#i asked for a raise and they cut my hours instead LMFAO

[shadyhouse]

hey im sorry to do this but im doing really badly financially again. im getting paid tomorrow so i'll be out of the negatives but its going to take pretty much my entire paycheck, i'll have less than $10 after my direct deposit hits 😭

please only help out if youre able to, anything at all helps 🙏 💕

vnm: tobias_leviathan

paypal.me/bewearrr

#i thought i was gonna get paid today but i didnt :') the stupid early pay thing is so unpredictable #im having really bad luck finding a new job. im really really sick of my current job like i dont get paid enough to live and they dont care #i asked for a raise and they cut my hours instead LMFAO #my paycheck next week will get me back on track but rn im stressing bc my electric bill is due soon and theyre threatening to shut it off #and im just looking at the lint in my pocket like ....?

[nateslehky]

lil natecale banter (?) scene below the cut. from my coffee shop au that i actually may end up doing something with although if i do i'm 99% sure this scene (which was one of the first ones i wrote for it) won't make the cut because i'd likely make nate significantly less of an asshole lmfao. but like. i still like it so here have it <3

“Yeah, sure, I got you, Sammy,” says Cale into his phone as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll let EJ know when he comes in, no worries.”

He pulls the speaker away from his ear as Sammy rambles about how great Cale, his accent heavy in his excitement.

“G,” interrupts Cale. “I’m at work, you know our rules about cell phones.”

“Sorry, sorry. Merci again. I owe you.”

Cale nods as if Sammy can see him, then hangs up and glances at the clock, sighing as he mentally prepares himself for another four hours of work instead of another thirty minutes.

“You shouldn’t say yes all the time.”

Cale freezes as he places his phone back in pocket. It’s Nate, staring at him from his spot at his usual table, hands around his mug. How he still has coffee left when he’s been sitting there for so long, Cale has no clue.

“Pardon?” asks Cale before returning to wiping down the empty tables. 

“Didn’t you also stay late last week? And you always say you’re happy to do shit. The word ‘no’ does exist, you know.”

A frown flashes across Cale’s face, his hand freezing mid-wipe.

“My understanding of the English language is pretty succinct,” he snaps, forgetting for a second that he’s supposed to have on his customer-service-persona. “Thanks, though,” he adds hastily.

The corner of Nate’s lip curls up into a crooked grin.  

“I’m just saying,” he says, his shoulders falling into a lazy shrug. “They’re kinda taking advantage of you.”

“They are not,” says Cale with a scoff as he wipes his hands on his apron. “They’re my friends. I’m just helping out.”

“When was the last time someone covered one of your shifts?”

“I–” Cale thinks about it for a second, then sputters out, “I don’t know.”

Nate just raises an eyebrow like that’s the answer he expected.

“I haven’t really asked for any shifts to be covered,” says Cale. “That’s why.”

“Maybe you should,” comes Nate’s immediate reply. “You’re here at the same time every goddamn week like clockwork.”

“I like the routine.”

“Sometimes breaking routine is good,” says Nate before taking a quick sip from his nearly empty mug. “For example, you should’ve called out last week. You were definitely sick. I saw you cough all over my drink.”

“I did not!” 

Okay, so. Maybe Cale did have a runny nose, but that was probably just allergies. Maybe his head pounded with a slight ache, but that was probably from lack of sleep. Maybe he coughed occasionally, but if he did, it was most definitely into the crook of his arm, not in anyone’s drink! 

Jesus. He’s not a heathen.

“You did,” says Nate, then downs the rest of his room temperature coffee and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair.

He turns on his heel, sets his mug down in the bus tray and heads out the door, leaving Cale standing dumbfounded with the rag held limply in his hand, the half-wiped table mocking him.

#my writing #i actually really like this #maybe one day y'all will see it properly ensconced in the cale-the-barista nate-the-grumpy-regular fic i was envisioning when i wrote it #but idk if that's ever gonna come to fruition #idk i just like the idea of them not automatically vibing but it was hard to figure out #anyways it's nice to share something i guess #this isn't fully edited tho so be kind pls thanks xoxo #829 #natecale

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

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

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

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

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom bites his lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom slows down the car.

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

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

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

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

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

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

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

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

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

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

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

“Step away from the door.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They reach the gym.

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

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

“Holland. Time to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

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

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

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, lovie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The visit is over far too soon.

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, man.”

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

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

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

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

The prison guards don’t agree.

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

It’s still worth it.

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

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

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

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

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

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

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Where are you?”

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

“In here, Sam.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When was this?” he whispers.

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

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

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

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

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

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

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

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

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

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

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

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

“I really don’t,” you agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The air between you shifts.

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

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

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

“What have you got planned?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

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

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

“Please do.”

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

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

“Say please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

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

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

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

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

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

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

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

[kylespencersgirlfriend]

hear me out: interning with luke

interning with luke

luke cooper x gn!reader warnings: me being a hoe for enemies to lovers and writing over 1k words for a character with 3 mins of screen time, one mention of porn but no detail word count: 1,284 (the fact that this is one of my longest fics LMFAO) a/n: i kind of love writing for characters like luke with little to no screen time because there's a lot more room for imagination. anyways, lemme know what you think of this :) also, i know this episode is meant to take place at the end of summer, but we're going to pretend it's at the beginning for this

-i see your "interning with luke" and raise you "initially luke was the office's only intern, but given that he's terrible at his job and michael doesn't want to fire him, he brings on a second intern instead, and you end up getting stuck with all of the work luke fails to do, so you dislike him, but he eventually wins you over"

-go fish

-michael puts out ads for a new assistant since he can't bring himself to fire luke

-you haven't had any luck finding a summer job, so you apply for the position

-the interview goes really well, and michael tells you that you can start monday

-monday morning, erin texts you everyone's coffee orders

-you get up early so you can grab them on your way to work, and everyone's relieved to see that you didn't mess anything up

-"thank god," darryl says after taking a sip of his coffee "it's not decaf."

-andy makes a comment about you already being better than the "other assistant"

-michael had mentioned during the interview that they already had another assistant, and you were glad you had someone to split the work with

-but based off everyone's comments about him you're not so sure you're going to enjoy working with him so much anymore

-after a couple minutes luke strolls in

-late of course

-and you figure he's the other assistant you've heard such good things about

-"hey so, no one ever texted me the coffee orders, so i didn't get anything" he says

-"oh thats okay, y/n got them today" erin tells him

-"who?"

-michael comes out of his office and greets both you and luke

-"so, luke, y/n is actually our new assistant.. our, new new assistant, because, y'know, the workload was just too much for one person, i didn't want to put that pressure on you"

-"oh... cool."

-at first luke sees you being there as an excuse for him to do even less work than before

-"did you send those samples out luke?" "actually y/n was already headed to the post office anyway, so they did it instead"

-you despise him

-you're bending over backwards to do this job the best that you can while he just sits back and watches

-he honestly doesn't even realize it, he's just happy you're doing all the work for him

-everyone in the office LOVES you and hates luke

-they're pushing for michael to fire him and just keep you

-the crew asks you what you two think of each other

-you: "he's the worst. all he does is play cookie clicker or watch porn or whatever on michael's computer all day, and i get stuck doing work that's supposed to be split between two people. i bet he gets paid more than me, too, since he's michael's nephew."

-luke: "the other assistant? yeah, they're cool, i guess. i dunno, i've never really talked to them."

-after about two weeks of you two interning together but hardly interacting, michael sends you two to the store to pick up supplies for one of his random office parties

-and that's really the first time the two of you have been alone together

-so he starts trying to make conversation with you and you are not having it

-and that's the first time it occurs to him that you might not like him

-so from then on he starts putting more effort into talking to you

-he walks you to your car after work

-he helps you carry stuff to and from the warehouse

-he sits with you during your lunch break

-it gets to the point where he spends more time talking to you than pretending to do work

-like before he would at least try to look busy but now its totally obvious he's only showing up to talk to you

-think season one jim and pam except you're super annoyed instead of smitten

-one day you two have to accompany michael on a trip to new york

-him and erin go in one car, which means you're stuck with luke in his

-for over two hours.

-you spend a couple minutes in silence

-"do you mind if i put music on?" he asks

-"no, i don't care" you reply, not looking up from your phone

-"ok cool, i'm just gonna put my playlist on"

-you don't respond until the music actually comes on

-it's your favorite song

-you look up "you listen to this?"

-"yeah, this is actually my favorite band, why? do you not like it, because i can change it if-"

-"no no, they're actually my favorite band too"

-"really?"

-"yeah, this is my favorite song by them"

-"mine too!"

-you chuckle "you wanna listen to this other band after? they have the same vibe, but they're so underrated"

-"yeah totally!"

-the rest of the car ride goes super fast

-the entire time you guys talk about music and movies and your jobs and whatever else comes up

-once you get to new york the crew asks you both about the ride

-you: "the car ride was actually... fun. which is surprising, considering i just spent two hours and fifteen minutes in a confined space with luke and... didn't totally hate it."

-luke: "i had a good time in the car. y/n is actually really fun to talk to. plus they have good music taste."

-so after that you and luke gradually get closer

-you and him definitely give each other the jim look™ when something crazy happens

-you know the one

-he offers to start driving you to and from work

-"i just thought, y'know, we could save gas money, and it's better for the environment"

-you agree

-after one long day you lean back into the passenger seat of his car and close your eyes

-he turns to look at you

-"you okay?"

-you open your eyes and face him "no, i'm beat" you chuckle "i can't even imagine how tired i look right now"

-he smiles a little and turns away as he starts driving "no, you don't look tired. you look really cute"

-"wish i could say the same for you"

-"hey!"

-you laugh "i'm kidding, i'm kidding! the 'i-dont-own-a-hairbrush' look really suits you"

-he laughs "you think so?"

-"yeah," you reach over and ruffle his hair "all bets are off if you comb this mess"

-"i'll keep it in mind"

-the rest of the drive is spent in comfortable silence with slight blushes on both of your faces

-he parks in front of your house

-"well, this is me. see you monday" you say

-you turn to open the car door, but before you can luke grabs your upper arm and pulls you in for a kiss

-it's short and sweet before he pulls away

-he pauses for a moment "i'm sorry y/n, i don't know why i did that, i wasn't thinking-"

-you cut him off by pressing your lips to his again

-after that day you go on a couple dates before you make it official

-because of you he actually starts trying at work

-like wow... your power

-he doesn't want to get fired since working together lets him spend time with you

-the entire office knows you're dating

-like they don't know

-but they know

-they gossip about it at lunch

-"the interns are so cute together" "you don't even know if they're dating for sure" "luke has actually started putting effort in at work... if that's not y/n's influence i don't know what it is"

-when michael finds out he will take credit for your entire relationship because if he hadn't hired you then you and luke wouldn't have met

#luke cooper #x reader #imagine #headcanons #fluff #the office

[miekasa]

any dad!levi hcs for father’s day today🥺🤲🏽

Absolutely!! I’ll do this I guess using the kids I have for him in my parent au? If you’ve read that, you know about Holden, but there are two more so prepare to meet them :’) happy father’s day to Levi <33

To begin with, you guys would plan to have your kids (to the best of your abilities; you were intentionally trying to have kids at a time when you both knew you were ready for them. 

Although accidents to do happen, and Levi would welcome an unplanned child all the same; that being said, if you’re both want a family, you would have discussed it beforehand (which is to a degree, is a lot about mental preparation for himself). 

In his perfect world, he’d have two daughters. They’d be equal parts him and you, and they’d be quiet and curious and lovely and life would be good. He’d spend his days with you and his two tiny daughters, raising his little family and doing all he could for his favorite girls. 

So, naturally, he does get two daughters, but also a son in between; and the latter two kids are far from easy in their own unique ways lmfao 

You might have already met Holden, and she’s the oldest in my dad Levi au, and the most like him. Levi’s dark hair, his grey eyes, his overall unimpressed visage, his knack for cleanliness and organization—down to the way she holds her sippy cups, she’s damn near Levi’s doppleganger. 

Holden is somewhere between 3.5-4 years old before you have your second kid, and in that time is when Levi confirms he thinks he was cut out to be a certified Girl Dad. 

Both Levi and Holden take quality father-daughter time very seriously. It’s impossible to change plans once they’re set: “Daddy, you promised we would go to the famer’s market on Sunday. You pinky promised.” And Levi wouldn’t dare break a pinky promise, so he makes time for it. 

Levi doesn’t play favorites with his kids, but there is something special about Holden as his first born. He’s constantly in awe of just how much she resembles him. Four years into raising her and it’s still hard to wrap his head around. 

Much to his chagrin, Hange and Eren are Holden’s favorite adults. Maybe Levi understands the admiration for Hange, but Eren... come on, Holden, you’re breaking his heart at that point. 

It’s almost out of character for your daughter to be so openly affectionate about someone outside of your immediate family, but she really loves having Eren as a babysitter; and you know she’s playing favorites, because she remains neutral on Armin, even though he and Eren always babysit as a duo. 

She doesn’t have a favorite grandparent, but Kenny spoils her the most. Levi tells him he shouldn’t, but when has Kenny ever listened to Levi. The man isn’t a fan of kids, but he thinks yours and Levi’s are pretty cool, and Holden is about the coolest 4 year old he could ever meet. 

When she was learning to walk, Levi’s favorite thing was holding her little hand and guiding her around. Even now, when she can stand perfectly fine on her own two feet, Levi loves it when she reaches for his hand; Holden is a pretty independent kid, even at 4 years old, so Levi never takes affection from her for granted. 

They’re best friends and Holden goes everywhere with him. Their favorite father-daughter activity is going to the grocery store, and Levi lets Holden point to and assess her favorite fruits and veggies while she sits happily in the shopping cart. 

Sometimes there are other parents struggling with a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Levi simply clicks his teeth, while Holden shakes her little head. “That’s pretty embarassing, daddy,” she says, looking at the poor parent with an unamused glare that rivals Levi’s. He nods and pushes the cart past the scene, “Tell me about it, kid.” 

Your second kid is a boy, and he looks more like you than Levi, but manages to have Levi’s signature hair color and pout when things aren’t going his way.

He comes as a shock to both you and Levi, because after your ultrasound, you were told you were having another girl. Turns out, they’d accidentally mixed up your files, and you were having a boy instead, which you do not find out until your mid-term check up a few months later. Cue Levi buffering like an old computer. 

Kiaan is welcomed all the same, even tho Levi is still in disbelief; he was mentally preparing to have another daughter on his hands. He puts more pressure on himself with his son; not that he wasn’t trying his best to be a parent to Holden, but any insecurities he might have about being a good come out when your son is born, because Levi has no “man of the house” example to follow from. 

You reassure him that your son will turn out to be just fine, and raising him the way you raised Holden, and would have raised another daughter is perfectly acceptable. Of course Levi rises to the occasion after the initial shock; he’s determined to be the dad to his son that he never had. 

Where Holden is more reserved, Kiaan likes to talk and babble about anything whenever and wherever he can, to whoever is around. It’s not uncommon for you or Levi to find your son completely entertained by telling a story out loud to himself while playing with his toys.

Loves to rope Levi into making his toys interact and have “conversations” with each other, and Kiaan genuinely thinks his dad is hilarious, even if he doesn’t completely understand what he’s saying. It always makes Levi smile to hear Kiaan try and copy the bass and tone of his voice when he’s mocking him. 

Kiaan loves messing with his dad, and Levi’s all talk, so of course he lets him. He’ll be on a Zoom meeting for work, and Kiaan will be sat in his lap, running little toy cars across the desk in front of him, or tugging on Levi’s hair, and Levi just lets him. It makes quite the cute sight, and Hange has definitely taken a few screen recordings. 

That being said, your son is more of a mama’s boy than anything. Kiaan loves messing with Levi, but if you’re in the room, there’s a 95% chance he’ll be on your lap or at your side shadowing whatever you’re doing. 

Kiaan is a universal copycat tho, so whatever you, Levi, or Holden say or do, he tries for himself. This makes him especially susceptible to repeating Levi’s foul language and bad habits than Holden. (“Kiaan, you can’t sleep on the chair, it’s not good for your back.” “But daddy sleeps on the chairs sometimes!” “...Alright kid, you got me there.”) 

He’s a very loving kid with his words, too, always thanking people and proclaiming his love, so he doesn’t exactly have a “favorite” adult or babysitter, but he does get particularly excited when Erwin or Farlan come around. He feels especially tall when Erwin lets him sit on his shoulders, and Farlan always entertains his story-telling. 

He’s a sucker for his grandma though, and gives Kuchel a million kisses whenever she comes around. Does not let go over her for the entire time she’s over at your house, and will sit on her lap throughout dinner. 

The most affectionate child, so where Holden only likes holding hands, Kiaan loves cuddling with you and Levi, and likes to be held whenever possible. Levi spoils him a little too much, and more often than not, if you’re walking outside for more than two hours, Kiaan will end up on Levi’s shoulders or in your arms. 

Your last kid is another girl, and, yeah she’s just a baby no older than a few months, but Levi can’t help but think she’s especially tiny, and he can’t help but to look at her and hold her whenever possible. Your baby girl also leaves Levi a little dumbstruck because she manages to look like a combination of you and his mother. 

As she grows, it becomes apparent that you’ve got another daddy’s girl on your hands. Doesn’t matter if you’re literally breast feeding her, Aria will throw a tantrum if she’s separated from Levi for more than an hour. 

The good news is, her sleep cycle is as irregular as Levi’s, so he’s got someone to keep him company when everyone else has gone to bed for the evening. Unfortunately, this also means Aria naps a lot during the day, which leaves Levi a little bored since Holden is old enough to be in school full-time, and Kiaan is gone for at least a portion of the day. 

So, he would never tell you, but sometimes he wakes Aria up from her naps just a little bit early to spend more time with her (and cure his boredom). Having an infant trying to grab at his hair with her ravioli sized baby fists while he tries to cook lunch certainly makes the task more difficult, but it also adds welcomed color to his day.

You and Levi have to hold Aria constantly when she’s awake or else she’ll cry (although, if you leave her in the arms of her siblings, she does settle down, too); that, or she’ll find her tiny baby hands somewhere they shouldn’t be. Like dipped in a jar of strawberry jam. Or peanut butter. Or both. 

Levi talks to his kids like he would any other adult, so it’s not uncommon to find him brewing tea with a baby strapped to his chest, narrating the steps to good tea-making out loud to her for her to hear. He swears she can understand him, and he attributes Holden and Kiaan’s growing vocabularies, and the early ages at which they started speaking to this. 

Aria will be in her little chest strap thing while Levi’s cooking dinner, and he’ll look down at her like, “Alright, we’re gonna julienne your carrots today. Yesterday we cubed them, but you’ve got grabby hands, so this will give you more room to work with.”

Kiaan loves holding Aria and honestly just being around her, and you and Levi think it’s adorable how he loves to play with her, and how he knows to be gentle with her. He shares a room with her, and loves sharing his bedtime story times, so you or Levi will read them to sleep together. 

Holden isn’t crazy about babies, but she’s a good older sister, and Aria seems to be obsessed with her. She crawls and scoots towards her if given the opportunity, and Holden will always look to you or Levi before attempting to hold or lift her up, as if asking permission. She’ll pat Aria’s head to get her to stop crying, or let her play with her hands. 

Levi thinks one of the best parts about being a dad is seeing the different dynamics and relationships between your kids. Holden isn’t most physically or verbally affectionate, but she’s still compassionate, and Kiaan looks up to her; and Kiaan is the perfect middle ground, knowing when it’s appropriate to bother (affectionate) Holden, and when to give her space, and curiously hovers around his baby sister, too. 

#anonymous #dad levi dad levi dad levi dad levi!!!!!!!! #levi x reader #levi fluff #aot x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #aot imagines

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin oneshot #tartagila #mona genshin impact #Chonghyun #kaeya alberich #master diluc #venti genshin impact #fischl #lisa genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #fanfic

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

[floatservices]

wrong numbers/right answers

iwaizumi hajime/reader wc: 3.9k 

When Hajime had started catching feelings for the mystery number, he'd rationalised that it could never be you. Slowly but surely, his mystery texter had been getting him out the slump Iwaizumi had been feeling over his unrequited feelings, and instead of wondering about you, he was wondering when the next mystery number text would come.

But now you're her and she's you and his brain is going to explode. He doesn't have enough brain cells for this.

Curse this stupid, stinking crush.

“You've been on that damn phone for, what, 30 minutes now?” Iwaizumi growls, waving Oikawa's less than impressive test score across said boy’s face. “What are you, texting a new girlfriend?”

“Iwa-chan, I'm flattered you think I have a new girlfriend!” Oikawa’s ecstatic, typing with one hand and snatching away the sheet away with the other. “But no, I'm just trying to have a good time with our favorite classmate,” Oikawa metaphorically dangles you in front of him, and smirks as his friend’s eyes widen. “Oho, I’ve got your attention now, have I?”

Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose, trying to get the test back. “Shut up, shittykawa. If I knew her better, I'd apologize to her because she has to deal with the likes of you.”

The spiker makes a wild lunge for the test paper, because they came to his house to study, not so his disgraceful excuse of a best friend could tease him about a girl, but Oikawa leans just out of reach, his long arms stretching as far as they could.

“You wound me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa chuckles, shuffling the paper under the cushion he was sitting on. “My test score wasn’t that bad, anyways-“

“You call a 52% a good grade?!”

“Well, it's a pass, isn’t it? I have more important things on my mind, anyways, like beating Ushiwaka, texting my favorite girl in class, don’t you have something to do? Oh, wait! I forgot that you were-”

“Shittykawa," Iwaizumi cuts in, a seething expression on his face, but Oikawa pays no mind. "If you finish that sentence-“

“-Socially awkward! You can’t even talk to her without blushing! But funny how that doesn’t happen when you talk to anyone else like that, hmm, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime gets up and launches himself across the chabudai, tackling Oikawa, a fist raised.

__

It’s 8am when Iwaizumi gets a text.

From: ??? To: You rinrin this is you right!?? buddy???!! pls send me ur jpnese lit hw I NEED HELP otherwise tatsuya-sensei will have me impaled bro my entrails will be sacrificed to whoever the hell Yamada Kai was, helpppp!

There’s a string of different crying emojis after that, which Iwaizumi finds adorable. He doesn’t know who this is, but it’s obvious that the poor guy went to Aoba Johsai. The woman who taught Japanese Literature was famous around the school for being a harsh marker and a harsher teacher style. They’d been studying Yamada’s works so far, and Iwaizumi expects whoever sent it was panicking- it was 8, school started 8:30, and English was their second lesson of the day (or it was for tomorrow, because Classes 3-4 didn’t have Literature today, but Iwaizumi assumes it’s today, otherwise they wouldn’t be this distraught.)

He glances at his watch- he had a few minutes to spare. He fishes his work out his bag, and he thanks God he's used his best handwriting (Tatsuya-sensei had caused quite the scene photocopying his work last time, showing off to the entire Class-2 how “insufferably illegible” his print was,) hoping whoever was behind the screen could read it. He takes a quick picture of it, making sure it’s not blurry and the script is clear before sending it off and hurrying out of his house.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You [sent: IMG20151219] you’ve got the wrong number but i’m from seijou too. this is the worksheet you mean?

From: Crying Emoji lmao To: You aaa i’m so sorry for sending it to the wrong number!

but yes, it is the right one! thank you so much, i owe you one, mystery man!

Oikawa’s waiting for him outside as always, and Iwaizumi deliberately speeds up so he can walk past. Behind him, Oikawa makes a sort of whine from the back of his throat, quickening his pace to fall in next to him.

“What’s gotten you so cheery?” Oikawa asks, and Iwaizumi realizes he’s been smiling. He replaces it with a scowl, quickly shoving his phone in his pocket so Oikawa can’t get anymore curious.

“It’s no thanks to you.” Iwaizumi quips, and Oikawa pouts.

Iwaizumi only risks a reply when he gets to school, because Oikawa Tooru will never shut up if he sees him texting someone that is so obviously a girl.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You how do you know it's a guy..? for all you know i could be a girl, you know.

He gets a reply soon after.

From: Crying Emoji lmao To: You well, if you are a girl, i'm sorry!! i didn't mean anything  by it... also i kinda assumed you were a guy because of your handwriting.

He should be offended by that, right? Right. He’s offended by it. He's about to defend himself when his phone buzzes with another message.

From: Crying Emoji lmao To: You SHIT I'M SO SORRY THAT WAS RUDE TO SAY!! I BET YOU WON'T TALK TO ME ANYMORE

IT'S UNDERSTANDABLE IF YOU DO...

He blinks, an ungraciously amused smile making it's way onto his face. He leaves his phone alone for the school day, because his teacher has just walked in. He figured he'd reply to you after school, just before volleyball.

It's kind of a mistake, because he comes back to 12 more messages, each message reading a variant of "I'm sorry," the amount of sincerity in each message growing as the hours passed by. He figures it's time to ease the stranger out her misery, and begins typing his reply.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You no need to get worked up on it, lmao   you planned on talking to me again?

While waiting, he has enough time to go to the clubroom early and change out of his school uniform to his jersey. He's halfway through fixing one half of his laces when his phone pings.

From: Crying Emoji lmao To: You it's because i thought i owed you one.... but i guess if you don't want to talk it's okay lol

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You i hope it's not me that offended you this time. i do want to talk. you seem... cool?

He hits the send button, rereads it, and recoils. That sounds awkward.

Iwaizumi starts typing more.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You besides, you don't know me. how are you gonna give back (whatever. i don't know how! you're the  one that wants to owe me.) if you don't even know me?

From: Crying Emoji lmao To: You won't it be funner if it's a mystery?

i guess... we could help each other out! anytime we need hw help we just call each other, like a private help line.

(also, why the question mark? of course i'm cool!)

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You i think that sounded less creepy in your head.  

(sure, you're cool. [heavy sarcasm, if you can't tell.])

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao

is that a no?

(rude!)

Iwaizumi stares at the screen. Well, he didn't really mind. And whoever this was sounded pretty trustworthy, and not a random creep that pretended to be a Seijou student in their free time. His time to deliberate is cut short, because Oikawa slams the clubroom doors open, singing a Christmas carol Iwaizumi didn't recognise, along with Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who were discussing what kind of forfeit Oikawa had to pay today if he didn't set as well as he should; ramen or oden?

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You fuck why not

i'll be looking forward to... being helped out? bye.. i'll talk later.  

my best friend is here and i'm not ready for him to annoy me straight to satan's asscrack.

Iwaizumi whips the phone away from Oikawa's line of vision, only letting him see his asscrack remark. (It backfired, because Oikawa spends all of the time from putting his shoes on to the start of practice whinging.) The boys slowly file out of the clubroom, Kunimi shutting off the lights as the door softly clicks closed.

Iwaizumi's phone lights up in his blazer pocket, a simple "see you later!" on the screen that brightens the whole room up.

___

It's two weeks later when Iwaizumi needs the help he's been promised. He opens up his chat- they'd just been talking last night about Seijou's annual fair, and what they each were going to do.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You hey english is kicking my ass

can you help a me out please

To: You From Crying Emoji lmao ofc !! what do you need help with

i would let u copy my answers but i feel like you actually have to learn english at some point phone-chan lol

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You the english were on crack when they

made up their language i swear

does the sentence "the star shine brightly" work

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao

LMFAO

weh that's a trick question

"shone" is for no object and "shined" is for when here's no object. so like shone works for 'light' and shined can be for like

a car headlight

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You what the hell

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao ikr english is crazy

you also forgot the "d" at the end lol

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You that one is on me that's simple

but the other thing isn't. aren't the both shining anyway? what's the point in having two. i hate this devil language i swear

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao

if it helps no one really cares and i think

you could get away with either english has a lot of rules and no one follows them sooooo... it's whatever!!

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You

try telling that to fukuoda-sensei i swear that guy has a grudge against me or smthn

To: You

From: Crying Emoji lmao WAHAHAHA i had him last year.... he literally hates fun i don't think i've ever seen him smile

good luck with that phone-chan :P

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You

one last question btw

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao

ooh okay shoot!

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You what's 好きな食べ物は揚げ出し豆腐 in english

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao ...

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You don't tell me you don't know :(

To: You From Crying Emoji lmao phone-chan, if i say i'll make your agedashi tofu for the festival tmrw will you please stop making vague hints  towards it for the rest of the night?

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You :)

To: You From Crying Emoji lmao the things i do for you, phone chan!

___

"Iwa-chan, don't eat too much." Oikawa says, blinking as he tries to process the sheer amount of beancurd his friend is wolfing down.

"Says the person who hogged all the milk bread once." Iwaizumi retorts, rolling his eyes. "This is one plate of tofu, unlike when you once wasted 2000 yen to buy the school's entire daily stock of milk bread so you could eat it." He pauses to finish another cube of his favourite food. "And school milk bread doesn't even taste that great."

"It was cheap, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa tries to defend himself. "Makki, Matssun, help me out here!"

Matsukawa only shrugs, and when prompted by Oikawa to give a 'real' answer, he sides with Iwaizumi, apologizing sheepishly.

"Sorry to admit it Captain," He chuckles, "But I don't really like school food anyways."

Iwaizumi shoots Oikawa a teasing smirk, and Oikawa's just about to say something when Hanamaki pipes up.

"I like it," Makki makes a non-committal gesture, and Oikawa looks happy with that. "I mean, sure, school food isn't that great but I think the milk bread is the only good thing about it."

"Like striking gold in a coalmine!" Oikawa nods his approval, and Iwaizumi just sighs. Looking around, he spots you out of the corner of his eye, looking as good as usual and serving a few parents and students. He knows he can't call you because he'd end up sweating through his blazer, so he asks another classmate instead.

"Okuhara-kun," He calls, waving to a boy in his class. "Do you know who made the tofu?"

The boy shakes his head. "Whoever it was came early to drop it off. It had a note with it though."

This gets Iwaizumi's attention. She'd left something for him? "Oh? What did it say?"

"Uh- this is an exact quote, by the way- 'Phone-chan, don't you dare!'" Okuhara replies, drawing out quotation marks in the air. When Iwaizumi lets out a loud laugh, he takes it for disbelief.

"Is it... really that funny?" He questions, looking bemused.

Hajime grins. "Not really."

____

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You you didn't even drop any hints!

all you gave me was a note that told me to go away

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao i knew you'd go looking, phone-chan! my intuition is as good as ever!

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You unfair. that was like, my best friend's level of unfair.

so unfair that i'm thinking about moving my best friend back to the top of my favourites list :/

That was a bold faced lie. Oikawa had never been on the top of his favourites list: that was reserved solely for Makki.

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao you wound me!

who is this best friend?

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You

not telling lol

you'd know who i was then

To: You

From: Crying Emoji lmao spare hint ma’am?

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You you didn't give me any!

and you're the one who wanted to keep it a secret in the first place :/

...but fine.

he's on the volleyball team

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao oikawa!!??

To: Crying Emoji lmao

From: You ... :( yeah

see i told you!

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao actually, i don't know the vb team that well. oikawa's one of the only guys i know  because he's popular. and loud 

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You oh so i’m not popular?

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao aww phone-chan it’s not like that <3 ur popular in my heart :)

Iwaizumi curses at the blush that follows reading that. He will not allow himself to get flustered over that, it was a joke!

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You gee thanks 

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao besides i still know the third years! i'm just saying i don't know them that well!!

hanamaki, matsukawa and iwaizumi. they're a close friend group, so i expect one of then is you

When he reads his name, he doesn't know whether to deny it completely, or confirm that it's him. Hajime puts his phone down and paces for a bit, wondering if he's fucked up. When he checks his phone again, chewing on his lip, he guffaws at the message they've left.

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao ...judging from how you're not replying, you are.

but since i don't know which one, i'll decide on calling you phone-chan, yeah?

When Iwaizumi met whoever they were, he was gonna give them a lecture of a lifetime about not being a smartass.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You fine, yeah. i am one of them. but now you owe me a hint too!

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao

well, i suppose i do!

i'm one of the girls in the class that actually has oikawa's number. he half forced me to give it to him, actually, but it's still been fun talking with him.

(not as much as talking with you, phone-chan!)

and i also totally get why he's annoying.

Iwaizumi feels a tiny bit of jealously bubbling up- irrational, because he's only been texting them for about half a month. His friend's statement about liking talking with him more than Oikawa makes him a little pleased, because people didn't usually pick his pretty best friend over him (selfish, yeah, but he's tired of girls asking him to deliver chocolates to the setter and befriending him in hopes of getting closer to Tooru.)

But girls who had his number? Only the ones Oikawa actually had an interest in.

The grand total of the people in his class with the brunet's number was three, because as courteous and as flirtatiously he acts, he accepts and turns down people normally, and doesn't like hurting girls as much as his playboy rep boasts (Iwaizumi's always liked that about him.) The three girls he knew of consisted of Aoi, his ex, Reina, who unbeknownst to Oikawa at the time, swang the other way, and...

You.

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao i know that aoi, reina and (name) has his number...

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao well, one of them is certainly me!

we're both down to three, phone-chan. even ground!

Iwaizumi feels the world cave in on himself, reading the message over and over. Aoi was a nice guy, but he was also the same brand of pompous that Hajime disliked and Oikawa had found cute. They’d ended it horribly, so Hajime was decidedly not looking forward to the possible outcome that it was him, so he casts away the thought before it can solidify in his mind’s eye. Reina didn’t even like guys, so if you were you…

Huh. His mouth’s gone dry suddenly.

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You cool cool

 hey i'm gonna head to bed i gotta emotionally prepare for voluntarily walking into japanese lit class with tatsuya sensei on my ass

sorry to cut it short

To: You From: Crying Emoji lmao aw don't worry about it phone-chan <3

good night! and see you tmrw, whether we know it or not!!

To: Crying Emoji lmao From: You sleep well

Iwaizumi curses during the 5th hour of trying to sleep. Curse this stupid, stinking crush.

___

He wishes he hadn't asked. He's fine with his favorite crying emoji user knowing who he is, but knowing that it's you sort of struck a pang in his heart that couldn't be undone. He can't concentrate in class, and though he fights it because Oikawa's caught on to this habit, he finds himself staring at you instead of listening to the teacher. The whole situation was annoying!

First he thinks you're cute but he'd chalked it up to never working out because Oikawa had managed to snag your number. Then Oikawa assures him that it's platonic and they only talk about school work which is, to say the least, bullshit, because Oikawa can't actually text without getting distracted. His best friend has a tendency to rant about volleyball or start gossiping when his phone is within reach, and it's why his study sessions happen with Hajime next to him (and even with him, Oikawa still manages to get his grubby hands on his phone.) His best friend was absolutely up to something, and it had been killing Iwaizumi that he didn't know what it was.

And then he'd gotten that cute, fated, statistically impossible text from a wrong number, and fallen into a cute flirting-but-not-really routine. They were kind, sweet, and willing to help him with trivial things like homework and make him his favorite food.

It was easier not really knowing who it was! That was mean to admit, sure, but even when Hajime had started catching feelings for the mystery number, he'd rationalised that it could never be you. Slowly but surely, his mystery texter had been getting him out the slump he had been feeling over his unrequited feelings, and instead of wondering about you, he was wondering when the next mystery number text would come.

But now you're her and she's you and his brain is going to explode. He doesn't have enough brain cells for this.

Hajime sighs, looking away from you and back to his worksheet. Algebra stares back at him with no mercy. "I have no brain cells." He mutters, amending his thoughts. In the seat next to him, Oikawa chuckles lightly.

"You've got enough to stare at her, though." He whispers, and Hajime feels his blood boiling. "I swear, when the bell rings, I'm going to-"

The teacher clears her throat loudly. "Iwaizumi-san, if you could refrain from speaking until I've finished..."

Iwaizumi feels his hot rage flood into his cheeks as embarrassment instead. "Of course, sorry sensei."

You catch his eye as he averts his eyes from the teacher, and you smile encouragingly. Hajime thinks the knot in his forehead gets worse. He feels himself go hotter, somehow, and quickly goes back to looking at his math equations. Oikawa's still fucking smirking.

"Denial, Iwa-chan."

There's something fishy in the way that Oikawa texted the group chat about getting lunch. Firstly, Oikawa liked western food for whatever reason, and whenever he asked to go out, he would picked a pricey French place. The rest of the team would debate for about 8 minutes before usually settling on a cheap soba place near the town centre. He'd claimed it was for a post-midterms celebration, and since the Christmas holidays had started, they might as well go somewhere altogether, as a team.

But Oikawa's suggested this expensive ramen place (which... alright, it's not like Oikawa never eats Japanese. But he doesn't prefer it, and Hajime is paranoid about whatever plan his best friend has hatched) and instead of shouting at him to lower the price, Makki and Mattsun agree immediately. Iwaizumi knows Makki is broke this week, after having to buy a replacement volleyball for the one they popped while roughhousing, so he doesn't understand why he'd agree to blowing 2000 yen on a single bowl of ramen.

The rest of the third years decline or agree. Iwaizumi thinks this is for plausible deniability, to make him think it's all alright. But when Oikawa @'s him in chat to confirm for the coming Thursday, he grudgingly agrees. He's wanted to try that ramen place for a while, anyway, and he's putting too much thought into this. It was just lunch with the team. It's fine.

Then the coming Thursday rolls around, and he's been standing outside the ramen place for 5 minutes and no-one is here and he's going to kill Oikawa-

To: [crying baby noises] From: You oikawa i swear to god where the fuck is everyone. i'm going to aim every spike in practice to you i swear. yahaba would help me

To: You From: [crying baby noises] WAHAHAHA it's okay iwa-chan, someone else you like much better than our sweaty volleyball team is coming ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

To: [crying baby noises] From: You die in a ditch

To: You From: [crying baby noises] you won't be saying that after ur first date! (☆ω☆)

here's her number, since ur gonna need it!

[CRYING BABY NOISES] HAS SENT YOU A CONTACT

Iwaizumi grumbles the entire time he's punching in the number, intending to tell you that you've been set up and you don't need to bother coming, but his phone shows up with an error that he's already got the number saved. He stares at the notification, blinking once, twice, before the elation sets in and-

"Ah, Iwaizumi?" You call his name, walking quickly towards him and giving him a bashful smile. "Sorry I'm late. I wasn't worried because I thought it was just going to be Oikawa talking my ear off, but he texted me to say... well."

He just says your name, blushing but still grinning. You chuckle, and the little display of happiness pushes him to at least try and say something, "Oikawa gave me your number, but..." Iwaizumi trails off.

"He sent yours too." You explain, pulling your phone out and, at last, he's given proof that you're the mystery number and his grin manages to get wider. The cool winter air bites less than it did before. "But I already had it saved."

"Me too." Hajime says, taking a step closer to you and taking a hand tentatively. Your fingers slip between his, and your cheeks are pink from more than just the cold.

"I had a feeling it was you." You admit, still looking at him the way you do in his dreams. "It's nice to finally meet you properly, Phone-chan."

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #this was SO hard to format please like n subscribe SKDVGSLKJFDLSK #this was crossposted to ao3 ! #also i should rly write smthn huh. like something actually new

[adamsvanrhijn]

Hello there! I have been happily working through your incredible wtmy,tbws fic like a duck enthusiastically eating a bowl of peas, and was wondering if I may request a director’s commentary on the "never cared to 'til a minute ago. Always been a delicate bloke." conversation OR whatever scene from that fic that you most enjoyed writing? Thank you!

thank you! i am loving that simile very much.................. a duck enthusiastically eating a bowl of peas. amazing.

under cut because the fic itself is Adult Content haha

& also because this is Absurdly long... doing this meme for other people is really hammering in for me how much i rely on single line dialogue & short paragraphs lol. i’d love to work on that, but, womp womp, it hasn’t really been happening.

there is ... a lot going on in this scene lol. i feel very galaxy brain while writing this fic and it’s very pretentious, but i’m just gonna poke at the relevant bits around that quote instead of quoting The Whole Thing. this is from chapter 5 of when to my soul, the body would say ! 

context -- they’ve had morning sex in front of a mirror, then they went for breakfast at the place they’re staying, where richard is using a persona for Safety Reasons, & now they’re just hanging out and richard has been checking thomas out for the last 5-15 minutes without him noticing... until he comments on thomas smoking, and then thomas...

...lets his eyes wander, himself. 

Richard, fully dressed save for his shoes, is turned from the bureau, arm slung over the top of the chair. He did his hair this morning, because Evelyn Price would not have gotten up to anything in the night that could possibly alter the work of a week's worth of Brilliantine, and Thomas sort of hates it.

Not how it looks.

What it means. Or represents, rather. That they've got people other than each other upon whom they need to make good impressions, be they in service or just in the world at large.

right, so, this is like, the Ground Work Thoughts for thomas here as far as this particular interaction is concerned, because this is Very Much about perception / Being Perceived, and before the conversation even happens he’s paying richard a lot of attention, almost to the point of scrutiny. and richard is put together in a way that is very much not for thomas’s sake, it’s for they-left-the-room’s sake, and so he’s noticing that and that’s his frame of mind as they move on.

side note! hair styling oil & pomades really were worn for multiple days in a row. amazing. i could never. there should really be more in this fic about richard’s hair being all floraly <3 <3 <3 but there isn’t. womp womp. that would have been a Factor in this bit huh lol.

"You ever try it?" asks Thomas. Meaning smoking.

"No," he says. He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Never cared to 'til a minute ago. Always been a delicate bloke."

Thomas coughs impolitely.

"I don't see the harm in saying it, Thomas."

The feeling he can't describe leaves him, and a different one forms, in his gut instead of his lungs, an uncomfortable and unwelcome weight. Knotted.

aaaaand boom. thomas Did Not Sign Up For This. 

richard’s being 100% honest, just speaking casually, but thomas’s reaction is enough to get him on the defensive & he’s not an idiot so he knows why, but this is also not something he has lately put a lot of thought into. he’s Accepted It About Himself (we’ll get into this). thomas meanwhile is not ready to approach the subject of Delicacy for anybody he cares about, because to him it’s not a good description, it’s not something he aspires to be or wants to come across as, but he has many times in his life come across as it anyway. he’s Not Like That. 

so the word alone sticks in the wheels of his rolly suitcase emotional baggage, even though it’s richard using it on himself.

"Well, you clearly haven't got a problem with playing at being normal," Thomas says pointedly. Tough not to be pointed when he feels like this, because he's no stranger to it, is he. "If I didn't know better I'd be asking after your wife and baby like the rest of this place."

Lucky those people were leaving after breakfast; Thomas wouldn't be able to take two full days of it.

He hasn't asked about the photographs in the wallet yet, either, and he's not sure if he will.

normal being heterosexual, in this instance, which is contemporary vocabulary.

and richard is very good at playing straight when he’s not fearing for thomas’s life, so. it’s true! it’s a legitimate opinion. but it’s also a pretty significant logical leap that richard is about to pick up on, because that makes him uncomfortable, given thomas is basically saying.... you seem straight, what are you talking about, which isn’t going to make him feel excellent about the sense of identity he’s settled into. 

the rest of this is an Achievement Thomas Is Yet To Unlock so i won’t say much other than that this is not a significant addition to richard as the reader might know him from ywntmha, but, a lot of the big emotional work & development in that fic happens in 1929, with this meeting as the impetus... so it is very significant for thomas, at this point. we’re still in january and they still have a ways to go both in the next 24 hours and in the rest of the year.

Richard raises his eyebrows. "And what's that got to do with it?"

He shrugs.

It should be obvious. It would be obvious, to anyone who bothered to think about it for more than half a second.

that’s not a good faith question; richard’s goading him into actually saying the underlying thought. on one level thomas knows that, which is why he doesn’t say that part out loud and only thinks it.

"It's pretending, is all it is," Richard continues, a little too gentle.

"Don't call yourself what they call you," Thomas returns, a little too sharp.

and since goading doesn’t work, new tactic on richard’s part here, and though thomas can tell it’s intentional it does work on him, so.

writing this was interesting for several reasons but one of the big ones is, and anybody who’s been following me since Before da will probably know this, i like... have very little patience for discussion about personal identity, especially when it comes to reclamation ? i am way more interested both on a personal and academic level (bc i can’t lie about that lmfao, hashtag english major) in community + external ideas imposed on people.  

and this might seem like a very 2010s conversation for them to be having, but... this period of time was really the Dawn of queer/lgbt identity Concepts: words were being coined, communities were coming together in new ways, in continental europe & the us especially there was a lot of rapid development and transition here owing to various roaring 20s factors, and i think richard given his situation would have been exposed to that, for one, but also just, it’s gonna be in both their environments because it was getting to be a thing from the victorian era w/ the medicalisation of homosexuality and things are only expanding. 

"delicate” is a euphemism, not a slur, but it has hella connotations & they are both fully aware of them.

"Rather it be me saying it than them."

Blasé like it doesn't mean a thing at all.

You should know better, he wants to say, you should know better than anyone.

"Don't see how you can feel that way when it's not true to begin with."

thomas’s Only Gay Friend Is My Boyfriend is showing here lol, this is shining light on a gap in what he knows about richard & what he Thinks he knows about richard, so there’s a dissonance. and he sees richard as Masculine on a conscious or subconscious level, and he’s in a These Are Antonyms place re “delicate”. some black & white thinking going on here.

& i feel like the other part is probably fairly explanatory but, richard gets a sense of control and self-assurance by using a word for himself that might not be kind coming out of other people’s mouths and Being Okay With That.

"Thomas…"

They lock eyes.

A tense moment passes.

It is Richard who breaks first. He turns back to the desk with a small sigh.

"This has very little to do with you," he says carefully.

richard, knowing thomas as he does, is able to tell that he’s taking this personally, because he Is, so that’s that there, but again this is something he’s already settled in himself and so there’s also an element of having to justify again this thing he’s already figured out, which he isn’t exactly fond of.

anyway i said i’d get into this -- there’s a lot of interesting like, Societal / Subcultural / Etc politics with regards to being a male servant in this day and age and Gender In General, and valets especially -- throughout the time period leading up to this but ESPECIALLY in the 1920s when there are fewer men in service than there ever have been and more and more kinds of, say, manufacturing jobs as the automobile industry picks up & labour saving devices start having more complicated parts, and probably yknow most of the boys he went to school with are in that or mining or railways, so he’d have thought about it earlier on in his life probably. or Has rather. ftr his brother was in the carriage works i don’t think that ever comes up but there’s a lot there lol. there’s some family stuff in but level in time that we’ll get to........... someday. ANYWAY. 

the point is.

valeting is an effeminate job.

like, point blank. i’m seeing that idea both in sources specifically about servants & just general of-the-era stuff about great houses. when you’re talking about gay men in service a lot of them are valets, and some of that lines up w stereotypes & common lifestyle habits of gay men in general -- looking after hair shoes and clothing, obvs, attention to detail in physical appearance (note that men who Get Valeted also care about details, but they are not the ones who actually have to think and decide about it; whereas their wives are probably giving their ladies’ maids more directions as to hair styles and dresses etc etc because they’re expected to care about that part of the process in a way that men weren’t), exposure to social mores in a variety of different contexts, being well-connected within both the communities that help him get work done: tailoring, hairdressing, shoemakers, drapers, etc and in General, having softer skills like sewing and whatnot. and you’re unmarried and looking after the presentation of another man so there’s some like, desexualisation stuff there.

and thomas and richard would both know this very, very well. they’d have encountered the idea both as men in service and as gay men and especially as gay men in service.  

this richard has been working at buckingham palace for more than twenty years at this point, minus his war backstory which....... is complex and i haven’t gotten into it very much anywhere but he was getting cosy with some higher ups and having To Do about presentation there too and like, was in the service corps which was non-combat supply lines ....... and apprenticing valeting / actually (non-principally) valeting the Literal King Of England for nine.

he has had a LOT of time to get over his shit.

he not only likes his job* but he’s also very good at his job, literal 2nd highest valet position in frankly The World, which is fucking wild, and that combined with his Childhood of like, being second best to his older brother who was like, a perfect human being so far as he could ever tell and that included being very traditionally like, athletic and Leaderly and having-a-sweetheart-in-your-youth-you-then-marry when he was more interested in, you know, story telling and Arts N Crafts (i’m being tongue in cheek) and just generally not ... especially into the Boys Will Be Boys stuff............................

he’s fine with it! he is Fine with being called delicate, it’s helped him get over a lot of his issues just to decide oh, this actually fits my personality and the trajectory my life has followed, so i’m going to just accept that and move on ! etc. 

but thomas is not anywhere near there for himeslf and therefore he isn’t for other people, too, because one of thomas’s Problems is that he hates seeing other people comfortable and happy when he isn’t... and that even applies to richard, because love does not make us perfect. 

*he wants to leave service and he’s tired of the constant scrutiny of working where he does for whom he does, but he does like his actual duties in a lot of ways.

well here’s a novel. i hope this satisfies you!!! <3 <3 <3

#lots of ..... gender in here... #downton abbey tag #fic talk tag

[devil-in-those-eyes]

What’s Gotten Into You? Roger Taylor!Ben Hardy Part 1

Oh my god, please go easy on me, this is my first Roger!Ben imagine and i’m slowly dying because I’m reading everyone’s imagines and smuts and i’m in total awe but I just discovered Ben Hardy and I need an outlet lmfao. 

Summary: Roger and Y/N are incredibly close and she is the only girl he has never had sex with because they are best friends. But when Y/N finally meets the rest of the band, the boys realize that Roger is in love with her.

Roger-

           “Wait,” John lifted a hand, pausing the conversation we were already having, “so, you haven’t slept with this girl, am I hearing you correct?”

           I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my pint, “Yes, Deaky, you heard me correct.”

           Brian’s eyes shut and he shook his head, rearing back at my words that I had been repeating over the last hour because all three of my friends were fucking morons. John stood beside me with Brian and Freddie in front of us, all four of us had a beer in our hands while the UNI bar was slowly filling up because it was a Friday night and Fridays were always busy. For once, we didn’t have a show to play at this bar but I promised the boys that I’d finally bring them around Y/N and this was her favorite spot to drink after a long day. It used to be our spot before I quit school to become a full time drummer.

           “So, you really haven’t slept with her?” Brian asked, “you’ve never kissed her?”

           “Nope,” I answered, popping the ‘p’ and smirking, even Freddie began to look concerned but it only made this more entertaining for me.

           “Never had a late night and you crossed the boundary?” Freddie asked. John’s eyes narrowed in at me, looking at me like I had lost three heads. I shook my head while smirking behind the rim of my glass, I really hadn’t done anything more than cuddle Y/N and kiss her shoulder, all of that was out of friendly gestures. We were touchy, but neither of us crossed a boundary or line and we liked it that way.

           “Is she ugly?” John asked, earning a smack from Brian so he cowered and raised his hands in surrender, “I’m just asking, I mean the guy screws anything with boobs.”

           I shrugged because he was completely right.

           “Are you in love?” Freddie asked. Normally the question was meant for softer and sweeter words but as Freddie asked them, it sounded as if he were concerned that I was in love with her because we all knew my track record with relationships consisted of nothing more than one night stands.

           Yes, I loved her. But I loved her like my best friend. I loved her like I loved these three idiots. And yes, she was utterly gorgeous and always knocked me on my ass when I saw her, but she was just my best friend. She deserved a lot more than a guy that had a wandering eye.

           “So, where is she?” Brian asked, looking around us as if he knew what she looked like.

           I felt my chest tighten. It was like a sixth sense when it came to Y/N, so I turned my head just in time to see her grinning face. As she maneuvered through the crowds, heading towards me, I saw the black skirt and navy long sleeve t-shirt that was tucked in, her hair falling over her shoulders in her natural wave. As she neared I put my beer on the bar top, ready for her to barrel into me.

           “Rog!” Her smile glowed and I felt my heart beat pick up at the sound of her voice.

           “There’s my girl,” I grumbled just before she leaped into my arms. Hers winded around my neck while mine instantly wrapped around her waist, laughing into her hair and nuzzling my head into the crook of her neck, smelling the fresh air and perfume.

           It had been a couple weeks since I had last seen her, only because she was busy with classes and I was busy with the band but as soon as I called her this morning and told her I wanted her to meet the bad, she promised she’d be there.

           She pulled away and stared into my eyes while her fingers got lost in my hair. I held her up so her toes just brushed the top of my feet and grinned at her, “You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

           Her cheeks flushed at my compliment. Her nose scrunched up as her eyes skated over my face and hair, “You need a hair cut.”

           I chuckled, “You’ve always loved my hair.”

           She tugged at the ends and smiled mischievously when I bit my lip. “Careful,” I grumbled lowly to her before leaning forward and kissing her cheek, feeling her shiver in my arms. Just because I’d never cross the boundary with her, didn’t mean I couldn’t push the boundaries just because I loved making her flush.

           One of the boys cleared their throat and I pulled back from Y/N just as she patted my chest, “We’re being rude.”

           I let her down onto the ground and she moved around me to see the three boys watching us intently. Y/N was my opposite, she was grounded and polite and I was sure the boys were expecting someone closer to my personality, someone who was probably more of an ugly groupie but instead they found Y/N. A natural beauty who grinned at them, offering her hand to them. “I’m Y/N.”

           Brian was staring at Y/N like she was a pleasant surprise. John was looking between me and Y/N, probably wondering how Y/N puts up with me. Freddie just smiled her way and skipped her hand, going straight for a hug and kiss on her cheek.

           “Lovely to meet you, darling.” Freddie said as he pulled away.

           I stood back, resting against the bar as John and Brian decided they liked Y/N enough to shake her hand and grin at her. After Brian asked her how she was doing, she answered swiftly but the boys attention was taken off of her when a glass smashed onto the floor a couple feet away and I took the moment to pull her to me, watching her eyes drift from the necklace I had around my neck and up my lips and finally on my eyes.

           “Want something to drink, sweetheart?” I asked, touching the curve of her hip.

           “If you’re buying,” she teased and my smirk turned into a full on grin.

           I turned towards the bar and flagged down the bartender, giving Y/N’s order without asking because I knew it by heart. We both knew each other’s beers of choice, how we liked our tea and what food we liked to have. I knew her like the back of my hand and she knew me like the back of her hand.

           “Are you going to ditch me tonight?” she asked, leaning into the bar while waiting for her drink.

           I smirked and rested my side against the bar, standing close to her. The boys faced us again but immediately went into a different conversation to give Y/N and I privacy to catch up for the next couple minutes. I just took the time to get close to her. It had been a while since I was able to relax and be around her, she made me calm and I was able to breathe and I loved that about her.

           “Scared I’ll find better company, Y/N?”

           Something about the way I grumbled her name lowly against the sound of the music and commotion in the bar made her head turn away from the bartender and look up at me. Her smile faltered but she covered it up quickly with a small shrug, “No, but I was counting on you to drive me home.”

           “I am all yours tonight, sweet girl.” I said just as the bartender passed her the beer.

           She took a sip, “Feel like dancing tonight, Taylor?”

           Dancing was where boundaries and lines were forgotten about and she was fully aware of what watching her dance did to me. “For you?” I asked, “I’d do anything to feel you against me.”

           She rolled her eyes, not giving me the reaction I normally got from sweet talking. That was one of the biggest reasons why I latched onto her, because she didn’t take any bullshit but fuck could she test our limits with that sweet and innocent smile. She moved away from the bar and nodded for me to follow her, I didn’t have to be told again.

           “So, you guys are the reason why I haven’t seen Rog in a while.” Y/N said to the boys, slipping into their conversation easily while I stood beside her, touching her lower back.

           “It’s not easy keeping him away from you,” John pointed out, raising his eyebrows at me and mentally reminding me of all the times I begged them to let me call her.

           “We deserve an award.” Freddie added.

           “Y/N this, Y/N that.” Brian rolled his eyes, earning a laugh from Y/N as her eyes swung up to me and I saw an embarrassed smile on her face.

           “Roger, I hadn’t realized you liked me that much.”

           “Anything is better than looking at their faces,” I teased.

           “Oh, I’m so touched.” She mocked, touching her chest with her hand. I laughed at her before she looked back at the boys, “so when is the next gig?”

           “Tomorrow night,” Brian answered, “here actually.”

           Y/N looked up at me, her smile a bit cracked. “You didn’t tell me.”

           “You’re normally traveling back home for the weekend,” I reminded her.

           “Oh trust us, darling, the man wants you to come but we gave us a full run down of what you do every weekend.” Freddie teased.

           “Careful, Freddie,” I said just as someone across the bar called for Y/N.

           Her head turned and so did I, wanting to see who was calling for her but realized I had no idea who it was. Y/N lifted her hand and touched my bicep, “That’s Nikki, I’m going to say hi.”

           “Sure,” I breathed, dropping my hand from her back.

           She looked at the boys, “Excuse me.”

           All the boys nodded and she walked away from us. I kept my eye on her until she made it to the group of friends. John hit my shoulder, “You’re in love.”

           “Excuse me?” I looked back at them. They all started nodding so I shook my head and chuckled, “That’s a load of bullocks.”

           “Either you’re in love with her and you’re lying to yourself, or you really are blind and don’t see it.” John raised his eyebrows at me while taking a sip of his beer.

           “You should see the way you look at her.”

           I looked at Brian, a bit shocked at where they were coming from but it was Freddie who spoke next, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much.”

           “I smile,” I argued.

           “No,” John drawled out while shaking his head, “it’s more of a I-hate-everyone-smile slash snarl.”

           I ignored them. “I’m not in love with Y/N.”

           They didn’t believe me one bit because all they did was raise their eyebrows and Brian muttered, “Whatever you say, Rog.”

           Y/N slipped up between John and I and touched his arm with a smile, “What did I miss?”

           “We were trying to convince Roger to get a hair cut.” Freddie answered without missing a beat.

           I drank the last of my beer before setting it down on the countertop and taking Y/N’s glass from her, “I was actually thinking about how I wanted to dance with you.”

           I grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the small dancefloor. She laughed, “Roger, you’re friends!”

           I swung her under my arm before I gave a soft tug and pulled her into my body, “I don’t really care.”

           Her hand touched my chest and she rolled her eyes. The music was upbeat and fun and Y/N easily found the rhythm as she pushed her hands into my chest but I caught her hand in mine as she grinned mischievously again, “Then I guess we better get to it.”

           I pulled on her hand again but this time turned her so her back was pressed against my chest and her ass pressed to my crotch. I pressed my lips to her shoulder and heard her laugh as I started to move with her body against mine.

           We spent the rest of the night going between dancing and drinking and talking with my band. Y/N didn’t leave my side again and I didn’t dare to take my eyes off of her, especially when she was dancing. My friends’ words were stuck in my head every time I looked at her and suddenly the flutter I got in my chest whenever I heard her laugh had a deeper meaning. Whenever I found myself longing to make her laugh and be the center of my attention, my explanation I gave myself was no longer just because I loved her as a friend.

           “You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” Y/N spoke softly after we climbed the flights of stairs that led to her apartment, just outside of her main campus.

           She slid the key into the lock and I rested against the wall while she rested against the doorframe, looking at me. “Are you sure you’re alright to drive home?” she asked quietly, careful not to wake the neighbors.

           “I’m just exhausted,” I promised her. We both didn’t drink a lot tonight but I wasn’t getting a lot of sleep lately because our band was slowly getting more popular within the universities in England. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and I reached up to touch the side of her neck, “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

           “It’s almost three, just stay the night.” She breathed out.

           It was a bad idea. Really, really bad. I was no where near drunk, not even tipsy, and we had spent the night together before but seeing as random feelings just popped up I didn’t think it would be a good idea. I started to argue but Y/N pulled on my hand and brought me inside, she shut the door and flicked the lock.

           “Is Roger Taylor nervous?” she teased gently. “Surely, the Roger Taylor isn’t nervous to spend the night at a girls apartment.”

           I chuckled and she took that as my giving in and turned around, taking off her heels in the darkness of her apartment. In less than ten minutes I was laying in her bed, waiting for her to finish getting ready for bed.

           She came into her bedroom and left the door slightly ajar and my eyes glued to her bare legs that snuck out from under cute little pajama shorts. With a sigh she crawled into bed and I lifted my arm, out of complete instinct, and watched as she curled up into my side. Her hand touched my bare chest and her head lay in the crook of my head.

           “Night, Roger.” She murmured, already half asleep.

           I kissed her forehead and felt her whole body relax and melt into mine, “Sweet dreams, love.”

#ben hardy #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #roger!ben hardy #bohrhap #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor smut #ben!roger x reader #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x reader #ben!roger imagine #john deacon #disco deaky #john deaky #brian may #gwilym x reader #gwilym!brian #freddie mercury

[joysmercer]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine 6x17-6x18 Final Thoughts

Ok this isn’t so much of a “Final Thoughts” as it is a compilation of my notes that I took during the episode because I didn’t feel like actually liveblogging.

that was the strangest cold open lmfao

We got an “I love you” between Holt and Kevin and my heart is full

“sloppy paperwork, bad penmanship skills…” uhh sounds like your husband, Ames

holt trailing off is my new favorite thing

lmao the shameless The Voice promo (I love NBC)

I’m glad they aired 6x17 and 6x18 back-to-back, because 6x17 alone was kind of…eh. but that was also the point, probably. That being said, other two-part sequences stood well on their own too, so idk.

How much do y’all wanna bet that the lack of Peraltiago kisses this season was on purpose

ofc the vulture knows the fire festival dude

the mask is an odd callback to The Bank Job episode hmm

The plan-detailing scene with everyone interjecting was amazing, I loved it

CJ is a doofus

The Michelle Obama incident was pretty funny ngl

Overall, this was a pretty entertaining episode, and I really enjoyed it. It was also nostalgic, in a way – them bringing back so many old faces and the throwbacks and things would have made this a solid series finale and a good goodbye to the show had they not been renewed (though I would have been UPSET with the cliffhangers).

some critical stuff:

uh. a lot of the “tension” between Holt and Wuntch in past episodes has made me uncomfortable, and I’m not very happy that they decided to bring it back (although their normal back-and-forth insults were very entertaining). And there was no reason for it, either – them becoming enemies to lovers in half an hour would be less, not More, believable than them going from enemies to just friends.

This last thing is about the Peraltiago kiss (and lack thereof) and it’s not a criticism/complaint/call-out/etc, but more of…me worrying, I guess. I’m going to put it under the cut, because most of you are probably not interested in it, but I just needed to write it out, so it’s here if you want it. 

The thing is, it was very clearly done because the writers knew, at some level, that eagle-eyed fans would notice the lack of kisses this season, and The Scene that we got was, clearly, them teasing us for it (judging from their tweets, anyway). Which, tbh, is fair. It was also pretty funny. That isn’t what I’m apprehensive about.

The warning bells went off, though, because it seems like they’re starting to write their stories to cater to the fans, instead of being true to the stories they want to tell.

That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t completely ignore what the fans want, not at all – in fact, they should listen to feedback and write accordingly, because in the end, it’s us that they’re trying to tell the story to. And some very valid criticism has been raised this season, as well as some valid feedback overall. And frankly, I would be annoyed if I kept watching a show that wasn’t telling the stories I wanted told.

But that’s different from using fan chatter and alluding to it within the story itself. (that’s probably not the best explanation, but it’s late at night and I’m tired).

Listen, I’m probably overreacting a bit, but I’ve seen what happens when writers start to try and incorporate fan chatter into their writing. With Harry Potter…well, we ended up getting a whole host of problems no one asked for. On the other hand, with PJO, Blood of Olympus read a lot like a fanfiction when compared to the other books in HoO, and that’s because, I think, Riordan started writing to please the fans instead of writing for them.

Essentially, when they had Charles make the “It’s been a year!” comment, they were using what we’ve been saying – “It’s been a year!” – to talk directly to us, and that changed why they were writing the story the way they were. They may have initially had the 1-year drought as a mistake (like they just never realized they didn’t write in kisses), but once they realized it, they decided to use it to get a response from us, and that’s scary. I’m worried it will impact future writing, and the overall quality of the show.

Anyway. there’s my rant. Overall, like I said before, this was a really good episode with lots of laughs and a bunch of material for fics/gifsets/etc that should tide us over for this (very, very) long hiatus.

Until next time, my friends <3

#brooklyn nine nine #6x17 #6x18 #sicko / suicide squad #c: jake peralta #c: amy santiago #c: raymond holt #c: charles boyle #c: rosa diaz #c: terry jeffords #p: screw light and breezy {jake & amy} #holt x kevin #madeline wuntch #the vulture #b99 spoilers #myfinalthoughts #myposts

[babyleclerc]

Love Her Madly

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Warnings: Just mild cursing, but what’s new lmfao.

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: After probably the worst day of your life, you find yourself stood up at a nice restaurant by your date. To make things worse, you also run into your ex - who sees you there alone. Who better to save the day than the one and only Tom Hiddleston?

A/N: W O W. Guys. It’s been a fuckin’ WHILE since I’ve gotten Tom to flow through these fingers. PHEW it feels so fucking good to be back to writing him. I’ve missed him so much. All praise goes to my absolute partner in crime, writing buddy, and bestest of friend, @sxbastianstan. She is my everything, my ultimate bae, and the reason this fic even exists. So go THANK HER for getting me out of my writing rut. Ily all. Hope you enjoy. <3

This was officially, easily, the worst night of your life. You glanced at your Apple watch for the hundredth time that hour, its little neon numbers staring back at you; mocking you. As if looking at it again would magically erase time. Surprise: it hadn’t.

“Would you like to order anything, Miss?” You could tell your waiter was getting impatient and wanted to give the table to someone else. The hour you had been waiting for your blind date was starting to look pathetic, and you knew it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the judgment laced throughout the waiter’s tone and smiled up at him as sweetly as you could.

“Sorry, just five more minutes.” Right as the words slipped from your glossed lips, you heard a male voice from across the room.

“Y/N?” He called out, and your heart sank. You felt your stomach drop and your head feel dizzy as you looked up at the owner of said voice, recognizing it immediately.

“Hey,” You said timidly as your eyes rested on your ex’s handsome face. Damnit, now this really was the worst night of your fucking life.

You stood to give him a quick hug, annoyed by the smell of his cologne and the blonde bimbo hanging off his arm, with perfectly manicured hands and highlighted hair. You immediately felt self-conscious of your own looks and tried to make yourself as small as possible in comparison (as if that were even possible).

“What are you doing here? Are you here by yourself?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, and instead just plowed on. “This is Anastasia, my fiancé.”

Fiancé. Good. Fucking. Lord. This was just getting better and better.

You smiled tightly, that nauseating feeling twisting in your gut as you shakily held out a hand to meet hers, exchanging niceties. This was the worst.

“So… no date?” He asked again, glancing at the empty chairs in front of you and looking at you with pity. Was there a small smirk on his lips, too? You would give one million dollars to slap that look right off his face.

Before you could answer, you notice some shuffling from the corner of your eye, and a tall man, clad in a dark blue suit, approaches you, leaning over to kiss you gently on the cheek.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, darling. Traffic was a nightmare.” You felt your cheeks get hot and your eyes widen as the British man easily snaked an arm around your waist, his large hand resting gently on your hip. There was a collective pause from the group as they soaked in the man standing in front of you. You tried not to let your jaw drop as your eyes glazed over his gelled hair, his bright blues, and a slight 5 o’clock shadow resting along his jawline. He swiftly buttoned his suit jacket and extended a hand to your ex-boyfriend who just stood there, baffled. He turned his attention to Jack, as if just noticing him for the first time. “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Tom.”

“Jack,” Your ex shook his hand and seemed to stand up straighter, as if measuring himself against this mystery man named Tom. (It was of no use, Tom was a full foot taller than him, at least). There was an awkward beat, and you hoped no one noticed that in reality you had no idea who the hell this Tom character was, but boy were you thankful that he had decided to step in right at this moment.

“Well, we should get back to our meal. I’ve been keeping my poor girl waiting for over an hour; she’ll kill me if I don’t get food in her system soon.” Tom winked at you and you felt yourself coming undone, your cheeks so hot they could burn the restaurant down.

Without waiting for dismissal from Jack, Tom led you towards the table you had previously been abandoned at, pulling your chair out for you and allowing you to sit down. By the time he sat down, swiftly unbuttoning his suit jacket in the process, Jack and Anastasia had gone back to their table, stunned. You could feel the envy seeping from both of them as your heart pounded in your chest, finally drinking in the man in front of you. He seemed completely at ease, as if this had been his plan all along. As if he hadn’t just spotted you from across the room at the bar, and decided to swoop in and save you like some sort of prince charming.

“Uhm,” You started, biting your lower lip. “You didn’t need to do that.”

Though his eyes smiled at you, his lips formed into a beautiful smirk, oozing with confidence. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.” He raised his hand and called for the waiter. You sat there, stunned, sputtering stupidly. “I’ll take a vodka tonic, and the lady here will have…?”

He turned to you, waiting, and you blinked, your brain trying to process what he was asking you but being infinitely distracted by his confidence and distracting British accent.

“I’ll have a Scotch, please.” You finally managed out, your hands trembling slightly.

Tom flashed a smile towards the waiter, thanking him, before once again letting his beautiful blue orbs rest on you. It made you feel uncomfortable, the way that he was assessing you – as if he knew you were panicking and sweating beneath your somewhat (?) calm exterior.

“So, where were we?” He asked, leaning back against the chair, crossing one leg over the other easily. His hands rested on his thighs. “Ah yes, you were about to thank me.”

You would have scowled at him had his grin not been so fucking handsome. You hated to admit it, but the guy was smooth. Too smooth.

“Right,” You rolled your eyes, gaining some of your confidence back, “Thank you for swooping in and now hijacking my dinner.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at your tone, “I’m sorry, did you want me to leave so can eat by yourself?”

You glared at him, his comment a straight punch to the gut. You sighed, backing down. “No, but thank you for saving me. You don’t have to have dinner with me, though.”

Tom waved it off with his hand, shaking his head, “I was only teasing. No need to thank me. I hate seeing a beautiful girl stood up. I’m assuming that’s what happened, yes?”

You sighed again, but suddenly feeling more comfortable, nodded. “Yes.”

“Tinder?”

“Bumble, actually.”

“Ah.”

The waiter now returned with your drinks, setting them on the table in front of you and taking your orders. Tom ordered the fish while you ordered a steak (thank God you knew what you wanted already, you would have died if he looked at you stupidly again), and he took a sip of his vodka, letting the ice-cold glass rest in his hand. He fidgeted with the lime, head cocked to the side as his eyes watched you.

“So that’s an ex of yours, I gather?” He asked finally, swirling the drink in his hand as his head nodded discretely towards Jack.

You blushed slightly, embarrassed that he had caught you staring at Jack and Anastasia for the thousandth time. You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we used to date. For a while, actually.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Another swig of his vodka tonic. You watched as his tongue dashed along his lips slightly, annoyed at how effortlessly your body was in-tune with his.

You sighed, partially from the question but mostly from the way Tom oozed sexiness and comfort without even trying. “Long story, but he broke up with me. Typical ‘guy likes girl, guy wins over girl, girl falls in love with guy, guy falls in love with someone else’. It was a while ago.” You shrugged, taking a deep swig of your Scotch.

Tom’s eyes darted over to Jack, just in time to see him glaring at you. He thought for a moment, then peered back at you, a playful look dancing in his eyes. He leaned across the table and reached for your hand, allowing his fingers to gently intertwine with yours before speaking in a low, husky voice.

“Let’s make him burn with envy.”

Dinner went on so smoothly from there, it was hard to believe that the night had started out the way that it had, and that this was a “first date”. Tom was ever the gentleman – listening intently, complimenting you at all the right times, never getting distracted or looking uninterested. It was as if he was hanging on to your every word, like his life depended on them. It was as intimidating as it was refreshing.

“So tell me,” You started, cutting your knife easily into your steak, “What made you come over and save me earlier tonight?”

Tom grinned, chuckling slightly, “You should know by now that your radiant beauty made it hard for me to stay away.”

You laughed wholeheartedly, amused, “You seriously expect that line to work? What do other girls say to that?”

He shrugged, “Wouldn’t know, you’re the first woman I’ve ever used it on.”

You immediately sobered, your head tilting slightly, “I call bullshit.”

It was Tom’s turn to laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkling just slightly, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. You wondered, for just a moment, what it would feel like to kiss them…

“Not bullshit, actually, I hardly have time between filming to go out on dates.”

“So it just happened to be my lucky day that you were here, tonight, huh? Just waiting for a damsel in distress to save?” You grinned back at him cheekily.

“I’d hardly call you a damsel in distress, Y/N.” The way his accent drawled your name out sent goosebumps up your arms. You wanted to hear him say it a thousand times over, preferably in the dark, in his bed, his lips pressed against your skin in the most sinful ways.

You squirmed slightly in your chair at the visual, crossing a leg over the other in an attempt to calm yourself down. Tom noticed the slight gesture and smiled softly against his raised glass, fighting everything within him to wink at you.

Tom cleared his throat, glancing at his watch, “I know this is extremely forward of me, and I swear I would never ask just anyone this, but, would you-”

“Yes.” You answered before he could finish.

Tom grinned, his eyes twinkling. He pulled out his wallet and set down a few hundred-dollar bills – you weren’t sure how much but tried not to gape at the load of cash he still had in his wallet. He took you briskly by the hand, pulling you in front of him as he guided you out of the restaurant, both hands resting easily on your hips.

You were too happy, the grin far too wide across your lips, to notice a sulking Jack behind you.

Fin.

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#fdkla;kfdl;fakds i hope u like this zaroo ahhh #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x You #FanFiction #Reader Insert #RPF #Real Person Fiction #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Tom Hiddleston fic #Fic #Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston one shot #Imagine #Marvel #Fluff #Tom Hiddleston fluff #my fic #Tom fic mine

[sorikkung]

i asked @softbams to ramble about bambam just bc i love seeing other ppl love bambam as much as i do and now its my turn so here we go,,, warning i get soft easily,, , dont hurt me,,,,

hnggnhkgsnj so like BAMBAM right,,, he’s,,, a DORK there is literally no other word i could use to better describe him and ill have you know i may seem to throw around the word dork online, specifically here on my blog but in actuality i use it extremely sparingly for those people that are so dfjklshjkf dUmb but i love them so much??? like ill only call my closest few friends dorks, i just use it a lot here bc i post about what i love and i love!!! bambam!!!! idk ppl express their love in different ways and “i love you” just seems so overused and meaningless and calling people a dork is just more me and honestly its the most endearing thing i could say about someone ANYWAYS so like why is he a dork??? he’s so wild in like every way my first impression of this kid was literally him spazzing on the floor and dabbing while got6 hyped him on and i was like??? THAT ONE. I WANT TO STAN THAT ONE I- I WANT THE TRASH CHILD thats literally how it went down and as you can clearly see i haven’t changed lanes since,, honestly to me the most attractive trait in any person ever is stupidity, and i dont mean shitty grades i mean like their sense of humour!! someone who isn’t afraid to make fun of themselves and be loud and wild and random and is just a little (or a lot) drunk on life every now and then, its just so,,, refreshing??? maybe its bc im like that and i find it hard to find people who can keep up with me in a sense but honestly with bambam its like im the one trying to keep up with him. it’s just so endearing to watch him screaming and roll on the floor and??? to watch him bambam around the place. he’s just so funny and it always makes me smile like an idiot??? and it seems like its not just me bc!! the rest of got7 seems the same!! his happiness and silliness is honestly so contagious like they call jackson the moodmaker and yeah he is (i LOVE HIM TO PIECeS hes a dork too) but like have you ever realised that like 90% of the time yugyeom is being a crackhead, bambam is like within a leg’s distance away?? and i say leg bc DAMN have you seen bambam’s legs, he prides himself in his legs WITH GOOD REASON TOO and he always has to show them off with those tight ass leather pants like calm down you’re killing me here. but ofc he’ll never calm down the boy has no control and i LIVE FOR IT bc its always unpredictable??? like you get bored of the same thing after a while but bambam is always so new and wild and!! keeps you on your toes!!! hes just so exciting??? and like omg i mentioned yugyeom before hE REALLY LOVES YUGYEOM (me too man, me too,,,) AND!!! ALL OF HIS MEMBERS!! like whenever the situation is tense he’d do something stupid to make them all laugh and the way he talks about his members??? its SO heartwarming to see him love them all so much?? i mean they practically raised the kid, like jackson and mark especially bc foreign line stuck together as trainees as TRAINEES do you hear this shit they have stuck together for YEARS before got7 debuted and they still love each other to death AMERITHAIKONG IS FRIENDSHIP GOALS IM SOBBING I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH like you know they’re soulmates when one gets a laptop thrown at him but he still looks up to him as a hyung alkjhlkgahsdfgs ill never live that down sorry its too funny,,, also like he may be a fucking idiot at times but i dont think enough people take him seriously?? like he has this mature side to him and its so nice to see that even though we all joke that he has no chill, he does actually have it when necessary?? like!! in that recent thai interview and he talked about his mum oh my god he loves his family sO MUCH I AM SOFT literally like he bought his mum who biases jaebum lmfAO a house bc they grew up under a tin roof WHAT AN UPGRADE and he bought his sister a car and like hes so modest about his achievements too like in that one hard carry episode where he and jackson in the back of a taxi at 4am had to take turns boasting and trying not to be modest, he had to brag about his achievements, this episode was so memorable to me bc only one of them was actually about him??? he mentioned that something along the lines of 8,000 fans went to the airport in thailand to greet him but then he mentioned about the concert tickets that sold out but it was GOT7′S concert like he had to mention his group bc they achieved that TOGETHER and like he then said he bought a house for his mum and a car for his sister like he was meant to brag about how much money he had but instead he said the good things he did so generously for his family im??? so soft??? his love for his family is SO SO SO precious (like him) and when he talked in that thai interview i was talking about earlier (i apologise that i keep changing subjects so quickly this entire thing is so messy) he talked about how his mum is the reason for his dreams to be a performer and how he wanted to provide for his family and dAMN HE DID!!! but like omfg hes so passionate about what he does??? its so so so inspiring to see, he went to korea at age FOURTEEN without knowing the language, the culture or really anything bc he went to rain’s concert and was so inspired and learned all his dances and songs and like it kinda reaches out to me bc like??? he started off as nothing but a random international fanboy and LOOK HOW FAR HES COME IT GETS ME SO EMOTIONAL!! and his mum kept on telling him that its ok if he didnt make it, that he could come home if it didnt work out, she’d welcome him with open arms but he kept going!!! bc he loves music!!! and hes so talented!!! and hes just so passionate,,, and so determined too!! such a hard worker!! like i dont think most of you realise just how intensive trainee programs are??? like he was fourteen and training 12 hours a day, he said it was from 10am to 10pm every day, and now he gets even LESS sleep like hes constantly talking about how tired it is like let the poor baby sleep oh my god he deserves rest but apparently thats too much to ask for in the kpop industry,, but no matter how tired he is he always has tons of energy on stage and off stage to make everyone laugh and keep everyone in high spirits and like he’s actually a ray of sunshine, a precious angel, a blessing to this world oml im rambling but thats fine that was the point of this lmfao i just!! MY HEART IS SWELLING FOR HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM!! and everything he does gets me so soft like i literally have an instagram saved collection of his smile that makes me smile and not like his smirk (which is,,, whew,,, REALLY attractice im weak for smirks) but like his full teeth, face wrinkled and eyes scrunched up smiles where he looks so happy and cute and i wanna pinch his cheeks hes just SO CUTE and whenever i see him smile like that i swear 7 years are added to my lifespan and it just MAKES ME SMILE SO MUCH bambam always makes me so happy like i think my parents i convinced i have a boyfriend at the amount of random smiling i do at my phone but like 90% of the time its just bambam,, hes just so aesthetically pleasing like we all know he is the fashion KING, like his style is so stunning but like i think his visuals are highly underrated tbh he had THE most iconic glo-up of all time, i remember during early realgot7 episodes he’d talk about how he wanted to no longer be the cute/aegyo type member and he wanted to be sexy and charismatic and oH bOy iS hE sExY aNd ChArIsMaTiC,,, if only the members that kept telling him he couldnt and that he was adorable would see him now, still just as cute and squishy as before but also a fucKIGNF BEAST????? like i think every time he does that prrah in never ever a part of my soul leaves my body. idk if thats even related. but like WOW HES SO PRETTY EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS JUST SO ATTRACTIVE PHYSICALLY like he has rlly pretty eyes, esp w/ contacts they really just make you notice them so much more and his lips?? everyone talks about his lips but NOT ENOUGH like theyre so plump and kissable and honestly i could kiss them all day if hed let me omg is that a bruno mars lyric ANYWAYS if you do era killed us all, dont deny it, even jinyoung noticed his lips i just LOVE BAMBAMS LIPS and like his JAWLINE is so sharp it could cut a bitch it just defines his face so well and his makeup too like bambam’s makeup is always so on point, kudos to the stylist noona like its not that he needs makeup, makeup needs HIM like it compliments him so well  and adds to his,, aura?? idk about you but he owns the stage, like he has this aura to him he has made the stage his bitch, he’s not on the stage he owns it do you HEAR ME???? HE!!! IOWNS!! THE STAGE!! his dancing is so mesmerising?? and his voice??? he has every ahgase wrapped around his long ass legs finger whether you like it or not. and what i was saying about makeup like without makeup he transforms into the cutest, squishiest bean that i just want to PROTECC like his dUaLiTy you can hear that about any kpop idol but still, bambams duality is so crazy, he’s just....so sOFT AND FLUFFY offstage (when he isnt screaming like a maniac, but even then,) his laugh. is so cute, and so contagious i feel like ive said that already but its not any less true and like barefaced bambam just being barefaced and wholesome and cute and????? im??? adjhgjkahkldghalkj,,,, he just,, just him smiling makes my day fUCK ive said that already but as you can see i am whipped asf for his smile i,, and also how hes so bad at aegyo when he needs to do it but he has natural aegyo when hes not?? ??? ? HES SO CONFUSING i love it honestly i love him i just ugghhhhhhh. and hes so talented too!! SUCH AN UNDERRATED DANCER GOSH he has been dancing since he was a really smol bean and HES SO SHARP AND FLUID AT THE SAME TIME like nobody appreciates his dancing as much as they should and that makes me really sad bc its so enthralling to watch him dance, he really puts his all into it you can see it, but nOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT ENOUGH???? WHERE are your fuckign eYES YALL ARE BLIND AND MISSING OUT and his voice oh my lord his voice makes me fEeL thInGs especially when he does that thing when he talks all low and raspy and his accent is attractive too and like i would pay good money just for bambam to just talk to me like that all day like sure he isnt the best rapper in the industry, jyp never really had impressive rappers until stray kids but like he does his job as a performer well and UGH HIS VOICE IM WEAK IN THE KNEES like i die on the inside every time he says baby or honey or smth like that and usually i hate those specific pet names, but have yall seen that video of him saying “goodbye honey! awh, im your honey?” or just him saying honey in whos that or jsut AJAKLKAJKJKGFJ HIS!! VOICE!! and when he says double b i just FEEL his confidence and that aura i was talking about before now i have the habit of yelling out or at least mouthing double b along with him its actually everything??? omg and his meme game like i know i already rambled about how dumb he was but like specifically his meme game and his TWITTER OML like the whole dabbing thing, idk who started it but he made dabbing his bitch like he gave zero shits what other people thought, dAB ON THEM HATERS AMIRITE, and even on that one vlive where he claimed that dab was history he ended up saying he IS the history of dab and then dabbed in the next japan promotions with yugyeom anyways. the dab is not dead. the dab will never die. and his twitter holy fuck did you guys see the whole steven deng fiasco where he agreed to his petition to rename bambam to dabdab bc he couldnt be stopped then he INTRODUCED HIMSELF AS AKA DABDAB ON LIVE TV WHAT AN IDIOT IM SO IN LOVE and like in the video where everyone was saying you dont pick your bias, your bias picks you (bambam didnt “pick” me, he grabbed my hair and yanked me down into hell) he fucking said “i pick you” like hES THE KING OF FANSERVICE FOR A REASON OMG hes always flirting with his fans on twitter and calling them baby or babygirl and like at fansigns and concerts whenever a fan goes on stage with him he just flirts with them so much and calls them his queen, his everything etc, just i cant even begin to list all the times where he flirts with ahgases idk if hes naturally flirty or he just likes to give the fans what they want but BOTH IS GOOD TBH bc flirty ppl are attractive and like if its just for fanservice then that just proves how much he appreciates and cares for his fans like wow he really loves ahgase?? REMEMBER THAT CONCERT WHERE HE TEARED UP AND CALLED AHGASE “THE BEST GIRLFRIENDS EVER” I GOT SO SOFT HES SO GENUINE aKDFJLSJFLgdfklgjalfk and back to how stupid he is like he is also a petty ass bitch like he casually exposes his members a lot i LIVE FOR IT like the whole mark throwing a laptop thing or like other shit i cant remember off the top of my head and hes just so sassy and petty all the time like i love it so much oh my gosh sassy bam is an underrated concept bc savage jinyoung steals all the spotlight rip :(( nothing against jinyoung i love him to bits too but!! sassy!bam is just, my will to live tbh oh also can we talk about how hes literally a model like he made the camera his bitch too not just is his face gorgeous and his makeup stunning and his hair on fleek and his style amazing but like you can feel his aura through the camera too, he just stares with this LOOK its like hes actually looking at you his visuals are SO POWERFUL again not talked about enough bambam in general isnt talked about enoguh outside of being a meme and :((( it makes me sad esp when people still baby him like no hes a grown ass man hes had his glo up like have you seen him??? sure he can be effortlessly cute but also effortlessly sexy like he really is the entire package and oh my fuckign god he LOVES CATS HE REALLY IS THE ULTIMATE PACKAGE like everyone knows about pudding and latte but even before then he loved jb’s cat nora and apparently nora liked bambam more than jb and would wake him up at 9am every day and bambam would play with her for a while then go back to sleep and nora would sneak into his bed and omfg bambam and cats, two of my favourite things wow what a concept?? i just DIED when i saw his insta story updates calling his cats his babies or his sons and its just so precious i want to cry. speaking of social media again can we just appreciate that he runs most of his social media in ENGLISH, not hhe language he usually speaks (korean) or his first language (thai), but ENGLISH, just to accommodate for the international fans, hes going outside of his comfort zone and its so considerate of him and that once again proves how hes the sweetest person ever and loves ahgase so much and i feel so honoured to be an ahgase and i love BAMBAM, kunpimook bhuwakul, dabdab, double b, lil’ shit whatever you wanna call him, so much, and this got way too fucking long and random and the subjects changed too much lmao its rlly messy but like its a ramble so there you go i like bambam im out

#jesus christ #im impressed at mysellf for all this shit #kaifen rambles #like really #really #rambles

[hamiltrashitty]

Little Ham Man *Alternate Ending + Continuation* Chapter 4 (Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader)

Okay so YES this is a new chapter, I changed the last one into a continuation of chapter 3 because it was just really short!

Make sure to follow @midnightokieriete and read Little Ham Man (Small!Hamilsquad x Reader) before reading the continuation! 

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Masterlist

John’s POV

My eyes widened as Y/n watched the carriag- I mean car with Lafayette in it drove away. As soon as Y/n got in the car, I started asking a bunch of questions.

“Why would you let them take Laf? What’s going to happen to him; where are the even taking him? What-”

“John, he’ll be fine,” she let out a sigh. “They won’t hurt him, but he can’t leave until we get him out.”

“Then lets go get him out!”

“We can’t, John,”

“Why?” “When Laf jumped into the mirror, he ended up at the pizza place. The place was closed when he got there so when he left the officers must have thought that he broke in.” I shrugged.

“And? We’ll just tell them what happened.” Y/n gave me a look before I realized what I had just said. I flashed her an apologetic look and she just nodded before we drove off.

-

When we were back at Y/n’s place, I kicked my shoes off and flopped down onto the couch beside her while she scrolled through her phone. Neither of us had anything to say, I was too lost in my thoughts worrying about Laf and the others. At least we knew where Laf was, but the rest of our friends could be anywhere. I knew Y/n was worried; after what happened to me that night she and Laf went to the pizza place. I regretted that night, having to watch her be in so much pain because of me and not being able to do anything to help. After her losing Jenny, I don't think that she would be able to handle another loss so we needed to find the others asap.

“J-John!” Y/n’s voice broke my thoughts. I turned to her with a concerned look.

“What’s wrong?” She basically shoved the phone into my face. I looked at it and my eyes widened. Jenny was FaceTiming Y/n.

“Answer it!” I encouraged her. She shook her head.

“I can’t John. I don’t know what to say!” I could see the frantic look in her eye and I know that she wasn’t going to answer it, so I took the phone from her and answered it before shoving it back into Y/n’s hands. She gave me a look before looking down at the phone.

“H-Hello?”

“Yo, yo, yo! How ya doing?” The person on the other end said. I raised a brow. The voice sounded very masculine and not like Jenny at all. I looked at the screen and saw a man in a car; from the looks of it he had his phone on his lap. Y/n was confused as well.

“Who is this?”

“What do you mean? It’s Jimmy!” Y/n and I looked at each other, eyes wide and in complete shock. 

“Oh, hey Jim.” I looked at her, still very confused. 

“Hey,” he responded with a laugh. “Listen, I got some guys saying that they are trying to get back to a Y/n and I realized that I knew a Y/n so I called. Do you know a uh-” he turned his head around. “What’s your name again? Alexander?” He turned back to us. “Yeah do you know an Alexander?” 

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes I do, do you have anyone else with you?”

“Yep,” we heard Thomas say. “It’s me Thomas, Phillip, Aaron, Herc and James are here as well.” Y/n let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can you bring them over?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in twenty.”

-

-

Your POV

When Jimmy pulled up, the boys jumped out of the car immediately (Aaron and James not as fast). I couldn’t help but run into Thomas’ arms. I smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay!” I heard Herc clear his throat and let out a laugh before hugging him too. When Jimmy got out of the car, it was hard to act normal. I wanted to confront him about it, but it was already pretty late and I needed sleep so I decided to bring it up another time.

“Thanks for bringing them,” I said as I gave Jimmy a friendly side hug.

“No problemo, but mind telling me who they are?” I shifted uncomfortably as he leaned in closer to my ear. “Especially that James guy?”

“Maybe if we meet up tomorrow for coffee or something I can explain everything.” Jimmy stuck his tongue out. 

“Ew, no. That sounds formal. Just come over to my place and I’ll hook us up with some snacks.” I rolled my eyes.

“K, that’s fine.” Jimmy smiled and walked back into his car. 

“Bye guys! Nice meeting all of you!” He waved. The guys waved back as he drove off. We all turned to Laurens as his stomach let out a loud growl. He let out a nervous laugh.

“Anyone up for pizza?”

-

Instead of going out for pizza, we had them deliver to us. It took a little longer because this pizza place was farther away than the one that Laf appeared in (I’m trying so hard not to use the word spawn lmfao). We all sat in the living room with the lights off and watched a movie. No one brought up the fact that we had jumped into a mirror and ended up in a different time zone, no one even mentioned Laf’s absence. John probably told them anyway. 

One by one, the boys started to fall asleep and by the time the movie ended, they were all knocked out. All of them except for John. As I got up to tiptoe out of the room, I felt something grab my arm to my surprise.

“Y/n, can we talk?” I recognized John’s voice.

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow John?” Even though it was still dark, I could see John shake his head.

“No Y/n, its really bothering me.” I sighed before leading him into my room. I turned to him as I flicked the lights on. 

“What is it?” John sighed and took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. I gave him a questioning look as I opened it and started to read.

Disclaimer: This next part was written by @midnightokieriete. I repeat, I DID NOT WRITE THIS PART! After the line is my writing.

When you’re in this constant state of, i don’t know what’s going to happen to me, it’s hard, it’s terrifying to try and stop thinking that way. I mean, we’re here. Under the most extreme and strange circumstances, we are here. We are here, with you, Y/N. And you are taking care of us. You are making sure we are fine, we are able to live another day. You are making sure that I’m okay. Every time you look at me, I, I don’t know how to react. Do I pretend like I’m fine?

Or do I tell you, that I get this unknown feeling in my chest, and every time i look into your eyes, I see the stars align? The world is whispering to me, and it’s telling me your name. It’s telling me that you are the one, the one I’ve been looking for all along. Is that why I’m here? Is that why we came three hundred years in the future, to meet you? My first instinct was to run away, to ignore the thumping in my chest cavity and live life without you knowing how I feel.

That’s why I’m writing this down. You, Y/N, you made me into this. I’m a complete mess. When you smile at me, I am undone. I am attached to your every breath, to your every gaze. But the others, the others, I see what’s happening. They are realizing that they care for you too. It hurts, to see them hold your hand, or touch you. Do they value you as much as I? DO they think of your smile, hours after it’s gone?

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t send this letter to you. In fact, I will hide it. This is the only way I can express how I feel about you, to let it out.

I love you. I love you with every fiber of my being. With every grin, with every word, with every breath, with every blink, with every movement of mine, I am yours.

Oh how in every waking moment of mine, I wish for you to be mine. To wake up next to you, to drink that coffee with you, to walk you to your school, to meet everyone who has had the pleasure to meet you. I want to know you, I want to see you at your most vulnerable, to see you at your best and worst. I want to experience life. With you.

But now, I have this question ringing in my head. Do you consider me yours? Or am I just a nuisance, a man that you treat like a child? Is John Laurens, the man far from his time, worth the time of day?

As I am writing this, I think I know the answer. But I still need to know. I need to hear it from you.

Am I, Miss Y/N, a man you could love? Someone that you could see a future with, someone that is desperately in love with you? Could, you possibly…

Sorry, I am rambling on. You were gone for a while, and I am on my way to see you outside. I hope Lafayette and you had a nice time together.

Why am I still writing?

Lafayette loves you, you know. I’m not quite sure if he knows it yet, but I see the way he looks at you. The way his smile widens every time you waltz into the room, gracing us with your presence. It hurts, because, you smile. Oh, your smile to him, it’s different. It’s more special. More intimate.

Why can’t you see me? I am right here, I am waiting for you. Just look at me, see me for who I am, see me.

See me.

Ah, it is my time to place down this pen. I will see you soon.

Time to eat that deadly slice of pizza.

“Y/n, are you okay? Y-You’re crying.” I felt my face. It was soaked in tears. John wrapped his arms around me as I stood there in shock. That’s when it hit me. I loved John. Why was I so hurt over his death? Sure, he was my friend and all but the grief hit me on another level. I love him. I also loved Laf, Alex, Herc, and Thomas. How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to make you upset. Please ba- Y/n, don’t cry.” I looked up at his worried face. He looked hurt and it killed me.

“John, you didn’t make me upset. It’s just I can’t believe..” I trailed off.

“That I feel this way?” 

“Yeah,” was all I could say.

“Why is it so surprising?” 

“The fact that you could love someone like me. The fact that there are so many people out there, and you choose me. The fact that I was so oblivious,” I rambled. John took a step closer.

“Y/n, I know you love Laf and Thomas. I also know that you love Herc and Alex. I see the way you look at them,” he took another step closer. “But if you give me a chance, I could prove to you tha-” I cut him off by smashing my lips with his. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back.

Y’all I’ve been so inactive and I hate it, I’ve been mad lazy lately. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

Also thinking about making Jimmy and James a thing? 

Also also this is not proofread because its 2 in the morning and I have no patience lmao. I’ll try to come back and fix any mistakes when its not an ungodly hour to be awake.

- A-a-ron (aka hamiltrashitty)

#little ham man #hamilton #hamilton x reader #hamilton imagine #alexander hamilton #alexander hamilton x reader #john laurens #john laurens x reader #lafayette #lafayette x reader #hercules mulligan #hercules mulligan x reader #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #james madison #aaron burr #poly!hamilsquad #poly!hamilsquad x reader #little ham man continuation

[atlaswriting]

I want to think of a scenario in which no one looses, an outcome that saves all of our naive hearts from ruin—but there isn’t a world where we survive unscathed. There are always causalities in a war of hearts and the trick is to be the one still beating by the end of it all.

“You and Sophie?”

Instantly, Abram’s cheeks turn red—but he refuses to break eye contact, “Me and Sophie nothing, we’re just friends.”

“Like you and I are just friends?”

“That’s different.”

I’m clutching my pen between tightly wound fingers, knuckles aching, “Is it really, though?”

Mrs. Pierce finally enters the room and I lean back, but Abram refuses to look forward, refuses to take his eyes away from me, “Completely different. And even if it wasn’t, Elise, at least Sophie isn’t afraid of what she wants—she goes after it. She doesn’t try and waste away to nothing just so she doesn’t have to deal with life.” His words are low, vicious and cut through skin. Any sharper and I would be choking back blood.

“Mrs. Pierce,” I raise my hand, “I’m not feeling very well. I’d like to go back to my room now.”

“You haven’t been in class all week Elise, do you think that’s a really good idea?”

“If you’d rather me waste away to nothing on your classroom floor, I’d be more than happy to. Otherwise I’d rather complete whatever assignments in my room.”

She rolls her eyes, releases her short hair from the tight confines of her bun and shakes her head, “Do whatever you want.”

I shove my books into my bag and slide my chair noisily across the floor—I move by Abram, not without bumping him with my hip on the way out.

♡ ♡ ♡

We need to do something about Abram.

Who is this?

Ellie. Can I call you? We need to do something about his situation.

How did you get my phone number? Abram doesn’t even have my phone number.

And what situation are you even talking about?

You do know I’m not his handler, right?

Ask his boyfriend.

It doesn’t matter how I have it. Just that I do.

Wait, why doesn’t Abram have your number? Aren’t you fuck buddies?

That’s crass.

Is it a lie?

I thought not.

So are you going to help me?

Why can’t you ask Brody?

Brody will tell Abram.

So…ask him not to?

Lmfao... Sweetie.

No.

I’m calling you.

( incoming call from ellie. )

♡ ♡ ♡

“You can’t really be that mad?” Jason asks. He’s given up completely on studying and has been nervously eating an entire sleeve of peanut butter cups. “Didn’t you ask Abram to take her out?”

“Yes,” I say, “But that doesn’t mean I wanted him to do it. I thought he would make up some excuse like he has twenty times before.”

Jason scoffs, “He’s probably just you know… pent up and needed to release some aggression.” A large smile spreads across his face at the innuendo and I roll my eyes. Stomach churning at the thought of Abram doing anything with Sophie.

Not because I thought she was disgusting—the exact opposite. Sophie was gorgeous; she had legs for days and was effortlessly pretty. She was smart, in a scary way and was constantly underestimated—it made her resilient, a fighter, and more often than not, a winner.

I wanted to scream at Jason. I wanted to tear away all the pages from the book in my lap, but instead I dug my nails into my thigh, digging in further until the pain in my leg outweighed the pain in my chest and I only stopped when he leaned over and plucked my hand away from my body.

“Jesus Christ, Elise, you’re drawing blood. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. Why would you ask that?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately—you haven’t been eating, is that why you were hospitalized? And anytime someone brings up Abram you go nuts.”

“I go nuts?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I throw the book off my lap and stand up, “Maybe, but it’s what you said.”

Jason’s quick to stand too, walking toward me with outstretched arms. When I don’t move away he wraps them around me, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. You just seem protective over him, that’s all.” His lips press to the crook of my neck and he breathes in deeply, “You care about him a lot?” Jason asks.

He pulls away and it takes everything in me not to cry, so I nod, teeth digging into my cheek. “He’s my best friend, Jason.”

“He’s like a brother to you.”

I don’t know if Jason says that to convince himself or me—but he brings my forehead to his lips and I don’t argue. He doesn’t try to convince me otherwise when I tell him I’m tired and that I’ll see him tomorrow.

When I’m alone, I fall onto my mattress, letting the ragged beat of my heart lull me into a calmer state where the knot in my lungs isn’t quite as big and I can breathe.

A knock at the door stirs me and I’m hoping to find Abram on the other side. I brush back my hair, fix my skirt and try to button up my shirt to maintain some modesty.

“Expecting someone else?” Sophie asks as I open the door.

My shoulders hunch and I use my body to keep her from coming in the room any further, “I’m getting ready for bed, Soph, what do you want?”

She held up three different sized condoms, “Abram and I are going to get coffee and I wanted to know which size is more accurate?”

I clench my jaw, so tight I’m surprised I don’t break teeth. “Abram isn’t like that.”

“We’ll see. I think I’m slowly starting to rip your claws out of him.” She sighs and shoves them back into her pocket, “Remember Elise, you can’t have your cake and throw it up, too.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Cerise has always compared me to dying fruit. When other mothers thought rainbows shined out of their little girls’ asses, Cerise often reminded me that I was pretty on the outside—but when you bit in all you got was a mouthful of rot.

I couldn’t say I blamed her.

The pretty skin and long hair was only a mask and underneath was the true horror. I had spent hours scratching at the surface of my skin, trying to pull the monster out. Under my skin was red and raw and uninviting. Until all the pretty little freckles were dots of blood any tan lines were replaced with welts left by fingernails.

The last thing to go was my hair. I grabbed a pair of sheers from my desk and pulled my hair out of its ponytail.

Ugly little thing, I thought—relief warming my body. I held my hair and watched with jaded eyes as the sheers ripped through the meticulously cared after tresses. Years of expensive, imported shampoo was now sitting in my sink and the weight—literally was lifted.

I don’t stop cutting until my bob, jagged—but not half bad, was below my chin and when I can breathe I drop the scissors.

For a moment I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me—eyes wide and wild, ravenous with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied with food.

Watch this disappearing act, Houdini.

♡ ♡ ♡

The stares aren’t half as bad as I thought they would be. Some quiet whispers but mostly, two-faced compliments left people’s mouth.

I don’t feel so watched until lunch when we’ve all crowded the cafeteria and I’m sitting alone at a table, staring at the food on my tray—willing myself to eat.

Abram is the first to sit down, staring with his mouth agape.

Jason is next.

And finally Sophie who sits beside Abram. She grins, “Did you mean to cut it all short and choppy like that? I mean, really, Elise, there’s a Great Clips a mile away. Abram and I could’ve brought you last night.”

I glare back at her. Stabbing into my chicken and shoving it in my mouth to keep from snapping at her.

“I like it,” Jason announces. “I think it’s sexy, babe.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. Abram hasn’t said anything and I pull my sweater down to cover any angry skin from last night’s breakdown.

Jason asks Abram a question about hockey and Sophie’s conversation turns to her father—who she said is running for Congress in Georgia. I’m doing my best to nod without listening when my phone buzzes on the table.

Jason’s phone pings next, and then Abram’s—soon the entire cafeteria is filled with different text tones. At different times, thumbs click the recording delivered by text and moaning stuns everyone silent.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

A very distinct, very Abram’s voice says and all of our eyes are cast on him.

The moaning that follows makes me wish I had successfully crawled out of my skin the night prior. I would know that second voice anywhere, it’s mine.

I look up at Abram who stares back at me in horror, face red. But when the recording ends, he’s rewarded with a few slaps on the back from guys and girls talking behind their hands, eyeing him like a piece of meat.

“Dude!” Jason shouts, “Who was that? She sounded so familiar.”

Abram and I are still staring at each other and my hand was holding the plastic fork so tight it snapped.

#thread: ablise #thread: all

[defunctblogtobedeleted]

6/11/17, 1:41am - post vacation

It’s been two weeks since I last wrote. Goddamn it feels like months.

The day after saturday.... So Sunday my family shows up at my place, mom immediately starts going through my shit until I start yelling and smacking her on the back of the head. Definitely not a good note to start off on.

The trip was pretty fucking great. Idk if they’re highlights but I just wanna ramble off a bunch of memories. Ate at Cracker Barrel on the way down because Trusten always felt left out when me and Tessa would go eat there with my dad. Little did he know that was my least favorite place he would take us, but it was a nice dinner nonetheless lmao.  The subject of my vasectomy became a huge topic all trip, partially because I had to bring up trying to keep my shit from getting infected whenever we would go swimming. Immediately jumped into the beach though it was fantastic. The water was beautifully clear and so warm, like taking a bath. Got to know my cousins a lot better. Christina is great, but also made me happy I’m not about to have a kid at my age. Got to see my aunts and stuff too, I can’t rag on her too hard because one has cancer, but they were talking about some pseudo-spiritualism-science for a long time and I just had to smile and keep my mouth shut for a while. “I’ve read it takes 48 days for the spirit of the deceased to reach the heavens. And it takes 48 days for a developing baby to be imbued with the spirit. Coincidence??” yeah idk lmfao. Great dance party with the fam though lol. Tessa’s looking unhealthily skinny but tremendously happy. I’m glad she’s back and done with her crazy dieting. Puts me to shame, tbh. Kinda makes me want to go a little harder and finish trimming off my fat but I’ve got more healthy plans I’m gonna start working on I think. Saw danni and her new gf, she cut my hair and gave me a new dye job. Was frustrated that I had to have so much cut off because I wanted to keep growing it out, but it Does look pretty fucking great and I have faith in her regardless lol. Smoked with her and grandpa and mom and talked about a whole bunch of shit. Tried to explain about how I treasure my personal time way more than investing my time into growing my wealth, had to try and do it without giving him shit for spending all his time trying to make money and not having any of it left to himself after the divorce. Also asked if he was gay and he said nah so that puts that to bed lmaooo. we went out to the Keys and that was kind of a disaster. I always kinda romanticized the thought of them when I was a kid, remembering like bright white sandy beaches and beautiful water, but there’s actually not much of that at all down there. The beach we went to smelt like rot. It was beautiful but covered in seagrass and very shallow, me and tessa and tav and trusten had a nice time of swimming against the current together joking about shit. Made a nice dinner of fried salmon and asparagus for my little brothers. Felt nice to cook again, should probably do more of that. Things boiled over with my mom when she kept fucking with the other food I picked out for us. Wasted a whole pack of bacon out of spite and so I flipped shit and decided I was done with them. Spent a day playing video games and tanning and laying around, was probably best to heal up my nuts anyway lol. We left the keys a day early because of it, but not before we got to watch this tenacious D video that they had. No wifi lol. Lessee. Came back up, saw gabbi and I think I like her new bf. They seem pretty good together, but I tried to warn them to not nitipick each other to death now that they’re moving in together. Good luck lmfao. Drank 9 beers and a cider with my uncle DJ and cousin Dom and his girlfriend was cute too, I shared wayyy too much about my life, told half my family about how I had my friends photograph me fucking at the old well, but ate some delicious fucking italian cooking and had a wonderful night. Smoked with DJ and mom and listened to their old stories of growing up as kids and getting into trouble for smoking and stuff. Oh and right before the keys I started binge watching Doctor Who. Since Katy went and watched every single episode of rick and morty in one night I asked her what her favorite show was that I could do. Doctor Who is a Little more involved, but I’ve gotta say it’s fucking incredible. Fell in love with it within minutes, had me giggling like an idiot all week. I’d stay up til like 7am watching episodes, get a few hours of sleep and then try to do whatever everyone else was though by the end of the trip it wasn’t much. The drive home wasn’t very eventful, me and mom split it, and it ended at a nice pit stop at dar and pa’s for some pancakes and a nap before I had to head home. Was trying to do a melee tournament and see katy and found out I needed to get my tire fixed, but then costco was going to take too long and so would melee so I just got back to greensboro and had a nice night of watching adventure time and a little sex and cuddles. Pretty fucking solid vacation despite the fighting with the fam, not gonna lie. Plus this is like the first time I look really not-fat in beach pictures, it’s kinda incredible.

So Katy... I spent a lot of time talking to Katy. We’ve at least snapchatted every day for the past month now, but haven’t had another drunk convo like when I was at the lake. After seeing her when I got back on monday I also spent the night with her again weds, and we’ve been bingewatching Adventure Time from the beginning and I took her out to eat at Smith Street Diner, it’s all been fantastic. But she couldn’t see me tuesday because she had another guy friend over (and another on thursday, but I was at work anyway lol). So I get kinda jealous that she has this beautiful ass kid and all these other guys wanting to fuck her, mostly because I don’t have other people or a very decent schedule to hook up right now, orr even get to go out drinking with her. Feelsbadman. It also feels like it’d be too much work/money to try to get a side chick anyway, and plus, melee is my real side hoe let’s not kid ourselves.. [speaking of which, the day I couldn’t see her I kicked ass at melee and won a little money, so that was pretty fucking great.] She’s amazing to spend time with and she gave me a toothbrush to keep in her bathroom and I love cuddling up with her beautiful body, but tbh she’s pretty standoffish whenever I try to get too intimate in person (mostly trying to kiss her too much), and when she refuses to send me a message back because she’s with somebody else I can’t help but shake this feeling like I’m not good enough for her... Feelings are stupid. I worry about going too hard too fast with her, but every time I’ve gone too far off the deep end she’s been able to laugh it off, which I think is incredible. Definitely should have scared her off with the shit I was saying about trying to make her fall in love with me (and not vice versa, for the record, because I still don’t have any feelings <:^D ) when I was 10 drinks deep, but somehow she even laughed that off. Plus she’s fantastically nerdy and exposed me to doctor who and this show is like my favorite shit right now lmao. I’ve just wrapped up the fourth season, which is about 37 hours of watching within the past two weeks.. It’s so fucking goooood, man. She told me all I had to do was catch up to her at the 12th doctor but I wanna go back and watch all the old stuff after that, too. so like 56/835 episodes done so far so good lmaoo. Anyway. Idk I just hope I get to spend a lot more time with her doing cool shit. I don’t know what I am to her, so I have no idea if this is gonna go anywhere, but it really doesn’t matter all that much to me anyway. I just enjoy hanging out with her, and she got me to quit smoking cigarettes completely, and now I’m watching this wonderful show instead of wasting my fucking life bored on twitch streams, and I’m even actually starting to get motivated to start exercising again. And the sex is greattttt lmaooo. So I want to spend as much time with her as possible. It’s pretty gay, not gonna lie, but that’s where I’m at right now. Idk why I’ve always needed some cute girlie to help motivate me to get my shit done, though. Personal flaws...

OH HOLY FUCK so this week was the most productive week ever though, because not only did I manage to get laid and place 3rd in melee this week, I also FINALLY got to take the exam for my RPSGT!! The day I was originally scheduled for was a shit show, I drove 2 hours out to fayetteville and found out they had fucked up my registration and I didn’t get to take it that day after waiting for hours to see if they could fix it, but luckily I was able to get rescheduled for the day after, so I left Katy’s place to go to Durham and took it at 8am thursday. I was fucking sweating a little, not gonna lie. They were asking me all sorts of questions about pediatric sleep medicine that I wasn’t quite prepared for, and some of the scoring questions were confusing to me, but I managed to pass! So now I finalllllllllly have made it to become a real sleep tech. Gonna get that fat raise and finally get to a point where I can stop worrying about money, it’s fucking phenomenal.

So I’m so fucking ready to get off work... Gonna go back to raleigh today and see fonzi and frankie and maybe johnny so that’s gonna be sick. There’s this new melee mod that came out so I’m thinking about getting a soldering iron and fucking with my controller, maybe I’ll actually be good at this game lol. Dunno when I’m hanging with katy next hopefully every day lmfaooo. I guess I’ll update when I update.