoming an issue.” She shook her head, reminiscing about all the time she had denied someone. “It's the powerful men, they think they can do whatever they want with me.” She sneered angrily and almost mentioned Tommy but even though Tommy did exactly as she thought he would and left her in a vulnerable situation, he wouldn’t do what Kimber did to her.

“I know what you’re thinking, Lenore, but you know he wouldn’t do that.” Polly said in a low voice. “He’s better than that. He’s not a great man but he’s a good man.”

Lenore nodded and drank the rest of her whiskey.

“I’ll draw you a bath. You can sleep in Ada’s room. She married that communist… what’s his name… Feddie Thorne,” she snapped her fingers. “Come on, follow me.” She showed her up the stairs and to a bedroom on the second floor. The walls were painted a dirty blue with dark wallpaper. Ada’s old room was the same color as the hall and it had a small bed with a pink quilt. There was a makeup stand with a few books stacked on the edge, an old oriental rug, and a gaslamp.

“The bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll bring in the tub for your bath. You should wash tonight, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you, Polly.” She whispered, so comforted by the small acts of kindness. Polly nodded and left the room momentarily. She removed Tommy’s coat and laid it out on the bed. She removed her jewelry and gloves, pushing them to the side of the bed. She took off her shoes and her stockings. Polly came back with the heavy tub and put it down.

“The water’s on,” she smiled and stepped out again. Lenore went to the makeup stand and picked up Ada’s old brush, the silver handle with beautiful designs. She brushed her hair and rubbed her face with her hands. The door opened again and Polly carried two large buckets of hot, steaming water. She poured them into the tub.

“There’s two more.” She hurried out again and was back quickly with two more pails. When she dumped them into the bath she wiped her brow and directed Lenore to get in. “It’ll be hot so wait a few minutes but it's all yours.”

“Thank you.” Lenore smiled and looked down at the clean, steaming water. Polly left and closed the door behind her. Lenore stripped off her dress and held the ruddy fabric between her hands, crying softly into the material. She’d made the dress herself and now she hated the sight of it. The red was grotesque and frightening now. She draped the dress over a wooden dowel drying rack and climbed slowly into the bath. The water was hot but incredibly soothing. She lowered herself down and spread out in the metal basin. With careful fingers, she scrubbed every inch of her body with a bar of soap Polly had left for her. She washed her face and cleaned below her fingernails.

There was a soft knock at the door and she saw Tommy’s head emerge from behind the door.

“I brought you more water.” He held up two buckets.

“I’m naked, Tommy.” She laughed softly, weakly. Tommy shrugged, shaking the water in the buckets as he did so.

“I know.”

“Are you ok with that?” She asked again and he nodded.

He approached the bath slowly and knelt by the basin. He avoided looking into the water where her naked body floated like a lily pad and slowly added more water into the tub. He started to stand when she reached out for his arm. She said nothing as she held the loose fabric of his shirt and he looked down at her trying to decipher the message she sent him in her eyes. He pulled up a chair from the side wall and sat beside her, keeping some distance so he wasn’t looking directly into the water. He lit a cigarette and handed it to her, she smoked it in the bath, sliding her head down almost into the water. They sat in silence as she finished washing herself. Tommy stood and retrieved a towel from the trunk at the foot of Ada’s bed and opened it up. Lenore stood in the bath, water dripped from her and the cold December air snuck through the thin windows and chilled her. Tommy wrapped her in the towel and helped her out of the bath.

She sat on Ada’s bed while he went into her drawers and found an old set of pajamas, one with pants. Without saying a word, he removed her towel and pulled the camisole over her head. He noticed the light bruising on her chest and stomach where Kimber had grabbed her. He pulled the pants over her feet and up her thighs, pressed against the bed, over her cunt and the small mess of blondish brown hair that started something in his stomach. She pulled her legs up to her chest and shivered. He took Ada’s brush from the table and ran it through her wet hair, with a gentle precision that stunned her. He pulled back the covers and helped her climb inside. He draped his jacket over her for extra warmth and moved the gaslight to sit by the bed.

“I’m just in the next room, the one on the right. Polly is downstairs by the living room. You’re safe here,” he reminded her and bent down slowly, kissing her on her forehead and lingering his lips on her damp skin.

He rose and left quietly and she watched as his back receded into the darkness of the hallway. She fell asleep almost immediately and when she awoke, it was an hour after 2am. She sat up in bed and looked around. The room was dark and still. She felt like she was living in a corpse and got up from the cold bed. Quietly, she snuck out into the hallway. She could hear Arthur talking downstairs with John. She assumed Polly had gone to sleep like Finn. There was still light coming from beneath Tommy’s door. She stood there for a while, wondering what she should do. She felt cold and empty, plagued by Kimber’s touch and blood. She wanted to be held and she wanted Tommy to do it. She turned the knob and opened the door slowly. He was standing in front of the small fireplace in his room, wearing a white undershirt and his suit pants. He heard her come in and turned, slightly surprised to see that she was awake.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” She asked quietly and he looked back at the fireplace briefly before turning to her and nodding. His bed was pushed against the wall, an opium pipe hidden beneath his pillow. He pulled out the pipe and set it on his desk.

“What do you use that for?” She asked, recognizing its purpose.

“Nightmares.” He said and then looked down at her, “but you won’t need it because you won’t have any, alright? You won’t have any nightmares while you’re here.”

She nodded, her lip quivered and he directed her into his bed and held her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head. She breathed in his scent and felt her body relax slowly into the barrier he provided against the world. She sighed sleepily and looked up at him.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when I said that you were beautiful?” She whispered. She felt him smile and nod.

“Yeah.”

“I take it back.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brow but kept his voice straight.

“Because you’re more than just beautiful, Tommy.” She pushed herself up on her elbows so she could look down at him. He inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Lenore.” He whispered in his deep voice.

“I know.” She nodded and put her head against his neck so that she could kiss him gently beneath his jaw. When she pulled away, he supported her head in his hands and brought her gently to his lips. He kissed her softly, neither of them moved their lips as they pulled away, just savoring the way their lips felt against each other. She nestled back against her chest and fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

…

When she woke up, he was still holding her against his chest, asleep. She savored the way he smelled and how the sheet felt wrapped around their legs like spiderwebs. Her lower body ached and she burrowed closer to Tommy’s chest, seeking out his warmth. His eyes opened slowly and the light of day brightened his aquamarine irises. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms out above his head and Lenore clung to his chest, holding his shirt in her hands.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, his voice still raspy from sleep.

“It still hurts a little.” She answered honestly and hissed quietly when Tommy trailed his fingers gently over her blackeye.

“It looks like it hurts.” He frowned and looked down at her, his eyes swelling with a shared sense of pain and desire to protect her from it.

“Do you want some water?” He asked and when she nodded, he reached over to his bedside table and poured her a cup of water from a glass bottle. She sat up in the bed, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and drank the water with both hands. He watched from below, his pinky finger resting against her side discreetly. The bedroom door banged open and Arthur walked in loudly. When he saw them in bed, he froze and laughed awkwardly. Tommy looked at him and then at the back wall, his gaze returning to its steely position as he clenched his jaw, slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry, Tommy. I didn’t think she was in here.” He ran a hand through his hair and started to back out.

“What is it, Arthur?” Tommy rubbed his face in his hands and sat up.

“Polly wants to see you.” He grunted and winked at Lenore before closing the bedroom door. Tommy sighed and shoved himself out of the bed they had crammed themselves into the night before.

“What do you think she wants?” She asked.

“She probably wants to know if we’re keeping the shop open today.” He went to his closet and took out a dress shirt. He put it on quickly and tucked it into his pants.

“Tommy.” She called from the bed.

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Your trousers are creased from sleeping.” She pointed and he looked down at the lazy seams.

“Fuck, you’re right.” He sighed and removed a second pair of dress trousers from his closet. He stripped off his trousers, standing in his basic cotton briefs and pulled on the new ones. Then he tucked in his shirt, buttoned up his vest, and found the matching suit jacket. She watched him put on socks and shoes, simple domestic acts that felt so sensual and loving in the ways he did it. Finally he slipped his pocket watch into his vest pocket and walked back over to the bed.

“I’ll be back, eh?” He smoothed his thumbs over her face and his heart melted when she nodded.

“Ok, Tommy.” She murmured and he went to the door.

“Good, girl.” He nodded goodbye and slipped out into the hall and she could hear him clamor down the stairs to the kitchen where Polly must have been waiting for him.

Lenore pulled the covers back up to her chin and fell asleep once more in his bed.

Tommy thundered down the stairs. Polly was waiting for him in the kitchen, chain smoking. Arthur and John sat at the kitchen table, each with a short glass of whiskey.

“What is it?” Tommy asked as he sat down at the table. Arthur and John looked away, embarrassed.

“Really, Tommy?” Polly burst out, gesturing to the stairs. “Why’s that girl in your bed?”

“She asked to sleep with me and I let her.” Tommy sighed and glanced angrily at Arthur.

“Sorry, Tommy-” Arthur started but Polly waved her cigarette at him.

“Oh shut up will yah? You slept with her?” She leaned on the table and pointed the butt of her cigarette at him.

“I was comforting her.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s what you call comforting? After all you fucking put her through!” She shook her head. Tommy jumped up, knocking his chair back and slammed his fist on the table.

“I didn’t fuck her, Pol, if that’s what you’re accusing me of. God knows why after all I did and fucked up, she came to me and asked me to be with her and I couldn’t deny her that. I may not be a good man but I’m not fucking Kimber, eh? She just wanted to sleep with me and so I let her!” He yelled at them and grabbed a third glass to fill it with whiskey.

“Now, now that we’ve covered that fucking issue, what was the real reason you wanted to see me?” He growled darkly and took a swig of the liquor.

…

When she woke up the second time, Lucy was there beside Tommy’s bed.

“Oh Lenore, good you’re awake!” She exclaimed and took her hand. “I’ve been so worried.”

“Lucy?” She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “How’d you know where I was?” She asked.

“Tommy sent me a message at the Cabaret. I was worried sick when you didn’t come home last night. He explained what happened… I’m so sorry, Nore.” She squeezed Lucy’s hand back and smiled sadly. Not wanting to cry, she changed the subject.

“Where’s Tommy now?”

“Polly said that he’s at the Garrison with Arthur and John. He’s been in and out all day apparently.”

“Mhmm.” She hummed softly and sat up.

“He’s posting a guard outside our flat just for the time being, until everything blows over, he said. They dumped Kimber’s body in the canal and paid off his men but it's better to be safe than sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“You know I feel like this is all my fault in the first place for encouraging you to meet with Tommy. Maybe if I hadn’t, we’d never be in this situation.”

“Don’t say that, Luce.” She cut her off.

“Has Tommy been good to you since?”

“Yes, Luce. He’s been wonderful. It doesn’t change what happened but I feel safer.” Lenore answered honestly.

“You’re in his bed…” Lucy pointed out suggestively and Lenore rolled her eyes.

“It’s not what you think, Lucy. I just needed to be with someone… I didn’t want to be alone. We didn’t have sex, I don’t think I even could have.”

“But would you have wanted to?”

“I was just raped, Lucy. Of course I didn’t want to have sex with him. I just wanted to be close to him. I wanted to feel protected and that’s what he did.”

“Maybe he is a good man after all.”

“If that’s the standard… it's a pretty low bar, Luce.”

“Well, just think about the people we work with, Nore. What kind of men would they be?” She raised an eyebrow and Lenore sighed.

“I don’t want to think about bad men for a while, ok?” She asked weakly and Lucy lowered her eyes.

“Of course, I’m sorry. When do you want to come back to the flat?”

“Tonight, if I can. I want to go home to my own bed and my own clothes.”

“Ok, I’ll ask Polly if she can drive us.” Lucy nodded and stood. “Lenore?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you love him?” Lucy asked with a lowered voice.

“I don’t know, Lucy.” She shook her head and closed her eyes.

She borrowed one of Ada’s old coats and returned Tommy’s to his room. On a piece of paper that she took from his small desk, she wrote: Tommy,

I’m going back to my flat with Lucy. Thank you for taking care of me. Come to the Cabaret sometime and I’ll show you a good time. - Nore

Smiling, she left the note on the casing of his pillow, it relaxed on the old indent of her head. She brushed her fingers over sheets, fingering over the thick ridges of fabric. Part of her wanted to stay, to be close to him in every way but she also wanted to go home, she needed to go home. She wanted to be in her own bed, a place she recognized. As much as she tried to trust Tommy, she wanted to be around women for a little while.

Polly drove them back to their flat and got out of the car with them to hug Lenore goodbye. Polly’s fur lined coat was soothing against her skin and she hugged the woman back. Lucy climbed the stairs as Lenore pulled away.

“Be strong.” Polly smiled. “It’ll get better.”

“Thanks Polly.” She nodded and stepped away.

“And Lenore!” Polly called as Lenore started up the steps to the second floor landing. “He wants to do the right thing, Tommy does, but you can always say no. He won’t hold you to anything, Lenore.”

“Ok.” She answered slowly, confused but Polly climbed back into the car before she could ask anything else. The milky white headlights floated away with the car and she sighed, climbing back up the stairs to her flat. She drank tea with her flatmates and was caught up on all of the Cabaret news.

“The audience is going mad without you.” Clara tutted. “I’ve tried to keep them entertained for the 24 hours that you’ve been gone but nothing will help!” She giggled.

“I’m going back tomorrow.” Lenore announced suddenly and the girls fell quiet.

__________

End of part 4 :)

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fluff #fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #cabaret #burlesque #1920s #cillian murphy #peaky blinder imagine #fanfic #cillian x reader

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hourglassfish · 8 months

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A (long) Aside on 1:7 and 2:10

There are two responses to 1:7 and 2:10 that always quietly horrify me.

The first, and you know, I'm writing a multi part series on it, so it's no mystery - is that Sydney was arrogant/a brat/ couldn't hack it/ wrong to walk out, and that the situation as a whole was her fault. Nah. She was right to walk out, the biggest failure of that episode is not fucking pulling the breaks when Richie gets stabbed. The workplace has gone from dysfunctional to dangerous, she has been responsible for that danger, the perpetrator of it, and she is right to leave.

little bit of an asshole but i love you so i don't care

Carmy sees Syd saying she's going to stab Richie (as she holds her knife to his chest!) while they're up in each other's faces (with Richie goading her) and he does... nothing. He tells them to shut the fuck up and make giardiniera. At this point they needed to be separated! One or both of them needed to cool off. We've seen Syd bodily put herself between a fighting Carmy and Richie. A little reciprocity would have gone a long way here.

It's wild to me that people think that Carmy was justified in his anger and aggression towards Marcus and Syd and ignore that he is aggressive to Richie also! Richie, typically one of the more confrontational characters in the show asks him to calm down, to cool it. That so many viewers so quickly and uncritically accept Carmy's narrative point of view, even while the show actively challenges it confirms something that has been in the culture a long time: that we are much more used to excusing and aligning ourselves with abusive behaviour, than we are at challenging and refusing it. That people - many of whom have received this kind of behaviour themselves - want to defend it, makes me so, so sad.

It always hurts me a little that in 1:8 Tina tells Carmy that if he 'tries that shit with her, she'll fuck him up'. It's a fun line! But I'm sorry, no she won't. He screams at her too, while chucking bowls around and Sydney's words in 1:7 clearly hurt her. Tina categorically did nothing wrong. She doesn't deserve that shit. But at the end of the day, she is a middle aged Latinx woman and a mother, and so her tolerance level has to be higher. She needs that job! Shedoes not, as far as we know, have a father she can live with rent free, she does not have youth and the promise of exploitable potential to offer to employers in an ageist job market, she does not have CIA qualifications or a CV full of ‘serious heat’.

Carmy. holds. a. position. of. power. over. these. people. He is their boss, not their manager, and he owns the place, mob loan or no. He has the power to sack them all, to cut their hours, to cut their wages; thus the impact of that power extends not just to them, but also to their children and families. Louis being present in Review is not just to add an obstacle, it's also a reminder of those stakes.

Carmy has influence in the fine dining industry, regardless of whether that social and cultural capital is respected at The Beef or not. The very same oppourtunities that he provides them with in season 2 are things he could also lock them out of if he so chose. Any analysis of 1:7 that ignores this power is flawed from its root. When you are a boss, this power is ever present. One of the few things you can do to alter your boss's behaviour is to withdraw your labour. It's not the only option you have, but everything else is at their discretion, or mediated by lengthy, expensive legal processes.

yeh, i hate this

Carmy knows this, even if you don't! It's why the apology he gives Marcus - which Marcus does not ask for - is so heartfelt. Carmy has been on the receiving end of what that power, wielded cruelly, can do. He does not want to do this to others. We see him talk to staff with respect even while he endures horrid abuse in a flashback. We see him teach and explain himself, we see him listen and invite feedback - ‘say more’. His commitment to being a good boss is sincere, that kindness is in his bones.

The second thing people say that makes me want to die a little inside is that Carmy bought getting locked in the fridge on himself, that he deserved it in some way, and that getting locked in the fridge was him abandoning Sydney.

Oh my god!

He does not have a diagnosis yet - so anything we see is an interpretation. But it feels explicit that Carmy has panic disorder, and perhaps generalised anxiety disorder and CPTSD from both his workplace experiences and his childhood. A couple of things that he says and does suggest ADHD, or some other neurodiversity. He is not very careful with himself, and does not recognise these things as treatable problems (Richie says he experiences anxiety and dread, Carmy's response is 'who doesn't' - wince, cruel to Richie, cruel to himself - vomiting everyday and crying out of nowhere are presented as something 'loads of people do' to Sugar. Tumblr loves to send people to therapy, but I just want to send this man to do a basic google search of more than fun tbh). But they are debilitating for him, especially at work.

What happens to how we read Carmy's behaviour when he is presented as someone with an untreated disability, and absolutely no support plan in place? Does he still get his just desserts at the end of the season?

The fridge thing is a bit clumsy, I think. It's silly that over the space of three months, no one at any point just takes that job off him as a priority, or at least makes it something where Tony will call the restaurant, not Carmy specifically. It is unrealistic that there would not be some kind of back up safety lock inside the fridge. But you know, they're characters in a TV show, it also does not take two people swivelling around on the floor to tighten the coat hooks on a table (LOOOOOOL) - it's realistic until its not.

But, you know, it's doing a thing, several things - it's Chekov's gun, isn't it, it's the tangible impact of the lapse of focus that Uncle Jimmy is constantly trying to warn them about.

He wanted to cry here so bad!!! It makes me laugh every time

But umm... guys? What happens to him on that night is so, so horrible. They're a chef down, they're running out of forks, Richie's giving him shit (and Carmy is so susceptible to Richie giving him shit), Marcus and Syd are being all weird. He thinks one of his abusers (Donna) might come, or that she might not come and there will be emotional fallout from that. He thinks he sees his other abuser (Evil Joel Mc Hale) - and he's triggered. He goes in the kitchen and yells, but Syd pulls him back in. Then he goes into the fridge, partly to do chef stuff, I'm sure, but also partly to fucking get his shit together aaaaaand he gets locked in there! He has a panic attack! In a fridge! That he is locked in! And the people he loves most in the world, are the other side of that door, and for five minutes, an eternity in panic attack time, they ignore him! He has no clue what's going on! Last time shit hit the fan, two of his staff walked out (he's still not over Syd walking out cus they never talk about it properly), another one got stabbed and all these new ones are 'emerald green'. And he still thinks evil Joel Mc Hale is out there!

My loves, that shit is the stuff of nightmares! I know he tells himself that he bought this on himself but can we please! stop! uncritically! accepting! his narrative! point! of view!

I don't think anybody on screen recognises that a panic attack is what he's having. That's not their fault. None of them have seen him have a panic attack! They don’t get to see inside his head like we do (which saves them from a lot of R.E.M.) He is locked in the fridge, they just hear the bear banging on the door of his cage! It's not even in the language of the show at this point (though i am curious about how and when Richie came to get his Xanax). But that's what's happening. The team are fine. They do great. He has a terrible, terrible time.

My support worker found 2:10 deeply triggering - and her reason for this, she said, was that a lot of her job was supporting people with panic disorders who are leading teams, and seeing that moment coming, the moment where the panic crashes headlong into their role as leader. Part of her role is anticipating it, and trying to turn it around before they reach the point of no return. And as soon as Carmy thinks he sees Old Boss, he's gone. His body is in flight or fight, and he is alone with that. He can’t show up for Syd at that point, he is in his equivalent of the trenches.

This is also what is happening in 1:7. Somehow his response is often framed as a) rational or b) just an asshole - but it is so outsize to the situation, and to who we know him to be most of the time (quiet, kind, thoughtful, sensitive, BITCHY), that we know it has to be more than that.

None of this is helped by the fact that Carmy's panic attacks are... well they're kind of ugly! His meltdowns are aggressive and shouty, on the edge of physical violence, in an industry where people behave like that because they can. It is hard, parsing through that to the triggers, and fears, and panic beneath. It's scary! It asks so much of people to see that and want to help, not run away. But that is where he's at.

I do not have language for how much I hate how physical he gets with Marcus here, it is deeply upsetting

I have an access rider, to help me work well with people, and to help them work well with me. My mental health turns up in every job I do. All the time. Has done for years. It can make me unreliable, uncommunicative and absent. It can mean that people have to step up sometimes in ways they weren't anticipating. And one of the things the rider asks for is 'Good Faith' - a belief that I have not shut down because I'm an asshole, but rather because I have some unhelpful coping mechanisms that I am trying to work my way out of, that my triggers are real, not excuses for laziness or an expression of lack of care, that i will give as much as I can when I can.

Syd and Carmy are beginning to work towards this - Carmy says over and over again that he doesn't want to be shitty. Claire fucking muddies things, because I will not meet you skiving off to see your girlfriend with good faith fam. That shit he needs to be held accountable for. Dropping that envelope was a perfect Richie job, I'm still pissed about that. But being locked in the fridge... there's way more going on there.

The idea that Carmy should, and will, leave the culinary world keeps coming up in various metas. But... the problem isn't cooking? I think Carmy loves cooking, still. I think he likes being part of a team, and wants to be good at it. I think he likes teaching, and he is good at that. I think he likes picking the right silent plates and having his CDC in Thom Browne. I also think he likes being there a lot and being absorbed by his job.

The problem is that the workplace he is in is not one that is set up to his needs right now - it's not set up so that he can rest enough, so that he can eat well, so that he can exercise, or whatever he needs to do to help him manage his brain and nervous system. It's not set up so that if he is triggered, he and his team knows how to keep going with the service *and* not abandon him to the worst of his brain.

Ohhhh it's bad

Carmy ignoring Claire's call and not calling Tony feels bizarre stripped of the context of his panic attack that morning. But we know that anxiety and panic and executive dysfunction take simple things and make them insurmountable. It's not about Sydney in that moment, or even really about Claire*, and self sabotage feels so weighted with judgement when I think about what those frozen moments feel like from the inside. And I've had my diagnoses for 12 years! I've been doing that work, the long slog of trying to make sure my employees know enough context that my MH doesn't fuck up their day, whilst also maintaining my own dignity and right to privacy.

The disentangling of symptoms from personality traits is so hard - fuck ups from trauma responses, what was preventable, and what might have happened even if you did everything right. I never want to lose sight of compassion for Carmy, and the reality of how long it takes to break those cycles.

I also never want to stop seeing the power that he has over the people that he works with, and how, unfortunately, one of the responsibilities of leadership is that you have to be trying to get your shit together, you have to know yourself, and know how your baggage, combined with your power could be creating harm. It’s hard, but there’s not way around it. It is essential that he gets the support he needs, and puts the measures in place that means that he can also be vulnerable, not just for him, but for the team as whole. The power and the lack of framework together are so very harmful for everyone.

makes for delicious tv though 😉

I think a lot about the ticket machines in The Bear. I'm not thinking about them as a former line chef, cus I'm not that, I'm an artist and writer, that waitressed for a while (while a lot of chefs did a lot of coke out back!) and The Bear is fiction, not a documentary. Those little tickets are used for so many things. They're the sound of pressure. They're where a bunch of intrusive thoughts get flashed up on the screen. They are the presence of tech and of speed and alienation. They are the gap where two human beings, one asking for food, and one cooking that food, become consumer and producer. They are a presence of the machine in the workplace, and they stand in for Marcus's machines in McDonald's and for Evil Joel McHale and for financial failure.

One of the things that capitalism demands is that we always listen to that machine. That when we are making a choice, between the people stood around us, who we work with daily, who we live massive chunks of our life with, and the demand for production for go go go - that we choose the latter, even if it harms the former. That we open for service, even though one of our oldest friends just got stabbed. That we prioritise getting the service turned around on Friends and Family night (the easiest night of the year to go out, pour more wine, and say service is a little delayed, but we've got this), rather than maybe asking Fak or even Claire, to come and talk to Carmy through the door, as well, make sure that he's OK. That we just keep going.

And there are so many really important reasons to do that! Keeping going is how we learn and grow, it's how we make sure that we can pay the bills, how we provide beautiful experiences for customers and guests who are more than consumers to us.

But at some point, we have to ask at what cost. When do we stop and make different? When do we try something else, make new systems, that work for us?

A moment - a small, tiny moment - of triumph for me, is when Richie and Syd turn the table around. So rather than one person, facing the tickets alone, with their back to the kitchen as they yell out orders, the person on Expo faces in. yes they can see the tickets, but they can also see the people they are working with. They can see stress, and worry and joy. They can see how hard they are working. They can see that they are not alone, not just in a promise before service, but during service, when you need that connection most.

My hope is that Season 3 will have more of them making these decisions - ones that lean into seeing each other, where their relationships keep growing, and they build a system where the love and care they have for each other is truthfully at the heart of it.

Richie is not my bag, that's just for me, personally, but I get how much he means to others, and he's beautiful here.

*Man, I do think the romance subplot was a bit of a misstep. Pop always feels like such a waste of the audience's time, time not spent with Ebra and Tina, time spent on a presentation of romance that has been done to death and is never especially satisfying. Truncates a lot of empathy for Carmy. Boo. Hiss.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu

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raffe156 · 1 year

Note

ahh the headcanon of Tank cutting Prices Hair!! I can see it she’s threatening to give him a skin head if he looks up again 🤣🤣

A Kyle stops talking to Price because him a soap are next to get their hair trimmed a they don’t want skin heads!!

I imagine she cuts Ghosts hair in another room so no one’s but her sees his face - it’s his little time with her an no one else especially Price! he gets so many domestic feelings even thinks about her having his babies an how life would be with her as his 😩 loves how gentle she is with him…Can you tell I’m a Ghost and Tank supporter? 🤣💀

-💛

Ohhh Yeh 100%!!

I liked this one as well and decided to give it a quickie!

Bit sad 🥲💀

—————

“Kyle stop talking to him he keeps looking up!”

“He doesn’t have to look up he can just answer me yes or no?”

“Price just answer yes or no please…”

Price turned his head to glare at Kyle, but before their eyes connected you pushed his head down.

“If you look up one more time I’m going to shave the whole thing off…including the beard…”

“You wouldn’t dare kid….”

You buzzed the clipper right next to his cheek, making him jump.

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

He didn’t, he remained facing forward for the duration Kyle and Soap both sat in silence they were next Kyle didn’t want his fade messing up and Soap didn’t want a skinhead.

Kyle was done and as you finished trimming Soaps Mohawk, you caught Ghost lingering in the door way.

‘Want me to trim your hair big guy? Im done with Johnny now…ill kick em all out, just me and you” You gave him your best smile, it caused his heart to double in size. ‘Just you and him’ He nodded for soap to piss off, he didn’t need telling twice. Ghost closed the door behind Soap and Kyle warning them it wouldn’t be worth their lives if they came in. They believed him. Ghost sat in the chair, his thumbs hooked under his mask, why did he always get nervous taking it off…it was you, and this wasnt the first time you had seen his face and it was the second time you had cut his hair…but he was still hesitant…

“It’s ok…i can cut it another time don’t worry” You started to pack the clippers away. No he wanted you to do it, he whipped it off his head, causing his hair to all stand up on end. You let out a little laugh as you smoothed it down, it gave him goosebumps.

“It just needs a tidy up, ill use the scissors ok?”

“Ok..thank you” he turned his face slightly. You caught the glint of a little smile in his eyes.

Ghost loved the feeling of your hands on his head and how gentle you could be, he had once watched you choke a man half to death with the very same hands. You were now stood between his thighs trimming the front. Even sat down he was eye level with you. He watch you as you focused on every snip, you looked at him a little smile on your lips. Ghost couldn’t help thinking about how life would be with you as his girl…he closed his eyes his mind flashing images of you cutting his hair but you were both back in Manchester in a big apartment in the centre you heavily pregnant with your second baby boy, your other son clung to his leg he had your eyes and his hair but curly. Ghost picked him up sitting him on his lap he was a needy little thing, but he loved it loved the fact someone needed an wanted him, he loved the little unit he had built with you…but it all came crashing down as back in reality the door flung open…it was the last person Ghost wanted to see…the one person who stood in the way of his happy ever after with you…the one person who was the reason it could only ever be a fantasy….Price. “John!” You shouted standing in-front of Ghost shielding his face. “Sorry love…I thought you were done…forgot my hat…sorry Si ” You threw his hat at him and gave him the ‘I’ll deal with you later look’ he glanced quickly at Ghost, said his sorries and walked out. You sighed returning to stand back in between Ghost’s thighs. “Sorry about that…good news is im done, your free to go haha” But Ghost didnt want to be free he want to be trapped in his fantasy with you….

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mrprettywhenhecries · 5 months

Text

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

02. | Just a Coincidence, I Guess

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 5.3k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, masturbation, slight misogyny, attempted assault, pervy!gator, inexperienced virgin!gator, subby!gator to switch!gator pipeline, nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie ⇾ a/n: I know a lot of people write dark/dom!gator, but he's the subbiest sub to ever sub to me

Gator just keeps turning up, like a bad penny, but when he happens to be in the right place at the right time, saving Win from a would-be assailant, she can’t help but be grateful.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Oh fuck yeah, fuck, that feels so good, baby.”

Gator’s hand slipped down his length, fisting himself to the grainy video playing on his laptop screen. Several days later, their run-in was still fresh in his mind.

“Fuck, Winnie, you’re such a dirty girl, ain’tcha?” he drawled under his breath, his hips jerking up into his hand. “Suckin’ me off right out in the middle of the road. Shit—“ he groaned, remembering all too well the sweet way her doll eyes had flicked up to him, moaning as he’d flooded her velvety mouth with his spunk. She’d been feisty to begin with, but by the end she’d obeyed so nicely, showing him the mess he’d made before swallowing it down like a good girl.

Gator’s phone vibrated across the desk and he swore under his breath, speeding up desperately, not wanting to stop when he was so close, even though he knew Roy’d be pissed if he didn’t pick up promptly enough for his taste.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking hard of Win’s sweet mouth and seconds later he tensed, hips jerking as he spilled his load over his hand, shuddering as he milked the last of it and immediately grabbing his phone with his free hand and answering it, panting hard in the receiver.

“What took you so long? You go for a run or something?”

His father’s voice filled his ears and Gator fought to catch his breath. “Yeah, something like that,” he answered, wrinkling his nose as he reached for something to clean himself up with as Roy sighed through the phone, launching into the reason he’d called.

Gator listened distractedly, his mind still swirling with thoughts of her and how he might go about seeing her again.

“You listenin’ to me, son?”

Roy’s voice once more jerked him back to attention and he grimaced, sitting up in his chair. “Yeah, yeah, I heard yeh. I’ll be right there.”

It had been several days since Win’s little traffic stop, and ever since, it seemed every time she turned around, there was Deputy Tillman–in line at the bank when she stopped to deposit her paycheck, stalking the convenience store aisles while she payed for gas at the Revere, in the booth next to her at the shooting range, and finally, at the bar she worked at. At first he just watched, as if working up the courage to talk to her. It was kind of pathetic, though she supposed she couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing what to say.

What did you say to the girl who sucked you off to avoid getting a speeding ticket?

Unable to take it any longer, Win set a beer in front of where he sat at the bar, fiddling with his vape pen. “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me, Deputy.”

Gator jumped slightly, his brown eyes snapping up to her face before his brows pulled down and he grabbed the dark bottle in front of him. “What do you mean?” he asked, hunching over slightly to lean his elbows against the polished wood of the bar top.

“Cut the shit, Gator. You’ve been turning up everywhere I’ve been for the past few days,” Win scoffed, watching him expectantly, just waiting for him to deny it.

Gator shrugged, bringing the mouth of the bottle to his lips. “Just a coincidence, I guess,” he drawled, taking a swig and Win nodded, expecting it.

“I know what you’re doing, okay? And it ain’t gunna work,” she huffed, throwing him a level glare.

Gator’s brows rose and he spread his hands innocently, a hint of a grin gracing his features. “And what’s that?”

“You’re just following me around, hoping to get lucky again,” she answered, and Gator’s grin grew.

“You offering, Lewis?” he asked, tilting his head coyly.

Win crossed her arms over her chest as she rolled her eyes skyward. “Stop tryin’ to be cute.”

Gator blinked at her, his dark eyes flashing mischief.

“You think I’m cute?” he taunted, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Win opened her mouth, a scathing comeback on the tip of her tongue despite the warmth that rushed to her face, but before she could loose it, another patron stumbled up to the bar, interrupting them.

“Hey sweet thing,” he exclaimed obnoxiously, grinning at her as he leaned heavily against the bar next to Gator, ignoring him completely. “Think I could get a refill, doll?”

“Alright, this is your last one though,” Win sighed, grabbing the bottle of Jack from the shelf behind her and pouring a splash in the bottom of his tumbler before sliding it across the bar back to him. He caught it with a grin, but didn’t move to leave the bar just yet.

“So, I was wondering when your shift ends, and if you’re doing anything later,” the man drawled, looking pointedly at Win, causing Gator’s brows to furrow deeper, a scowl marring his features.

“Hey fella, we’re kinda in the middle of something here, actually, “ he huffed, turning on his barstool to size up the other guy.

“Yeah well, I wasn’t talking to you Deputy,” the man sneered back, noting the badge hanging against his chest.

Gator’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t respond, bringing his vape to his lips and taking a hit.

“So what do you say, doll?” the guy asked again, flashing Win a grin that didn’t impress.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans,” she replied and Gator couldn’t help but smirk at the look on the other guy’s face.

“You heard the lady, she’s not interested. Now if you’ll excuse us–” he drawled, blowing his cloud of scented water vapor at the man and lifting an eyebrow expectantly.

Grabbing his glass, the man sneered, looking between Win and Gator. “Ain’t like she’s going home with a loser like you,” he scoffed.

“Enough!” Win snapped and the man shot her a confused look. “I think you should leave,” she added, her voice level, though she was almost as surprised at herself for the flash of anger that had filled her when he’d called Gator a loser.

“You can’t make me!” the guy scoffed incredulously and Gator got to his feet.

“No, but I can,” he exclaimed. “So why don’t you get scarce? Unless you want me to drag you outta here in handcuffs?”

For a moment the man didn’t back down, puffing his chest out and holding Gator’s hard gaze before letting out a heavy snort and finally turning away, leaving his empty glass on the bar. As soon as the door shut behind him, Win let out the breath she’d been holding and turned her gaze back to Gator.

“Thanks,” she murmured, running her hand through her hair in relief. “I thought you were gunna actually have to cuff him for a second there,” she laughed.

“Me too,” Gator chuckled, finishing off the rest of his drink. “Y’know, if you really wanted to thank me, you could, uh, you know, take me home with you,” he said nonchalantly, leaning against the bar, a hopeful look on his face, and Win groaned, her amusement shifting to disgust.

“Really, Gator?” she exclaimed, throwing his empty bottle in the trash bin with more force than necessary. “And here I was starting to think you might actually be a half decent guy, but apparently you can’t even do anything nice without expecting something in return.”

Gator quickly opened his mouth to defend himself, but Win didn’t give him an opening, barreling on.

“Maybe your daddy shoulda named you after a different animal, you pig!”

“Win, wait! Shit–” he hissed under his breath as she stalked away to the other side of the bar, ringing the bell for last call while defiantly avoiding his gaze.

“Fuck,” he grunted, running his hand over his slicked back hair as he decided what to do, finally heading for the door.

Win watched him leave, chewing her lip. God, but she needed a cigarette.

For a moment, she wished she hadn’t stood up for him. He was a loser, but the hurt look in his eyes had felt like a kick in the stomach, and Win had acted on impulse. As much as she wanted to hate Gator, she couldn’t.

For a moment, he’d seemed so earnest, and then he’d gone right back to his misogynistic asshole self, and Win began to wonder which was the real Gator, and which was an act he put on.

Sighing, she put it out of her head. She needed to focus on closing up.

By the time Win stepped outside to lock the back door, all was quiet. A few lone cars sat parked in the lot, their occupants sleeping off their buzz before driving home, and Win paused to dig for her pack of Marlboro’s out of her jacket pocket, tapping one into her hand as her boots clicked across the asphalt.

Lighting her cigarette, she took a deep draw, watching the cherry burn brighter before a dark shadow waiting by her car brought her up short.

“Who’s there?” she called, wishing she hadn’t left her pistol in the glove compartment.

“Just waitin’ for you to get done, doll,” a voice drawled, the man from earlier stepping out of the darkness, showing his face.

“I told you, I already have plans. My friends are waiting,” she lied, discreetly positioning her keys between her knuckles as he took another step closer.

“I could show you a real good time,” he said, sucking his teeth, his voice slurring slightly. “You wouldn’t regret it.”

“Wish I could, but I’m already late,” Win replied, glad at least her voice didn’t waver, giving away how scared she was, her heart beating against her ribs like a bird in a cage.

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that, darlin’,” the man cooed, spreading his hands as he circled her.

“Stay back, I’m warning you!” Win exclaimed, getting ready to make a run for it.

The man’s smile only seemed to turn more predatory and fear shot through her like a bullet. Suddenly, a pair of blinding headlights flooded the night, and the rev of an engine was the only warning before the vehicle it belonged to charged straight at Win’s assailant, the bumper grazing him as he frantically dove out of the way.

Win stared at the car that had saved her, ‘Stark County Sheriff’ emblazoned on the driver’s side door before it opened and Gator stepped out, tipping his hat to her before circling the cruiser to grab the guy by the collar, punching him square in the face and knocking him out before cuffing him.

“Jesus fuck Gator!” Win cried, finally finding her voice as she hurried over, Gator throwing his arm out to keep her behind him as he reached for his two way, calling the dispatcher.

“10-26, I’ve got an assailant in custody outside Frankie’s Tavern, but I’m off duty. Can you have someone come pick this asshole up? The victim’s pretty shook up, I wanna make sure she gets home alright.”

Win opened her mouth to argue that she could drive home just fine, until she realized with chagrin that Gator was right, she was shaking like a leaf. The adrenaline that had flooded her veins moments ago was leeching away, leaving her shivering.

“You okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?” Gator asked, shrugging his leather jacket off to drape around her shoulders.

“No. No, he didn’t get close enough,” Win murmured distractedly, jumping slightly when she felt his jacket wrap around her, warmth seeping back into her, the scent of Gator’s Axe body spray filling her nostrils. “Thanks,” she mumbled distractedly, pulling the sides of the jacket tighter around her.

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” Gator murmured, leading her to the cruiser’s passenger door as another sheriff’s vehicle pulled into the parking lot. “I gotta go talk to my officer for a sec, I’ll be right back,” he said, holding the door open for her before going to meet the other cop, helping him haul the unconscious cuffed assailant into the back of his SUV.

Win couldn’t make out what the two were saying, but Gator glanced over at her several times, so she figured it had something to do with her.

It wasn’t long before the other officer nodded to Gator and the two parted ways, Gator climbing into his seat and shutting the door. “You doin’ okay?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Win as he put the car in drive.

“Yeah, m’fine,” she murmured, keeping her gaze on the dark windshield. “You know where you’re going?” she asked, wondering if he knew already exactly where she lived. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“It’s on Euclid, right?” he asked, turning off the main highway.

“Yeah.”

Gator nodded, drumming his fingers idly against the steering wheel.

“How often you drive past my place?” Win asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Gator snorted, his lips twitching. “Only a few times, had to make sure you weren’t getting into trouble,” he chuckled, sparing her a wry glance.

“Uh huh, sure,” Win countered doubtfully. “You sure you aren’t stalking me, Deputy?”

“I don’t care for that insinuation, Miss Lewis,” Gator drawled, the yellow light of the street lamps overhead illuminating his face as they passed. “I’m an officer of the law. My concern is purely professional.”

Win barked a laugh. “Professional, right,” she scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who accepted a blow job in exchange for a speeding ticket.”

“Hey, you were the one who offered,” he pointed out, reaching in his pocket for his vape pen. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the one trying to seduce me.”

“As if,” Win muttered, glad it was dark in the car so he couldn’t see the flush that rose to her cheeks. “Bet you just loved saving my ass tonight,” she huffed bitterly, shaking her head with a sigh.

Gator was silent for a moment, turning his face away to exhale his plume of sweet smelling vapor. “Ain’t gunna lie and say it didn’t feel good,” he admitted, adjusting his grip on the wheel, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“That don’t make you any less tough though,” he murmured, finally glancing at her, his words taking her by surprise.

“Hell, you’re probably one of the most capable girls I know. I’ve seen you at the shooting range, your aim’s about as good as mine.”

Win snorted, a grin tugging at her lips. “Almost? It’s better than yours,” she teased and Gator rolled his eyes, though he shared her grin, not refuting the fact.

Falling silent, he pulled into her drive and threw the cruiser into park. “You gunna be alright by yourself or…?” he asked after a moment, watching Win wring her hands silently in her lap.

“Uh…” she hesitated, waging an internal battle with herself for several seconds before cracking.

“Look, this isn’t because I owe you or anything, but… would you come inside with me for a bit? I just don’t wanna be alone right now,” she admitted, certain if she looked up, that he’d be wearing a smug grin, no doubt already thinking he’d be getting lucky, but Gator merely nodded, a concerned expression on his face.

“Yeah, course,” he murmured, turning the car off and unbuckling his seat belt.

As silly as it seemed, Win couldn’t help but feel a little safer as Gator’s shoulder brushed hers as he escorted her to the door. Fumbling with her key in the lock, she swore under her breath, hating the way her fingers trembled. Finally, the deadbolt turned and she shouldered the door open, reaching along the wall to flip on the light switch.

Gator’s eyes traveled the small living room that opened to an equally small kitchen and dining area, taking in every little detail and filing it away.

“Nice place,” he murmured, shifting his weight as Win locked the door behind them and toed off her scuffed boots.

“Thanks,” she replied, handing him back his jacket. Gator seemed to notice the way her hands shook and frowned.

“Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable and I’ll make us some coffee or something.”

Win hesitated, unsure if she should get too comfortable with Gator in her house, but she felt dirty after what had happened, and the idea of her pj’s did sound nice.

“Alright. Holler if you need anything,” she said, leaving him in her kitchen. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked away, but she fought the urge to glance back at him, and eventually she heard him turn on the tap and pop a coffee pod in her Keurig.

Stopping in the bathroom, Win splashed some water on her face and scrubbed her hands before heading to her room to strip, keeping her back to the door as she dressed, figuring she’d be quick enough not to bother shutting the door completely.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, but I saw some creamer in the fridge so I used that—“ Gator said, his words cutting off as he stopped in the doorway, two steaming mugs in hand, unabashedly watching as Win reached for her tank top.

A low whistle left his lips and Win quickly pulled her shirt over her head before turning to look at him, fixing him with a level look.

“Perv,” she muttered, though there was no heat to it and she took one of the mugs from his hand before sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Want some whiskey?” she offered, reaching for the half empty bottle on her night stand, unscrewing the lid and pouring a splash in her mug.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Gator chuckled, joining her at the edge of the bed and letting her spike his coffee as well.

Win shrugged, blowing on her drink before taking a sip. “I guess.”

“Really. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl like you before,” Gator murmured, wetting his lips, brown eyes flicking to grey.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Win teased, a sigh of relief leaving her lips as she wrapped her hands around the mug, the warm liquid burning pleasantly down her throat, warming her inside and out.

Gator snorted into his mug. “Why do you always doubt me, huh? It’s hurtful,” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Maybe I like messin’ with you,” Win murmured, the whiskey dulling her inhibitions. “You get cute when you’re all huffy,” she admitted.

“I’m not cute,” Gator scoffed, his expression twisting in offense, though a dusting of pink crept up his neck. “Cute ain’t manly.”

“You seemed to be fine with me calling you that earlier,” Win pointed out, rolling her eyes and taking another drink.

Gator grimmaced. “That was different.”

Silence fell and Gator looked down at his mug, searching for something else to say, not wanting the moment to end yet.

“Noticed your sweet gaming setup out there,” he said, nodding toward her living room. “Didn’t know you were a gamer.” He sounded kind of impressed.

“I wouldn’t say that, but I do enjoy a good first person rpg,” Win replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Lemme guess, your game of choice is COD?”

“Nothin’ more satisfying after a long day than kickin’ some ass and rackin’ up some headshots,” Gator boasted, making Win snort in amusement.

“Oh my God, you are such a dude bro.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Gator exclaimed, gaping at her. “You’re the one who thinks I’m cute!” he pointed out and her mouth fell open.

Setting her mug down, she poked him in the side, grinning as he yelped, and soon she was trying to fight his hands away in his attempt to get her back, the two of them ending up falling back to the bed in laughter.

For a long moment, Win laid there, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, heat washing through her as she watched Gator’s face. He really was cute, especially when he laughed.

He’d managed to take her mind off the events from the night, and now all she could think about was how close he was. All she had to do was lean in and she’d be able to press her lips to his. His eyes flicked up to hers expectantly, pupils dilating with want, but he didn’t move, waiting for her to decide.

“Oh fuck it,” Win whispered, her lips crashing into his before she could think better of it.

Gator groaned, reacting instinctually, his hands clutching at her hips to pull her closer as he kissed her fervently, swallowing her surprised moan as his tongue invaded her mouth, writhing and rolling against hers.

Overwhelmed by his eagerness, she bit down, just hard enough to elicit a hiss from him before sucking on his tongue, a strand of saliva connecting them when she finally pulled back to gasp a breath. Gator chased her retreating lips, not ready to break the kiss yet.

Hungry for more, he nipped at her bottom lip as his hand slipped under her tank top, his palm greedily sliding up her stomach til it found her warm breast, her nipple already a hard peak, nestled between two smooth ball bearings and he moaned deep in his throat.

“Didn’t know your tits were pierced,” he breathed, pushing her shirt up the rest of the way, wanting to see them. Tweaking her piercing, his mouth fell open as Win let out a gasp that turned to a moan as his mouth descended hungrily on her nipple, his tongue swirling around it before flicking it playfully.

“Gator—“ she whined, grinding against his thigh that found its way between her legs, the lean muscle putting just enough pressure against her aching cunt to earn her a little relief, but not enough.

As soon as his mouth left her nipple to switch to the other breast, the cool air against his left over saliva sent Win’s skin pebbling and she arched against him, running her fingers through his slicked back hair, uncaring if she messed it up, her nails biting lightly into his scalp.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Gator mumbled as he sat up to get a look at her, her arms thrown back against her head and her bare chest heaving. “Want you so bad,” he groaned, his voice breaking.

“Strip,” Win ordered, pulling her own shirt off and tossing it away before slipping her pyjama pants and damp cotton panties down.

For a moment, Gator didn’t move, his gaze trained on her naked body until Win tugged at his tight black t-shirt, practically ripping it off him as he fumbled at his belt and cargo pants.

Knowing what to expect when his cock finally sprung free, Win swallowed, her mouth watering, remembering the weight and feel of it on her tongue and she couldn’t help but wonder how good his girth would feel inside her, stretching her. Despite her reputation, it had been a while since she’d slept with anyone.

“Like what you see?” Gator boasted, noticing the look on her face and Win pulled him closer, her lips colliding with his to shut him up as she grabbed his hand and guided it between her thighs, needing to be touched.

“Oh fuckkk,” Gator groaned into her mouth as his fingers explored her dripping folds. “You’re so wet,” he marveled, his cock twitching against her stomach and Win opened her legs wider for him, rolling her hips against the heel of his palm.

For a moment his thumb slipped up too high and Win let out a frustrated huff. “Here,” she breathed, guiding his fingers to her clit. “Right there, little circles,” she gasped, electricity coursing through her as he obeyed, careful to follow her movements over her sensitive nub, exploring and tucking the knowledge away.

When his digits delved deeper inside her, his own hips grinding desperately against her, slick pre cum leaking from his pink head, Win gasped. “Curl them,” she instructed, moaning loudly when his fingertips grazed her spongy g-spot. “That’s where you wanna hit with your fingers or cock,” she breathed, kissing him deeper, tasting the warmth of the whiskey from the coffee on his tongue.

“Want you inside me, Gator,” she whined, wanting more than his fingers, her entire body aflame with need.

“Yeah? Want my cock, Winnie?” he drawled, kissing down her neck as he continued to pump his fingers into her, her cunt squelching noisily around them. “You’re such a little slut for me, aren’tcha?” he teased, latching onto her pulse point and sucking hard, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Win let out a hiss. “You leave a mark where anyone can see and I’m decking you, Tillman,” she grumbled, but her threat was undermined by the moan that bubbled up from her chest as she said it.

“What? Don’t wantin’ anyone knowin’ I own this pussy?” Gator chuckled darkly before yelping in surprise as Win pushed him to his back and threw her leg over his hips, straddling him.

“You don’t own me, Gator,” she growled, slipping his length between her folds only to grind against him, not letting him into her yet. “No one does,” she added, watching with pleasure at the way his brown eyes pleaded with her, a string of needy moans leaving his pretty mouth.

“What was that?” she cooed condescendingly and Gator’s fingers bit into her hips where he grasped her.

“Jesus Christ, just fuck me, Winnie, please!”

“Oooh if your daddy could hear you now,” she teased, but relented, reaching between them to grasp his length and position it at her entrance.

Whatever retort Gator had ready on his tongue was quickly swallowed as Win lowered herself slowly onto him, allowing her time to adjust while careful not to make him cum too soon. That would be a waste, and though she’d deny it, she wanted to show him a good first time. She’d never taken anyone’s virginity before.

“Holy shit—“ Gator whined, trying to buck up into her impatiently, his eyes rolling up into his head as she sheathed him. “Shit, oh shitttt you feel good,” he breathed, a flush creeping up his neck and chest.

“You’re so cute like this,” Win whispered, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before moving her hips, riding him in earnest.

Gator couldn’t seem to formulate words for a moment, a slew of needy whines and groans the only sounds leaving his kiss swollen lips. His hands roamed her body, slipping up her hips and around her back, pulling her down against him as she ground down on his cock, relishing the friction where their bodies came together.

“Need to feel you,” he mumbled, kissing her sloppily as he held her against his chest, the warmth of her feverish skin against his exactly what he wanted. “Oh Win,” he whimpered, moving in time with her, the way he moaned her name going straight to her head.

Fuck, but she wanted to ruin him, wanted to be ruined by him.

With a gasp, Win fell to her back, Gator rolling atop her, taking the lead while she was distracted. “Wanna fill this pretty pussy,” he growled, taking her by surprise by his sudden burst of dominance and Win’s breath hitched.

Desperate to finish, his hips snapped into hers, the room filling with their staccato breaths and the slap of skin on skin. Afraid he was gunna cum and leave her hanging, Win quickly slipped her hand between them to desperately rub her clit, letting out a cry as the added stimulation drove her to the precipice.

“Holy shit—“ Gator hissed as Win’s cunt clamped tighter around him, her velvety walls fluttering and contracting deliciously.

“C-can I—?” he choked out, his thrusts turning jerky.

“Yes! Cum inside me. On the pill,” she managed to stutter, that familiar heat licking up her body as her muscles tensed, the spring inside her gut snapping and spilling over.

“Fuck, Gator—!” she cried, her back arching as she came and he pounded into her until his cock swelled, suddenly spilling his load inside her, a high pitched whine leaving his lips as he tensed, twitching and spasming before he collapsed atop her, completely spent.

Realizing he was probably crushing her, Gator rolled off her to his back, panting heavily as he caught his breath, his dark hair in complete disarray and a sheen of sweat coating his pale skin.

“How was that, huh?” he asked, rolling to his side and propping himself up on his elbow as he watched Win pull the sheets up around her chest, a hint of insecurity hiding behind the bravado in his voice.

Win laughed, letting her head loll against her pillow as she turned toward him. “It wasn’t bad,” she replied, a small grin playing at her lips as Gator’s brows furrowed.

“Not bad?” he huffed, gaping at her. “You were practically screaming my name by the end!” he pointed out smugly and Win rolled her eyes, her fingers trailing mindlessly down his chest, counting the small moles that littered his body.

“Yeah yeah, don’t let it go to your head, Tillman,” she murmured. “I was the one doing most of the work, remember? Better not go fallin’ in love with me just cause I took your virginity,” she joked.

“I’m not!” he spluttered, hesitating, his brows scrunching up further. “I just… wanna know if it might happen again, that’s all,” he mumbled, avoiding Win’s gaze, which turned distant at his words.

“I don’t know… It would probably be better if it didn’t,” she muttered, sitting up and reaching for his vape pen, needing a hit of nicotine to calm her sudden rush of nerves.

“Why?” Gator countered, pushing himself up as well. “What’re you so afraid of, Winnie, that you might actually start to like me?” he scoffed, a bitter note to his low voice.

“Oh c’mon, you’re exactly the sort of guy that I should stay far away from,” Win huffed, letting her eyes flutter shut as she exhaled, the vapor curling lazily around her parted lips.

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Gator demanded, not backing down, a hurt look contorting his face.

Win fought the urge to look at him, knowing if she did, she’d lose her nerve. “Hell, Gator, look at us. It ain’t like we got all that much in common!” she pointed out, chewing her lip.

Gator snorted, glancing around her room at the band posters covering her walls, many of them bands he himself listened to, thinking of all the other little things they shared in common. “From where I’m lookin’, it kinda does,” he muttered, his eyes boring into her back and Win growled in frustration.

“I mean, like our fundamental principles,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t like you,” she insisted quietly, more to herself than to him and Gator watched her, realization dawning on him.

“But you do,” he whispered.

Win grimaced, finally looking at him, not wanting to admit it, and a grin slowly spread across his face, tugging at his chapped lips.

“You like me,” he repeated, his voice turning insufferably smug once more.

Win felt an angry rush of heat fill her face and quickly looked away again, not wanting him to see. “Will you shut up?” she huffed halfheartedly, but Gator only laughed, reaching over to turn her face toward him, his grin melting away.

“Give me a chance, Win. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

Helpless, Win searched his face as she bit her lip, knowing he already had.

“Alright,” she finally breathed, heaving a heavy sigh. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t.” Gator leaned in to kiss her softly, grinning against her lips as his callused thumb brushed her cheek.

“Think you’re up for round two?” he murmured, arching an eyebrow at her when he finally pulled back.

“Jesus Gator, you’re insatiable,” Win huffed, but she didn’t protest when he rolled her to her back, reaching between her legs with a needy groan.

⇾ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @b1tchy3lf @heartbreak-sandwich

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #gator tillman fanfiction #fargo #fargo fx #fargo s5 #oc: win lewis #joz.fic #fic: don’t waste your time on me #otp: wingator

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