#agitated in a quiet way. because it's michael and he's still so quiet after all of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bridgertonbabe · 1 year

Note

Okay… I gotta ask…

Who did Sophie punch? Who’s brother? I’m assuming it wasn’t a bridgerton so it leaves either John or George?

Can we get the story behind that please and thank you 🥰🥰

It was George Crane. In this AU he is alive and well but is an absolute dick to his younger brother.

For the first couple of months of their first year at Hogwarts a fourth year from Gryffindor constantly picked on Phillip whenever they were moving through the corridors to get to their next class. The cocky older boy would intentionally walk straight into Phillip and knock his books out of his hand before he went off laughing accompanied by a couple of his mates. Colin and Michael told Phillip to pay the older boy no mind, saying he wasn't worth losing sleep over, though Sophie noticed just how solemn and quiet her friend became after each of these interactions.

However the problem continued to escalate particularly when Phillip wasn't accompanied by Colin and Michael. One afternoon he and Sophie had been working on homework together in the library when the older boy appeared and pretended to "accidentally" spill a jar of ink all over Phillip's freshly finished essay.

"Stop it!" Sophie stood up, agitated by her friend's bully and refusing to take Phillip's mistreatment lying down.

"Ha! Oh this is hilarious! Ickle pipsqueak's got to get a girl to fight his battles for him!"

Sophie detested the bully for being so horrible to Phillip but fortunately before anything else happened the school librarian bustled over and ordered the fourth year to get out of her library. Once he was gone Sophie helped Phillip clean up and urged him to go to Professor Danbury to tell her he was being picked on but Phillip refused, insisting he was fine and he could handle himself.

But still, the bullying continued and after another week Sophie simply couldn't stand to see her friend getting picked on and after talking it over with Colin and Michael the three of them went to Professor Danbury to tell her all about Phillip's ordeal. They described the Gryffindor fourth year to their headteacher and Colin was sure his name was George - but what they weren't expecting was their professor's response.

"I see. So George Crane has been bullying his younger brother. I'll write to their mother at once to let her know and then I'll reprimand George for his behaviour."

Phillip's three friends couldn't believe he was being picked on by his own brother and they immediately went to find him. They explained what they had done and initially Phillip was angry at them as he said they had just made things worse. He had become visibly distressed and he began to tremble before Sophie hugged him and Colin and Michael followed, engulfing their friend in a group hug. The love and support he was shown by his friends ended up with Phillip tearing up before he began to explain his family situation to them.

Growing up George was their father's golden boy, taking after him in every way and being the son to be proud of because of his outgoing character and his talent for sports and physical activity. Meanwhile Phillip was the opposite; shy, retiring, and preferred reading his herbology books and spending time planting flowers in the garden with his mother. At home George wasn't Phillip's biggest bully - it was his father, who ridiculed him for being a pansy, for being a soft touch, and for being a poor excuse of a son simply because he didn't live up to George's standards. Because of his own father's inherent distaste for him, Phillip was worried that by writing to his mother to tell her about the bullying that his father would find out and only resent him more.

After hearing their friend pour his heart out to them, Sophie, Colin, and Michael went back to Professor Danbury and filled her in on what Phillip had told them, asking her if there was some sort of way she could resolve the issue without getting Phillip into further trouble back home with his father. As disheartened as Professor Danbury was to hear about Phillip's suffering by his own father's hands, she understood where the poor boy was coming from and decided to help him in an alternative way.

Firstly she had means of punishing George Crane without it being directly as a result of his bullying of Phillip alone. Seeing as he favoured practicing for Quidditch instead of completing his homework she got his head of year to suspend him from the Gryffindor team until he had improved his grades. There was also the matter of George picking on younger years in general in all his bull-headed arrogance, and she had enough reports back from the prefects patrolling the hallways to give him detention for his overall terrible behaviour.

Meanwhile, Danbury knew that Mary Sharma used to be friends with Amanda Crane and through her arranged a meeting. She informed Phillip's mother about one of her sons being bullied by the other and the news greatly upset her. As Amanda lamented and beat herself up for allowing George to get away with such behaviour, Danbury began to realise that Phillip wasn't the only member of the Crane family who was being bullied. Phillip's father had been putting his wife down and making her feel small for years, controlling her to be a stay at home mother, isolating her from her friends, and barking orders at her. Danbury recognised a woman who very much needed as much help as her youngest son did and slowly but surely she developed a friendship with her, as well as getting Mary Sharma to rebuild her own rapport with the woman, and over the next couple of years they rebuilt her confidence to get her to the point where she finally had the strength and courage to leave her husband.

But while that was going on, back at Hogwarts the bullying receded for a time. However, upon their return in second year and after a long summer holiday stuck at home with his brother, Phillip was once again being mercilessly picked on by George. He tried his best to ignore his brother but the constant taunts of "pipsqueak" ceased to let up.

One lunchtime in the grounds of the school the Awesome Foursome were minding their business when George sauntered over with his group of snickering mates for the intents and purposes of humiliating his younger brother. Colin and Michael told the group to fuck off but they were simply laughed at.

"Why do you have to be such a jerk?!" Sophie got to her feet and shouted. "What kind of fifth year has to pick on his own brother to make himself feel better?"

"Oi, pipsqueak. I'd put your little fairy friend in a jar if I were you." George chortled and completely disregarded her.

"Don't talk over me like I'm not here!" Sophie stamped her foot and managed to get George's attention (even if he and his mates were blatantly sniggering at her). "And stop being a bully!"

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?" George laughed and looked to his brother. "Wow, pipsqueak; how embarrassing is it that you have to get a girl to defend you? Are you really weak and pathetic?"

And then all Sophie saw was red - and without even thinking her fist collided with George's face. It was remarkable just how loud Sophie socking him in the face was, and it was even more incredible how her one single punch sent him sprawling to the ground.

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared in shock; Colin, Michael, and Phillip gaped at the sight of Sophie towering above George; George's friends had suddenly stopped laughing and were gawping at their mate lying on the ground; Sophie's lips were parted in growing horror as she processed what she had just done as she watched blood starting to trickle from his nose; and as for the fifth year she had just punched? George Crane's eyes began to water, his bottom lip wobbled, and a choked sob escaped his lips before he scrambled to his feet and ran off, with his friends trailing after him in bewilderment.

"Holy shit, Soph!" they suddenly heard Anthony Bridgerton exclaim.

Sophie jumped round as Anthony and Benedict ran over to them and she realised they had witnessed the entire thing.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Benedict beamed with delight at her.

"That's made my whole year, that has." Michael began to laugh, slapping his thigh for good measure.

"Oh god." Sophie swallowed. "I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"What trouble?" Colin snorted. "Putting a bully in his place?"

"But what if he tells on me?" she fretted - only to be met with a roar of laughter from the Bridgerton brothers and Michael.

"Sophie; Crane isn't going to breathe a word to anyone about what just happened." Anthony shook his head. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" she shrugged.

"Because he'd then have to admit he got punched by a girl. And how's that going to fit in with his jock persona?"

"Yeah trust us, Sophie; the last thing he's going to do is tell anyone about it." Benedict nodded.

"But what if he starts targeting me now? Or making Phillip's life worse?" she worried and sent a look of guilt over at her awestruck friend, who had yet to speak since he had witnessed her striking down his big brother.

"He won't. He definitely won't." Benedict reassured her.

"And if he does, he'll have another thing coming." Anthony stated.

"Yeah; Sophie's left fist." Colin quipped and Michael and his brothers burst into laughter again.

"Phil?" Sophie turned to the friend she had defended. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I-"

But she got cut off by Phillip engulfing her in the tightest hug she had ever received.

"Thank you." he uttered.

And despite Sophie's worry that George Crane might up the ante after being punched, the very opposite occurred. The bullying stopped altogether and around Hogwarts they barely crossed paths with him - and when they did, George would take one look at Sophie and duck out of the way to avoid her. As strange as it felt to be feared by someone, Sophie couldn't help but be a little tickled that she had managed to scare a bully off with just one single punch to the face.

#asks #harry potter au #sophie beckett #phillip crane #george crane

13 notes · View notes

lebenspurpur · 3 years

Text

the L-word

|Michael|

the unspoken kind

The smell of the cooked stew on the oven made their stomach rumble. A little bit of oregano, some pepper and paprika were still missing. They hummed while they added the spices. Grabbing a wooden spoon, they stirred the food in the giant pot. They felt like a wizard brewing his potion and the thought made them giggle.

It was dark outside, the chirping of crickets the only sound at this time of the evening. They looked out of their window, hoping to spot a familiar white mask staring back at them but no one met their gaze.

Sighing they walked back to the oven.

A man stepped out of the shadows, stalking their form hunched over the kitchen counter. Knife tight in his hand, he trudged forwards for a better view. The eyes behind his mask lovingly grazed over their familiar expressions and body. The way their eyes glimmered and the corners of their lips curved up, it made him... happy? The familiarity of their movements reassured and calmed him in ways he couldn't explain.

The man sighed and shook his head. He turned and walked towards the main door. "I love you." he thought as he let himself in, "I fucking love you.".

|Vincent|

the quiet kind

They were fast asleep, their chest rose with every deep breath they took. Their hair was splattered all over the pillow. Their expression one made out of bliss.

Vincent laid next to them, head propped up on his arm. The air felt cold on his exposed face but he smiled. His eyes never left their face, admiring their beauty and studying their appearance. In his mind he sketched their body, trying so hard to express the peaceful state they were in right now.

Vincent extended a hand and pushed a loose strand of hair out of their face. His fingers rested on their cheek a bit longer, feeling their warmth. He couldn't help but let his hand wander. It traveled down to their neck, over their sternum and down to their abdomen. He tried to remember every single detail, every scar and every mole he met.

Retreating his hand he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to their forehead. They stirred in their sleep and smiled a little. Vincent let his head fall on the mattress next to their face and hid his bashful smile in their neck.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed their neck lovingly, "so much.".

|Bo|

the heated kind

Their eyebrows furrowed and he rolled his eyes at them. Their shouting made his ears hurt. He wanted it to stop.

So he shouted back, anger and annoyance clearly audible in his voice.

Tears suddenly dwelled in their eyes and they grew silent. Bo felt a shock of pain go through his heart at the sight and rushed forward. His arms quickly caught them and even though they scratched and hit him he didn't let go.

He let them cry in his chest and they slowly stopped trying to escape. Bo still tightened his grip and lovingly caressed their back and hip.

He attached his lips to their hair and closed his eyes, "I'm sorry darlin'. You know I love you. I'm so sorry.".

|Lester|

the proud kind

Bo flinched at the sound of their angry voice shouting at him. He tried to interfere and say something but they threw him a burning glance and he shut his mouth. Motioning with their hands, they argued with him until Bo let his head hang low and muttered a silent apology.

They smiled proudly and put their hands to their hips. Sending a Bo a last hateful look, they turned around and marched towards Lester.

Their steps were energetic and proud and they grinned upon seeing Lester grin. As soon as they reached him he opened his arms and enveloped them in a hug, pressing his forehead against theirs in the process.

"Wow." he said breathlessly and sent them a proud grin, "I love you.".

|Baby|

the flirty kind

She circled her hips and watched them shamelessly gaze at the movements of her hips. Giggling she gripped the pole and swung around, her pretty body moving in ways god never intended it to.

Their eyes never left Baby's body as she finished her performance with a split. They applauded jokingly and she giggled as she arose from the uncomfortable position.

Baby walked down the stage and into the empty room, her only visitor being them. They smiled at her as she approached their seat.

Then they extended their arms and Baby gladly took the offer, sinking down on their lap. Her forehead rested on their shoulder and they wrapped their arms around her. She smiled mischievously and slowly kissed their neck. Leaving little bites here and there her lips slowly moved up to their mouth. Baby finally pressed a passionate kiss on their lips, biting their lip in the process.

"I love you." she then stated and winked at them, "I love you very much.".

|Otis|

the annoyed kind

Otis couldn't help but rest his forehead in his hands upon seeing them try to grab something from the upper shelf. While their darted out tongue and concentrated expression was adorable, he still felt amusement at their blindness. There was literally a stool right next to them yet here they were, on their tiptoes trying to reach the box of cereal with their finger tips.

They smiled upon seeing Otis' expression and giggled, "Oh no, seems like I can't reach my food. What a tragedy that there's no strong man around to help me.".

Otis now groaned but he stepped forwards and grabbed their hips. Lifting them up a few inches they snatched the cereal and he let them down again. Turning around, they pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and chuckled. "Thank you strong man," they thanked him jokingly. "I love you." they then added and gave him a proper kiss.

The white haired man groaned again and rolled his eyes, "Whatever”, he grumbled the last part quietly, “I love you too."

|Billy Loomis|

the surprised kind

Stu groaned at Billy's agitated rumbling about something. He always ended up like this. As soon as he found something to talk about he didn't stop, especially when the topic was Horror-movies.

Stu grimaced at them and stood up. After quickly saying goodbye Billy immediately started rambling again. They couldn't help but chuckle at his excited expression.

Billy looked up at the sound and stopped mid-sentence. They were actually listening to him. Oh wow.

He was used to people ignoring his words when he got excited about something. That usually led to him shutting up about his personal interests but they were actually listening to him.

He chuckled in surprise and leaned forward to kiss them. They kissed back, surprised at the sudden passionate action.

Billy leaned back a few inches and laughed again, astonishment audible in his voice. His forehead rested against theirs and he smiled, "I fucking love you.".

|Stu Macher|

the loving kind

They laid on on the grass, fingers intertwined and eyes gazing up at the stars in the sky. It was early in the morning or very late in the evening, it depends on how you want to see the situation.

After a while Stu's head turned and he looked at their side profile. They smiled and tried to ignore his gaze wandering over their features.

A few seconds later their head turned as well and their eyes met his. They grinned, "Why are you staring at me, you're supposed to look at the stars.".

Stu just smiled back and extended his hand to cup their cheek.

"I love you." he whispered quietly and they turned around, giggling like a lovesick teenager.

|Brahms|

the needy kind

"Y/N..." the brunette whined, their name drawn out to annoy them. Brahms didn't get an answer.

He crossed his arms and pouted, "Y/N... pretty pleaseee..." he mewled again and they sighed.

Brahms noticed that they were slowly breaking and smirked. "Y/N.." he tried one last time, this time seductively.

They stopped what they were doing and slammed their hands down. "What Brahms?" they said, reserved anger visible and audible.

"Don't you think I should get some attention? I think I deserve some. Y/N I love you and you love me and lovers usually give each other attention. Pretty please Y/N." Brahms begged now, his eyes pleadingly focused on their face.

They sighed and dropped the rug they've been cleaning with. Brahms squealed as they walked over to him and opened his arms. A smug grin was visible on his face as their body hit his in a hug.

|Josef|

the outraged kind

Their sigh sounded annoyed and Josef gulped.

"Josef we've talked about this." they said while massaging their temples.

"I know, I know but look at it. Isn't it pretty?" he wrapped an arm around their shoulders, "I made it for you.". The smile he send them after the sentence was proud and loving.

"But why Josef? Why?" they said, resignation in their voice.

Josef let go of their shoulder and sent them an outraged look.

"Why?" he repeated and scoffed, "Because I love you?". Outraged he turned around and pouted.

They laughed at his temper tantrum and hugged him from behind. Their head rested on his back, "I love you too, you man-child.".

|Thomas|

the shy kind

It was warm but not too hot, a nice change. Summer in Texas was always horrible but the evenings were okay. Cold wind caressed their faces and the scent of cigarettes hit their nose.

Thomas was sitting next to them on the porch, eyes closed and mask off. He looked so calm, so relaxed. It made their heart swell.

They slowly snuck over to him, a playful smile painting their features. Thomas opened his eyes as they sat on his laps and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Turning red, he wrapped his arms around them and placed his chin on their shoulder.

They smiled and placed their fingers on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

Thomas hummed in appreciation. He whispered a quiet "I love you." against their skin and they laughed quietly.

Pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, they chuckled quietly "I love you too, big boy.".

654 notes · View notes

harley-sunday · 2 years

Text

No Regrets [03]

Summary: The rules they set were simple: friends with benefits. But are they really friends? And what exactly are the benefits? Starts after Daniel’s third place in 2017 Monaco Grand Prix and ends at the 2021 Zandvoort Grand Prix.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader [unnamed OFC]

Warnings: Language. Smut. Rough sex. Daniel's a bit of an asshole. 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

AN: Sorry for the long wait on this one! It was A. Struggle. but then somehow I found my flow today and here we are. This takes place after the 2017 Hungary GP. Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

Zandvoort, September 2021

When she throws him a wink and tells him she's almost, but not quite, ready for round three he feels a sense of relief wash over him, happy that he gets to hold her in his arms a little longer.

It's nice.

It's also completely against the rules but he sure as hell isn't going to bring that up now. And he hopes she doesn't either.

Monaco, July 2017

“You ok?”

“Yep,” his voice is clipped and he would be surprised if Michael believed him, but his friend doesn’t comment on it any further, instead informing him that there’s already a car waiting for them. He takes the backpack Michael held onto during the meeting he just got out of and slings it over one shoulder, head down as he makes his way outside, walking past the gathered press without paying any attention to the questions that are being asked. Red Bull’s PR team can deal with those, he decides as he opens the car door and slides into the back seat. Michael joins him not much later but still doesn’t say anything and so the ride to Budapest airport is spent in silence after a few futile attempts at smalltalk from the guy driving the car.

Even though Max apologised for yesterday’s incident during the team’s debrief and then again during the team meeting this morning, Daniel’s still angry, still upset that a rookie mistake from his teammate cost him a chance at the race, and so there’s a lot of built up tension that he knows he should get out of his system before he gets home. Problem is, he doesn’t know how.

He isn’t usually one to hold on to grudges, but something about the way the team handled this, calling it a racing incident instead of putting the blame on Max, doesn’t sit right with him and he can feel himself getting angry again just by thinking about it. At least he’ll have some time away from it all, he thinks wryly, what with summer break having started and at least two weeks of relative peace and quiet. Maybe that will help him clear his head before the second half of the season starts.

“You have to let it go, mate,” Michael says after a while, not looking up from his phone and not for the first time does Daniel wonder how his friend always seems to know exactly what is going on in his mind even though right now it’s annoying as fuck. “I doubt Max is still-”

“Don’t,” Daniel growls, not wanting to hear it. Not now.

It's then the car pulls up to the airport and before Michael has a chance to say anything else Daniel's out of the car and collecting his things.

***

The long wait at the airport, which he spent by himself because Michael took a direct flight to London - something else to add to the list of things to fuel his pity party even though deep down he knows it's unfair to his best friend - a two-hour delay, and an airplane full of screaming and crying kids all do nothing to better his mood and so by the time he lands in Nice he's even more agitated than before and desperately looking for ways to get out of his own head.

If Michael were here he’d probably tell Daniel to let off some steam, go to the gym, maybe have him do some guided meditation or a boxing session to clear his mind. But with his best friend in London and the summer break just having started, there’s no one or nothing to stop him from making any of the bad decisions he’s no doubt going to make once he gets home and so on the drive back from Nice to his apartment he’s already busy making plans that he’ll most likely regret in the morning. Anything to take his mind off the shitshow that happened this past weekend.

***

He only stays in his apartment long enough to drop his bags somewhere in the living room and to take a quick shower before he heads back out into town and finds himself at La Rascasse not much later. The maître D, a new girl with a smile as fake as her boobs, pretends she doesn’t know him when she asks him if he’s reserved a table in advance even though he can tell by the way she tries just a little too hard to keep her cool she knows exactly who he is. He’s not one to play the ‘Do you know who I am’ card but he’s about to after she tells him to wait in line with another one of her fake smiles, the bad mood he’s in definitely not helping his usual patient demeanor.

It’s then he hears his name being called from inside the club and sees the owner, Guillaume, waving him over with a smile. He throws the girl a look that he knows is pure venom as he passes her before he meets up with his friend inside the club.

“Salut, mon ami,” Guillaume says before he gives him a hug. “I saw the race yesterday, can’t say I was expecting you here-”

“I know,” Daniel says with a curt smile, effectively cutting him off.

Guillaume seems to understand and tells him to follow him with a nod of his head. He leads Daniel towards the back of the room where it’s a little more quiet, albeit not by much and so he starts to wonder if he even should have come here. Maybe it would have been better to stay at home and sulk. Still, he takes the glass of red wine and the selection of finger food Guillaume offers him not much later, figuring he’s going to need to eat at some point.

He has just taken his first bite when a group of women approach his table, giggling like schoolgirls, the boldest of them asking him if they can get a picture with him. He wants to tell them to fuck off, to leave him the fuck alone, but he knows he can’t and so he gets up and puts on his public smile and cracks a few jokes while the pictures get taken.

Two of the women linger behind, while the rest of the group heads to the bar for another round of drinks, and start to ask him about yesterday’s race even though he can tell from their questions they aren’t really interested. He can see another group of people approaching him out of the corner of his eye, pointing and gawking at him as if he’s a fucking caged animal in a zoo and he decides right then and then that he’s had enough and so he excuses himself, muttering something about somewhere he needs to be and sets off to find Guillaume so he can pay and head home.

“Don’t worry about it, Daniel,” Guillaume tells him not much later, in that thick French accent that normally he loves but now just annoys the shit out of him despite the friendly pat on his back Guillaume gives him. “This one’s on me.”

“Thanks.”

“You can go out through the kitchen,” Guillaume offers, because of course he’s seen what happened.

“Thanks, mate,” Daniel says again but this time he means it, and shakes Guillaume’s hand before he sets off.

He allows himself a few deep breaths once he gets outside but it doesn’t help and so he lets out a quiet, “Fuck,” more angry at himself now than at anyone else for letting this get to his head so much. Well, anyone except Max, he thinks, because the Dutchman is still very much to blame for his overall mood, his anger flaring up again when his mind starts to replay what happened yesterday.

He needs a quick release, he decides during his walk home and before he knows what he’s doing his phone is in his hands and he’s scrolling through his contact list until he gets to her name. His thumb hovers over the call button for just a second before he presses down, choosing not to listen to the voice in his head that asks him if this really is a good idea.

“Daniel,” she sounds a little surprised but not in a bad way. Or so he likes to believe anyway. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice a little clipped because he could do without the pleasantries. “Listen,” he says as he sidesteps a couple that has decided to take a selfie in the middle of the street, “Do you have any plans tonight?”

She lets out a laugh, “I guess I do now.”

“Good girl,” he tells her, his voice low. “My place in ten?”

“Make that fifteen?”

He rolls his eyes even though she can’t see him, “Fine.”

“Hey. I could also be there in ten, champ, no problem,” she replies and he can just hear the grin in her voice, “but then you’re gonna have to deal with hairy legs and hairy armpits and-”

“Yeah, nah,” he all but growls, “see you in fifteen.”

***

The sound of the doorbell pulls him out of his thoughts exactly fifteen minutes later and without saying anything he buzzes her into the building, leaving his front door slightly ajar so he doesn’t have to get up a second time. He walks over to the kitchen and grabs two wine glasses from the cabinet that he puts on the counter next to the bottle of red he opened not much earlier, if only because he doesn’t want her to think he’s a bad host. Not that it matters if she does, but still.

“Daniel?”

“Yep,” he answers, turning around at the sound of her voice as he leans against the kitchen counter. When she steps into his apartment he can actually feel the breath hitch in his throat because she looks absolutely gorgeous, the dress she’s wearing simple yet hugging her figure in all the right places.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches him, dropping her purse on the counter. She nods towards the bottle of wine, one eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile playing on her lips, “Thought we agreed to skip drinks?”

He doesn’t say anything, if anything glad that they both seem to agree on the matter, and instead just shrugs before he takes a step towards her, one hand sneaking into her hair so he can pull her closer to him, his lips crashing against hers without warning.

She moans against him and stills, just for a second, as if she’s unsure how to react but then she kisses him back, throwing her arms over his shoulders and pushing herself against him. When she opens her mouth he slips his tongue in without hesitation, taking control of both her mouth and the situation in an instant.

He turns her around, backing her up against the counter, his hands grabbing at the fabric of her dress and pulling it up, bunching it around her waist just as he deepens the kiss, eliciting another moan from her. He can feel himself grow harder at the sound even though he has been half hard ever since he called her, the promise of her enough to have his dick strain against the fabric of his boxers, and he’s not sure he can last much longer. Not sure he wants to either.

His fingers search around her hips for the elastic of her panties and when he doesn’t find it he pulls back, a low, “Jesus Christ,” escaping him as he looks at her. She watches him with a wicked smile and so he dips his head in reply, finding the pulse point of her neck with his mouth easily. He nibbles and sucks, determined to leave a mark, his tongue tracing circles on her skin as she tilts her head to give him better access.

He feels her shiver against him when he runs a finger through her folds, not surprised to find it coated in her juices when he brings his hand back up between them. He pulls back a little and pushes his finger against her mouth, her lips parting almost instantly and her tongue swirling around it to lick it clean all while her eyes never leave his. She grabs a hold of his wrist then, keeping his hand in place as she takes his finger into her mouth, her tongue darting around it and sucking it in a way that makes him groan. He feels like he’s about to come right then and there and so he pulls his hand back and replaces it with his mouth, wanting to taste her too.

Now that he knows she’s wet enough he doesn’t want to waste any more time and so he takes out the condom he put in his back pocket earlier, placing it on the counter beside her before he starts to unbutton his jeans. His mouth never leaves hers as he pushes his jeans and boxers down in one go, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side before he grabs the condom again.

Her hand is on his and she pulls back a little, her lips still ghosting against his when she whispers, “Let me help you with that.” She brings her other hand up to her mouth, keeps her eyes on his and spits on her fingers before wrapping them around his dick and pumping it a few times.

“Fuck,” he throws his head back, part of him feeling like he’s losing control of the situation but the other, bigger, part, enjoying this too much to care, especially when she runs her thumb over his tip, spreading his precum.

“Yeah,” she says with a wink, “you like that, huh?”

She’s teasing him now, slowing down her movements, but it’s enough to pull him out of his daze and back into the moment. He puts his hand on hers and takes the condom from her, putting it on before he all but growls at her, "Turn around."

She does as she is told, elbows resting on the counter as she eyes him curiously from over her shoulder, the way she's biting her bottom lip in anticipation quickly driving him wild. Leaning over her captures her mouth with his before he runs his dick through her folds once, twice, and then slams into her, capturing the moan that escapes her in his throat before he lets go of her mouth and stands up.

The rhythm he sets is quick even for his standards but he's chasing a high he so desperately needs, yesterday's events still lingering somewhere in the back of his mind, and so he’s not really paying any attention to her except how good she feels around him. He grabs onto her hips, making her meet his trusts so he can get there faster, the release already starting to build.

"Daniel," she pants, fingers splayed out on the kitchen counter as she tries to find something to hold onto while he continues to pound into her.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart" he tells her when he feels he's getting closer and closer. "Watch me as I fuck you."

She does and then he's almost there, his thrusts becoming more erratic and his fingers digging into her skin, and just the idea of leaving more than one mark on her, the idea that she's going to look at herself in the mirror tomorrow and see the bruises he's left her with, sends him over the edge and he comes with a loud groan.

He stills inside her not much later, planting a kiss between her shoulder blades before he pulls out completely and takes the condom off, discarding it in the waste bin on his right. "I'm gonna take a shower," he tells her quite matter-of-factly, not missing the way her brows furrow but not really caring about it either. "See ya next time?"

He doesn't wait for a response and makes his way to the bathroom, taking his shirt off and grabbing a fresh towel before he turns the water on and as he waits for it to come up to temperature he grins at himself in the mirror, already feeling so much better. This was just what he needed, he realises, just what-

"How fuckin' dare you!"

The bathroom door swings open, a gust of cold air rushing in, making him shiver unintentionally. He meets her eyes in the mirror, flinching a little when he sees the pure venom she exudes.

"How. Fuckin'. Dare. You," she says again, pointing her finger at him this time. "What the fuck was that?" She takes a step inside, his spacious bathroom suddenly feeling very crowded, "Are you really that much of an asshole?"

He turns around, "I- What?"

"An asshole, Daniel," she repeats as she gives him a shove that has him back up against the sink. "You are an absolute asshole if you think that this is ok. You don't get to call me just for your pleasure and then dismiss me like I'm some sort of-" She points her finger at him again, her eyes darkening, "You didn't even care if I got off or not. Jesus!" She all but spits out the next words at him, "I am not your whore, Daniel Ricciardo. And don't you dare treat me like one." She drops her hand and shakes her head, "We're done."

Before he even has the chance to begin to process what just happened the door slams shut and then she's gone and he feels ten times worse than he did after Max pushed him off the track yesterday.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

Without thinking he wraps the towel he's holding around his waist and rushes after her, hoping he can catch up with her before she takes the elevator down even though he already knows he'll follow her out onto the street if he has to.

By the grace of he's not sure who he finds her at the elevator bay, watching the screen above the doors as the elevator makes its way up, the sideways glance she throws at him telling him he needs to tread carefully. He holds out his hands towards her, temporarily forgetting about the towel he was holding onto but catching it just in time. It would have drawn a laugh from her in any other setting, he's sure, but now she simply keeps on staring straight ahead, arms folded in front of her chest and her fingers tapping the crease of her elbow impatiently.

"I know you don't owe me anything," he starts, one hand on the towel, the other still outstretched at her, "but will you please listen to me?"

She doesn't say anything, which he takes as his cue to continue, "I'm sorry." He runs his free hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his nerves, "You were right. I was an asshole- I am an asshole for doing what I did-" a quick glance at the screen tells him the elevator is only eight floors away and so he pushes on, "-and there's nothing I can say to make it better, but please-" his voice catches on the last word and finally she looks at him, "Please hear me out?"

"I'm listening."

There's no warmth in her voice, no emotion, and he's afraid there's no coming back from this but still he tries, "Honestly, if you would tell me to apologize a thousand times, I would. And then a thousand times more because I know what I did and I know it was a dick move and you deserve so much better. I never meant-"

The elevator dings then and when the doors open his neighbour steps out, eyes widening in shock at the scene in front of her. He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile while trying to act as if he isn't standing here in just a towel, probably smelling of pure sex, "Bonjour, Madame Devigne, ça va?"

The eighty-year old narrows her eyes at him, "I'm fine, Danny." There's a mischievous smile on her lips as she nods from him to the other woman, "Not sure I can say the same about you, dear."

He watches as Mrs Devigne puts her hand on her arm and gives it a squeeze, "Make him work for it, sweetheart." A wink then, "Not too hard though - he wouldn't have followed you out here if he didn't believe you were right."

She waves her hand around between them, "Carry on," and makes her way down the hall, but not before she looks back at him from over her shoulder just as she disappears around the corner and says, "Might want to tuck that towel in a little tighter, Danny. Don't want junior to catch a cold."

He hears the elevator doors close then and his heart sinks, certain that she's gotten in and that he's lost her forever, but then he hears her laugh and it's like music to his ears. When he turns back towards her he sees her shaking her head, still laughing, her eyes ten shades lighter already and he makes a mental note to send his neighbour the biggest bouquet of flowers he can find.

"I'm still mad," she clarifies.

"I know," he agrees quickly, "but please come inside? Let me make it up to you?"

She sighs but gestures for him to get a move on and so he does, relieved that she at least seems willing to listen.

"I don't really care why you did what you did," she tells him when they're back in his apartment. She's watching him as he puts on his boxer shorts and jeans but keeping her distance, leaning against the kitchen table as he lingers at the counter, not sure she'd let him get any closer. "I just want you to know it can never, never-" she waits until he nods before she continues, "-happen again. Ever. This isn't the Daniel Ricciardo show."

"I know."

"We're going to need some rules," she says then, looking at him expectantly.

He nods, "That's- That might be a good idea."

"Good." She nods toward the counter, "I'm gonna need a drink for this."

"Yes, ma'am," he quickly agrees, because honestly, right now he would do whatever she asks him to.

***

"Ok. So-" she takes another sip of her wine and taps her pen on the piece of paper that's on the table in front of them, a list of sorts written on it, "-four rules. We can add to them if we want, but these four stay, no matter what.” She clears her throat, “Rule number one. No feelings. If either of us ever feels like this is becoming more serious than us just randomly hooking up we call it quits."

"Yep."

"Number two. We aren't exclusive and can sleep with other people if we want, but we use protection. Always." She eyes him over her wine glass, a mischievous look in her eyes, "Because so help me God, Ricciardo, if you give me an STD-"

"Hey!" He playfully nudges her foot with his, "That works both ways, you know."

"Yep," she says with a smile. "Noted."

"Ok," he slides the paper towards him, "Number three. No sleepovers. No awkward morning afters."

"Nope," she agrees with a shake of her head. "No getting mad about it either. We aren't cuddle buddies."

He chuckles, "We damn sure aren't."

"That brings us to the most important one," she says, looking down at the paper and avoiding his eyes almost as if she's a little embarrassed. Once again he's misjudged her because she does look up then, her eyes not leaving his when she tells him, "Number four. This whole-" she waves her hand around, -arrangement is as much about your pleasure as it is about mine. Neither of us leaves until we both have at least come once. Preferably twice. Maybe even more."

"Definitely more," he adds with a grin and renewed confidence.

"One more thing," she says then, looking at him with a smile. "I feel like maybe we should try to be friends. I mean, if you want it to be just sex that's fine too, but-"

"No," he quickly interrupts her, "I'd like that. A lot."

"Good."

"Good," he agrees with a wide smile. "So friends then?"

"Friends with benefits," she adds with a wink.

"Perfect."

"And no regrets either."

He nods, "No regrets."

***

"Thank you," he says when he finishes the last of his wine.

"For what?"

"Giving me another chance." He shrugs, "I'm not sure I deserved it."

She puts a hand to her heart, feigning shock, "Don't tell me you forgot about rule number four already? I’m not still here just for your pleasure, champ.”

"I- What?" He takes the paper from her and smiles when he reads what they have written down, "Guess I owe you an orgasm, don't I?

"Or two," she says, raising up her glass at him before she takes a sip, "or three. Or four."

#Daniel Ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo fanfic #DR3 fanfic #F1 Fanfic #Harley Sunday x Daniel Ricciardo

173 notes · View notes

young-prince-firefly · 2 years

Text

1984, August 7, Circus Baby's Pizza World

Elizabeth's pov

"But it's my birthday and my birthday robot!"

"You can't go over to her, that's final."

I was about to beg and argue more, but Daddy walked away and went back to work.

It wasn't fair. He made the robot for me, why couldn't I just go see her?.

I was stuck with Mike. He didn't want to be here, I didn't want to be stuck here, and neither of us wanted to be without Jeremy.

Under normal circumstances, we would be at Fredbear's, but after the spring locks were deemed too dangerous, the place was shut down. Any other locations with the golden suits were shut down as well, including Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

"He wouldn't be so strict if Jeremy were here."

"Don't."

"I'm not wrong."

"Please stop."

I looked over at him. He seemed sad. I guess Jeremy's death weighed heavily on his conscience.

"I've got an idea! We're going to watch Funtime Foxy's show!"

"Didn't you want to watch Baby's?"

"Yeah, but Daddy won't let me. Foxy is the next best thing. Come on, let's go!"

Mike's characteristic eye roll followed by him standing up saying "I'm coming" and for me to slow down.

Funtime Foxy is very short. She is close to Mikey's height. On stage though, he towers above us. I can see Mike smile just a little.

Funtime Foxy challenges us to a juggling competition. I fail immediately. Mike gets a steady rhythm before screwing up four minutes in. Funtime Foxy does it for twelve minutes before dubbing herself the winner.

"You only won because you're programmed for this."

"Want to try again?"

Foxy's question lingers in the air. He seemed genuinely excited to face us. I shake my head. Mike seems transfixed, like in hypnosis.

"Game on."

For the next half an hour, I watch as Mike and Foxy try to out juggle the other. Mike gets closer each time, but Foxy still remains triumphant. Mike gets more and more agitated as well.

With all his focus on this, I could slip away. With one final check of his attention, I shrink out of the room.

Down the hall, I hear music. It's a popular song, Michael likes it. I think it's by Wham!. The tune is catchy.

I pass by a room with a twinkling ballroom, music box song. Inside is Ballora. She's a giant ballerina with blue hair. She reminds me of my mother. I miss her.

The next room has loud laughter coming from it along with even louder teasing. This is Funtime Freddy. He's a big white and purple bear with a blue rabbit hand puppet.

Those kids are having fun. One is even hugging Freddy. How is that fair?

Anger flashed through me. I stalked all the rest of the way to Circus Baby. I could hear her singing from outside her room.

Peering in the doorway, I could see a couple of kids in there. They were screaming the lyrics along with her. I stepped inside.

Something grabbed my arm.

"Hey-"

"Lizzy, what do you think you're doing?"

"I just want to watch her show once."

"You can't."

I rip my arm free. He looks worried. I wished he didn't care.

"I don't care what you or he said, I'm watching her show!"

"I'll get Father..."

"Go ahead! He'll have to come over here and stop me himself!"

"Elizabeth!"

I turn around and leave Mike in the dust. Peeking behind me let me know Mike had left. Circus Baby was only a few feet away.

"I don't get why Daddy won't let me see you, you're wonderful."

Her shiny red dress reflected the changing lights. I could see my face in her skirt.

"Where did the other children go?"

It was very cold in here. It was quiet. Too quiet. Baby shifted and something metal came out of her stomach. It was holding ice cream.

I looked around. No one was there to tell me no. It was my birthday, my animatronic, my ice cream. I took the ice cream.

The metal drew back when I took it and shot out again, wrapping around my waist.

I screamed but I don't think anyone heard me. Her stomach shut close. I banged on it and tried to pry open where I thought the plates opened.

My voice was ragged and my fingers bled. I banged as hard as I could on the metal surface. I got blisters and the cold increased. I shivered and hit the wall weakly.

"Please, let me out."

My words came out strained and unsteady. I could hear muffled screaming on the other side. Did someone else see? I heard the clicking of the stomach... claw? Yes, it is a claw.

Inside, I saw it scoop up ice cream and set up a cone. The stomach opened up slowly and I felt pain go through my body. Something warm dripped down. I tried to curl up on my side. Something was in the way.

Tears flowed from my face. I think I heard screaming along with a thud. Did someone fall? I'm getting tired.

I moved my hand to rub out the sleepiness but found I couldn't, I was too weak.

A splatter of ice cream and the metallic shrieking along with another burst of pain.

"...Mike..."

Was that him screaming? It sounded like it.

"...Help..."

a few hours later...

Footsteps. Tools being dropped. Swearing.

"Why didn't she just stay away, like I told her? All of this could've been avoided."

Daddy? It's Daddy. I can't see him. There he is.

"Daddy, I'm sorry."

He froze like a deer in headlights. He came up to me and touched my cheek. Why am I so tall?

"Of course, you fused with the robot. Would you like to help me with work, Elizabeth? To make up for mistakes?"

"I'd love to. Can we go home now?"

"Of course, we can. Your mother has missed you."

14 notes · View notes

vampiredecay · 3 years

Text

I Can Hear Your Heart Beat (Part 1)

A/N: heyo! this is the first part of a two parter, in celebration of hitting a little over 50 followers! this was a prompt/suggestion from @n3on-lights , thank you again so much!! originally this was going to be one part, but i realized i was at 3k words and only half way done with the story, lol. so part two will be out soon! in the mean time, hope you enjoy this first half!

rating: teen

wordcount: 3,139

warnings/notes: swearing, descriptions of being in pain, half vamp!michael, human!lost boys, the boys turn back to human, implied minor character death, goodbye max, poly!lost boys, lost boys x michael

summary: after convincing sam that he wasn't going to kill him, michael raced to the hotel to seek answers about what he was becoming. little does he know, sam has his own plans up his sleeve, leaving the boys human for the first time in years, and michael still stuck as half vampire.

“Sammy, please!” Michael cried out, hanging onto the phone cord for dear life, hoping to whatever god out there was merciful enough to put some sense into his little brother's head. Sam just stared, debating if he should really let his brother in or not. He was floating outside his bedroom window like a freak, and he tried to eat him! But when Sam looked at him, at his older brother, he could see that he looked terrified. He's hardly ever seen Michael genuinely afraid, and he looks so human, despite the obvious circumstances. So, Sam takes a deep breath and walks over to the window, unlocking it and opening it for Michael to crawl through.

Michael counts his blessings as he drops onto the floor, takes in huge amounts of air that he doesn't really need. Sam sinks down to the floor next to him, and Michael grabs hold of him, wrapping his arms around him like he'll start flying away again. Sam tries not to squirm too much.

"What's goin on, Mike?" Sam whispers, his voice refusing to go any higher. Michael is shaking slightly, breathing heavily, so Sam tries again, "What did those bikers do to you?"

That gets a reaction out of him, a low growling sound from deep in his throat. Michael can hear Sam's heartbeat quicken and he has to swallow thickly. "I don't know, Sam. But I'll sort it out, okay?"

"But what about mom-" Sam tries, but Michael cuts him off, frantic, "Just- just don't tell her anything, okay? You gotta trust me, Sammy."

Sam wants to argue, this was way bigger than getting a bad grade on a test, or getting into a fight in school. His gut reaction was to tell his mom, because he knew she would try and make it okay again. But he also trusted his brother. Plus, he had more experience with these guys, so Sam nodded, deciding Michael had it covered. “Okay. I trust you.”

Michael let out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived once they heard their moms car screeching to a halt outside of the house. The boys frantically got up, looking at each other with wide eyes. “I gotta go, Sam. Distract mom for me, yeah?” There wasn’t any time to debate, so Sam just nodded and sprinted down the stairs. He didn't know how Michael was going to sneak out, but at this rate, he didn’t want to know.

When he got down stairs, the blond teen could hear his mom calling his name, and when the front door opened, he could see his mom looking worried like crazy. “Oh, Sam!” she said once she saw him, she sounded exhausted. “You scared me half to death!”

Sam felt guilt start to stir in his chest, he didn’t mean to make his mom worry so much. And the fact that he had to lie now didn’t help matters at all. “I’m okay, mom. I was reading a horror comic and I thought I saw someone outside my window- but I just got carried away, that's all.”

Lucy stared at her son, trying to understand the excuse he was feeding her. She squinted her eyes at him. “You got carried away by a comic book?”

Sam tried not to flinch, he knew it sounded like bullshit, but it was the best he could come up with on the fly. “It was a scary comic mom. I’m sorry.”

The look on his mom's face made it clear she was frustrated. She couldn’t believe how her boys were acting, like she didn’t raise them better. “You know, I’ve just about had it with the both of you, you know that?” Sam nodded his head and looked down at his feet, and she almost forgave him then. But then her eyes landed on the kitchen, and her frustration flared up all over again. “What is this mess?”

Sam looked over to where his mom was talking about, and saw the spilt milk and open fridge door. God damnit, Mike. He tried telling her that it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t listening, not that he could blame her at this point. When he was done cleaning up the floor, Sam raced up to his room, pausing to see that Michael had long gone. Wasting no more time, he launched himself on his bed and called the Frog brothers again.

It took a few rings, but eventually, Edgar had answered the call. “What?” he asked, short and coarse. Sam rushed to answer, “Guys, it's me again.”

Edgar sighed from over the phone, “What, Sam? We told you to stake your brother, what more do you want?”

“Look guys, Michael and I talked, he’s going to try and talk to the vamps that got him, but there has to be something more that we can do!”

There was some vague conversation that Sam couldn’t hear, then Alan was speaking, “Do you know if he made his first kill? Can he still walk in sunlight?”

“No, he hasn’t killed anyone, and yes, he can still walk in sunlight.” Sam said, “That means he’s only half shit sucker, right?”

Alan grumbled into the phone, like he didn’t want to be entertaining this idea at all. “Yes, so technically, if you kill the head vampire, all half vampires would return to being human.” Sam was ready to celebrate, he was about to say something like “hell yeah!”, but then Alan asked something that made him cut the celebration short. “Does your brother know who the head vampire is?”

“Uh,” Sam mumbled, "No, I don't think so."

"We can't screw around anymore, Sam." Edgar said, taking the phone back. "Kill your brother, or we'll be forced to do it for you "

"Wait, no!" Sam shouted, desperate to think of something that would help. "We just gotta find the head vampire, right? We-" as he was talking, Sam suddenly thought of something. "Actually, I might know who the head vampire is."

"What?" Edgar asked, voice high and tight. "Well, this all started when my mom started working at Max's video store."

He could hear both the Frogs groaning. "Wait guys, hear me out! He doesn't come in till after dark, he has a dog that's always growling at people, and I read that vampires have hell hounds as companions!"

"Well duh, but-" Edgar started, but Sam cut him off. "If my mom is dating the head vampire, you guys can nail him and save Santa Carla!"

The Frogs were silent for a few seconds, so Sam tacked on "Truth, justice, and the American way triumphs, thanks to you two."

That seemed to convince them, because after a few more seconds, Edgar said "Alright, we'll check Max out. Tonight. Get ready, we'll come get you in ten minutes."

Sam froze, mouth open wide against the phone. "Tonight? Can't we wait until tomorrow?"

"This was your idea, Sam." Alan said, more rustling could be heard from the background. "If Max is clean, we're coming for your brother and his friends tomorrow. Be ready." Before Sam could say anything more, they hung up the phone.

When Michael got to the hotel, it was dark and quiet. There weren't as many candles lit, making shadows dance and flicker against the walls, and the only sounds Michael could hear were drops of water bouncing around the cave.

"David?" Michael called out, walking further into the hotel. The place was eerie now, without the boys there, dancing and laughing and joking around. "David? Anyone here?"

Where the hell were they? Michael was getting agitated, a hot irritation settling under his skin as he looked around the cave. If they weren't even here, he didn't know what he was going to do. Michael needed answers, he needed to know what the hell was happening to him.

"I'm not fucking around." The brunette said to the air. "I want answers, and I want them now!"

Silence. Michael snarled at nothing and turned around to stomp towards the exit, but then he heard an all too familiar voice echoing out the cave.

"I'm right here, Michael."

David was standing at the entrance, Dwayne, Paul and Marko lurking behind him. The platinum blond gave a wide smirk as he walked down into the cave, eyeing the angry halfling. “What’s going on?”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Michael demanded, walking right up to David and getting into his face. David cocked an eyebrow as the rest of the boys surrounded him, whispering and laughing. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Cut the bullshit! I’m hungry, I’m in pain, I was floating on the goddamn ceiling-”

“Woah,” Paul interrupted, sounding amazed, “You got there already? It took me a while-” Marko kicked Paul’s leg before he could continue, making the blond rocker yelp loudly. David cleared his throat and suddenly looked deadly serious. “You drank from the bottle, Michael. You’re one of us now.”

“But what the hell does that mean?” Michael was starting to feel drained, he was so tired of going around in circles, and it feels like he hasn’t gotten proper sleep in weeks. “What the fuck was in that bottle that makes me float off the ground and makes me want to eat my brother?”

The boys all looked at each other like they were having a silent conversation.

“Take it easy, man.” Dwayne said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He was smiling like nothing was off or weird about this situation at all. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just go with the flow.”

Michael was about to ask what he’d “get the hang of”, but Marko spoke before he could. “It’s getting late, you should probably go home.” The way he spoke and the look he gave had an air of finality, like fighting would get him nowhere. This had been a huge waste of time.

“Fine.” Michael spit, shoving past David roughly as he walked towards the entrance. He would have to find answers some other way. As much as he hated it, he might have to resort to Sam’s weird friends. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but they seemed to be the only other ones who knew anything about-

“Wait!” Paul called out, making Michael stop in his tracks. He turned around and looked at Paul, who had a weird look on his face. His eyebrows were scrunched down and he held a hand to his middle. “Do you guys feel that?”

The others looked confused, but soon their faces contorted into concern and agitation. Marko’s hand shot to Paul's arm, gripping like his life depended on it, while Dwayne and David held onto each other, as if keeping each other from falling. Marko was panting, “What the fu-”

Suddenly, Markos words were cut off by a loud screeching sound. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin as the boys started shouting and screaming, falling to the ground hard. The halfling stared at them in shock.

“What happened?! What's wrong?!” Michael asked frantically, panicked, running back over and crouching over the pile of writhing bodies. No one could answer, the only sounds coming from them were grunts and whimpers of pain. Michael could only stand and watch, horrified that he had no idea what was going on.

After what felt like an eternity, the screaming stopped. The boys stopped convulsing on the ground, completely still and silent, like they passed out. The silence was deafening now. Michael slowly walked over to David, breathing heavily, anxious out of his mind. He placed a gentle hand to his cheek, finding him surprisingly warm. He checked his pulse, then, and found a shallow, but steady heart beat. Michael then checked the other boys and found the same warmth and beat. The teen sighed in relief, they were all alive, at least. They seemed to be out cold, though, and Michael knew that he needed to move them from the cold hard ground.

One by one, he moved each of the boys to a chair or couch, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Michael looked around, but didn’t find any stashed food or water, so he decided to hurry out and get them something to eat when they woke up. He didn’t know if they would be hungry or not, but it would be worth the try.

Michael sped on his bike to the nearest convenience store and grabbed a basket, stuffing it with random chips and snacks. He also grabbed a few bottles of water and threw it in the basket. When he went up to the counter to pay, the cashier gave him an odd look, but he just smiled awkwardly. The total almost drained his wallet, which hurt, but there were more important things to worry about right now.

The trip back to the hotel was a bit of a pain in the ass, but he managed to get there in one piece. He parked his bike and hauled the food and water down into the cave, and when he was in the main lobby, he was startled to see that the boys were awake. They were all huddled around each other, holding and touching in whatever way they could. All of them wore similar shocked, concerned and disturbed expressions on their faces. It almost felt wrong to intrude on them, but he accidentally made a noise and alerted the boys to his presence.

“Michael?” David called out, but his voice was smaller, less sure. Michael immediately walked over to them, setting the bag down as he squatted next to the couch they were all piled in.

“Hey, are you guys okay? What the hell happened?” As he talked, Michael pulled out bottles of water and handed them out to each of the boys. They snatched the bottles out of his hands and opened them like they haven’t drank water in years, guzzling down the liquid and getting it all over themselves in the process.

“Woah, guys, slow down-” But they didn’t listen, not even if they started choking and coughing. When the waters were drained, Paul crawled over everyone to grab the bag full of snacks and dig through it.

“Michael.” David said, looking intensely at his face, studying every inch he could look at. He grabbed at Michaels arm and pulled him closer. “Do you feel any different? Did you change back?”

The brunette stared at him, bewildered. “Change? No, I feel the same as before.”

David's eyes widened, and Paul stopped tearing into a bag of potato chips, mouth gaping. “Wait, he’s still half? How’s that possible?”

Marko and Dwayne gave each other a disbelieving look, and Michael scrunched up his face in confusion. “Half what? What are you guys talking about?”

No one said anything for a long moment. David sighed and ran his hands through his spiked hair. “I guess we have no choice but to tell you.”

Michael watched as David sat up straighter, a pained look on his face, like his whole body ached. He looked uncomfortable as he said, “We were vampires, Michael. And you’re one, too. Half, anyway. You still haven’t made your first kill.”

So many thoughts and questions flooded Michaels mind at that moment. His first reaction was to call David crazy, but he remembered what it felt like to fly out his bedroom window, how painfully hungry he was and how loud he could hear Sam's heartbeat, even from the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was fading and weak. Michael couldn’t fuckin believe this.

Michael stood up so fast he felt lightheaded. “So- you’re telling me,” He started, pacing in front of the couch. The rest of the boys were no longer paying attention, too busy devouring the snacks from the bag, but David was watching him walk back and forth. “That I’m a half vampire. An actual, honest to god vampire. That’s just fuckin great!” Michael shouted, and David winced at the sound.

“Wait.” The halfling stopped pacing and turned back to the platinum blond. “What do you mean you were a vampire?”

David blew air through his nose like an angry bull. He shifted around in his seat before answering, “We have a master. Or, I guess we did. If the vampire that turned you dies, you turn back into a human.”

“Which must be why Michael hasn’t turned back.” Dwayne chimed in suddenly, still chewing loudly on chips. Michael was lost at this point, which must have been clear on his face, cause Marko pitched in with, “You drank David’s blood from the bottle, not Max’s. David didn’t die, just turned back into a human. So, therefore, you can’t go back to being human.”

Michael didn’t know which fact he hated more, that his mom's dorky (now ex, he supposed) boyfriend was a head vampire, or that he drank actual blood. A lot of it, if he remembered properly. He groaned loudly and sank to the floor, head in his hands. “So you’re saying I'm stuck like this?”

“Well…” Paul started, but didn’t get to finish. David interrupted, irritation clear in his voice. “We don’t know. We don’t know jack shit.”

The tension was thick in the air. Michael had no idea what they were going to do now. Living in a sunken hotel may have been okay when they were vampires, but it’s not gonna fly being human. He knew he couldn’t just leave them here. Michael sighed and stood back up, walking over to the entrance. It was still dark out, but he figured it was going to be morning soon. He walked back down and stood in front of the boys.

“Look, we’ll figure out how to change me back,” David huffed at that, looking less than amused. Michael rolled his eyes. “But until then, you guys are basically homeless. Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?”

The boys froze. They looked at each other, and they looked at Michael, wondering if this was some kind of joke. They had lived in that cave so long it felt like forever, they couldn’t imagine leaving what they considered their home.

“What about your mom? And your brother?” David asked, knowing that it couldn’t be that easy, right? Surely Michaels family would bitch about them being there. But Michael didn’t look bothered. “Sam can be an ass, but he’ll deal. And my mom wouldn’t kick you guys out.”

David was still hesitant. He still didn’t want to believe he was human again, after all these years. It hurts to even think about it. He felt a nudge against his shoulder, and when he looked over, he saw Marko, shrugging his shoulders.

“What do we have left to lose?”

56 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Ultimatum

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: none

Summary: all that’s left is hope.

AN:this was... interesting to write... enjoy

Warnings: swearing, angst, arguing

Tommy Shelby often kept secrets. Secrets about work, business, Russians... but you had agreed to never keep secrets about what was going on in your head, never hold back when you were scared or hurting.

At least, you upheld your end of the agreement.

He did too, most of the time. You didn’t like to call yourself a jealous person, not minding a little flirting (he was charming and handsome and dangerous). What you did mind, however, was having your face rubbed into it- ladies approaching him in the Garrison and leaving lingering touches on his arm while you were holding his other hand; Tatiana Petrovna wandering your mansion stark naked, being chased by Tommy while you were trying to calm a restless Charlie down... worst of all was Grace. Tommy left you once for her and didn’t let you back into his life or his home until after she died. And when you did come back you were greeted with a perfect, blond child who needed a mother. You doted on Charlie and refused to let the infant see your anger, but one night you couldn’t bring yourself to go home after visiting Small Heath, and sobbed into Polly’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t love me anymore, Pol,” you whispered. “He’s just using me... how can I have a relationship with a man who cheated on me and knocked up a barmaid while I was running errands for him? How can I even start to think about our future together when everything in that house is tainted by her?”

Polly held you close and let you cry, murmuring that all men were bastards who only thought with their cocks. “He’s doing it again, Pol,” you whispered, sipping your tea with shaking hands. “I can feel it. Just you watch. He’ll knock some other girl up while I’m taking care of his child, then have me raise the new one as well,”

Polly wished she could comfort you, telling you that of course tommy wouldn’t do that to you... but he had already done it once, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise to her if he did it again.

She set you up a bed for the night in Michael’s old room, letting you sleep away your exhaustion caused by balancing raising the child of the woman you were cheated on with, running between Small Heath, Arrowe House and London, using your pretty face to do Tommy’s dirty work, and pouring your heart and soul into re-kindling your relationship with Tommy.

The next morning, you were awoken by the front door banging open and a fiery shouting match between Tommy and Pol.

“Where the fuck is she, Pol? She isn’t with Ada, Linda and Esme haven’t seen her either, so she must be with you,”

You pressed your ear to the door, listening intently as Aunt Pol defended you. “Now listen here, Thomas Shelby. Who the fuck are you to bang around here, demanding to see your Missus when you’ve paid her next to no attention for the past year, ay? Don’t you dare come slamming my doors, acting like a knight in shining fucking armour when I had to tuck that poor girl into bed like my own fucking daughter because her heart has been torn to pieces. Don’t you dare scream in this fucking neighbourhood like you own the place, expecting her to be at your side at your beck and call when you have done nothing for her but break her heart and ruin her confidence! You’re a heartless bastard, Thomas Shelby, and you’re turning into your father more and more every day. Now sit the fuck down and stop acting like the king of the fucking world because you’ve rigged a few races and are playing big boys with the Russians, or I swear to God, Thomas, I will cut you,”

Your eyes welled up as a Polly spoke, and you felt your heart swell with adoration for her. You heard the scraping of chairs as tommy sat down, admitting defeat to his aunt. “Look, Pol, I’m sorry,”

You heard Polly snort. “It’s not me you should be apologising to,” she snapped. “It’s the woman upstairs wearing my nighty, tucked up in Michael’s old bed because she didn’t feel able to go back to her home. Do you not realise how cruel it is that she has raised your son? How she has to attend events for the Grace Shelby Foundation with a great big smile on her face even though that harlot took the man she loved? How she lives in a house and sleeps in a bedroom where every wall has a picture of the woman who shattered her trust in all she ever knew, just because she is too kind-hearted and too meek to say anything,”

“Grace was my wife-“

“So was fucking YN before you decided to dip your wick elsewhere and act as a living sperm bank while she was in London convincing Solomons to be a little more generous with his business! You paraded YN, your first wife, like a whore, all while dealing with a tart who almost had this entire family killed!”

Tommy let out an agitated sigh. Slamming his hand on the table. “Don’t you dare call Grace a whore,” he growled.

“Don’t you dare treat YN like a disposable scrap of paper! She is not a business tool, Thomas, she is your wife. Lord knows, she has the patience of a saint putting up with you with a smile on her face. You made a choice to remarry her, to reform, but for fuck’s sake, don’t you dare let her go again. She has done nothing to deserve the way she has been treated,”

It was silent for a moment before, “I think she’s pregnant, Thomas,”

A glass shattered.

“Oh don’t look so surprised. We all know you like to fuck away your troubles. Her belly’s growing and I could feel it in her breast when she was crying,”

The rest of the conversation blurred into a meaningless buzz as you rested a hand on your stomach, biting your lip. Your last cycle was... two months ago. You had though you missed it because of the stress, but it was starting to make sense. Snapping back into reality, you quickly dressed in your clothes from the night before (which Polly must have washed and brought up while you were sleeping and crept downstairs. Polly saw you in the doorway, but tommy had his back to you, still processing the information.

“I-I’m going to London. To stay with Ada,” you announced, your voice a little shaky.

“Your things are at home,” Tommy said, voice quiet. He still wasn’t looking at you.

“They’re just things,” you said. “I can lend Ada’s clothes until I get some more,” you looked at Polly. “Do you think you could... you know... do the thing where you predict what I’ll have?”

Polly smiled sadly and stood up. She grabbed your breast and debated for a moment. “A girl,” she said. “A beautiful girl with her mother’s sweet face and her father’s dark hair.

You rubbed your tiny bump gently and gave her a hug. Tommy had stood up as well, almost as if expecting a hug himself.

“Thank you. For everything,” you murmured.

“YN,” Tommy suddenly blurted. “Don’t go to London,”

You frowned at him. “Why not?” You asked, standing a little straighter.

“Because you’re my wife,” he said. “Your home is here,”

You sighed. “Thomas. I’m going to London, to stay with Ada. I’ll book in with the midwives there. By all means call me when you get your shit together. But I swear to god, if I come back to Birmingham and see you waiting on the steps with another child that isn’t mine, I will turn on my heel and go straight back down to London with my daughter, and she will have my surname and never know of the Shelby blood that runs through her veins,”

You glanced at Polly, who gave you a firm nod as tommy stood with his eyes wide, watching his childhood sweetheart drift away as the workd crumbled around her.

You left the house and went to the train station. You didn’t say goodbye, because deep down, you hoped Tommy would fight for you, and call as soon as he knew you had arrived down south.

Hope was all you had now as the train picked up speed and you pressed a hand to your tummy, head resting against the cool glass of the window as you drifted to sleep, dreaming of easier times, before the war, before Shelby Company Limited... before Grace.

#peaky blinders #imagine #oneshot #angst #tommy shelby x reader headcanon #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #i dont like grace #grace burgess #request #peaky blinders oneshot

508 notes · View notes

peakyxtommy · 4 years

Text

“Why did you choose me?”

Characters: Tommy, Arthur, Michael

Summary: “Why did you choose me?”

Warning: Sad/Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I love writing this prompt so much. Enjoy!

Prompt List: @otp-promptly

All Credit To Gif Owners!

Tommy: “Why did you choose me? (You to him)

Sometimes your mind ran wild with negative thoughts. Thoughts that were lies, that made you feel weaker and smaller than what you truly were. Thoughts that made your stomach in knots and drove you mad. Sometimes you could stop the thoughts before they festered like a wound oozing puss but times like now, it feels like a knife twisting inside of you. A never ending dull pain, that you wanted to be rid of but couldn’t be.

On a day like today where everything seemed to boil down to performance and appearance and long conversations with people you were likely never to see again, you couldn’t help but speak the words aloud to him after a long evening of wining and dining. An evening where it felt like everyone else was so much better than you, where women looked better than you felt you ever could. People were eyeing up your husband lustfully or with intentions to do business. You never left those dinners feeling satisfied but felt empty after wanting nothing more than to hide away for the next few days.

Here you were in your bedroom settling in for the night next to your husband when the dam breaks and you feel those wounds open yet again. Wounds you thought were healed but still needed healing.

“Why did you choose me?” When the words leave your mouth, you sound so small, so childlike. Your voice was wet already feeling the tears starting to break through. You wish you could just put it in a small box in the back of your mind to deal with another time, but it was an impulsive intrusion of your brain. You needed to hear the answer, to hear whatever words left his mouth, for you mind to be put back at ease. For this small twisting ache to go away even if it was just for the night.

When the words leave your mouth he almost misses what you said, but the way your voice sounded so sad catches his attention and he feels his heart break a little. He loved you more than anything in the world. You were the light to his darkness. The one thing that helped him stay calm and would release his stress after long times in the office. You made him better in many ways. He was more alert because of you and even had better ideas for the business, because you would always know how to help at a roadblock. You made him a better man.

So when the words leave your mouth he couldn’t help but ponder over the course of the week or even the evening to wonder what made you say those words to him. He knew he didn’t have all the answers, would ever be able to make you feel whole about yourself, but he had the words to soothe your mind, to make you see the truth instead of the lies.

He would hold you close to his chest as he let the tears stain his shirt wet. All the while, rubbing soothing circles on your back, while shushing you as you tried to apologize. When you were calm, he would dry your tears, as you sat in his lap facing him. He would make sure your eyes were facing his as he spoke,

“Why is my pretty wife crying, hm?” His warm breath hits your face, hand holding the back of your head.

“I chose you (y/n), because you make me a better man. You make breathing a little easier and I always look forward to seeing you first thing when I awake and when I go to bed. Your smile brightens up the whole room. You are smart, beautiful, funny, and so many more things. I chose you because I love you more than your pretty head will ever know. You are my world and bring a fullness I never knew was possible. If I have to remind you every single day, I will. You can always tell me what’s on your mind, I'll always listen to you. You’re stuck with me.” He speaks soft and affectionate, loving blue eyes gazing into yours.

“Thank you, Tom.” Is all you say in a small whisper as your head rests in the curve of his neck and he hugs you.

“I love you only, always and forever. Never forget that.”

Arthur: “Why did you choose me? (him to you)

It was a little past midnight when you heard hard knocks and shouts coming from your front door. You had no idea who was banging at your door but as soon as you opened the door to your boyfriend of a year, you knew it was serious when you saw his blood shot eyes and bloody knuckles. You also knew you had to get him inside because he was screaming out your name as if you weren’t standing right in front of him. You knew you would hear it in the morning from Mrs. Bradley yet again about the Birmingham gangster waking up the neighborhood with drunken shouts and loud knocks.

“Arthur, you gotta stop yelling. I’m right here. Come in let’s get you cleaned up yeah.” You usher him inside shutting the door behind him. You lead him to the couch where he takes a half sitting/slumped position. You wanted to be mad at him because this was the third time he’s shown up to your house in a similar occurrence, but your worries overridden the fact. You go get a glass of water and your medical kit, to help sober him a little and clean up his hands as he sits now quiet on the couch.

“You need to drink this. Give me your hand so I can clean you up, yeah.” He nods at your words letting you work in an eerie silence. He’d usually have so much to say due to the adrenaline but tonight he was stone cold quiet caught up in his own thoughts. As you bandage his hands with the last wrap, he speaks the words that make your heart still and break a little.

“Why’d you choose me? Out of all the men in Birmingham you chose a gangster at that, a criminal.” He says it in a small but frustrated tone. He was frustrated with himself, with his life, and that here you were again cleaning up his mess. He felt like a mess and didn't understand why you continued to open up your home and heart to him. You were a good woman. He loved you deeply and couldn’t imagine life without you, but he still had doubts that plagued the back of his mind just as close to the edge of death he lived.

“Arthur look at me.” You bring your warm hand to his face, holding the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“I chose you because you were yourself from day one and always have been. You are an open book and wear your heart on yourself. You care for those you love and will do anything to protect them. On our first date you made me laugh and smile so hard, I hadn’t felt happy like that in the longest time until you showed up in my life.

We’ve had our ups and downs but that only makes my love for you grow stronger. You’re all I think about from the moment I wake up and until I go to bed. I look forward to your surprise visits, at normal hours preferably, and phone calls to check in on me. I still love you after midnight when you’re drunk and hurt on my couch. I love you Arthur and I see the goodness in you even if you don’t. I’ll always be here to remind you of that, for as long as you let me.”

You say giving him a small kiss to the lips. He goes to wipe his own tears, satisfied with your answer.

“Let’s get to bed love.” He speaks, as you both get up from your positions. Once changed he joins you in your bed. He lays himself on your chest listening to your heartbeat as you hold him tight to you.

Michael: “Why did you choose me? (you to him)

Your blood was boiling. You couldn’t understand why you would always let her get you to this point. The point of where all logic and reason seemed to leave your mind to be replaced with doubts and insecurity. It was the same argument over and over again. You don’t know why you keep going in circles but it was like that one truth wouldn’t sink into your mind. The doubt of him leaving her for you even if you really were his.

You were out at a business dinner Tommy was hosting at his house. Of course she was there. You saw her a mile away and she didn’t wait to make her presence known. She greeted you both, shaking your hand in faux politeness, before going back to her table. You knew then that you would be in for a long evening. You knew the look on Michael’s face meant that he wasn’t in the mood for an argument about his ex so you let it go for now.

You tried to enjoy the dinner and time as much as possible. You left to go to the bathroom and when you returned Gina was sitting in your seat. Legs crossed, fingers brushing over Michael’s shoulder, and laughter from the two of them. All you saw was red but decide to go to the bar to get a drink to calm your nerves.

When you go back she’s gone like she was never there to begin with. You sit in your chair like she wasn’t there. You ignore Michael for the rest of the evening and his makings of conversation. You were too agitated to even talk to him with an ounce of kindness. When it’s time to leave the ride home is just as silent, with tension hanging heavy between you both.

It’s not until you reach the walls of your shared apartment that the words leave your mouth. Wanting to know and hear the truth from him, even though you knew you were overreacting but you couldn’t help it.

“Why did you choose me?”

When the words leave your mouth he was exhausted. It was a long night and it didn’t help with the tension caused by Gina. He didn’t love her or want to be with her anymore. They broke up for a reason and he couldn’t understand why you couldn’t understand or see through his words. Always fighting him on it no matter what left his lips. He was as exhausted as you in going in circles or repeating himself. He would put up with it because you’re worth it to him. That he was in love with you but had yet to say it.

“I chose you because I’m in love with you. Only you, you’re all I want and think about all day. Your happiness means the world to me. Gina is in the past and I need you to trust me when I say it. I don’t want her or think about her. We broke up for a reason and I’m with you now. Whatever I have to do to prove it to you, I will because your worth it baby.” He speaks tracing a warm finger down your face, his face and tone serious.

“Say it again.” You whisper taking his hand in yours.

“I love you and you only.” He goes to press his lips against your as your fingers grip his hair soaking him in.

“Then show me. I love you too.” You speak as he leads you up the stairs to your shared bedroom to show you how much he loved you and only you.

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #michael gray x reader #michael gray #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders preferences #mags’s otptober

187 notes · View notes

penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Winning The Game Called Love (Hector Bellerin) Part I

Here it is my ladies and gents! I hope you like it, and I apologise if it’s too long, but I got carried away. Please let me know if you like it because I am always up to work on my writing, so don’t hesitate to write me DM or send in an ask (I promise, I am the friendliest person out there). This one is dedicated to @bitchforaesthetics. Anyway, read, enjoy because part II is coming out very soon...

P.S. There is no covid-19 in this story :D

_____

If one asked anyone at the Arsenal Training Centre to describe Aida - the young brunette behind the reception desk, nine out of ten times one would hear the same answer:

Bundle of positive energy.

It didn’t matter if one was a know or less-known footballer, coach, manager, medical staff or just a random fan touring the grounds - Aida, with her smile and positive energy, could chase away whatever dark cloud was looming above one's head. Yet, despite her contagious smile that was just loud enough and genuine curiosity, as any other human being, Aida wasn’t able to chase away the real dark clouds that seemed to clutch Hertfordshire sky in a tight embrace on that Monday morning.

Seated behind the desk and waiting for her laptop to turn on, Aida observed the gloominess outside the building and all she saw was heavy blots of grey that seemed to carry all the weight accumulated during the month of December.

Her last month at Arsenal FC, doing the job she enjoyed more than anything.

If it only had snowed; just a little.

She would be lying if she said she liked freezing cold, and if anyone, she would be the absolute winner of “the worst balance on icy pavements” competition - if there was one - but Christmas had a different feel to it when everything was covered in fluffy and pillow white cover. And even if she wasn’t religious or celebrated Christmas as the majority of the people, she was a firm believer that snowy Christmas made that cup of hot cocoa, as she sat in her tiny studio under her favorite blanket, just a tiny bit better.

Aida glanced at the small card that sat next to her laptop - red and golden swirls decorating the backside of it, and with a sigh she averted her gaze back at the laptop screen that had already turned on and was humming quietly - red Arsenal FC logo staring back at her. The large and Christmas decorated lobby was still quiet, but not for too long. In just a few minutes, most of the footballers and some other employees will start pouring into the building, either for training or for their 9/5 job, and with that the building will start buzzing with contagious energy.

All except Sead. He was late on most of the days.

Aida looked at the clock in the corner of her screen before looking up expectantly at the door, and as if on cue, Alexandre Lacazette walked in through the door, talking to his fellow countryman Thomas who worked as a medical assistant. Both Aida and Thomas, along with some others were shortlisted for the layoff, but in the end it was Aida who pulled out the shorter straw.

She shook her head, refusing to create unnecessary tension.

Aida knew that she gained nothing from sulking and sadness. She still had to sit behind the reception desk for another few weeks, smiling and giving the best first impression to everyone who came in. So, with a deep breath, Aida lifted her chin high and looked at the two men in front of her.

“Bonjour lads,” she grinned - the dark thoughts disappearing as soon as she spoke, leaning on the till in front of her. “Lovely weather outside, no?”

“Good morning indeed, sunshine,” Alexandre responded while still walking across the lobby, “I am actually wearing my bikini on underneath this outfit, what about you?” he added as he disappeared through the hallway that led to the changing rooms while Aida only laughed after him.

“What a ridiculous man,” Thomas commented, stepping in front of Aida’s desk, smiling at her. “It is so cold outside. How did you travel?”

Aida sighed defeatedly. “Clio took four tries and a bottle of warm water to start this morning, despite the lack of snow and ice. I was really chuffed for this winter, but so far it has only been disappointing.”

Her soon-to-be ex-colleague nodded, agreeing with her words before his eyes landed on the shiny invitation on Aida’s desk. “Oooh,” he mused, running a hand through his ginger curls. “Who’s date are you? Is it David? Please say it’s not him?”

“Nope!” Aida replied, giggling. There was nothing wrong with David Luiz - he was in fact a genuine sweetheart, but also notorious around the building for his charm and flirting action. Whether it was Aida at the reception desk when he needed an excuse for being late for the training or if it was Simone in the kitchen when he wanted another round of hash browns - he didn’t pick his victim nor his weapon. “Actually,” Aida started, “it was Finn from HR. He thought it would be a nice gesture since I do not get to stay here.”

“I don’t have to tell you again how sorry I am that you have to leave,” Thomas mumbled and Aida shrugged, hiding the disappointment.

“Oh well,” she trailed off as few of the other players walked into the building and she made sure that she smiled at each one of them. She also made sure to high-five Calum Chambers as she did every morning for more than a year. “There is nothing that you can do really… Post?” she asked, trying to change the subject, and Thomas nodded, leaning over the till to grab the signing pad that rested on Aida’s desk while she shuffled some envelopes before pulling out a big, mustard yellow one. “There is something from Miami. I am assuming it is for Michael,” Aida spoke, exchanging the signing pad for the envelope. “Just tell me if there— ,”

They were cut off by the upstairs’ doors slamming shut with a force. Both her and Thomas looked up, watching Mikel Arteta walk downstairs with a risky speed - phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in a very quick and heavily accented English. Thomas quickly cast his eyes downwards, but Aida kept her eyes locked at the dark-haired man, waiting for the manager to notice her. When he finally did, she gave him a bright smile - ignoring the fact that he looked as if he was angry with the whole world - including Aida.

To Thomas’ surprise, Arteta returned Aida’s gesture with a friendly grin and a small wink before putting his agitated face expression back, walking away towards the training pitches.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” Aida’s colleague muttered, and she responded with a childish giggle.

She was about to add something sarcastic, but the main entrance doors opened, letting the gust of cold wind trail in with force as Héctor Bellerín walked in with confidence that he mastered so well. He was dressed in clothes that resembled every outfit of Aida’s dad in the family photographs from the nineties, looking the only way Héctor Bellerín could - both ridiculous and extremely cool at the same time.

“Want to watch me how I fail?” she whispered before clearing her throat a little, following their vice-captain with her green eyes. “Good morning, Héctor!” she called out, raising her voice so he could hear her perfectly. “Bollocks weather, innit?”

Nothing.

Not an eye-contact, a simple shrug, or any kind of motion or face expression that showed a tiniest bit of interest.

Aida was aware that her friendliness sometimes caused people to recoil and shy away from her, and that her behavior could be overbearing at times, and she often wondered if people in the modern world, including Héctor, forgot how to be friendly and appreciate an honest smile. Aida was confused and a slightly bit hurt because it has been more than a year since she started working for the club, and they only spoke two times - morning of her first day, and that time when they accidentally slammed into one another as they crossed their paths in the medicals.

She wasn’t sure if she was doing something wrong because to Aida, he seemed like a nice and down to earth lad, and occasionally when she would observe him interact with his teammates and other staff members, she felt a pang of jealousy because she never got more than a cold stare across the room or occasional roll of his eyes.

“Maybe he’s just not a morning person,” Thomas commented, breaking Aida’s train of thoughts. He placed the envelope under his arm as he stuck his woolly hat inside the pocket of his puffer. “Anyway, I have to go. I have meeting in ten minutes. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, good luck with your day,” Aida responded, watching Thomas walk towards his office on the ground floor.

She sat back in her comfy chair with an itch of confusion mixed with some foreign feeling of sadness that started to tickle her. She couldn’t pinpoint what she was doing wrong when it came to Héctor Bellerín. They barely interacted, and yet he wasn’t giving her a chance. It didn’t help either that out of all people that Aida interacted with on a daily basis, he was the only one who made her heart both flutter and break at the same time.

Her eyes glanced at the small calendar taped on the inside of her desk before resting on the party invitation again - her heart soaring with that familiar feeling.

Aida nodded, forcing a smile at some of the guests who passed her by. She wasn’t sure who they are or what their names were, but judging by their expensive clothes and blinding jewelry and watches, she figured out they must be very important people with lots of money.

The evening of the charity party has arrived quicker than she expected; quicker than she wanted, and even if the party was for a good cause, and she was meant to have a good time, she couldn’t shake off the tension that slowly accumulated over the past few weeks - her last weeks as the club’s employee. She didn’t want to leave, but despite talking with the HR department once again, there was nothing that she could do. Official answer was that the previous season was really bad for the club both, in terms of injury and finances, and that they had to cut the cost when it came to everything, including staffing.

“Ada!” a boy’s scream rang out over the classical music they played, making Aida look up from where she was standing, and observing her pointy loafers and tiny specks of water residue from the drizzle of rain she caught on the way from the parking lot to the party.

Aida’s eyes connected with the small boy, dressed in a mini version of the official Arsenal FC suit as he ran towards her - his curly and unruly hair giving him a few extra inches in height. Despite feeling anxious and a bit sad, Aida smiled greatly at him, crouching down to his level before catching him in a tight embrace. Over his shoulder, she noticed his mother Alysha giving her an apologetic smile, but with a small nod, Aida reassured her that it was okay. She spent a lot of time with the boy on more than one occasion - in fact, whenever Pierre-Emerick brought him to the centre, Pierre Jr. spent half of his time, sitting behind Aida’s desk as he talked in delight about his favorite cartoons and toys.

“My God, look at you! You are so handsome tonight,” Aida mused and the boy giggled, embracing her once again, silently asking her to lift him up, and Aida obliged. Letting out a puff of air, she straightened up with the boy in her arms - it always surprised her to learn that he was heavier than he looked. With a smirk, she pulled at this red tie jokingly. “Has your daddy helped you with your tie?” she asked, tickling his stomach.

Pierre Jr. let out a loud cackle, squirming in her arms. “No, it was mamie. She also tied daddy’s.” Aida smiled at the boy’s mix of using French and English words, but as soon as the boy started telling her something about minions, Aida, as much as she hated to admit, stopped listening.

The fact that she was going to be without a job occupied her brain and wasn’t something she was able to push away easily. Where did it go wrong? Obviously, like everyone else, she had her fair share of personal problems over the year, but she managed to keep them away from work - being nothing but professional and friendly the entire time. Aida always tried to give her best, treating everyone with nothing but respect, and even ran a couple of successful campaigns with the fans touring the grounds, but it was all in vain.

Aida loved the club and being part of it. She loved the mornings when she would be one of the first to arrive, she loved that cup of coffee with Simone in the empty canteen, listening to all the anecdotes that happened since the older lady started working in the kitchen, fifteen years ago. Aida enjoyed the silly banter with footballers and the staff - heck, she even liked when Granit mispronounced her name and she had to correct him every day. She experienced so many nice moments during the past fourteen months and it felt so strange knowing that soon enough those moments will just be a nice memory.

“—so I told Curtys to stop hitting me with the pillow, but he didn’t. So I ate his hobnobs.”

Aida blinked quickly, reverting back to the reality from her thoughts and looked down at the little boy who was proudly explaining his hobnob revenge on his older brother.

“Great job,” she answered, ruffling the boy’s hair before looking away from his glinting eyes and cheesy grin. Various groups of people mingled around her, and Aida moved her gaze across the room. Manager Arteta was talking to the club president while Claudia, the girl that was going to take her job along with being Arteta’s assistant was chatting excitedly with Naomi from PR. Everyone seemed to be in a better mood than she was, and Aida hated it.

“Papa!” Pierre Jr. cried out happily and Aida followed his gaze. She spotted Pierre-Emerick, surrounded with some of the teammates and their significant others.

“Do you want to go there?” Aida asked softly. Pierre Jr. nodded rapidly, and Aida craddled him before making her way through the well-dressed crowd.

Héctor Bellerín wasn’t exactly a man of few words, and everyone who knew him privately, knew that fact. The young Spaniard with an extraordinary London cockney accent loved to talk, appreciated a silly joke and banter, but also enjoyed discussing serious subjects and matters at any given opportunity. He was no stranger to a good book or a documentary, but also loved playing CoD with his teammates and just chill around his house.

He considered himself polite, trying to treat everyone with respect, and most of the time he kept his cool - except that one time with Richarlison, but the lad deserved it. Yet, despite it all, the behavior of the girl behind the reception desk, for some reason, annoyed the shit out of him.

Héctor found her behavior tiring and utterly insincere. Ever since she started working, she would greet him with that smile that couldn’t have been a real one, asking him about the weather - day in and day out. It tired him to the point that he just decided to ignore her.

On the other hand, he didn’t think that there was something wrong with her - moreover, he did agree with some of his teammates the first week she started working that she was actually pretty, but after another few weeks, her “eager beaver” behavior became a huge turn off. To Héctor, she seemed to be a type of girl that had no rest nor knew how and when to keep it down, and in his head, he used to paint this picture of her where she is making cupcakes every day, talking to fluffy animals and farting rainbows.

So, when she approached their group at the party, wearing a teal-coloured dress that wasn’t really a proper fit for her height or body type, carrying Aubameyang’s son in her arms, he waited for that bubble of overbearing happiness to burst in front of them.

But it never did.

Instead, she greeted everyone with a short “hello” before reaching the little boy back to his father. “I apologise for interrupting your fun, but the best dressed man in this room wanted to go back to his daddy.”

“Excuse me—” Calum started, clearing his throat loudly as he smoothed down his tie. “What about us? We look decent as well, no?”

His hand went towards Héctor’s shoulder, brushing the invisible dust from Héctor’s suit.

Héctor swatted his hand away.

“You look good too,” she replied, followed by a brief silence as Héctor took a sip of water, stopping himself from rolling his eyes.

Wasn’t she a walking chatterbox?

Has she already asked about Calum’s mother's wellbeing?

“Only good?” Alexandre pressed, but she sighed in defeat.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your evening…” she trailed off, breaking the banter that his teammates started. “I have to go back to—” she bit her lip, looking behind her shoulder, “—I have some stuff to do.”

Only a few seconds later, Héctor watched her walk away through the crowd of men dressed in black suits and red ties.

Part II

#hector bellerin fan fiction #hector bellerin fic #Football Fanfiction #soccer fanfiction #footballer fanfiction #arsenal fanfiction #soccer imagine #soccer oneshot #footballer oneshot #footballer imagine #hector bellerin fanfiction #hector bellerin imagine #hector bellerin oneshot

57 notes · View notes

diminuel · 3 years

Text

Okay, I live in a world of denial, so here is some vague theory about what is yet to come for Cas.

More under the cut because this is long and contains spoilers for 15x18!

I don’t think Castiel’s story is properly wrapped up. It could be an ending for him; he made a sacrifice to protect the man he love, in doing so revealing the underlying reason for all he did in all of Supernatural. (Confirming, what Metatron - who is much more aware of the story Chuck’s been writing and doesn’t have a Cas shaped blind spot - knew years ago. All Cas did, it was for one human.) I think the fact that Cas made a conscious choice to die protecting what he loves the most, was brave and beautiful.

And yet. I want him back, he can take an eternal nap later. Cas’ story still has some unfinished chapters. I’ll talk about three main issues:

First; Heaven dying. This has been showed to be an issue for Cas to address and for Jack to potentially fix. Which he might have partially done by making a couple of human angels (still interesting). However, the topic has been dropped a while ago now. And while I find that irritating, Cas doesn’t need to fix heaven’s problems even though he had no small part in causing them to be quite honest. On top of that, Michael has returned and Heaven seemed fine the last time we saw it. If that isn’t prettily wrapped up or Cas has no hand in it, then fine. I can live with that.

Second; Dean. I don’t believe for one moment that Dean wouldn’t try whatever he can to get Cas back. He gave up after Cas died at the end of S12, however, now Dean knows something he didn’t know back then: people can come back from the Empty and that the Empty can be summoned. There’s no way he’s just going to accept Cas’ death and move on with his life. Not even if people again came with the “it was his choice” topi, like Sam argued back when Cas was possessed by Lucifer. Dean didn’t let that deter him then and unless something monumental happens to make Dean not want Cas back (fat chance, even if Dean doesn’t love him back, Cas is still his best friend who died to save his ass), he will fight.

Third; the Empty. The Empty might have gotten its revenge on Cas by pulling him in. However, the Empty still is faced with a horrible problem: it’s so LOUD. Betrayed by Billie, there’s no way that the Empty is able to go back to sleep, not even with the satisaction of raining on Cas’ parade. It would be phenomenally bad writing if they didn’t address this issue and just forget that the Empty exists. I trust SPN too much to be so painfully lazy.

Now, let’s expand on this!

Initially, my theory was that Billie’s plan for how to take on God would parallel the end of S11, in which Billie also contributed one main ingredient. In order to destroy Amara, Billie gathered up all the souls in the veil (emptying it out completely) and with Rowena’s help they were transferred into Dean, who became a living bomb, powerful enough to destroy Amara. I assumed Billie would repeat that with Jack; first make sure his body is strong enough to house that massive amount of power (Cas couldn’t hold Purgatory, Dean wasn’t going to survive the souls for long). Instead of loading the bomb (Jack) up with souls form the veil, my assumption was that she would keep her deal with the Empty and have all the dead angels and demons transferred into Jack; that way Jack would be powered up immensely AND the Empty would have peace and quiet. I also thought the fact that we were introduced to Belphegor - inside Jack’s body - trying to suck up demons to power up to a god-like status, was foreshadowing it happening with Jack as well. Only that he’d succeed where Belphegor had failed.

But Billie had another plan and whatever she had promised the Empty didn’t come to pass. On the contrary; Billie just made it worse by having Jack explode inside of it. Now it’s loud. And now Cas comes into the Emtpy when it’s already very agitated. And SPN wants me to believe that this won’t lead to some interesting things? The Empty can’t even enjoy its win when it’s so busy being overwhelmed by the noise.

On top of that, Ruby begged Cas to get her out. So far Cas hasn’t even tried to do anything with that. And maybe it won’t go anywhere, just like the Huntercorp Winchester and Anael characters seem to be going nowhere, but it was a BL episode and we have a BL episode coming up next. (Besides, BL might do something nasty like bringing Lucifer back and if that dude can come back out of the Empty then Cas can too.)

In any case, I still see a good chance in Cas, who is INSIDE the Empty now, helping fix the Empty and giving it back peace and quiet. Possibly by making sure all of its contents are tossed back into Heaven, Hell and Earth. Sure, there’d be major downsides of the Empty being emptied out (Lucifer, Azazel, Lilith and co ALL active on Earth and in Hell at the same time? No thanks). But all this is Cas we’re talking about; Cas who pressured an ancient cosmic being into returning him to earth. If Cas sees a chance to get back out, by striking up another deal (I help you, you get rid of me) then I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t take it.

As you can see in my essay here, there’s no way Castiel’s story is done and it would be very, very disappointing if this truly was the end.

What do you think?

#Supernatural #spoilers #15x18 spoilers #Castiel #discussion

76 notes · View notes

itisannak · 4 years

Text

High Speed (Michael Clifford Smut)

Summary: Michael and (Y/N) go on a little date while on tour, which makes (Y/N) crave more of Michael. Based on Sexual Prompts #33: "Good girl.", #45: "Take your panties off.", & #64: "I can't stop thinking about your hands on me." And 100 ways to say I love you Prompt #80: "Is your seatbelt on?" (Smut/ Unprotected Sex / Choking / Oral; Male Receiving) (Request) (Words: 2.8k)

"Is your seatbelt on?" Michael asks me as he pushes the key in the ignition. I sigh and nod, pouting at him and earning a confused look from my boyfriend. "What? I thought you had a good time on our date..." He states, a bit of complaint in his voice. "I had the greatest time I have had in a while. I just don't want to go back to the bus. This was great because it was just the two of us, which in the bus is considered an unaffordable luxury." I explain, reaching to stroke his cheek softly. "I promise we will have a date as soon as possible." He purses his lips to kiss the inside of my palm, right on the part that connects it with my thumb. "Why do I feel like we are running out of time now?" I ask him, resting back in my seat. "Because we are. I don't for how much longer they will be waiting for us in that Target parking lot." He chuckles, starting the car. "It sucks that we missed it. I needed some stuff and I wanted to see if Calum would pick a roll of fabric for a blanket..." I giggle, turning a bit to look at Michael as he drives. My comment brings a throaty laugh out of my boyfriend, the kind that pushes his cheeks up and nearly reveals all of his teeth. "You can message them and see if they can pick up whatever you need." He offers, making me bite the inside of my cheek. "Smart cookie." I coo, ruffling his hair as I fish my phone out of my purse.

Michael brings his hand to my thigh, just a bit above the hem of my dress, letting it rest there for a moment before his thumb strokes infinite patterns. It makes me smile, how he always finds the perfect moment to be soft with me, letting intimacy flow between us. I send a shopping list to Ashton while biting my bottom lip. I wish Michael would creep his hand up a bit, making this moment a little more smut for us. "Are you ok?" He asks me just as I lock my phone and leave it on the car's dashboard. "Yeah, why?" I ask him back casually. "Your cheeks are red and your lip is nearly bleeding. What's going on?" He cocks an eyebrow at me. I fix my posture and bring my hand to press it against my cheek, feeling my skin burning. "I just... I can't stop thinking about your hands on me... Touching my thighs, grazing my spine, holding the back of my head steady to kiss me deeply..." I sigh, closing my eyes to picture what I am narrating. "Oh..." He yelps, tickling his fingers down towards my knee. "Yeah... You have gotten me fucked..." I admit, making him clear his throat. "I didn't know I influence you that much..." He replies, taking his hand away from my leg and causing me to whine. "Are you kidding me? I practically melt every time you touch me..." I watch for his reaction. I feel weirdly annoyed by him depriving me of his touch, my stomach tightening as I crave a bit more from him. "Well, we are not far from going back to our bunk..." He smirks devilishly, speeding up the car. "I don't know. It feels kinda weird, with our friends so close to us while we fuck..." I shrug. "Oh, baby... Don't pretend like we haven't fucked semi-publicly in the past. Plus, I know you like putting on a show for the neighbors when we are together." He chuckles. "First of all, I am not putting on a show. And second... Well, there is no second. My point is, it is weird fucking just a bed below your friends..." I reply, making him hum. "So what? Like they haven't been fucking their girlfriends in their bunks..." He scoffs. "Not to mention there is hardly even room to have sex in those bunks..." I point out, but Michael muses at me. "Trust me, there is plenty of space in there." He assures me. "And how exactly do you know that?" I ask, arching an eyebrow at him as I wait for an answer. "What? You think I don't have a past?" He asks me back; I am not going to lie, a sting of jealousy covers my stomach, making me cross my arms before my chest. "What? Babe... Don't tell me you are jealous." Michael gasps, pulling over. He turns to look at me, while I bounce my leg in agitation. "What? No... I just... Fuck it. Yeah, I am jealous. And what about it?" I ask him. He has a stupid smile on his face, making me squint at him for how confident he turns from me being jealous of his past. He pries my chin closer to him, leaning in for a kiss, softly brushing his lips over mine. "It is just my past. You are my present... Hopefully, my future too..." He assures me, bringing his lips to the tip of my nose for a quick peck before he turns back to the steering wheel. I stare at him as he pulls in the road again, definitely turning softer after his comment.

"Have you ever been sucked off while driving?" I ask him, making him furrow. "Why?" He asks me back. "Just answer my question, Clifford." I press on it, making him shake his head. "No. It sounds kinda dangerous, to be honest." He states, making me hum. "Well, there is a first time for everything, I guess." I chuckle, undoing my seatbelt and bringing my hand to trace over his crotch. "What are you doing, princess?" He asks me, not taking his eyes off the road. "Nothing..." I purr innocently, unzipping his jeans. I take his cock out of his boxers, stroking it in my hand slowly as Michael shifts in his seat. "Doesn't look like nothing to me..." He clears his throat, gripping on the steering wheel harder while I pump him, trying to get him hard. "Want me to stop, daddy?" I ask, running my thumb over his tip. He gulps thickly, groaning a little as he shakes his head. "Please don't." He begs, making me smile for my achievement. My hand moves on his length with a tempo now, twisting a little on the way to the base of his cock. He seems to be excited about what is going on but still focused on the road ahead of us. That's until I wrap my lips around him, swirling my tongue against his tip as I hallow my cheeks and take his cock deeper in my mouth. "Oh shit." He groans, accidentally speeding up as his leg tenses. "I am going to fucking crash..." He sighs, pulling over the car so we can both stay safe. I slurp on his cock, moaning a little to provoke him. "Fuck, baby... Look at you..." He groans, bringing his hand to tangle in my hair. My hips move from side to side happily, enjoying the sting in my scalp while I take his cock deeper. It turns me on so much, to the point I have to press my thighs together to ease the feeling in my core. "Oh my... God, fuck..." He slurs, pushing my head down. I choke on his cock, eyes filling to the brim with tears as he fucks my face, moving his hips up to make sure his cock goes all the way down my throat. He lets go of my hair, letting me bring his dick out of my mouth while I gag. I tilt my head to the side, pressing my lips along his length as I look him in the eye. "Fuck me... Why do you look so good like that?" He asks me stroking my hair softly. He relaxes back on his seat, studying me as I try to get his dick coated in slickness. "You have no idea how wet I am right now..." I moan, taking his tip back between my lips. "Don't make me harder than I already am..." He hisses, just as I suck my cheeks in and bob my head along his length. "I probably shouldn't fucking cum in a rental car... But you are so good with those lips, so good with that mouth..." He mumbles groggily, his trail of words becoming incoherent as I suck him off. "Fuck, princess..." He pulls his cock out of my mouth, tapping it on my face as he strokes it, closing his eyes and moaning with his head thrown back until he cums on my lips. I lick them quickly, before licking his cock clean. "Shit... Look at you..." Michael cradles my face tenderly, looking at me with his usual post-orgasm face. I go back to my seat, lowering the shot-gun mirror to check myself. I clean the bit of cum that stains my face, while Michael fixes his clothes, eyeing him with the corner of my eyes.

We park by the tour bus in the Target parking lot, taking a second before we step out of the car. He turns to look at me, jaw clenching and eyes turning darker. "Take your panties off." He commands, making me gawk at him. "What? Why?" I ask him, feeling my core spasming around nothing. "You heard me... Take your panties off, hand them in." He demands, his voice stern and steady, causing me to obey him without thinking of it again. My fingers hitch in the waistband of my underwear and I buck my hips up to remove them, bunching them in my hand and hand them to him. "Good girl... Let's go in. You are very tired and we are going straight to bed. Do you understand me?" He asks, gripping at my jaw and looking at me in the eye. I nod my head at him and fix my dress, picking up my purse before stepping out of the car. Michael hands the keys to one of the assistance, wrapping his arm around my waist as we walk on the bus. "Hey. How was your date?" Luke asks us as we walk through the lounge they are gathered. "It was good. (Y/N)'s a bit tired so we are heading off. See you all in the morning." Michael quickly shuts them off, making me smirk to myself. It doesn't sound much convincing, even if I wasn't aware of his plans. I kick my shoes off before stripping off my dress and climbing in our bunk, looking at Michael as he does the same. He pushes me with my chest flat on the mattress, raising my hips as he presses himself against my back. "I will need you to be quiet, princess. We don't want our friends hearing your pretty, filthy moans..." He muses, bringing his hand between my folds and feeling my wetness. "You are soaked, baby... Look at you coating my hand..." He moans by my ear, biting on my earlobe softly. "Bet you will feel so good around my cock, princess..." He teases, making me hum in agreement as I buck my hips up involuntarily. "Oh, honey... Someone looks a bit too eager..." He grabs me by my hips, keeping me steady as he spreads my sex and lines his cock to my entrance. With a quick thrust, his length is inside me, spreading my walls to wrap around him. His lips are pressed against the back of my neck, planting kisses as he moves inside me. I grip onto the pillow, biting my lip as I take his thrusts. He moves his hand to stroke my body softly before he decides to grab my wrists in his hand and pull them behind my back, forcing me to arch my body more. "That's my pretty babe... You look like art..." He praises me, his lips marking my neck for everyone to see. "You feel so good inside me..." I whimper, trying to keep my voice quiet. The literal last thing I want is for the guys to hear us and ruin this. There is limited space in the bunk bed as it is, so Michael being on top of me makes the room available seem cramped, seemingly causing Michael to be closer to me than he normally would. "It's hot, isn't it? Me on top of you, fucking your tight little hole... It is going to be interesting just sleeping in here from now on..." He teases me, bringing one hand around my throat, causing me to extend my neck and push my chin up. I feel myself getting hotter, damp with sweat as the temperature rises in the small place. And Michael feels exactly like that against me, his hot skin rubbing on mine as he thrusts his hips on me making me feel even warmer. "Touch me..." I rasp, hoping he will get where exactly I want him to touch me. "My cock is not enough for you, princess? You are craving more?" He asks, with a groan covering the silence at the end of the sentence. His hand snakes from around my wrists down to my sex, fingertips lingering over my clit until I practically press my sex down on them. It feels like heaven, him thrusting inside me, fingers rubbing my clit, and a hand around my throat. My head feels heavy, eyes flickering open and shut. He is slow and deep with his thrusts, still close to the high from his recent orgasm. And I was ready to cum the moment he touched me; it has been too long since I felt all of him, too long since the last time we fucked, and watching him reach his orgasm as I had him in my mouth has gotten me so aroused, I swear I will burst any moment now. "Why are you pulsing around me already, princess?" Michael asks, pecking at my cheek softly. "I wanna cum... So bad." I cry, bucking my hips up against his. His fingers now work faster on my clit, causing my whole body to shake. "Do it... Cum, princess. You've earned it." He encourages me, sucking a hickey on my neck as I focus on letting go. I have to bite onto the pillow to keep myself from screaming, the euphoria coursing through my body overcoming me. Michael seems to enjoy my reaction, pulsing inside me as he rests on top of me, feeling my pussy tighten around him. "Fuck, baby. Wanna milk me dry?" He chuckles, kissing down my neck. "You don't want me milking you dry?" I whine, still feeling his hand on my clit. He doesn't respond, he just grunts and thrusts his hips on mine once more, before coming undone inside me. There is an animalistic sound coming from deep in his chest as he hits his high. His fingers are still toying with my clit, making me jolt with every stroke of his fingertips.

We are both calm and breathing regularly, but refuse to untangle from one another. He is stroking my hair softly, kissing down my shoulder blade as we relax more, silence taking over the cramped bunk bed. "I love you so much." Michael whispers softly, tracing his fingertip over my shoulder blade. "I love you too..." I smirk, turning my head to look at him. He is now laying on his back and I move to rest my head on his chest, planting a kiss or two in there. "You know you are my heaven on earth? You are the only one who can make me feel this way..." He explains, resting his hands on my back. "Is that the orgasm talking?" I chuckle but he shakes his head. "No. You truly are." He insists and I hum, pleased to hear his little confession. "I am glad I have that privilege." I reply, leaning up to kiss him softly. "I am so tired." I yawn, burying my face in his chest. "Makes sense. We should probably sleep. Or maybe we can have another round..." He wiggles his eyebrows at me, earning a laugh. "I am going to fall asleep halfway through, so... pass. But maybe if we wake up before everyone... We can have a go at the shower too..." I suggest. "That place is tiny..." He protests. "When that has stopped us exactly?" I ask, winking at him.

My Masterlist

140 notes · View notes

angelicichor · 4 years

Note

Hello hello!! I really loved your writing style makes me soft for the bois, can I request some softtt headcanons for RZ Michael and any other slasher of your pick where their s/o cooks for them? Just being all lovey dovey (hit me with that diabetes crap) thank you so much 😄😄😄

That’s lovely oh my gosh!! I’m sorry though, I wanted to do more, but my brain doesn’t want to focus at all lately so!! Just Mikey this time TTvTT

Dinner

RZ’s Michael Myers:

♥ There’s not a lot that can calm Michael down on bad days. He has them ever so often and every time it’s so hard for him to hold back from destroying something or someone. You can see him just randomly standing in place, with fidgeting hands and you know immediately what’s up, so you sneak up to him, something you know wasn’t too smart, considering who he was and what he was like, but you learned to hum quietly before coming too close, so he knows you’re approaching and won’t knock you out and once you can see his guard drop, your hands are enveloping his torso, your head pressing lightly on his back and he huffs, still struggling with his agitated state.

♥ “Mikey, sweetie, go sit down, alright?” You hum to him softly, quietly and cautiously observe the movements of his back muscle for any sign of aggression caused by your request, only to see none, instead receiving a small nod from the big guy. “Thank you.” you make sure to say, before shifting away and moving towards the kitchen.

♥ Still you keep an eye on him, watch for a sign that he might break and go outside, start another killing spree… Something you’d rather avoid.

♥ To your relief however he shudders under a breath and almost too rapidly moves to the couch, letting his body sink into it, forcing the leather to squeak softly. His head lied down on the sofa’s back lazily and you could see the white of one of his paper masks. At least he wasn’t wearing the latex one again.

♥ He needed to relax, to feel secure, you knew that and the only way you knew how to make him to do so, was to make him feel at home.

♥ So you took out that nice black pan you had, and that bigger green bowl you bought recently, after the other one cracked, because Michael threw it against a wall in a fit (something he actually seemed apologetic about). Then you prepared some eggs, milk, flour, sugar and salt, baking soda… and a teeny-tiny bottle of vanilla extract.

♥ You could hear the shifting on the sofa behind you when you pulled the flour bag open, his eyes were focusing on you, your careful movements, focused face, your eyes measuring the proportions and you were sure his head tilted to the side that one time, as the soft sound of his hair moving against the leather filled the otherwise complete silence. It was often just complete quiet with Michael. He had been ‘mute’ for too long, his throat hurt whenever he spoke, sometimes even bleeding if he tried too hard to do so. Little to say, he did not enjoy speaking up, but it didn’t bother you. He loved to listen, when you spoke about the things you love, when you’d tell him about your day and just like now -when you hummed your little melodies, stirring the soon-to-be pancake batter, the soft scent of vanilla hitting his nostrils.

♥ Another creak to the leather let you know he moved and you stopped, the hand that was reaching towards the stove’s knob to turn on the torch halting in the air. You heard him move towards you and soon enough his strong breathing was right next to you, making you hesitate before turning your head behind you slightly, trying to meet his gaze.”What’s wrong, big guy?” You asked him, trying to hide your nervousness as much as possible, seeing his hands still twitch nervously, still very much aggressive.

♥ But you knew that he would sense your fear and so he did, lifting one of his hands towards your face, pulling it a bit backwards so he could see into your eyes properly, the pulse on your neck beating rhythmically under his fingertips.

♥ And he took a deep breath, taking in your features, the mix of emotions on your face, tilting his head at the slight hint of love still lingering in your eyes, making him huff softly, right before his other hand reached up to his mask which he lifted slowly, just enough to reveal his lips.

♥ Then his lips met yours in a kiss that was almost too chaste to be coming from this beast of a man, but it did and what followed was the soft feeling of your head being allowed to move back down and his own resting atop yours, his soft breathing tickling your neck.

♥ You smiled shyly, allowing his arms to wrap around you, letting him pull you closer to his chest, to relax, taking in your smell and warmth. Your hands reached towards his forearms, tracing them slowly, carefully, to not startle him.

♥ “You’re feeling a bit better, darling?” You ask him and a slow nod is what you get in return. “Good to know… I’ll make pancakes if you let me go…”.

♥ A strong shake of his head, ruffling your hair, let you know he didn’t want to do that. “Michael…” you huffed and soon after yelped as his hold around you tightened. With a heavy breath you surrendered, petting his arms lovingly. “Alright, you tree man. Bring us to the sofa if you want cuddles so badly…”

♥ And to your surprise, you didn’t have to tell him twice.

#virgo writes #michael myers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #RZ's Michael #it... ain't exactly cooking but WANTING to cook but I just wanted to write clingy boy mikey.

324 notes · View notes

storysofmyown · 4 years

Text

Obey me! Scarred, Chapt. 8

Plot: It’s time for the next step in Diavolo’s plan to unify the realms. But, in order to work, the demons would be subjected to confront their worst fears, and in some cases, who they are.

Trigger Warning: Manipulation, some cussing, blood, death, messing with another persons head.

Word Count: 3159

Mammon stood in front of The Purgatory Hall, it was the dead of the night, well, it was always night in the Devildom, but now could be considered the time were no souls were meant to be awake. Yet, here he stood with an entire bag of hell sauce flavored noodles waiting for someone to let him in. He had gone out of the house in such a rush he forgot to close his window, so no one suspected he was away. He also almost forgot to bring what his father had asked for. Finally, after who knows how long of waiting, it was probably just five minutes, but Mammon was stressed, one of the archangels opened the door. A surprised expression painted on his face. The archangel looked at Mammon up and down before looking back at someone. Mammon was getting restless.

“He is waiting for me.” Was all Mammon said before entering the room. The archangel staring in shook at the demon.

Once Mammon entered, he noticed how different this specific room in Purgatory Hall was from the others. There was little to no furniture inside, and the whole room had been painted in white. The other two archangels starred at Mammon, not knowing what to do. They had placed their hands on their weapons, but Mammon only rolled his eyes.

¨Chill out, will ya? I came bearing gifts.” Mammon threw the bag into the only table in the whole room. “He asked for it…for some reason.” Mammon starred trough his sunglasses at the archangels, before taking a deep breath and sighing. His hands were on his pockets, but he couldn’t stop pacing around the room.

“Erh…He…He is this way.” The Archangel that had opened the door, Gabriel, spoke, standing in front of the only other door in the room.

Mammon looked around. He could just go away, no need to talk to his father, go back to the house of lamentation and talk with his family about God and see if there was a way they could skip that stupid ball. If he crossed that door…will he be able to get out? What was his father planning? Raphael and Michael were standing beside the table, unlike other times, they were not defensive, they looked more curious than anything. If he tried to leave now, there was a chance they would attack him and bring him to God. Mammon sighed, he followed Gabriel into the room.

Gabriel opened the door, revealing a completely dark room, only two armchairs, in one sat God, the first armchair (which back was facing the door) faced the other armchair, which was besides a fireplace. There was a quiet in the room that rubbed Mammon the wrong way. The moment he stepped into the room he felt chills run down his back, an infernal sensation covering every inch of his body. He felt like an animal being targeted by a hunter. His fight or flight instincts kicking in, leaning towards flying the fuck away from that place.

“Ah, Mammon.” God spoke, without having turned around to face him. “Come on in, son. I was waiting for you.” Gods voice was low, slow, and raspy. Any sound that man made was enough to make Mammon prefer having Lucifer yell at him for hours.

Mammon did what God said, the moment his entire body entered the room Gabriel closed the door. Listening it creak as it closed Mammon starred at the back of the head of his father. He stood there a couple of seconds. Whatever his father wanted, was now set in motion, there was no way Mammon would be able to leave that room without God letting him out. Slowly, he made his way to the other armchair, conveniently placed the furthest from the door.

“Go on, sit down. There is no need to be nervous.” God had some type of glass on his hands, sipping whatever substance was in it while starring at the fireplace. Mammon did as he was told, not voluntarily, for some reason his body just did.

“What do ya want?” Mammon asked, sharply, or at least that’s how he intended it to sound.

“I was surprised.” God spoke. Ignoring completely Mammon’s question. “I was expecting you to jump at the opportunity to make some easy money.”

Gods eyes never meet Mammon. His father had a blank expression, a face devoid of any emotion while the low light emanating from the fire hit his almost white eyes. It reminded Mammon of those scary movies he stayed late watching with Mc. Another long sip. Silence. The crackle of the fire and the sound of his own breathing was the only thing Mammon could hear. He stayed in his sit, completely still. From where Mammon was sitting, the light barely illuminated the door, but it was enough for him to know that the door was still there. Was his father taunting him by placing him there?

“But you didn’t take. Not only that but you actively refused it. Wonder why.” This time Gods eyes meet Mammon’s, it was like starring into the void. His father looking nothing like a person and more and more like a porcelain doll. Silence. Slow breathing versus agitated one. Fire. “Care to explain?” Mammon could not tell if his father was staring at him or at something else.

“I…erh…I don’t need to explain myself to ya!” Was all Mammon could say. He wanted to form a fist in his hand and slap it against one of the arms of the chair, but his body just wouldn’t cooperate.

“Come now, I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense.” God sighed, he let his head rest on his hand, was the room getting darker?

Mammon bite his tongue. There was a strange sensation running around him, he evaded Gods gaze, focusing on the door behind his father.

“Fine, you can keep it a secret. I don’t mind.” God crossed his legs, another sip, more silence. “I been meaning to talk with you.”

“Why didn’t you just ask to see me before?” Mammon blurted out. He was not planning on saying that at all, while part of him did thought that it was odd that his father wanted to talk to him 2 days away from the ball, that was not what he wanted to respond at all.

“Oh? I guess you weren’t that important.” God sighed, looking bored, before shooting a grin at Mammon. “Why would you be?”

“Oi! Show me some damn respect. I’m no child you can talk to like that.” Mammon felt a rush of fury trough his whole body. Still, he maintained motionless in his sit, glaring at his father.

His father was right in front of his face in the blink of an eye, starring at Mammon’s eyes with such an intense hatred it made him sweat. The man was merely inches apart and Mammon wanted to push him away but there was something that did not let him. He was petrified in place. Mammon felt himself shake to his core yet be perfectly still. Just like he appeared in front of him, God was now behind Mammon’s chair. Mammon could hear the breathing of his father right behind him, calm, collected, like he was having a conversation with an old friend and not with one of the sons he had hurt in such an intensity.

In contrast with Mammon’s, who was accelerated, agitated. He was all alone in a room with his father, who knew what his father wanted and no one in the house of lamentation was awake at this hour to notice he was gone. God was a menace, to everyone in his family. The only reason why he agreed to meet God was because he wanted to help Lucifer somehow, and maybe finding out if their father was messing with their family would be a good start.

“Respect? Haha, ahahaa, HAHAHAHAHAAHA” God laughed laud and hysterically. Shifting around the room at such a speed Mammon could barely keep up where his father was moment after moment. The laugh went from being a noise coming from a specific place to a reverberating noise coming from everywhere. At some point it all stopped. Once again, the only noise in the room became the crackling of the fire as Mammon sat perfectly still in that chair. He lost track of where his father was, but the sound of someone humming captured his attention. He glanced at his side, finally able to move a part of his body, to find his father, one arm leaned on the fireplace, eyes closed. Humming a lullaby of some kind.

“Oh Mammon, you make me laugh. HAhaHa! Respect, oh my me. I didn’t know that becoming a demon gave someone a sense of humor.”

“What is so funny about that, huh? I am The Great Mammon! You should show me some respect.” Mammon snarled, still facing in his father’s direction.

“Oh please, you haven’t done anything to deserve anyone’s respect.” Mammon was going to protest, but he stopped when God started humming again. Suddenly, it clicked to him why the music was so familiar.

“Lilith’s music box.” Mammon averted his gaze, starring at the floor.

“Ah, you remember huh?” God chuckled. Mammon could hear God shifting. “The music box…its funny, it was the first thing that got destroyed during the war. Do you even know how Lilith got her hands on it?” Mammon didn’t respond. “Of course not, why would you?” God sighed; Mammon could hear his father shuffling around in the room.

Mammon had spent so many years trying to fight the memories of that time in the celestial realm. All those memories, from the moment he was born to the way his wings burned as he fell, were blurry and in a good day, nonexistent. Because he wanted to forget them. He was being forced to remember a time in which he was at his worst, in a sense. They were forced to be loyal and love their father, they were forced do whatever he said, it was a time in which they were mindless warriors who if they ever made a mistake his father could annihilate them. Perhaps that is why Belphegor and Lilith loved so much the human world, they were not forced to serve an egoist man. Perhaps that is why he always went against Lucifer’s orders…

They had lost so much at that war, but even so, they were so much better here in the Devildom. The only thing he wished they still had was their sister. His eyes tried to find his father. He needed to know where the man was, he was undoubtedly scared and the moments in where his father was hidden he wondered if he was going to do anything. He was in danger, he was scared, and for some reason he could not move at all.

“Lilith found it on earth. It had been a gift from the man she fell in love with. How disgusting.” Mammon heard the noise of a glass shattering, the fire became more furious as it burned and the light it manned became brighter. He felt suffocated by the increasing heat on the room. “But it seems like she was not the only one in the family who found…humans endearing.” Mammon could see his father from the corner of his eye. His mind immediately connected the dots, his father was talking about Mc. “You and the rest of your family…you have become quite fond of that human.” There was disgust in Gods voice.

Mammon felt this wave of anger hit him; he felt his blood boil at the mere thought of God speaking with Mc. He was actively trying for his demon form to merge, but it wouldn’t. Why? He couldn’t understand what was happening, he never had any trouble going into his demon form, heck, sometimes he had trouble not being in his demon form. He glanced up, fire in his eyes, to be meet by his father’s icy gaze.

“Don’t ya dare touch ‘em!” Mammon screamed at his father, struggling to move, speak, or even think. His father laughed. Mammon was being faced by the person that scared him the most, and the man was in some threatening one of the persons who Mammon cared for the most. He would be shaking right now if he could.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare to do something like that. I’m not one to get my hands messy. No.” God was now right beside Mammon, a golden glow on his father’s eyes and terror in Mammon’s. “The truth is, that even if you are demons now, you were an angel once, which means that there is a part of you that still loves me, that still will do anything I say.” Mammon tried so hard to just turn around and hit his father, but he still couldn’t, and at this point he was sure it wasn’t because his body wouldn’t cooperate, but because his father was controlling him.

He tried so hard to move but the most he could do was make the chair shake a little. His father had a satisfactory smile painted on his lips. His father muttered something, the fire extinguished, for a moment, Mammon could not see or hear anything.

“Mammon?” What? How where they? What was Mc doing in there?

“…Mc?” His voice was shaking.

“Attack them.” In the blink of an eye Mammon threw himself at where he assumed Mc was. The darkness in the room preventing him from seeing anything. He was running at full speed, demon form finally out and ready to attack Mc. He could hear Mc was in distress, asking him what he was doing and why he was acting this way. Mammon only snarled and growled at them as he threw one of the armchairs over because it was on his way.

He didn’t want to do this. His mind was screaming at him to stop whatever he was doing, to go against his father, to attack his father instead. But he couldn’t, there was adrenaline running trough his body and his mind went blank the moment he felt his claws dig into someone. Mc screamed. And his heart stopped, he was crying because he knew what was happening, but he couldn’t stop. The screams and cries of Mc mixed with them begging him to stop. The laugh of God coming from his own mind. Mc stopped struggling. And Mammon started to sob uncontrollably.

The entire room was then bathed in a white light, Mammon looked up at first. Terror settling in as he saw the walls covered in blood. He glanced down. And all his world came falling apart. There, in the floor was Mc, covered in blood, mutilated, hurt, killed by his own hands. If he wasn’t already on the floor, Mammon would have fallen. He started crying even more, barely being able to breath trough the sobs as he hit the floor with his fist. He wanted to hold Mc’s hand, and he did.

“Mc?” No response. “Mc, c’mon on! Don’t ya mess with me.” Mammon voice was quieter now, Mc’s body was covered in blood. His breathing stopped for a moment, as even more tears accumulated on his eyes. “Mc, please! Answer me! You human!” Mammon brought Mc’s hand close to his face. The usual warmth had vanished and was replaced by a stiff coldness as he held Mc’s blood covered hand on his face.

“My, there is no need to act like this. They are a simple human.” Mammon had only hurt like this once. “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell that was an illusion. Well, its you after all. Why would I surprised that you couldn’t tell the simplest of things?” Mammon looked at his father with red eyes.

“That…that wasn’t really…Mc?” God laughed.

“Of course not. That was… why don’t we call it, a warning?” God kneeled, starring at Mammon right in the eyes.

“I still own you.”

God spoke slow, putting emphasis in his every word.

“No matter what you do, or how much you think you have changed, you and all the others still are just my little puppets. And just like you hurt that precious human of yours without even having a second to question my will, I can make you do the same for the others in your family.” God stood up, tall, mighty, Mammon had to look up in order to see his father. “You are nothing. No one. You only have meaning if I decided you have one.” Mammon felt himself being forced to bow for his father.

Mammon was being humiliated, reduced to only his father’s servant, but he didn’t care about that. He only cared about the scent of blood in his body and the memories of how he had killed Mc. He wasn’t aware of how long his father forced him to bow. But it was long enough for Mammon to lose sense of himself for a moment. When he was able to get up, his father placed a hand on his back. Normally Mammon would slap it away but now…he was in a dream state. Barely even aware of what was happening around him. They were in front of the door, God had placed his hand on the noob and was about to open it, but he turned to Mammon. A smile on his lips.

“You know…its going to be a shame when you tell Lucifer about this. I mean, how disappointed in you do you think he would be? You were right here, knowing damn well what I was doing…yet you were weak and couldn’t even go against me. My, and you pride yourself in being the second eldest.” Mammon didn’t say anything. Instead, when his father opened the door, Mammon only kept walking.

The archangels immediately jumped into position when they saw the door being opened. They were ready to fight but the moment their eyes fell into the demon, covered in blood, and with a broken, lost look on his face, they leaved him alone. Gabriel opened the door for the demon, and when Mammon was about to leave, his father spoke again. The moment God spoke, Mammon stopped in his tracks. Like a trained dog to his owner.

“Oh, I almost forgot, thank you for delivering what I asked for. Even without knowing you still do what I told you. That’s a good boy.” Mammon flinched, his wings hanged low, the moment he stepped out of that room he was transported to his own. He didn’t question it. He just sat in bed, being plagued by guilt and by Mc’s face. And he cried, he cried all night until he had no tears left to cry. Two more days, and God will finally leave. But his absence will not be enough for any of the brothers to feel

Heya! Here y’all go! It was Mammons turn to suffer and i really hope i did justice to his character. This one was a little hard to write, at first i didn’t knew in what direction i should go with this but I’m pretty satisfied with the end product. Also, fun fact time! I had to cut that from this chapter cuz i felt like it didn’t make sense, but originally Lilith’s music box was going to be one of seven gifts God had given to the siblings. Each of them was meant to have an specific item they lost during the war. But yeah, i had to cut it out because i felt like it didn’t belong in this chapter...on in this story in general. So, that’s it for today, i shall be posting next chapter between Saturday and Sunday, and i think its safe to say there is only 3 to four chapters left of this fan fic, wow...cant believe we’ve made it this far, yay, hope y’all enjoyed it!

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

57 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Promises Not Kept Part 13

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 13: The Christmas that changes everything

Leah had suffered through many Christmases alone. The first one she had after losing Jonah was one of the worst. It took a lot of alcohol and crying to get her through to January. She never wanted to face such a gloomy holiday ever again. But ever since their run-in, Tommy and Leah were quiet around each other. Both were too afraid to continue the conversation in fear it would really break them apart. They were trying to at least make it through New Years without arguing again. But the tension still lingered and the only person oblivious to it was Charlie.

Unbeknownst to her, Tommy was busy Christmas Eve morning. Things were heating up and his family was scattered about. A family divided was a vulnerable family and that was deadly. There was something unsettling in the air.

“It’s getting late, love.” Leah murmured. The little boy’s eyes had begun to droop as his bedtime approached. They were sat by the fire to stay warm in the drafty house. The toddler was nodding off in her lap, the flames casting shadows over his angelic face.

“It’s Christmas tomorrow!” Charlie exclaimed.

“I know, I wonder what Santa will bring you.” She stroked his hair that was starting to lighten, as he got older. He retained certain features that looked like Tommy but he did look like Grace the more he grew.

“Charlie, got a job for you.” Tommy walked into the big room with a plate. His son jumped up and hurried over. “We give these to Santa and Rudolph.” He knelt down and handed the plate to Charlie to set out by the Christmas tree. Leah stood up, watching father and son interacting with a faint smile on her face. Tommy poured a glass and placed it by the tree as well. “Put this out for Santa, for his whiskey.” He smiled and held his arms out. “Night-night, Merry Christmas.” He hugged Charlie. “Go on upstairs with Leah, sleep well.”

Leah reached out a hand for him to take. Her eyes lingered on Tommy for a brief moment before going upstairs to put Charlie to bed. He nodded and

“Lee, you stay here?” Charlie asked as he snuggled under the quilts.

“You want me to stay in here for the night?” She tilted her head in confusion. It wasn't like the young boy to need someone to stay with him the night. He tended to be more independent like his father. “Why, poppet?”

“No, here. Here with daddy and me.” He clutched his teddy bear close to his chest.

She sighed softly and touched his hand. “Of course, love. I wouldn’t leave you.” And she was speaking honestly. She had no plans to abandon him or Tommy. Not when they needed her the most and not when she loved them both so much. Deep down she knew she needed them both too.

“Okay.” Charlie yawned.

“Now get some rest. Santa can’t come ‘less you’re asleep.” She kissed his forehead. “I love you very much.”

“Love you too.” He replied sleepily and his eyes slid closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Leah returned back downstairs, she heard Tommy’s sister in the study. She paused for a second, listening to their conversation without intending to be sneaky.

“If we stay out in the open, isolated, he’ll pick us off one by one. We need to be together in a place even they won’t dare to come.” Tommy’s voice was firm and low as an authority figure.

�� Ada laughed in disbelief. “You mean back home?”

“Within a four-mile radius of the Garrison, every man is a guard and a soldier for us.”

Leah’s stomach twisted up in knots. What on Earth was he talking about? Who would pick them off? She stepped back a few steps until she heard Tommy raise his voice. “Anyone who wants to live to see another Christmas needs to come where it’s safe.” His tone held a great deal of anxiety even as he tried to conceal it. “These bastards will kill kids as well.”

She had enough of listening and pushed open the door. Tommy and Ada stopped talking and looked at her. “What’ve you been keeping from me?” Leah demanded without explaining away why she was eavesdropping.

Silence. Ada glanced over at her brother but he looked caught in the act.

“Tommy….” Her tone was warning and she couldn’t restrain herself. “Answer me.”

“There are men who are here to kill us.” He obliged without sugar-coating anything. If she wanted to hear the truth then he would give it to her.

Her mouth popped open in utter shock. Of course, she knew that Tommy had enemies but he never took the time to inform her how far things had progressed. “And how long have you fucking known?”

“We’re going back to Small Heath.” He skirted around her second question in his usual business fashion. “Tomorrow, there’ll be a family meeting. We’re all on his list and as far as I know, no one’s safe.”

Tears welled up in Leah’s eyes. She felt so far behind everything. Pushed aside because she was some delicate woman who couldn't handle what was going on with the man she loved so much. But now suddenly she was involved because it had grown beyond Tommy's control. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’ve been handling it…”

“How?” Leah lost her patience and it was a long time coming. She was sick and tired of Tommy’s business tactics. Sick and tired of him trying to pull the wool over her eyes.

“That’s nothing for you to fucking worry ‘bout.” His voice rose a bit too. His nerves were completely frayed. “I’m going to keep you and Charlie safe, that’s what matters. But you need to fucking listen and do as I say!” He pointed sternly at her. “Don’t need you questioning me.”

Her lips parted slightly in shock. “I’m not one of your men, Thomas Shelby.” She hissed. “I don’t follow your commands.”

“’Less you want to be fucking dead, you’ll listen. You’re not getting shot by these bastards. Not on my watch.”

“So I’ve to follow you blindly but you don’t have to tell me when my life’s in danger?” She retorted sharply.

Ada reached out to try and ease the tension between the two. “Why don’t we calm down a moment, don’t want to wake the baby.”

“I’m not having this fucking conversation. Not when I’m trying to keep all of you alive!” He stormed out of the big room.

Leah let out a desperate noise of frustration. Everything hit her like a ton of bricks. Tommy’s behavior, the revelation of what he’d been doing for months without her knowing, and the imminent danger. She collapsed onto the couch in tears.

Ada frowned and rubbed her shoulder. She was well aware of how frustrating her brother could be. “Let’s get you some tea.” The woman only sobbed in response. “Maybe gin instead.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leah managed to drift off for a quick nap after a glass of gin. She curled up on the couch, warmed by the fire still blazing in the hearth. Despite the little amount of alcohol she’d consumed, it was enough to relax her mind even for a moment.

But that was interrupted a while later by Tommy who shook her awake. “C’mon, we need to leave.” His voice was low but agitated.

She closed her eyes even tighter and shooed him off. “I’m not in the mood, Tommy. Just leave me alone.”

“That wasn’t a request.” He asserted and hurried over to stuff Charlie’s presents into a bag. “Go get Charlie, we’re leaving.”

She begrudgingly sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“They know we’re here. We need to be in Small Heath where it’s safer.” He reached out a hand to help her stand up. “I’m sorry. I can apologize for days if you need me to,” He took her face in his hands, his blue eyes searching hers. “But right now I need to make sure you and Charlie are safe.”

Leah touched his wrist. Fear bubbled up in her stomach as if the second they walked out of Arrow House they would be accosted. “I love you.” She whispered. If they were to die, she needed him to know that. They could argue every once in a while but she would never stop loving him.

Tommy’s chest tightened. The world was against him and the only people who were standing by him were the people he loved. The people he once loved, who were gone weren’t there anymore. Perhaps in spirit. But he needed to rely on the ones who he could embrace. “I love you.” He murmured back and kissed her deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~

Leah tried to wake Charlie as delicately as she could. She didn’t want to alert him to anything wrong in fear of scaring him.

“Is it Christmas?” He asked sweetly.

“Not yet, darling.” She put his robe on over his pajamas and scooped him up.

“Mummy!” He looked over her shoulder and pointed at the night table.

Leah paused and picked up the frame of Grace before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~

They were quiet on the way to Small Heath. Charlie had fallen asleep in Leah’s lap in the backseat while Tommy drove. There was no telling what would happen. It wasn’t known if they were overestimating or underestimating the Americans. They just didn’t know the worst was yet to come.

It felt like ages since Leah was back in Birmingham. Even longer since she’d been in Tommy’s room at Watery Lane. The bed was far too small for all three of them but Tommy didn’t even attempt to sleep. He stayed downstairs by the phone, trying over and over again to get in touch with John to no avail. By dawn, he could only pray that Michael had gotten there quickly and was bringing them to safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the hope was shattered just an hour after the sun began to rise. A phone call came through and Esme was screaming on the other end of the telephone line. It all came out as nonsense, hysterical sobs masking her words. But Tommy finally caught a few snippets of what she was shouting.

John. Dead. Michael. Dead.

After that, it was just brief flashes of memories. Walking through the hospital. Esme screaming for her husband. Polly running alongside the gurney that held her son. Doctors and nurses hurrying him into surgery.

He felt so numb as if he wasn’t truly experiencing everything first hand. Instead, he was watching from another dimension, floating through time and space in a daze. Muscle memory carried him through the hospital, every step mechanical and stiff. All the voices around him began to blur into each other to the point he couldn’t tell where they were coming from. He just kept walking forward. That’s all he could do. One foot in front of the other. His brain wasn’t functioning. Nothing registered. Just one foot in front of the other.

Tommy had no idea how much time passed while at the hospital. At least not until Esme forced him and Arthur out of the morgue. As he pushed through the doors, he was met with Leah waiting nearby.

She looked terrified and grief-stricken. She’d tried to comfort Esme before she stormed into the morgue but with no luck. Polly was also inconsolable, waiting for the prognosis of Michael’s fate.

It made everything Tommy spoke about the night before feel all the more real. There were truly people out to kill each and every one of them.

“Tom…”

“Where’s Charlie?” Panic bubbled up in Tommy’s throat.

“With Ada.” She answered. “He’s okay.”

He nodded slowly and walked over to her, right into her open arms. He didn’t speak but began to cry against her shoulder. All the wounds that had finally scarred over were torn open again. Like clockwork, he was forced to face the consequences. Forced to put someone else to rest. Forced to pick up the pieces.

“I’m sorry.” Leah held him tight. It was clear to her now that they all needed to stick together if they wanted to survive. She just wasn’t sure how long that strategy would work for them. There was no telling when the world would close in on them and began to collapse right from under their feet.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

Masterlist

45 notes · View notes

theoriginalladya · 4 years

Note

#15 kiss for Michael/Kaidan 🥰

from this prompt list

On AO3 here

Okay, so this one got away from me a bit. Like 2100 words away! lol Anyway, it helped me sort out a few things for these two which I needed before I start Nano in a week. Thank you, m’dear, for all of your love of my pairs! I hope this meets with your approval!

prompt: a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

~~~~

Two weeks seems an eternity to wait, but if it means a chance to figure things out between them, Shepard is willing. His mission after the Collectors is nearly over, and as determined as he is that they will make it back out of the Omega-4 relay, having an extra added incentive never hurts. Well, that plus it sticks it to the Illusive Man and his heavy handed interference. That definitely counts for something.

From the moment he opened his eyes on Lazarus Station, nearly everyone has reminded him, Don’t trust him. Garrus, Anderson, Tali … even Liara. Hasn’t he made it clear yet that he never has and never will? So, maybe they have something … in common. The Collectors need to be dealt with, end of story. But it doesn’t take a genius to see too many corners are being cut in the process, and maybe he’s paranoid, but to him that reads like Cerberus has an ulterior motive. One that they won’t share with him. Add in the fact that TIM’s decision to drop hints and rumors at whatever whim he decides to follow, putting innocents at risk needlessly, well, the way Shepard sees it, taking a day for personal business should fly under the radar. Only, he isn’t willing to risk that, either. He’s about done with the whole damned thing.

He slips onto the Citadel easily enough; working with Bailey assures him that much. Finding the meeting point takes a little longer seeing as it’s buried deep in Zakera Ward. Still, he times it just right, even better than he could have hoped, and as he enters the building, he spies Kaidan at the front desk. Good. That’s one risk out the window, not having to expose his true identity, and instead he waits in the shadows near the bank of elevators.

He’s always been good at hiding in plain sight, and slips onto the lift easily. The elevator is crowded – of course it is, but who is he to judge if it means they have some peace and quiet they need to talk – and by the time they arrive on the twenty-ninth floor, he’s pretty sure Kaidan knows he’s there. He follows after him, hopping through the doors just before they close, and hurries down the hall to his left. He doesn’t know the room number, but he nears a door that’s left open in invitation. It could be a trap, part of him still believes it is, but he slips inside the room without hesitation anyway, sealing the door behind him.

Still facing the door, he ask softly, with a certain urgency, “Did David get to Grissom without any problems?” Only then does he turn to face a room thick with shadows and very little light. It takes a moment to find Kaidan, but he does, and he isn’t as far away as Shepard thought he might be.

“David is fine,” Kaidan replies. “Anderson put me in touch with the woman in charge of the place. Cerberus won’t have any contact with him there.”

“Good.” Shepard takes a few more steps into the room looks around. His lips twitch slightly at what he finds. “Kinda small in, here, don’t you think?”

Kaidan’s cheeks darken a little, and for a moment, Shepard has hope. He remembers all too clearly the last time he said that, and while he would give anything for a similar outcome tonight, he knows his chances are slim to none. Especially when Kaidan folds his arms across his chest and gives Shepard a pointed look in return. “You said you wanted to talk,” he argues. “I didn’t figure size mattered.”

“Size always matters.”

The heat flares a little more though Kaidan fights it; Shepard sighs softly and backs down, and for the first time since waking up on Lazarus Station, his entire presence softens. The Butcher of Torfan is not longer present, instead replaced by a man with too many regrets spanning two lives. He takes a seat on the corner of the bed, leaning forward until his arms rest across his thighs, head drops low, and he can stare at the floor. “Kaidan, I –.”

Kaidan stops him with a disgruntled huff and starts to pace. It catches Shepard off guard for a moment; he’s the one with the history of impatience and frustration. Kaidan has always been the one to hold himself together, cool under pressure. As their eyes meet and hold, he notices the regret that shines in Kaidan’s eyes, bright as a signal flare.

Kaidan comes to a stop directly in front of him. “Look, before we really get into it, let me just say something first, okay?”

Shepard nods and remains silent.

Kaidan takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before beginning, “About Horizon, I just want to say … I’m sorry I took it out on you like I did.”

Shepard reaches deep for the patience to wait this out, for the willpower to keep his mouth shut and let Kaidan continue.

“To see you like that … well, it was a shock, to say the least.”

Shepard’s lips press into a tight, thin line. “I understand,” he says. “I’m sure I would have reacted similarly had our positions been reversed.” They both know that’s not true; Kaidan would never be with Cerberus, but it’s the idea that counts.

“All I could think was, why didn’t you get in touch with me? Contact me somehow? We once meant something to each other. At least, I thought we did.”

Shepard winces. Once. The past tense hurts, but he expects it. “For what it’s worth, Kaidan, I did try. I even asked Anderson.” When he looks up, his smile is halfhearted. “He wouldn’t tell me where you were, nor would he deliver a message from me.”

Kaidan picks up the pacing again and runs a hand through his hair in agitation.

“Do you really want to keep rehashing this?” Shepard asks. When Kaidan glances over at him, he shrugs. “I can think of other things we can discuss that won’t lead us down a potential path of self-destruction.” Kaidan frowns. Shepard’s brow lifts. “What? You think I didn’t notice when you started to flare on Horizon?”

“Point.” Kaidan stops pacing and sits in a chair by the window. “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

Shepard clasps his hands before him, stares at them as if they are the most interesting thing in the galaxy in that moment. “I … wanted to tell you, to let you know …” He pauses, considers the best way to explain. “Look, fact of the matter is, I’m about to lead my team through the Omega-4 relay.” Kaidan’s breath hitches, a soft echo throughout the room. “I wanted a chance to … well, to just see you again. To talk with you. Maybe to clear some of this mess up?” Shepard shakes his head but doesn’t look Kaidan in the eye just yet. “I know your opinions on my current situation; you made that abundantly clear on Horizon, and that’s fine. But I wanted you to know …” He lifts his head finally and is suddenly pinned by the whiskey brown pair across from him. Throat suddenly dry, he swallows twice before he can continue. “At this point, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, but I wanted to let you know I still care. Believe it or not, you were the first person I thought of when they woke me up. I had no idea where I was, what happened, where you were; but you were the first. And I … I just wanted you to know that.”

Kaidan’s jaw tightens as he grinds his teeth. “Shepard …”

God, he hates that this has to be so hard, for the both of them, because he really doesn’t want it to be. No matter what happens, he still cares. Is that really so hard to understand? To accept? Taking another breath, he asks, “How’s Kandra?”

Kaidan blinks. “What?”

Shepard chuckles. “Your sister. How is she?” Probably hates him, too, just like her twin.

“I - Kandra? She’s … fine, I guess?” Kaidan’s head tilt’s slightly. “Why are you asking about her?”

A wry smile twists his lips. “You know, there have been a few times where I’ve wished she was the cook on the Normandy this go ‘round.” Gardner tries, but even with better ingredients, he still doesn’t make anything Shepard really likes. Kandra, on the other hand, performs magic in the kitchen. He’s been witness to it first-hand.

Kaidan manages a short laugh. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

Silence fills the room as they both sit across from one another. Michael fidgets with his fingers; Kaidan stops grinding his teeth.

“Look, Kaidan –.”

“Shepard, I –.”

The laughter returns, easier this time for both of them. Shepard rises to his feet and moves to stand next to Kaidan’s chair, but he stares out the window at the Citadel beyond. “I am sorrier than you will ever know,” he whispers after several minutes, “for what you’ve had to go through. I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

Kaidan’s sigh is weighted. He pushes himself to his feet slowly, like an aged man for whom mobility is no longer easy. But once he’s on his feet, he turns to face Shepard. “I was lost for a long time. I can’t even put into words the hell I went through.”

“I know.” Shepard turns, facing him, then hesitates. The whole purpose of this meeting was to let Kaidan know he was about to head through the Omega relay, which he’s done, but now? “I just …”

No one is more surprised when Kaidan reaches out a hand to cradle Shepard’s cheek than Shepard is himself. He holds his breath, waiting, watching with wide eyes, as Kaidan closes the distance between them and leans in to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. The touch is brief, and leaves Shepard’s lips tingling. “Michael,” Kaidan breathes, his voice practically a groan, “I love you. I loved you before, I still love you now. Despite everything that’s happened.”

Without conscious thought, Shepard’s hands slide around Kaidan, securing around his broad shoulders and tugging him closer. Time stands still as he covers Kaidan’s mouth with his, taking the initiative this time as he savors, devours, and more importantly, remembers. He breaks free only when he cannot breathe, dropping his forehead to rest against Kaidan’s. “I … I’m sorry, I ….”

Kaidan huffs softly. “Yeah.” His voice is as rough and raspy as Shepard’s. “Um, s’okay, but … what I was going to say was … I, um, can’t …”

A small smirk twitches at Shepard’s lips as he looks into his eyes. “Left you speechless, have I?”

Kaidan nearly chokes on a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Good to know.” Shepard’s hands slide up to frame Kaidan’s face. “Answer me two things, okay?” Kaidan nods. “Have you found someone else?”

Kaidan blinks, tries to pull back, but Shepard doesn’t let him. “What? No! Why would I? I … I was still mourning you up until Horizon, dammit!”

Shepard smiles. “That’s fine, that’s good,” he replies quickly. His heart feels like it will jump out of his chest. “Second question, do you … Would you want to try again?”

This time, Kaidan does pull free. He backs up across the room until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits. “You’ve just told me you are about to go through the Omega relay!”

Shepard nods. “Yes, but we have a way to get through safely.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to assure him it is, but he doesn’t. “One hundred percent? No,” he finally replies. “More like ninety-four percent it will get us there and back again.”

Kaidan bites his lip hard. “And what then? You do realize the Alliance wants to talk to you about what happened in Bahak, right?”

“I am aware, yes. I promised Hackett I will turn myself in when I get back.” Shepard shrugs then walks forward, dropping to crouch in front of him. “Look, Kaidan, I know things won’t be easy, and it might be a while before we see one another again, but … I just … I kind of need to know … you know?” Kaidan sighs, heavily, and for a moment Shepard thinks he’s blown it. He's pushed too hard, too fast. It’s too much, been too long, it's too …

“Yes.”

#Fictional Kiss Prompts #ladya writes #Michael Shepard #mShenko #Biotic Pinball Wizard #Kaidan Alenko #this one has been sitting as a draft for a long time waiting for me to finish it!#also part of a larger plot #so longer #thank you so much for this!!!#it really helped me sort some things out for them!#mallaidhsomo

9 notes · View notes