#i tried keeping it same but like. changed the sides halfway through and noticed only pretty late. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asumofwords · 8 months

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, self worth issues, angst angst angst, fighting, yelling, tension, gods the fucking tension, smut, creampie, big feels, drinking, drug use (weed).

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Is this chapter 11.4k because I didn't want to split it up into two parts and I'm determined to keep this series at 15 chapters? Yes. Is it smart? No. Am I stubborn? Yes. Look it's a long ass chapter, but I hope that means it makes up for the late post, however I will say this, I have finished writing sublet, so the final chapter will come in a few days! And then, THEN, I shall get to your naughty little requests hehe. If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you didn't. Enjoy ! <3

Chapter 14: Over the Edge

Warm rays of the suns light beat down on your body as you lay by the pool, a cool breeze rolling through the estate causing the drops of water on your skin to cool you down. There were few clouds in the sky, and the air around you was filled with the laughter and splashing of the boys in the pool.

Daeron sat astride Aegon’s shoulders as he wrestled with Lucerys; who sat atop Jacaerys’. Their fingers were interlocked as they tried to push each other off their brothers shoulders, shouts, grunts and encouragement being yelled by Baela and Rhaena who watched on beside you and Helaena in the sun.

The day had breezed by, and as a group, you had made rounds to the kitchen to fix yourselves cocktails and snacks.

Reaching beside you for the gin and juice drink you had made, you found only the remnants of melted ice at the bottom. You surveyed everyone else’s glasses, the boys beer bottles empty beside their chairs.

Standing, you asked if the girls wanted anything to drink. Rhaena looked up at you lazily, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight as Baela did the same, though the elder stood and came to your side, eyes skimming the empty glasses.

“I’ll help.” She offered.

You gave her a wide smile, “Thanks Bae.”

Helaena however, did not look up at you to answer your question, her drink beside her half drunk and half melted, most likely warmed by the sun. Slim pale fingers held her phone, speedily shooting off texts to someone, too engrossed in looking at her phone to have noticed you asked her a question.

“Hel.” You tried to garner her attention, watching as her eyebrows lightly lifted, eyes still on the screen.

“Huh?” She murmured, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

Helaena was wearing a daffodil yellow one piece that had small brown flowers printed onto it, her large floppy hat atop her head again to protect her face and shoulders from the sun, with large round glasses that had slid halfway down her nose, eyes peering over the top of them as she furiously text someone back, bottom lip pulled into her mouth by her teeth.

You clicked your fingers in her face, “Hello? I said do you want anything to drink?”

Helaena finally tore her eyes away from her phone, and you watched as she swallowed thickly when she met your eyes.

Worry struck inside of you.

Had something happened?

Rhaena and Baela sensed her change in demeanour, though neither said anything, and turned to face the boys, asking what they wanted to drink instead. Aegon, half tilted in the water as Daeron slapped away Lucerys' hand that grabbed at his shoulder, asked through gritted teeth for a Pina Colada, the weight of his brother taking a toll on him. The others settled for beer.

“I’ll have what Aegon is having.” You told the girls, watching as they went inside, casting a curious glance back at you and their cousin.

Shifting, you stepped closer to Helaena, watching as her eyes flitted to her phone as it vibrated in her palm twice before back up at you. She looked guilty, nervous, and perhaps even a bit worried.

“Hel? What's going on?” You probed, sitting down beside her on the bed, “Don’t tell me you and Sara are fighting?”

You hoped that they weren’t, and instead wished that they would get back together again. Helaena evened Sara out, and Sara did the same for Hel. They really were a good match, and you had never seen Helaena so happy until she was with her ex lover.

Violet eyes met yours, then away to the lit screen, then back up to yours.

Her avoidance was making you nervous.

Lips parted, and then came your answer.

“Aemond’s coming.” Helaena confessed sheepishly, and you felt your heart immediately begin to race.

Your mouth felt dry, and a knot began to form in your stomach.

Aemond was coming.

Here.

To the Red Keep.

“What?” Disbelief in your voice.

Helaena said he would never come here.

Your best friend looked suddenly guilty, eyes looking anywhere but you, “Yeah.” She said quietly, “He’s on a flight here.”

And then it made sense.

“You told him I was here.”

It wasn’t a question.

She locked her phone with a press of her thumb, turning it face down beside her on the tanning bed, “I did.”

The words put a sour taste in your mouth.

“What? Helaena, I can’t see him.” You shook your head, fluttering feeling in both your chest and your gut.

The Targaryen woman frowned at you sadly, watching you as you stood, wringing your fingers together.

“I think you should hear him out.” She whispered, but you were too anxious and annoyed to reason with her in that moment.

She had told him you were here.

Stepping away from her, you frowned, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The rest of the day was filled with heightened anxiety after Helaena confessed that her brother would be arriving to the Red Keep. You had left her by the pool, feeling all eyes on you as you stormed back inside.

You knew it was likely childish, but you felt sick to your stomach knowing that he would turn up, and that you would have to pretend to everyone around that nothing had happened between the two of you. That you couldn’t even tell them what had happened. That you would have to pretend to be little more than strangers who simply shared a space, and that was it.

The only person there who knew the truth of it was Helaena.

And despite the small piece inside of you that missed him, that yearned to see him again, it was quickly squashed with the way your stomach turned in on itself, mind reeling with an array of ‘what if’s’ about what the silver haired man had gotten up to in your absence.

Had Alys come back?

Did she stay the night?

Had she been there ever since?

Did he do the things he did to you to her in your own home? On your couch?

But then a more unsettling thought popped into your mind.

Had she hurt him?

Had she made him feel weak? Like he couldn’t escape?

Had she taken away the smiles that you craved to see?

It was all too much, and you had to take deep and calming breaths to try and beat the tears that began to prickle in the corner of your eyes.

Why was this so difficult? Why were you so hurt by this? Why did you care so much?

You had made it to her bathroom, and that was where Helaena found you, hunched over the double sinked basin in her ensuite, eyes shut as you breathed deeply through your nose.

“Hey.” You heard her approach. You straightened, blinking the tears away, your reflection joined by hers blurry in front of you, “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

You shook your head, turning to face her.

Why was she sorry?

This was their home, not yours.

“You don’t need to say sorry to me.”

Her light brows furrowed as she came towards you, “He was worried about you. Didn’t know where you were.” She explained, making you feel guilty for your reaction to not only his messages, but her telling him where you were, “I only told him because he wouldn’t stop asking. He knew you weren’t at Cregan’s. I didn’t think that he would come.”

Aemond was worried about you.

But how did he know you weren’t with Cregan?

“Look,” Helaena sighed, stepping closer to you, “He wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t important.”

“Your father dying seems pretty important to me.”

You regretted the words immediately as they came out of your mouth. You didn’t say it to be mean, or to hurt her, it was just a statement of fact.

Helaena simply sighed again, “Yeah, and has he been here? No. He’s coming for you. And you’re going to hear him out.”

“Hel-“

“-No. You will. He’s coming all this way, to a place he didn’t want to come to. It’s…triggering for him. At least do him this one act of kindness and listen to what he has to say when he arrives.”

Listen to him when he arrives.

That was easier said than done.

Every fibre in your being told you to tuck tail and run.

He will probably tell you that whatever you had wasn’t real, and that he was in fact back with Alys. That he was moving back to Harrenhal with her, and that you would never see him again, bar an occasional gathering with the rest of his siblings where he would probably ask you to keep whatever little tryst you had secret from the others in order to keep the peace.

And you would agree to it, for him.

But hearing those things from him was something you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to feel lesser than you already did. You didn’t want to have to lay in bed each night when he leaves, picking yourself apart in comparison with her. You didn’t want to know that you would never be enough for him, and she would.

You blinked at Helaena. You didn’t want to cause her anymore grief. But by staying here, and having to talk to him, to hear his rejection face to face, you didn’t know if you could do it without breaking down.

You breathed in deeply before exhaling.

In.

Out.

“There’s nothing to say.” You shook your head, “Alys was on our couch, judging our home, Hel. Judging me. And he let her. There is nothing between us besides something physical.”

Those eyes you adored stared at you, narrowing slightly.

Time stretched uncomfortably between the two of you as she didn’t respond to your terrible lie.

She knew you were lying.

You knew you were lying.

There was no denying it, the feelings you had for him. Not to her at least. Not with her spooky intuition that she had. Nor the way you reacted when you thought of him, or how you had fled to her family home in a moment of crisis because his ex had been on your couch, hand on his thigh.

The image made your chest light with jealousy and hurt.

You walked past Helaena and into the bedroom, eager to get away from her all seeing eyes, plopping down onto her bed heavily, stomach feeling as though it was full of stones. Had the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood come into the room in the dark of night and fill you with rocks? Or was it just the more rational, and far more nerve-racking reality that you would have to come face to face with someone who you liked, more than a friend, and deal with the impending rejection and subsequent end.

That’s why he was coming.

To end whatever the two of you had.

That was it.

You picked up your phone from the side table, forgotten once again, to see another 4 messages from Aemond, asking where you were and if you were safe. The last of the messages stating that you weren’t at Cregan’s, and he that he was calling Helaena.

His sister stood in front of you again, this time, with her arms crossed.

“You’re going to hear him out.” She stated, voice stern and steady.

Here was the rarer side of Helaena, a side that Sara had taught to her. A side in which you knew meant business. You searched her face for any sort of wriggle room.

There was none.

She continued, “And if you don’t like what you hear, then you can go home.”

You breathed deeply once more, in through your nose, out through your mouth, resigned to your fate.

“Fine.”

Helaena smiled at you gratefully, “Good.” Her tone was lighter, arms uncrossing in front of her chest. You could see a wave of relief flit over her body, and you felt some sort of calm knowing that she was happy with your, though forced, answer. “I think he deserves a chance to have a voice after so long without it.”

Helaena dragged you back down to the pool, Aegon eyeing you warily before handing you your half melted Pina Colada. You took it gratefully, plonking down on the bed beside him, sipping at it deeply.

If you were going to get through his arrival, you would need something to soothe your nerves.

And some liquid courage.

If Aegon knew anything about his brothers soon to be arrival, he didn’t say anything, but you could tell by the way his lilac eyes surveyed your face and posture, that either Helaena had told him of her plans before hand, or perhaps he had been told by Aemond himself.

You didn’t want to know either way.

You were not about to draw attention to it.

You complimented the twins on their cocktail making skills, and spent the rest of the afternoon by the poolside with everyone. You had smiled and giggled and joined in on the fun, the drinks helping somewhat to calm your nerves, however as the sun began to set, and Helaena escorted you back to her room to get ready for dinner that evening, anxiety reared its ugly head inside of you once more.

Helaena gave you another dress to wear, less done up than the one before, which made you think that the job proposal was perhaps far more orchestrated than you had realised. Tonight’s dress was a warm black, with short sleeves that sat off the shoulders with a Bateau neck. It was floor length, light rippling layers of differing lengths towards the bottom that were sheer and moved like waves.

Why these families always had to dress up for dinner in their own homes, you had no idea, but it felt as though there was some sort of silent ‘holier than thou’ competition between them all.

You had pulled your hair away from your face, and eventually made your way down to have dinner with the family again. You moved to go outside to the dining table in the back, but Helaena steered you differently, taking you to a small (if you could call it that despite it being larger than your flat), ‘intimate’, Helaena’s words, not yours, dining room.

Rhaenyra and Daemon sat beside an empty, larger, much older chair. One you assumed would have been Viserys’ usual spot it he was well enough to join. Jacaerys and Baela sat up the end with Rhaena and Baela, and Daeron was looking at his on the other end phone in his lap.

Aegon and Alicent were nowhere to be seen.

Aemond, also absent.

You sat beside Jacaerys, Helaena beside you, and greeted all with a small smile. It felt easy, being in their presence, and with the majority of the Hightower kin being missing, the tension in the room was almost nonexistent.

“Have you thought more on our offer?” Rhaenyra asked sweetly, sipping at her wine as Daemon held her hand on the table.

You tucked yourself into the dining table, “I have, I-“

Footsteps and a hissing whisper came from behind, and all seated at the table turned to watch as Alicent guided her sons into the room.

Both of her eldest sons.

His eye immediately found yours, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest, breath stilling in your throat. He was dressed in all black as usual, but more formal, likely for his mother and for the meal with family. He wore black slacks with a black dress shirt, three buttons undone at the top so that you could see the sliver of the silver chain he always wore. Aemond’s hair was up in a low bun at the back of his head, small wisps falling around his face with some tucked behind his ears.

His violet gaze pierced yours, and you turned away sharply, shifting your attention to the centre of the table, looking at the flickering of one of the many candles in the room.

Oh yes, very interesting.

What a lovely candle.

Definitely attention grabbing.

Aemond seated himself at one end of the table, Lucerys shifting at the other end as he too avoided his uncles gaze. Daeron seat was a seat away from his mother, who sat in the chair at the head of the table, the one that was usually reserved for Viserys.

Aegon, beside Helaena.

And there it was. The tension again.

But it was riper than usual.

Thicker.

And you couldn’t help but notice that perhaps it had something to with the fact that there was a certain member who had returned, that all others had not expected to see.

The heat of his gaze warmed the side of your face, and you couldn’t help but feel anxiety pull sharply at your gut.

Do you say hello?

Do you ignore him?

What do you do?

If you didn’t do something, they would know something had happened. All knew you were living together, the least you could so was give him a smile.

So biting your cheek, you turned to land your gaze upon the man you had fled from, watching as his chest rose sharply when you locked eyes.

“Aemond.” You greeted him, though your voice sounded slightly strained, and the smile that pulled at your lips looked more like a grimace.

His eye softened at the sound of your voice, his head tipping towards you in acknowledgment.

A pressure moved to your thigh, and you pulled your eyes away from the man at the end of the table to the woman beside you. Helaena had her hand gripping your thigh, a soft reassurance and act of comfort.

“Rhaenyra.” Alicent greeted her step daughter, tone warmer than the last time.

Rhaenyra turned the top half of her body towards the woman. Open, responsive, listening.

“Ali.” Her violet gaze moved further along the table, settling on her half-brother, “Aemond, I didn’t know you would be coming. How is Harrenhal?”

You sucked air sharply through your mouth, feeling uncomfortable for both Aemond and yourself.

You looked back at the candle, watching the flame flicker.

Do not look at him.

Do not-

“I left.”

Blunt.

Emotionless.

Straight to the point with no room for her to continue the conversation.

All at the table felt the air crackle as an uncomfortable energy shifted around the room.

“Your talents were wasted there.” Rhaenyra spoke again, voice calm and un-probing in the way they were delivered, “Will you be resuming your studies?”

The orange flame flickered gently, and there was a pregnant pause that filled the dining room before Aemond answered.

“Yes.”

Although he was speaking with Rhaenyra, you knew just by the goosebumps that erupted on your skin that he had not once taken his eye off you. If Rhaenyra was annoyed by her brothers lack of response, she didn’t show it, and instead took it in stride, giving him a soft smile before turning her attention to the auburn haired woman beside her.

The dinner felt as though it went for hours, when in reality, shortly after Alicent and her sons were seated, food began to be placed upon the table. Entrees, sides, mains, and then finally dessert, and yet not once, did he take his full attention from you. And not only that, the tension between him and his nephews made for a more uncomfortable dinner than it already was.

You could now see why Helaena avoided visiting her family.

Lucerys would occasionally sneak glances at his uncle, but Aemond would only meet his gaze for a moment before returning it back to you. But his watching didn't go unnoticed.

More than once, Daemon and Rhaenyra would give you and then Aemond shared looks, and Daemon on one occasion, flat out laughed, clearly enjoying the train wreck of tension that was the evening.

When dessert was placed in front of you, a fluffy pavlova with passion fruit and differing berries, you found you didn’t have the appetite for it. You dabbed your lips gently with your napkin before pushing your chair backwards to stand, all eyes lifted to you.

“Thank you for dinner, it was beautiful.” You smiled at Alicent, her bright eyes creasing in the corners as she gave you one back, “Please excuse me, I'd like to go to bed. I’m quite tired.”

You knew he was watching you. You could feel it. You could feel the heat of his eye on your face, on your neck and shoulders, on the way your hands wiped nervously against the sides of your dress.

Alicent nodded her head at you, “Of course.” And being the well mannered host that she was, bid you a good night and went back to entertaining her “guests”, immediately turning her face towards Rhaenyra who gave you a sweet grin.

A pressure at your hand caused you to cast your eyes downward, meeting Helaena’s concerned gaze. You gave her a reassuring squeeze and a subtle shake of your head.

No.

I am fine.

I am totally okay.

Not at all struggling to breathe with my heart in my throat because your brother, who I’ve been fucking by the way in case you forgot, had his abusive ex over at our place which resulted in a fight and me coming here, has been staring at me this entire dinner and I don’t know what to do.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, briskly leaving the intimate dining room to go to Helaena’s bedroom, feeling that same heat on the back of your head as you left. Your footsteps echoed on the stone floors as you tried to take deep and steadying breaths, stomach tying itself in knots.

You felt on the verge of tears.

You were halfway up the stairs when you heard footsteps coming swiftly towards you.

“Wait.” Came the smooth and deep timbre of the man you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Your mouth opened, and you increased your pace up the stairs, almost lurching yourself up them two at a time. Not ready to hear his rejection. Not ready to speak to him. Not ready to feel the pangs of pain in your chest again.

A deep sigh came from behind, footsteps closer now.

“Would you wait a second?” Aemond called to you again.

No.

No I will not.

I am going to take myself straight to bed so that I can cry in the shower and pretend that I’m not crying.

You finally came to the top of the stairs, taking a sharp left turn to speed walk down the hallway towards Helaena’s room.

Goddamn them and their stupid, giant estate.

“I said wait.” Aemond jogged in front of you, stopping abruptly in your path so that you would have to stop.

You almost ran straight into him.

His chest was heaving and his brow was pulled down as he looked at you. There was a blush to his cheeks and you watched as he swallowed thickly as he took you in.

Your chest fluttered.

“What?” You breathed, lump forming in the back of your throat.

All you could think of was your last interaction.

I don’t know.

“I was worried about you.” Aemond muttered, eye roaming your face.

There was that dastardly pain in your chest. You tried to swallow the lump, but it stayed thick and heavy in your throat, sadness seeping into your bones.

You shook your head, “I’m fine.”

The man frowned, “You’re clearly not. I texted you.”

Guilt.

“I know.”

The way he was standing in front of you was so unsure, so closed in, like he didn’t know what he was doing, or how to speak to you in that moment. It reminded you of how small he made himself look with Alys.

Alys.

I don’t know.

You moved to step around him, trying to get to the room which was further down the hall.

Get to the room and then you can cry.

Get to the room and then you can let it out. Don’t let him see you like this.

Don’t-

Aemond blocked your path again.

You huffed, breezing past him, your shoulder lightly brushing against his arm as you made your way forward.

Almost there.

Almost-

“Can we please talk about this?” His voice came from behind.

Keeping your eye trained on Helaena’s door you responded, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Yep.

Keep lying to yourself girl.

Cause that will make it all better.

“Y/n, please.”

Your steps slowed, door right before you. If you leant forward enough and reach out, your fingers would graze one of the door handles and you could simply press down and slip through the door.

But even then, would it be enough to keep him out?

He had flown all the way here.

It was time to face the music.

You spun around, gnawing gently at your bottom lip as you looked at him. He looked almost relieved to see you turn to him, and his hands twitched at his sides. He stepped closer but kept his distance, watching as you shifted on your feet, counting your breaths.

Don’t cry.

“I’m sorry.”

Oh shit.

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

Aemond breathed deeply.

It was quiet for a moment, but you let it hold.

It was his turn to speak, and once he had told you that these things didn’t come easy to him.

So you would give him time.

You would give him five minutes to say his peace, you reasoned with yourself. Five minutes to let you down gently, to tell you that he was back with Alys, and then you could spend ten minutes wallowing in self pity and cry in the shower, and then, after all that, you would make Helaena let you go home.

She did say you had to hear him out first.

Well, now was his chance.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” He continued, eye boring into your own, “I was just as surprised as you were.”

Surprised as you were?

He let her in.

Irritation stirred in your chest.

Not just at his words, but his inaction during what had happened.

Inaction for his own autonomy and self respect.

“Surprised.” You said tonelessly.

Aemond cast his eye to his shoes, watching as they shifted on the hundred years old stone.

“I don’t expect you to understand-“ He began.

“-Then help me to.”

His sharp jaw ticked, “I wasn’t thinking straight. I just- I saw her and-“

“-Let her into my home without asking. And to top it all off,” Here came the anger and hurt, “You shrugged me off in front of her and allowed her to insult me.”

“She didn’t insult you.”

You scoffed, looking away, eyes focusing on an old portrait of some Targaryen ancestor with a silver crown atop his head, “You still defend her. Even when you’re trying to apologise to me. You said I was just ‘Helaena's roommate’, as if we hadn’t spent multiple nights together in my bed. How did you expect me to take that? It was humiliating!”

There goes your plan to let him to do the talking.

Regret flashed across his pale features, eye casting away from you, “I’m sorry.” He shook his head at himself, “You didn’t deserve that. I didn’t mean to dismiss you, or make you feel as if you didn’t mean anything to me.”

Mean something to him?

“But you did.” You stated bitterly.

Aemond took another step towards you, and you had to fight the urge to not take one back.

You pressed your tongue into your cheek as you waited for him to respond, waited for him to finally tell you that he was back with her. That whatever you had together was over. You just wished he would get on with it.

The waiting was worse than the knowing.

Tears began to prick at your eyes.

“Please just get it over and done with.” You blurted, and watched as confusion washed over his face, “Just-“ You wet your lips with your tongue, “Just tell me what you came here to do.”

Aemond shifted on his feet, brows lightly furrowed as he looked at you sadly. His mouth opened and shut twice before words came forth, “I know my actions have hurt you, but I’m lost. I know that isn’t an excuse, and I shouldn’t try and use it as one, but I don’t know what to do.”

You picked at the skin of your finger, “I don’t know what you want from me, Aemond.”

“I want you.”

You blinked.

What?

“I need you. I came here because- Because I- I needed to see you. I needed to make it right. I’m sorry.” His face grew sullen, and you wished that he wouldn’t look at you that way. It made you want to step forward and pull him into your arms, “I shouldn’t have let her talk to you like that. I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I should have done many things, but I didn’t. I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He breathed, eye roaming your face. Aemond took another step forward, face suddenly becoming harder with conviction, “But I know that I want you.”

I don’t know, replayed in your mind over and over again.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He breathed, and your heart sank.

He didn’t know what to do.

And that meant, you would be strung along for the ride until he made his decision.

A traitorous tear escaped the corner of your eye, sliding wetly down your cheek. Aemond’s lip twitched as he saw it, and his hand moved towards you. You stepped back, hand pressed against the handle of the door.

“That’s not good enough for me, Aemond.” You choked, pressing the handle of the door down to open it, stepping inside without another glance back.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you shut the door behind you, back leant again the wood as you stifled a sob with the back of your hand.

He wanted you.

But he didn’t know how.

He didn’t know what to do.

He was lost.

But only he could make those decisions.

You couldn’t do that for him.

He had to do it himself.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much, that your shower was a blur of tears, and you hadn’t even noticed when Helaena snuck into bed beside you after, brushing your hair away from your face as she cooed sadly at you. You let your best friend hold you as you sniffled against her, turning Aemond’s words in your head over and over again.

You wanted him.

He wanted you.

But neither of you knew what to do.

The next morning you woke with swollen eyes and anxiety in your gut. Another day, and you would once again have to face him. There was no escaping the man who came here to talk to you, and although you had heard him out last night, you knew that it wouldn’t be the last time he would try.

Helaena, being the sweet and wonderful friend that she was, trying to cheer you up, ran down to the kitchen and brought up a cool gel eye mask for you to put on. She made you sit up and put it on you with a small giggle, the frosty gel making your eyes tear involuntarily.

You sat there for a moment with the makeshift gel goggles on, watching as Helaena’s violet eyes probed yours. She knew Aemond had spoken to you. You were sure everyone knew something was going on, what with him running out after you once you left dinner and his constant vigilant gaze upon you.

You knew what she was going to ask, and yet you couldn’t help but sigh, “Ask whatever it is you’re busting to ask, Hel.”

The silver haired woman flopped down into bed, wavy hair fanned out on the pillow as she looked up at you, “Did you hear him out?”

“I did.”

She frowned at the lack of elaboration, “What did he say?”

You inhaled deeply through your nose as you scratched at the back of your head, lightly tugging your hair, “Apologised.” Helaena’s eyes lit up, “Said he wants me, but doesn’t know what to do.” You flopped down beside her, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

You were sure you looked as ridiculous as you felt.

“And what did you say?”

“That it wasn’t good enough for me.”

Helaena didn’t hum, or speak up again, and you could feel her encouraging gaze upon you, knowing she wanted you to elaborate, and so you did.

“I can’t just go into something with him if he doesn’t even know what he wants. You should have been there, Hel. He called me your roommate and nothing else to her, and now he turns up and decides he wants me but doesn’t know how?” You felt your gut twist in feeling inadequate, never enough, “I’m not going to be his rebound for him to figure out what he wants. If he wants me, he needs to do better than that. He needs to show me that he does. No more secrets, no more whispers in the dark of a room. He’s either all in, or I’m out.”

It felt good to get that off your chest, to let it out, to breathe the words that settled inside of you like a stone. If he wanted you, truly wanted you, he needed to show it. He needed to build that bridge. He needed to take the first steps, because you couldn’t hold his hand and guide him through that.

But in some ways, him coming all the way to the Keep to see you was a first step, but even then, you needed more.

“I need assurance that he isn’t just going to run off to her and leave me in the dirt. I need assurance that this isn’t just some game to him. I’m happy being single, don’t get me wrong, Hel. Cregan is really all I need to get shit out of my system, but there’s something more with Aemond. Something more than just sex.”

You cringed, turning to face her, expecting to see a grimace as you spoke about having sex with her brother. But there was no cringe in her features, only a look of understanding an empathy.

“Sorry, Hel. I know he’s your brother, and this is already weird.”

“My family is weirder.”

You chuckled softly, “I think I just need to go home. I want to go home and just pretend none of this happened.”

Helaena hummed, “You and me both.” Then as if realising her words, “I didn’t mean about you and Aem, I just mean in general. Mum is driving me up the wall.”

“Come back with me.”

“I can’t. I have to be here for them.” She rolled out of bed, moving to her wardrobe as she fished out some clothes for the day, “Only consolation is mum is gone, won’t be back until tomorrow, but that means Cole is with her. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when they get back.”

You sat up, pulling the eye mask from your face, feeling far more refreshed than you wold have liked to admit. The puffiness from your eyes was gone, and you felt fresher, more alert and awake. Or perhaps that was from your conversation.

“That’s fine. This place is huge, I’m sure I won’t see him at all.”

Your previous statement proved to be false. Despite the sheer size of the Red Keep estate, Aemond seemed to pop up no matter where you were.

At the pool.

In the Library.

The Billiard Room were you played a game of pool with the boys.

No matter where you were, he always seemed to find you, eye searching you out immediately as he would slowly, and awkwardly, make his way toward you. You had dodged him thus far, leaving with an excuse to go to the bathroom, all but racing up to Helaena’s room, or saying that you were hungry, running to the large kitchen to sip at a glass of water.

It got to the point where it was simply ridiculous, and even the others seemed to notice his sudden appearance, and then your very sudden absence thereafter. It was like a game of tag, he would arrive and you would leave just before he could reach you, keeping that sweet distance safely between the two of you. Because if he were to say anything like he had the night before, you didn’t know if you would be able to keep yourself cool, calm and collected.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun beginning to roll down from the sky, where you found yourself in the gazebo at the end of the garden. It was large and open, chairs, lounges and tables all within, and Aegon had brought another bag of joints down with him.

You suspected that he most likely had a plant growing somewhere on the property. And the twins, with the help of their step-brothers, brought down a large esky.

With the presence of the two brunette haired boys, you likened that Aemond wouldn’t venture down to the Gazebo with the rest of you, thus your false sense of protection from he man.

Tomorrow you would leave, and then you would be safe to wallow in self pity as much as your heart desired.

There was a cool breeze that rolled through, but you were all relaxed for the most part, enjoying each others company with the music that played steadily out of Daeron’s portable speaker, drinking and smoking, and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

You had been rolling a cigarette, offering one to Aegon as he eyed your pouch greedily when Lucerys shifted in front of you, large brown eyes looking past your head. The younger man’s face changed, brows pulling and posture straightening. He was nervous. Dread settled in your gut. The only time that you had seen Luc react like this was when his uncle was around.

You turned in your seat, filter for your cigarette hanging from your lips, to see Aemond slowly making his way across the grass towards you.

“Aemond!” Aegon called out, lifting his half drunk beer, joint pinched between two fingers that held the bottle towards his younger brother, who made his way up the steps to the rest of you.

Your mouth felt dry, and you looked away just as his eye found you, scurrying to roll your cigarette and Aegon’s, using it as an excuse to look down into your lap and not up at the man who sat himself beside Aegon on the opposite side of you.

Movement caught your eye, and you lifted your gaze through your lashes, watching as Aemond plucked the joint from his brothers fingers, bringing it towards his plump lips, inhaling a long draw of the blunt. The ember lit and moved down the paper as he drew in, and you were annoyingly impressed that he had the lungs to hold it.

You looked back down at the tobacco in your lap, slowly filling the centre of the paper as you rolled it together between your pointers and thumbs, making a long, and neat cigarette.

You didn’t want to look up, but as soon as your tongue darted out to lick the paper to get it to stick, you could feel heat rising into your face as Aemond, unashamedly, watched. You reached out blindly, handing the cigarette to Aegon who thank you with a chirpy ‘Ta’, diverting your eyes back down to your lap to repeat the process.

Jacaerys, picking up on the tension, opted to speak to you, and only you, trying to keep your attention on him as he passed you over another can of some sweet drink Baela had brought with her. The whole time, you felt Aemond watching you.

Irritation boiled inside of you as you licked the cigarette closed, bringing it to hold between your lips as your hands patted down your lap and then sides for the lighter.

“Here.” Aegon caught your attention, leaning forward with his white lighter for you. You leant in, eyes on the flame as you inhaled to light the end of the smoke.

“Thanks.” You mumbled back, exhaling deeply, watching the smoke, trying to focus on the lyrics of the song instead of focusing on the way your skin prickled as you were being observed.

“In my imagination, you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs.”

You turned to Daeron, “Really, Daer? Arctic Monkeys?”

The youngest son of Alicent turned to you and snorted, “It’s not my phone that’s connected.”

“What's wrong with the Arctic Monkeys?” Aegon huffed, joint back in his hands as he watched you with glassy, half-lidded eyes.

“Didn’t take you for a Tumblr girl, Eggy.” You teased, inhaling your smoke, ignoring the way his brother beside him stared at you pointedly.

“It’s what gets the girls hot and heavy, babe.” Aegon winked, and you could have sworn you saw Aemond’s body shift beside him.

Helaena gagged, “Such a slut, Egg.”

“Hey! No slut shaming in my house.”

Baela, being quick witted, jumped in, “But I thought you liked a little bit of shame?”

If you had thought Aegon’s flirty glances towards you were intense, the one he cheekily threw at Baela stilled your breath, “I love it all, Bae. Why are you interested?”

“You’re foul.”

“You love it.”

The tension somewhat diffused after that, but Aemond didn't join in on anyone else’s conversations, merely listened, and kept his eye on you. It was driving you, as Helaena would say, up the wall. You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or scream at him.

Maybe a bit of both to be honest.

You had gotten down to your third or fourth drink, sun right behind the horizon, a deep orange glow spreading across the estate, when Aemond finally came to do what he had clearly intended to all day.

He stood, and you stiffened, seeing in your periphery as he came to sit beside you on the other side, Helaena having gotten up to get another drink out of the esky, lost in giggles with Luc and Rhaena.

“Can we talk?” Aemond sat beside you, voice soft and quiet.

You hated that he was trying. You hated that he was trying because it meant that there was a chance that you could get hurt again. You just wished, in some sick part of you, that he would be horrible to you so you could just move on.

The cigarette moved in your lips as you murmured to him, the same words you had repeated over, and over despite their lack of integrity, keeping your eyes ahead, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Y/n, please. Don’t shut me out.”

Jace, being the ever perceptive man that he was, had noticed throughout the day your tension, and finally snapped, “Dude, back off. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Aemond’s gaze snapped to his nephew across the gazebo, and all around you, the giggles of Rhaena and Helaena halted, and that inexplicable tension exploded into the space. It was like everyone held their breath, watching as Aemond’s lips pulled down into a sneer, “Mind your business, Jacaerys.”

The brunette sneered back, “No.” Hand extended towards you, “Look at her. She’s uncomfortable as hell-”

“-Jace, I-“ You tried to defuse the ticking time bomb that was building between uncle and nephew, but Jacaerys wasn’t having it.

“-Don’t pretend you’re not. You’ve been avoiding him all day.”

You swallow.

“This doesn’t concern you.” Aemond snapped, and even though he was irritated, you could tell he was trying his best to keep his body language calm and cold beside you.

To show you he wasn’t a threat.

Jacaerys shook his head, fingers strumming against the neck of his beer. Helaena’s eyes darted back and forth between brother and nephew, uncertain of what to do, mind running a million miles an hour as she evaluated the situation.

“It does if you’re making my friend uncomfortable.” The brunette scoffed, “I don’t know what you did to warrant her not wanting to speak to you, but you should take the hint.”

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

A sharp breath was blown through Aemond’s nose, “And you should take the ‘hint’ that this doesn’t concern you.”

Jacaerys shifted his eyes to you, warmth and concern bleeding into his features. In any other circumstance, you would have appreciated his defence of you, and even come to his side, but right now, you didn’t know what to do.

“Y/n, do you want to talk to him?”

Did you?

Yes.

No.

Yes.

Oh Gods.

You stayed quiet, not sure what you wanted. Talking would mean you would be let down again. Talking would mean you would have to have the same roundabout argument, your silly heart too stubborn and too sensitive to be hurt again.

Everyone watched as they waited for your answer, but Jacaerys, taking your momentary bout of silence, chimed in once again.

“See? she doesn’t-“

Aemond stood from his seat beside you, irritation rolling off of him in waves, “-Fuck off, Jacaerys. Learn whats good for you and mind your own.”

Jace shot up from his spot across the Gazebo, poor little Lucerys beside him standing with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

“Say that again.”

“I said, fuck off.” Aemond hissed.

“Woah. Okay! Maybe we should just-“ Aegon starts, but was quickly interrupted by Jacaerys.

“-Get your brother in line.” He barked at Aegon, whose glassy eyes widened, and pale brows rose up his forehead, “He’s been harassing her ever since he arrived.”

“Harassing?” Aemond fumed.

Oh for fucks sake.

This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

The son of Rhaenyra Targaryen narrowed his eyes on his uncle, and stepped towards him, “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Whatever you have to say to her, she clearly doesn’t want to hear it. Leave her alone.”

Aemond shifted, but didn’t step towards his younger nephew, staying firmly by your seated side, “What would you know about what I want to say to her? She can speak for herself.”

Oh, Aemond.

The brunette let out a humourless laugh, “Well she hasn’t spoken once yet.”

“Because you haven’t given me the chance!” You exploded, feeling all too overwhelmed with it all.

You didn’t want them to fight because of you.

You knew that this would happen. That their previous familial tension would be the underlying root of whatever this was.

But you didn’t want this.

You didn’t want everyone against Aemond.

Your brown haired friend, someone you adored immensely looked at you with impatience, “Do you want to speak with him?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“See? She doesn't even know. It's no secret you hate her-“

“-I love her!”

The air in the gazebo stilled.

The sound of blood rushing into your ears was loud, and you felt your heart beating against your ribs, desperate to escape as you felt it lurch into your throat. Your mouth opened, and a sharp inhale moved through you. You couldn’t think.

All eyes were on you again, and the silence was back, the previous song slowly rolling out, to give way to the next.

Helaena watched knowingly, as did Aegon, who relaxed beside you.

And what was more surprising, was that you could see the tension in Jacaerys’ shoulders slowly bleed from him, a blush blooming on his high cheeks.

Oh shit.

“I mean- I-“ Aemond breathed, gathering what was left of his composure, voice coming out less irritated than before, “Please, I just- I need to talk to her.”

Your mouth felt dry, and your palms sweaty. You couldn’t even look up at the man who stood beside you.

What the-

Helaena moved quickly towards her nephew, linking her arm in his as she began to lead him out of the gazebo, “Let's let these two talk, hm?”

Aegon stood and clapped his hands, “Let's go play some pool and let these two love birds sort out their little lovers spat.”

Your eyes widened at him.

Love birds?

Lovers spat?

You-

Wh-

You were completely, and utterly gobsmacked.

Love?

Loves you?

Slowly but surely, all left you and Aemond at the gazebo, and you desperately swallowed dryly, wishing you could run again. Jacaerys’ eyes gave you one last lingering gaze to see if you needed help, and it reminded you of the way you had been with Aemond not too long ago.

Pain strummed in your chest.

Then finally, you were alone.

Aemond jerked away from you pacing, brushing a nervous hand through his hair as you stay seated.

You didn’t even know if you could move.

Didn’t know if you could stand.

Didn’t even know if you could lift yourself even if you wanted. You had grown to the chair, and at the mercy of the silver haired man who walked briskly in front of you.

“Are you going to let me speak to you?”

“You’re already speaking.” You quipped back, nerves taking a hold of you just the same as it did to him.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to you, then back down to his hands which he clenched and unclenched, wiping them against his black slacks, clearly irritated and unsure.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.” He stated.

You don't respond.

“Why?”

“Why?” You scoffed, “What do you mean 'why?'”

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Gods, why was this the only fucking question he had?

Didn’t he have the wherewithal to figure the rest out?

It was as if his irritation bounced onto you, heat rising into your cheeks.

You snapped, “Because there is nothing to talk about!”

His violet eye narrowed on you as he turned to face you completely, hands at his sides, “Yes, there is.”

You shook your head, feeling that irritating little pull in your chest, and the even more irritating prickle in the back of your eyes, “No, there’s not. You made that abundantly clear. You don’t know what you want, Aemond.” You sighed sadly, looking away from him momentarily, anything to escape his piercing gaze, “You don’t even know if you really want me. This isn’t healthy. I’m not going to be your stepping stone from Alys.”

The man’s brows pulled down into a frown, “You’re not a stepping stone.”

“That's how I feel!” You felt like you were going to burst into tears, you didn’t want to show him this, you didn’t want him to feel your insecurities, but the words just kept coming, “I don’t feel wanted. I feel like an option. I don’t want to be an option to you.”

Aemond took a step towards you, hand out in front of him, palm up, “How can I make you feel that when you won’t talk to me? When you won’t let me show you. You’re not an option for me. It’s only you. If you would just let me speak to you-”

You stood up, moving away from him as you felt tears gather in your eyes, “You haven’t shown me that I can trust you. How do I know you won’t hurt me again? That she won’t just show up here? This isn’t the first time you’ve done this. Remember the first time we got involved? I can’t keep doing this and getting myself hurt, Aemond. I won’t.” You cast your eyes out to the horizon, the blanket of night falling across the realm, stars above beginning to twinkle in the darkness.

You heard Aemond come up from behind, “I’m done with her. For good. As it should have been. I haven’t seen her since that night.”

That night when he dismissed you.

That night when you ran here.

It sounded as though he was speaking about something that had happened, months, years ago, but in reality, was not that long ago. Mere days.

“And did she come back?” Your voice was small, and you felt embarrassment for impulsively asking one of your burning questions, something that had been eating away at you almost every night since you left.

“What?” There was disbelief in his tone, “No. I didn’t want her to come back. And then when I saw you were gone, I thought you went to Cregan’s or Sara’s. But then, you didn’t come back. And you wouldn’t respond.”

“Why was she there for so long?” You turned to face him, watching as his eye softened, before looking down sadly. You knew she was a hard topic, but so was this.

“Because we talked about everything. The abuse. The…grooming. All of it. I wanted her to know I didn’t want that anymore. I needed to prove to myself I didn’t. She just wouldn't stop.”

“Then why did you say you didn’t know? Why did you say that to me, Aemond? But suddenly now you know? Can you you see why I’m so lost?”

Aemond lip was pulled into his mouth as he bit at it nervously, “Because I didn’t. It was an intense conversation to have right after her, Y/n. And you deserved my full capacity, deserve my full capacity, which I didn’t have in that moment. I needed to grieve, and I felt like I was being pushed into talking.” His voice became, softer, and you watched as his hands flexed beside him, itching to do something with them as a distraction, “I didn’t know what way was up, or what to think. It felt like my mind was put into a blender. I felt everything and nothing all at once.”

Gods damn him.

Why was this so hard.

An ache spread in your chest for him, for everything that he had been through.

“I wasn’t pushing you," You shook your head softly, "I would never do that to you.” You sympathised, feeling slightly guilty, “I just wanted to know where we stood.”

“Stood?”

Of course he would pick up on that.

Past tense.

You sighed, threading a hand through your hair, “I’m not going to be your experiment, Aemond.” The man’s head reared back in disbelief at your words, “I’m not going to be your fixer upper. Or your new start. I’m not putting my all into something when the other person doesn’t even know what they want from me.”

“I do know.” Aemond corrected you, head cocked to the side, eye imploring you to understand.

In any other circumstance you would be a puddle on the floor.

“But you said-”

“-I know what I said.” He interrupted you, “And I thought on it. I know what I want. I want you. But I just don’t know how.”

“This is the issue!” You threw your hands up in frustration.

Gods strike me down.

It was the same thing, over and over. He wants you but doesn’t know how.

As a friend?

As a roommate?

As a lover?

What did he want from you?

Not even he fucking knew.

You stormed away, a lone tear falling down your cheek as you brushed it away angrily, jogging down the steps of the gazebo as you made your way back inside of the Keep. You passed Helaena and Jacaerys who stood in the kitchen, eyes wide as they watched you speed right past them, Aemond trailing behind you, hot on your tail.

Jacaerys moved to come towards you, to ask if you were okay, but you snapped at him, hand up, “Don’t.”

You kept on, desperate to get to some privacy where you could actually let it all out. Cry and scream, and kick and shout, and then fix your makeup and head back downstairs, and if Aemond came again, you would let Jacaerys give it to him out of spite.

Aemond jogged after you, coming around the corner of the entrance that had a large staircase that wound up to the higher levels. “Let me finish.” He puffed, “I don’t know how to assure you that I want you, or how to promise you that I won’t hurt you.”

You spun back and sneered at him, “And that's not good enough for me, Aemond.”

You watched as he flinched back slightly, and your face softened.

Fuck.

Goddamn it.

You hoped the regretful look on your face soothed his anxiety momentarily before you kept on, pace getting faster once more.

“What if I got on my knees and begged.”

You blinked.

The memory of the joke that had been uttered in your apartment floated to the front of your mind. The sides of your lips twitched, but that short lived happiness and fondness was squashed at the reminder of why you were having this conversation in the first place.

You turned, finding Aemond dangerously close at the top of the stairs, his eye narrowed on you as both of your chests heaved, “No. I’m tired of being used by you.”

“I’m not using you.” He took a step froward.

You took a step back.

“Oh no? So I’m suddenly not ‘Helaena’s roommate’.”

You knew you were being childish, but you couldn’t stop it.

“I said I’m sorry.” His voice sounded strained, almost coming out as a growl.

You shook your head at him, “Just stay away from me.” You turned away heading down the hall to her room, “You can get your things from th-“

A large palm wrapped around your elbow and spun you.

Soft lips crashed into yours and you gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he pushed you backwards into a wall, all teeth and tongue. A warmth spread through you, and as your mind caught up with you finally, you kissed him back, biting at his lip roughly in anger.

Your hands wove into his hair and pulled at it meanly, hearing a grunt fall into your lips as he pressed into your body with all his weight, smothering you, covering you, claiming you.

Aemond’s hands held the side of your neck before skating down your body, grabbing at your waist and hips, before sliding behind to pinch at your bum.

A moan flittered from your chest as heat settled in your gut, a wetness beginning to seep into your underwear.

With stumbling steps, Aemond guided you backwards, the two of you clawing and nipping at each other breathlessly, pent up anger and frustration pouring into your bones.

The wall behind you fell through, having been a door Aemond opened, and you parted momentarily as you stepped backwards, his large boot kicking the door shut as he grasped your cheeks, pulling you back to him. He continued to walk you backwards, your feet stumbling on the edge of a rug.

The world spun as Aemond shoved you backwards, eyes popping open as you landed onto his bed with a squeak. Your eyes took him in, and then the room. It was similar to Helaena’s, but only dark greens and black.

A room which looked like hadn’t had someone in it for a very long time.

Aemond had taken you to his old room.

He stood in front of you, chest heaving, eye narrowed on your form as his hands moved to his belt, roughly unclasping it, sliding the long length through his belt loops with a snap. Your legs clenched together as you watched him unbutton his shirt, his pupil having swallowed his iris whole, leaving an inky black look of desire as he devoured you with his eye.

Once his shirt was off, he kicked of his shoes and socks, and then he was on you again, lips and body pressing you down into the soft duvet that covered his sheets, a long groan peeling from his chest as he gripped your hair tightly, grinding his hardened length against your covered core.

You whined, hands flying down to the button and zipper of his pants as he ripped at your clothes, tearing them off of you until you were laid bare beneath him.

He looked down at you hungrily, tongue peeking out of his lips to wet them as he murmured at you, “So beautiful.”

Your hands found his zip and yanked it down, fingers diving under the elastic of his pants to grasp at his girth. You gave him a rough squeeze, arching up to nip at his bottom lip. A hiss came from between his clenched teeth before he gently batted your hand away, sliding off of the bed as he tugged you roughly towards him with a squeak.

He parted your legs hastily, eye immediately locked on your slick folds. You tried to close your legs, feeling heat bloom in your chest, but his hands prevented you, that and his hardened stare as he leant down and licked a broad swipe up through your folds.

Your back arched off of the bed as you whined, pleasure sparking through you. Your hands flew down and grasped his hair, tugging him towards your centre as he began to lick and suckle at your clit. He hummed into it, placing nips into your inner thighs and kisses against the sensitive nub.

It was too much.

All that pent up emotion.

The waiting.

The wanting.

The hurting.

The yearning.

And now he was back between your thighs, rubbing a long digit through your folds until he pushed it inside of your entrance, curling it upwards to rub against the spongey patch within. You jerked as warmth shot up through you, your core clenching around his digit, before he added another.

“So fucking tight and wet.” He moaned, head dipping back down to suckle at your clit whilst he fucked you on his fingers, “Such a perfect pussy.”

The room was filled with the slick sound of your heat and your moans as you writhed atop his bed, the coil within you winding increasingly tighter with each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers.

It was raw. It was primal. And it was a flurry of desperation.

He came away from your core, crawling up your body as he kicked off his pants and briefs, “Want to feel you cum around me.” He breathed against your lips, settling himself between your thighs as you lifted your hip up to meet his tip, which he fisted in one hand.

He didn’t spare a second to check in, to see if you were ready, before slamming himself inside, his pace immediately fast and hard as he rutted against you desperately. You cried out, hands gripping his shoulders for purchase as each snap of his hips drove you up the bed, your walls clamping down on him.

“Fuck.” He hissed, feeling the way you tightened around him as he changed the angle to drive his hips deeper, lifting one of your thighs to wrap around his hip, fingers digging into your flesh in a way you knew there would be bruises come morning.

“Please.” You whined beneath him, chest arching up to brush against him, nipples pebbled in arousal.

“Please, what?” He smirked, purposely slowing his thrusts.

You tilted your hips upwards to try and increase the pace before you huffed, “Please, need to cum.”

Aemond dipped his head, kissing your cheek softly, the first sign of affection, “You’ll cum, baby, be patient for daddy.”

He fucked into you harder, his forehead pressed against yours as he looked down to where you were connected, watching as his length disappeared into your slick folds over and over, your arousal coating his shaft and your thighs in a way that glimmered in the low light of the room.

You chased his lips, bringing him back into a passionate kiss, feeling his tongue slide over yours, chasing you desperately as you deepened for him, feeling your chest flutter, and your cunt pulse.

His hand found its way to the side of your cheek as he fucked you, breaking the embrace to look down at you.

There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, silver stands sticking to the side of his face as the rest dangled over his shoulders messily. His eye bore into your own, and you watched as his pupil dilated further, a blush creeping on his cheeks as his thrusts faltered.

“I want you.” He whispered, “Only you.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as you turned your face into his palm feeling overwhelmed by his gaze, his words, and the way his cock drilled so perfectly into your cunt.

“‘M close.” You panted, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you pulled him down closer to you, wanting him to be closer, needing him to be pressed against you entirely.

His scent surrounded you, and you felt safer, calmer, and ready to burst.

You were so close.

So close.

“’S perfect, baby. Cum for me.” He groaned, his pace beginning to falter, hand still against your cheek and neck, holding you in place as he watched you come undone beneath him.

You came with a cry, eyes scrunched shut as he grunted, warmth immediately flooding you as he came with you. Pleasure erupted through your body, your walls fluttering around his length as he fucked himself through the both of your highs, prolonging it.

His weight pressed down onto you from above as you both breathed heavily, his hips finally stilling as you felt his length throbbing inside of you. Aemond's thumb brushed against your cheek, gently, back and forth, back and forth, soothing you as you refused to look back at him, keeping your eyes shut.

You didn’t dare open your eyes, you didn’t even know if you could, but if you did, you would have been met with the loving and gentle gaze of Aemond, a warm glow on his cheeks.

Pulling back, Aemond slid himself from your warmth and you both hissed quietly in the sudden stillness of the room. But you were too tired to talk, too tired to argue, too tired to even think about what this meant.

He wrapped you up in his arms, pulling the sheets over the both of you as he tucked your head beneath his chin.

You curled up against him, enjoying the familiarity of his warmth and the safety that he gave you.

Fingertips brushed up and down your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake, until slowly but surely, the moment slowed, and his breathing evened out. Your eyes adjusted to the low lit room, as you took it all in, breathing in time with the man beside you.

Your throat felt tight.

The lump you wished you could remove with your own hands, growing in the back of your throat.

Your chest grew tight, and there it was once again, the prickling in your eyes as tears threatened to rise.

As carefully as you could, you slid out of the bed, halting each time his breath would change, or he would move, careful to not wake him. When you stood beside the bed, you looked down at him as you put your clothes back on.

He looked at peace.

Calm.

And so, gods be damned, beautiful.

Silver hair that had a slight wave to it now was nestled around his head on the pillow, small strands falling down his face over his seeing eye. Those plump lips you loved to kiss were slightly parted as he slept, breathing in through them and the sharp nose above.

Your heart ached as you watched him.

You didn’t know what to do.

You both clearly wanted each other, but you were scared of getting hurt.

Aemond said he had made up his mind, but had you?

You snuck out of his room and into Helaena’s, crawling into bed beside her. She blinked at you sleepily before rolling over to go back to her dreams.

You found you could barely sleep, mind occupied with only one thing;

Him.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @anehkael @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @wintrr13@arcielee @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @padfooteyes @cryingforlife

Bold is who I cannot tag

523 notes · View notes

callsign-magnolia · 1 year

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 9

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 8 | Masterlist

I eventually fell back asleep on the couch before waking up and making breakfast. I changed out of my pajamas and into some yoga pants Kelly convinced me to buy and a soft shirt. I attempted to watch a movie, but without glasses or contacts I couldn’t see clearly. I had to stand smack in front of the tv to see and it was annoying so I gave up. Once the movies were over I got bored and the thoughts crept in. What if my dad knew and confronted Jake at work? What if something happens to his jet and he crashes? What if I didn’t cut the stove off and catch the house on fire? At that thought I jumped up, going into the kitchen and making sure I did in fact, cut the oven off. I sighed in relief when I did and walked away, but suddenly stopped, turning back around and looking again because I forgot what I just saw. I huffed, turning back into the living room. I tapped my foot, and looked at my phone seeing it was only noon. I huffed, laying my head back. You’re nothing without us. My mother’s voice echoed in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to go away. I decided to distract myself by looking for eye doctors in the area. I looked through reviews finding a handful that I would consider until I finally found one. I stared at the number, it practically glared at me. Maybe I could have Jake call? God no. I need to do this myself. I’m a grown woman, I can do this myself. I dialed the number and it rang twice before a friendly voice answered. “How can I help you?” She asked. “Hi um… my name is Katie Blair and I need to make an appointment.” I heard typing on the other end and she hummed. “Have you been with us before?” I shook my head. “No.” More typing. “Okay, the next opening we have is Wednesday at four-thirty.” I nodded. “That works.” I agreed. “Great. We’ll see you Wednesday. Have a nice day.” She said and hung up. Once that was done, my mothers voice crept back into my head. You’re an ungrateful little shit. You’ll die out there on your own. You’re hard to love. Tears welled in my eyes and I grabbed my phone, pulling up Bradley’s number.

Can we talk when your free?

I text him, hoping he would respond eventually. I laid back on the couch, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind. Eventually my breathing evened out and I slipped into unconsciousness. “Darlin’.” I jumped awake, startled by the voice and the hand on my arm. “Hm.” I sat up as Jake sat next to me. “How long have you been asleep?” He asked and I glanced at the clock. “Shit. Four hours.” I said, face planting the soft couch. He chuckled, rubbing my back. “Must’ve been tired.” He said and I scoffed. “Something like that.” I said. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. I’m thinking steak for dinner? I put some in the fridge to thaw this morning.” He said as he got up, heading to his room to shower. “I can start it." I said as I sat up. "You sure?" He called down the stairs as I nodded, stretching. "Yeah." He's letting me live here rent free, the least I can do is make him dinner. I went into the kitchen, pulling out the steaks, then rifling through his freezer for sides. I found some asparagus and some potatoes in the pantry. I was halfway through cooking the steaks when he came in, shirtless. He didn't notice but it took me a second to avert my eyes. "Is it just us tonight?" I asked and he hummed. "Yeah, Kelly is working late tonight." I nodded as I finished the steaks, letting them rest as I tossed the asparagus into the same pan with some garlic.

"Damn that smells good." He said, coming to stand next to me. I smiled, practically keeping over the compliment. "My mom wasn't completely useless." I remarked and he laughed. "Guess not. Anything I can do?" He asked. "You can go ahead and cut the potatoes open. Give them a chance to cool a little before I burn the shit out of my fingers." He just chuckled and sliced them open. Soon dinner was done and I made him go sit down. "I can make my own plate." He said. "I can make my own plate." I mimicked. "No shit. But I'll bring it to you." I said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not winning this one Jake. Go sit down." I said with a more stern tone and after a second he did as I asked. I smirked, plating everything and walking it out. "See. Not that hard." I remarked and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah." I waited patiently with a smirk on my face as he took the first bite and his eyes went wide. "You're telling me that we ate out the past two nights and you can cook like this?" I laughed as he ate more. "And it's even medium rare! How did you know?" I shrugged. "It's the only way my parents eat it, so it's the only way I know how to cook it." I said, starting in on my food. "Yours medium rare too?" I nodded. "That's the only way I've ever eaten it. Mom would make steak and she refused to cook it differently for me."

Dinner was great and we talked about our day, but once we were done the mood changed. "I have something to tell you, but I need you to not freak out." He said, sitting up in his chair. My heart started racing a million miles a second. What could he possibly have to say? "We overheard your dad talking to Cyclone." Why would he be talking to Admiral Simpson? He doesn't like him. "He's going around asking everyone to keep an eye out for you. Apparently when they came home and saw that you were gone, they called the police and tried to say that you were kidnapped." My chest started heaving and I was trying to calm down. But now not only were the police looking for me, so was practically everyone on base. "Oh my god." I said as tears built in my eyes. "Hey, no darlin'." Jake said as he took my hand, squeezing it in his. "The police say you probably just left. You packed a bag and took your purse, so they think you just walked out of there. They aren't looking for you." I sighed in relief, feeling better about that. "But you should lay low for a while. If anyone from base sees you, then your dad will know." I nodded, taking deep breaths. "I can do that. I can lay low." I muttered. "Good. I'll clean the kitchen." He said, grabbing my plate and standing. "I can help Jake." I said as I stood. "You cooked, I'll clean. Go do something." He joked and I huffed but did as he said. I went up to my room to plug my phone in, setting it on the small white bedside table. But something light blue caught my attention. It was in my suitcase, wadded up at the very bottom. I grabbed it, feeling the soft material in my hands but even in the dark I knew what this was. My favorite Tiffany blue dress, and the one Blake ripped. I could still see the droplets of blood that fell on it.

Do you have any idea how this makes us look?

Sometimes giving people what they want makes life a lot easier.

The words flooded my brain, remembering every moment of that night. Including the way his hands felt on me, the way they practically slithered under my dress. I felt disgusted with myself. I should've done more than punch him and I should've walked out of that house no matter what. But I couldn't. I was a coward and I fell right back into their trap like an idiot. Tears filled my eyes as anger grew within me like a fire being fed oxygen. The rip in the dress reminding me just how close I came to having my own choices ripped away from me. I turned rushing down the stairs, stomping on the way down. Hard enough I probably shook the house. "Katie?" Jake asked from behind the couch. I attempted to blow past him, but he caught my arm and I stopped. "Jake. Let me go." I said calmly, trying not to have a breakdown. I was so tired of crying, I wanted to be done with my emotions. "Darlin', let me see it." I shook my head. I couldn't let him see it, he'd absolutely lose it. "No. Just let me throw it away." He shook his head. "Trash wouldn't have you this upset." We stood in silence for a moment, me not looking at him, when he suddenly yanked me towards him and he snatched the dress from my hands. "Jake!" I yelled and he held the dress up, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What is this?” He asked, he looked close at the blood stains, his jaw clicking in anger. “Is this yours?” He asked lowly. I shook my head. “No, it’s Blake’s.” He looked at me for a second. “When you broke his nose.” He said in realization. “But the rip…”

“That was when I managed to get out from under him and he grabbed the neck line. It ripped when I got out of his truck.” I muttered. “What?” His eyes flashed to me and I could tell he was angry. I opened my mouth to respond but he stopped me. “What do you mean, ‘Get out from under him’?” He asked. “When my dad forced me on that date, he stopped just before taking me home. He stuck his hand under my dress and I smacked it away. He said that Coop told him I could be difficult and then he yanked me down in the seat and-” I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “He pushed my dress up…” I was trying not to sob and took another deep breath and suddenly my face was grabbed. This was different from any other time my face was grabbed. Jake’s hands were gentle as he held my face, making me look at him. “Did he hurt you?” I wanted to shake my head no, but he kind of did. “Sort of.” He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, sort of?” He growled. “When he grabbed my leg, he left some bruises.” I muttered, not meeting his eye. “So he didn’t force you into anything?” He asked. “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t give him the chance.” I saw his lips twitch, as if he wanted to smile but he didn’t. “Can I please throw the dress away?” He looked at the dress in his hand and smiled. “I have a better idea.”

So he dragged me outside and off the back deck to a small fire pit in the yard. He handed me the dress and started up the fire. Once it was roaring he stepped back, looking over at me. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded, looking down at the dress in my hands. I took a step closer, stopping just in front of the fire before tossing it in. I watched as it went up in flames, burning away until it started turning to ash. Jake’s arm went around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “How you feel, darlin’?” He asked and I took a deep breath. “A little better. But it’s gonna take some time.” He hummed, catching me off guard as he once again kissed my head. “Take all the time you need, darlin’.” We stood in silence until a thought crossed my mind. “Fuck.” I muttered and Jake looked down at me again. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “There are some pictures on my old phone that I need. If I access my old iCloud do you think my parents could get my new number or track me?” I asked and he shrugged. “You have a new email and everything so personally I’d delete the old one. One less thing your parents have to track you down with.” I nodded and rushed upstairs, grabbing my phone. I quickly got into my old account and grabbed the pictures I needed from storage and saved it to my phone before deleting it. I was sitting in a chair not far from the fire, looking at the pictures when I felt a presence behind me. I looked up to see Jake looking at my phone. “Is this after?” I nodded, allowing him to see the pictures. “I took them, just in case. I didn’t think about it when I left my phone at my parents.” He hummed, swiping over one. The bruises on my thigh glared at me. They weren’t bad but they were noticeably finger shaped.

Jake inhaled deeply before disappearing inside. I felt bad, these pictures seemed to bother him a lot and I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. I stared into the fire, my eyes locking on to the last piece of the dress burning. The beautiful blue color turning black from the immense heat, but I was brought out of my thoughts by something cold and wet. I looked over to see Jake offering me a bottle. I took it with furrowed brows, looking at the label. “Decided I needed one, so I thought I’d offer you one too.” He said as he pulled the other chair closer to me, sitting back in it as we watched the fire. He twisted the cap off, and set it on the arm of his chair, taking a sip. I looked down at my own bottle, attempting to twist the cap off but to no avail. “Oh, sorry.” He said taking the bottle from me. Irritation built in me at the action. I could’ve done it if he gave me another chance. “Kelly always needs me to take hers off. Didn’t think about you possibly needing it too.” I huffed. “I almost had it.” I muttered. His head snapped to me and his brows furrowed. “You okay?” Don’t let him know you’re mad, it never ends well. I looked at him with a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I asked and he leaned back in his chair again. “You just sounded mad.” I shook my head. “Oh, no I’m good.” I took a sip of the beer immediately spitting it out. “Oh my god! How do you drink that shit?” I asked and he laughed, attempting not to spit his own beer out. “Do you not like it?” I shook my head, handing him the bottle. “God no!” He set the bottle down next to him as I attempted to get the taste out of my mouth. “Have you ever drank before?” I nodded. “A few times but it’s only ever been wine. Mom doesn't drink anything else so that’s really all I’ve ever had.” I said and he nodded. “I’ll get you some when I go to the store next time. What’s your favorite?” He asked. “Chardonnay.” He chuckled. “Fancy.” He said in a posh tone, making me laugh.

The next day Rooster agreed to talk to me and came over once him and Jake were done for the day. I slipped on a square neck floral dress and opted for some of the white platform sandals Kelly bought for me on Sunday. It was weird to put on shoes that were flat but they were so comfortable. I grabbed my purse just as the doorbell rang and rushed downstairs. “Rooster? What are you doing here?” Jake had been home all of twenty minutes and I had been getting ready so I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. “He’s here for me.” I said as I walked over. “You?” Jake asked, looking at me and I nodded. “I asked if we could talk and he agreed.” Jake nodded, motioning Bradley in. “Oh, then come on in, I'm cooking and Kelly will be here soon.” I bit my lip, wondering how to tell him we were leaving. “Uh, Jake?” I asked and he turned to me. He looked at me with a wide smile. “It’s a private conversation.” I said, pointing out the door. “Oh, then y’all can sit out front, I don’t care. I have a porch for a reason-” “We’re leaving.” I said and he stopped again, looking at me once more. “Leaving?” I nodded. “Bradley thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house so we’re going for a drive.” Bradley nodded. “Figured we’d stop for dinner too.” He said with a wide grin. “But I’m cooking.” He said and I immediately felt bad. “Well… you and Kelly haven’t had much alone time since I got here!” I suggested. “We’ll probably be gone for a few hours so that’ll be good and if there’s leftovers I’ll eat them tomorrow for lunch.” I suggested. “Uh yeah. Yeah, that works. Um, Rooster? Can I talk to you for a second?” He nodded and stepped inside. “I’ll wait out here.” I said and stepped outside, closing the door.

After a few minutes Bradley and Jake came outside. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll see you later.” Jake said, kissing my temple and dipping back inside. The door shut and I stared at it for a second. “You have quite the protector there.” Bradley said as we walked out to his car. “I’ve come to see that.” I said. “Oh, I love your truck.” I said as he opened the passenger door for me. “Thanks.” He helped me in and he shut the door as I buckled the seatbelt. He got into the driver's side, smiling at me. “Jake was going on and on about how I had to be careful that no one from base saw you, as if I haven’t been hearing the same things he has.” He said as he started the truck. Once we started down the road, the wind picked up and it felt nice. He had the top off, allowing the sea breeze to blow by as we drove along the coast. The sun blinded me as we drove, my hand resting on my forehead to shield them. Rooster reached into the glove box in front of me and produced a pair of raybans identical to his. “You sure?” I asked and he nodded. “They’re my spares.” I smiled, taking them from him and putting them on my face, getting instant relief. “So what’d you wanna talk about?” He asked as he pulled up to a red light. “Um…” I said, not knowing how to start. “Shit, this is harder than I thought.” He chuckled, looking at me. “Lay it on me.” He said, his smile making me feel more comfortable. “I hear my mom’s voice in my head.”

He nodded slowly. “I do too.” I was a little shocked at his statement, looking at him from across the bench seat. “What does she say?” I asked and he smiled. “That she loves me. If I'm struggling she reminds me I can get through it.” I nodded, just wishing those were the things I heard my mother say. “What does yours say?” He asked, glancing over to me as if he already knew. “Basically that I’m a fuck up. On Sunday I thought I pissed off Kelly and I heard her voice in my head saying, ‘you probably did. you’re good at that.’.” I huffed, playing with my fingers in my lap. “Katie, I’m sorry.” He said and I shook my head. “I’m used to it.” I said and he shook his head. “But you shouldn’t be.” He was completely right. I shouldn’t be used to it, but I am. “Jake suggested therapy. He said his was mostly work related, but you have experience with personal things.” He hummed, nodding. “I do. My dad died when I was two in a training accident here at Top Gun. Mom died when I was seventeen. Brain tumor.” My heart broke for him. “I wish I could trade with you.” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. He didn’t say anything, but a part of me felt like he agreed. “When was your first time?” I asked and he was quiet for a moment. “I was six. Dad had been gone four years at that point. I got off the school bus and mom met me on the porch. She had on one of his naval academy jackets. It still smelled like him because she never washed it and when I hugged her, I had a panic attack. She decided at that point I should see a therapist.” I nodded. “Did you ever stop going?” He nodded. “Around high school. But I started again when mom died.” I nodded. “Did you know Mav is my godfather?” I looked at him wide eyed. “Really?” He nodded. “My dad was his RIO and they were best friends. Mav was there the day I was born and he was there the day mom died. We had a falling out when he pulled my papers for the naval academy.” I frowned. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Bradley.” He chuckled. “But I wanted to, plus it’s easy to open up to you.” I smiled at him, happy he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. “I used to be so angry at the world, people around me, for things they had no control over. Being in therapy has made me a better person. I used to be hot headed and I can still be occasionally, but I’ve learned I don’t have to be mad anymore.”

“What’s therapy like?” I asked. “A lot of talking. In my case a lot of yelling, a lot of tears but I always feel a hundred times better coming out than I did going in.” I nodded. We drove a little longer till we got to this pier and he pulled into a parking spot. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Getting dinner.” He said with a smirk before he got out. “Oh.” I unbuckled and opened my door. “Woah.” Rooster said, coming over and helping me out. “I can do it myself.” I said and he chuckled. “I know. But my mom is probably rolling in her grave because I didn’t open your door.” He said and I giggled. “She seems great. I wish I could’ve met her.” I said as he placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the pier. “She would’ve loved you,” He said, making me blush. “I can hear her now, ‘Oh, Bradley! She’s just adorable!” I laughed at his imitation. We quietly walked over to this little shack and we stopped outside of it. “This place has the best burgers.” He said as he looked at the menu. “What do you want?” He asked and I looked at the menu. Everything looked good, but I stuck with the safe bet and got a burger and fries. The conversation was light and fun while we ate, but as I was finishing my fries it took a turn. “So, when you hear your mom in your head, what’s the most common thing she says?” He asked. You’re so hard to love, Katie. I took a deep breath, wiping my hands on the napkin. “The night I went on that stupid date with Blake,” His hand tightened around his cup, practically squishing it. “I attempted to leave. But my mom forced me to sit down and was telling me they did the things they did because they loved me.” I scoffed at my own words. “Just after that she told me I was hard to love.” I said, my eyes falling to my lap as tears formed in my eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying about this.” I said as I wiped my tears. Bradley got up, coming around and sitting next to me. “They’re still your parents, Katie. A part of you is always going to want their love.” I sighed shakily. “I don’t want to want it.” He sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Trust me, I wish you didn’t either.” He held me for a moment until I calmed down. “You done?” He asked and I nodded. “Come on. I got something that’ll make you feel better.” I stood and we went back up to the window and he ordered two chocolate milkshakes. “Glad I like chocolate.” I said and he laughed. “I had a feeling.” We walked back over to the bronco and he stopped, taking my milkshake. “Take your shoes off.” I furrowed my brows at him. “What?” He motioned to my shoes. “Take them off.” I knew there was no point in arguing, so I did it anyway. He handed me my milkshake and took his off before we tossed them into the bronco. "Come on." We made our way to the hill that the parking lot was perched on and he started down. I followed behind very slowly and very cautiously. "Need help?" He asked, holding out his hand for me and I lunged for it as I tripped. I grabbed it and he helped me steady myself as we continued down. "Don't let me fall." He just chuckled. "I won't." Once we were on flat ground he let go of my hand, chuckling at me. “You’re not gonna trip over your own feet are you?” I shook my head as we started walking down the beach. “It’s so nice out here.” I said as we walked along the beach. The sun was setting, there weren’t many people and the breeze was warm. “I like coming out here when I’ve had a hard day, or if I’m missing my mom.” I smiled at him. “And when you're missing your dad?” I asked and he chuckled. “I spend every day doing what he loved. I get up in that jet and I feel close to him.” It was nice knowing he had some way of feeling close to his parents.

We spent the next few hours sipping our milkshakes and walking along the beach. My parents never brought me to the beach the few times we’ve lived close to one so this was really my first experience. “So where did you grow up?” He asked and I shrugged. “Everywhere. We moved almost every year it seems like.” He nodded. “I never really got the chance to make friends, but we moved out here when I was sixteen and we’ve been here since.” He hummed. “Where were you born?” I chuckled. “Coincidentally, here. My dad was stationed here for a while and my mom went into labor with me.” I sighed. “She called it the worst twenty one hours of her life.” He scoffed. “She deserved the pain. But I’m happy you’re here.” He said, nudging me with his elbow. We made our way back up the hill and Bradley dropped the tailgate on the bronco. “Sit up here.” He said and I placed my hands on the tailgate behind me. As I jumped he grabbed my waist, making sure I got up and seated. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled a black bag closer to him, looting around in it. “Aha!” He said, pulling out a container of baby powder. “Baby powder?” I asked with a quirked brow. “Yep, helps get the sand off.” He sprinkled some on my legs and his before grabbing a towel and wiping them off. Once he was done there was no sand to be found on my skin. “Remind me to get some of that if I go to the beach.” I said, hopping down from the tailgate. Once he closed the tailgate, Bradley helped me into the car and shut my door before we took off down the road. It was dark now but the wind was still warm. It blew my hair around as we drove in silence, nothing but the radio on. But a few miles before we got back he turned to me. “So… gonna go to therapy?” He asked, looking over at me. “I think I’m going to try. I’m just scared.” I said and he smiled, grabbing my hand and holding it up. “You’ll be okay. It may take a few tries to find the right therapist for you, but when you do, it makes a world of difference.” Once we got to the house I noticed the lights were still on, which was odd. Jake seems strict about his sleep schedule and he should be heading upstairs by now. Kelly’s car wasn’t in the driveway so I assume she went home. Bradley helped me out, taking my hand in hopes I wouldn’t fall out.

The bang of the front door made me jump as Jake threw the front door open. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” He yelled as he stormed off the porch and towards us. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered, quickly moving behind Bradley to shield myself. “I’VE BEEN PACING FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS!” He yelled and Bradley held his hands up. “Jake-” “I have tried calling and got no answer! I had no idea where the fuck she was, if she was still with you!” My hand gripped Bradley’s shirt as my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. “Hangman-” “No! Do you know how stressed I have been? I had no idea if someone saw you, if you ran into her parents-” “Hangman!” Bradley yelled and I became light headed, my adrenaline flooding my body. “She doesn’t need someone controlling her life! What she does need is someone who lets her have her freedom!” Bradley yelled back. Jake’s eyes shifted to me and immediately a look of guilt crosses his face. He sighed deeply, as if letting go of all the tension he’s felt. “Fuck.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right.” He said and it was like all the anger disappeared. “You can’t spend all your time worrying about her. She’s an adult.” He nodded, smiling at me. “I’ll be inside.” He said, motioning to the door before walking that way. “You okay?” Bradley asked, turning around to face me. “Yeah… he just really scared me.” He hummed. “I could tell. If your grip on my shirt was anything to go by.” he joked and a blush covered my cheeks. “Sorry.” He laughed before pulling me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it.” As if he could sense my emotions, he squeezed me tightly and immediate relief washed over me as I squeezed back. After a few seconds he let go and I felt a little better. “Something else your mom taught you?” He beamed with pride at my words. “Yeah, it’s something she did to me when I was stressed or overwhelmed.”

“Well, I’m tired so I’m gonna go in and go to bed.” I said and he nodded, yawning. “I’m gonna go crash in my bed.” He said, walking around the bronco. “Goodnight, Katie.” He smiled at me and I waved as I walked towards the porch. “Goodnight, Bradley.” I replied. He got in the bronco and started it, but waited until I was inside to leave. I triple checked that the door was locked before making my way through the dark house and into the guest room. I immediately stripped out of my clothes and grabbed some of the pajamas I packed when I left. It was a tank top and shorts combo. They were emerald green and satin and so comfortable. The little ruffles on the hem on the shorts made it cute, not that that really mattered. Once I changed I sat on my bed, pulling out some of the lotion I bought and started putting it on my legs. I thought back to Jake out in the driveway. He scared me so bad with all the yelling and when he rushed over, it was like my dad was stalking towards me and I just wanted to bolt in the other direction. Tears streaked my cheeks and my chest constricted. I sniffled, trying to stop my tears, but of course I couldn't. So I sat there on the bed, rubbing lotion in my legs as tears dripped onto the white sheets. “Katie?” Jake’s voice caught my attention as he knocked on my open door, breaking my dead stare from the chipping polish on my toes. I quickly wiped my tears, not wanting him to see me upset. “Oh, darlin’.” He said, coming over and sitting next to me on the bed. “Katie.” I didn’t want to look at him. I knew if he did I would just start crying again. “Katie. Please look at me.” He said and I didn't move. I was startled as his hand gently touched my face, turning me to face him. “Katie, darlin’. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, turning away from him. “No, it’s my fault. I should have looked at my phone and called you back.”

“No, Katie. It wasn’t your fault. I was just so worried and when I saw you get out of the car I was so… relieved. Then I was angry at Rooster.” I furrowed my brows. “Rooster?” He nodded. “Why Rooster?” I was the one that asked if we could talk, not him. “I know you’re safe with him, I know that.” He said, flopping back onto the pillows. “But just the thought of something happening to you, and I’m not there to…protect you? It kills me.” I chuckled. “Aw, do you care about me Jake?” I joked and I felt him grip my tank top, tugging on it to catch my attention. “It’s not a joke, Katie. Of course I care. I worry about leaving you here alone, when you left the house with Rooster.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “When I woke up that morning, and you were gone, it was like pure panic took over. I was ready to go over to your parents house and kick the door in.” A feeling swelled in my chest at his words as I looked back at him. Having someone who cared for me was a new feeling and it’s gonna take some getting used to. I sighed, flopping back next to him, resting my hands on my stomach. “I wish you did.” I muttered and he turned to face me as I continued to look up at the ceiling. “I was stupid to think anything would change. But they played the part of loving parents so well.” I said as anger swirled inside me. “That’s one of the first times I remember my mother hugging me. I know damn well it was the first time my father did.” I started pulling on my thumbs, wondering if I would pull one out of socket.

“They apologized for everything. For the first time in my life they told me they loved me.” I said through gritted teeth. Jake sat up, leaning on the wooden bedframe. “Then I wake up the next morning with a lock on my door, my mother telling me i'm an awful daughter and that they could no longer handle me.” Tears filled my eyes again, but this time out of anger. “That feeling of hopelessness when I pulled and pulled on that door. I finally stopped beating on it when my hands started to bleed.” I wiped the tears, not wanting them to fall. “I begged and begged them to let me out. I leaned against that door for three days, hoping they would change their minds. I gave up on hoping it was a dream, I knew better. It didn't matter how much I begged and pleaded, all it got me was a day without food.” I felt his fingers thread through my hair, and it felt so good. “Katie.” I looked up at him through my lashes and he stared down at me in silence for a moment. “You didn’t deserve that. You know that right?” His words made my bottom lip quiver and I started to sit up when he stopped me, pulling me into him. I had never been held like this, but it was so comforting and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his waist. “What’s so wrong with me, that they couldn’t love me?” I asked as the tears flowed freely now, soaking his t-shirt. “Nothing, darlin’. Absolutely nothing.” He said. His words soothing me until I drifted off to sleep.

The next day when Jake got off work, he was swinging by to pick me up for my eye doctor appointment. But I was so distracted watching a show that I was running late, that being signaled by the sound of Jake’s horn on his truck. “Dammit!” I yelled, grabbing my shoes and hopping to slip one on before putting the other on at the bottom of the stairs. I rushed towards the door, purse in hand and I barely remembered to lock the door on my way out. I ran through the yard, yanking open the door and climbing in. “What’s going on? We’re gonna be late.” He said as we back out of the driveway. “I know we’re gonna be late.” I snapped, buckling and sitting back in the seat. “Gee what’s got you in a mood?” He asked and I scoffed. I wanted to snap at him again, but I thought better of it. He might just leave me on the side of the road, I joked to myself. We were silent the rest of the car ride, which was nice. I just couldn’t get it together today, which was odd for me. My hair was up in a bun with my bangs hanging loose, I didn’t put on any makeup or jewelry, not having any time. I just managed to slip on a sundress and sandals. Once we were there, I didn’t even wait for Jake. I just got out and walked up towards the door. “Katie. Katie!” He hissed and I stopped, turning to him. “Wait, let me go in first.” He said. “Why?” I asked in an irritated tone. “What if someone from base is in there?” He asked, walking in with me on his heels, ignoring his words. We went in and I pushed past him, going up to the front desk. “Katie Blair.” She immediately pulled up my info and I looked around. There was no one in the waiting room, making me feel a little better. “Hi, you must be Katie.” I looked over to see a very tall, very built man about my fathers age standing before me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, the fear settling in the pit of my stomach. “H-hi. yes… I’m Katie.” He just smiled at me as he shook his hand. “Well, if you’ll follow me.” I immediately turned to Jake, hoping he wasn’t so mad he wouldn’t come with me. “Would it be okay if my friend came with me?” I asked and Dr.Sparkman smiled.

“Of course.” We went into an exam room and I sat in the chair, Jake taking the chair beside me. We went through the usual motions of testing my eyesight, including dilating my eyes. “Well Miss Blair. It looks like from the last prescription you brought me, your eyesight has in fact gotten worse, and that goes for your astigmatism as well.” I sighed, hating that it got worse. “Do you want contacts and glasses?” I immediately shook my head. “Glasses only.” He nodded. “Very well, if you go out here we can get you set up with frames.” I grabbed my bag and Jake held my hand as we walked out, seeing as my eyes were still dilated and I felt unsteady on my feet. “Can you even see these?” He asked and I nodded. “Up close I can.” I said, grabbing a set of frames and holding them close to look at them. He chuckled as I looked around, holding each set close. I quickly noticed a pair of Kate Spade ones. They were a metal frame and the lenses were back and mostly rounded and rimless on the bottom. The stems were gold in color and the tips were black on the outside, but white on the inside with black polka dots. I looked at the price before quickly putting them away and moving on, but nothing caught my interest like they did. “See anything you like?” Jake asked from behind me, startling me. I sighed, setting another pair back on the rack. “No. I can get the prescription and order some online.” I said and he hummed, nodding. When I didn’t find anything I got my prescription, and we headed out. “Anything else you want to do while we’re out?” I smirked, rolling my head to look over at him. “Yeah, actually. Can we go to the bookstore?” He just smiled at me before busting out laughing. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

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

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @genius2050 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @callsign-athena @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan

#undiagnosed #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin top gun #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

226 notes · View notes

abbatoirablaze · 3 months

Text

Shameless, Chapter 5

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, forced consumption of alcohol, manipulation.

“Because baby there ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no valley low enough, ain’t no river wide enough!” your father began to sing, a giant smile on his face as he continued to play.

“TO KEEP ME FROM GETTING TO YOU BABE!” you both sang in unison.

He smiled as he continued to play, your giggles joining in with his voice as you tried to sing the words to the song. When it was over you were pouting, begging him to play more.

“No, no,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair, “it’s bad enough I let you stay home from school today. Monica will have my ass if she knew-“

“But daddy-you’re not gonna make me go to the doctors like mommy said, right?”

“Sofia, you have to get some rest,” he laughed, shaking his head, “we don’t need to go to the doctors. Those assholes are just a bunch of scamming know-it-alls. You just need a little rest is all…now go on up to your bed.”

You pouted a little bit more, and he turned his attention back to the piano. When he started playing again you sighed and leaned into his side, “daddy…why don’t you always play? You are really good.”

“There’s no money in it, kiddo,” he sighed, humming to himself, “people only wanna hear others being talented if they can exploit it a million ways til Sunday and then some. And me…I’ve always been too poor and too white to get someone to listen.”

“But you’re really good…”

“And it’ll be our little secret,” he laughed. He stopped playing and looked at you, “do you want me to show you how to play?”

“Yeah!”

“Aright, come here!” he said, pulling you onto his lap. You giggled more as he put your hands over the ivory keys, and gently pressed down on them, “this is called a chord…if you put enough chords together, we can play a song.”

You looked up at him, wonder in your eyes, “you’re a good dad, daddy…”

You didn’t notice the tears in his as you refocused on the keys. He pressed a kiss to your temple and shuddered, “thank you baby…that’s all I want.”

“Just walk away, walk out that door, just turn around now!” he sang. You sighed from your spot on the stairs, Carl leaning against your side while you watched your father do the same thing he’d done to you with Debs. Your hand wandered from around Carl’s shoulders to his hair, and you began to mindlessly play with it.

The family laughed around you before joining in, singing. All the while, all you could think about was the day when you were seven and a half and your dad let you stay home from school because you were feeling sick, only for you to stumble downstairs halfway through the morning to see him playing the piano.

You were snapped from your thoughts when Lip got up, anger changing the air in the room, “I can’t believe you guys are buying all his bullshit! Come on Kar, I’ll walk you home.”

“What difference does it make?” Fiona asked.

“He’ll be drinking again by tomorrow anyways!”

You went to stand, and Carl pulled on your sleeve, “don’t jump in on it…please Fi Fi…”

You sighed and pulled your little brother into your lap, “try to ignore them, Carl…dad’s still playing.”

“Dad, do you know anything else?”

“Okay, any requests?” Frank asked, clapping his hands together. Fiona gave you a look before her and V went through the kitchen. You heard the front door slamming shut.

Kev gave you a sympathetic look.

“Carry Me Home On The Cross!”

You frowned at Ethel’s suggestion. Your father looked up on the stairs at you and you smiled. He seemed to be reading your mind as he played the few opening notes.

“Ain’t no mountain high!” you began.

“Ain’t no valley low,” he added in, “ain’t no river wide enough baby.”

“If you need me call me, no matter where you are!”

“No matter how far.”

“Don’t worry baby!” Kev added in with a smile.

“Daddy, I don’t know that one!” Debs said quickly, stopping him from playing the song, “play something I know!”

“We could teach you, Debs!” you offered with a sad smile as you looked at your youngest sister, “dad taught me that song when I was really little…”

“Wait, you knew dad could play?”

“Who do you think taught her?” Frank scoffed, “the underfunded public school system?”

“Dad…”

He smiled up at you before turning his attention back to Debbie, “Well…what would you like to hear, Debs?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “can we play a game? It’s family night!”

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart!”

“Alright, come on!” she grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the piano, “we can play a game with teams. Daddy you can be on my team…”

“Can we play football?” Carl asked, standing up, “I want Sofia on my team!”

“We can play anything you want!” Frank grinned. Carl all but jumped up out of your lap and you stood up.

“Go tell V and Fi, and I’ll help Carl find the football!”

“Got it!” he grinned, running into the kitchen.

You came down the stairs, and Debbie was all but lighting up. You held your hand out to her, “come on, Debs. Help me and Carl find the football. The boys probably have it shoved somewhere in one of their closets.”

“I’ll go get the flashlights so we can line the yard!” she said quickly, running past you. Shaking your head, you made your way back to the stairs, where your father was already running past you.

“Debs is grabbing flashlights from the front hall to line the yard with!”

“GREAT! Debs on my team.”

“Well fine, Carl is on mine!”

“We get Kev and the Amish girl. You can have Fiona and V.”

“You might just regret that decision!” you teased as you ran up the stairs, “CARL. Where’s the ball?”

“GOT IT!” he grinned, running towards you, “we pick teams yet?”

“Debs, dad, Kev, and Ethel versus me, you, Fiona, and V.”

“We’re gonna crush em!” he said enthusiastically.

“HELL YEAH WE ARE! LET’S GO GET FI and V.”

“FOR YOU! FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU! DID YOU SEE THAT?”

You guys couldn’t help but giggle as Frank spun around on the floor after knocking down his pins.

“YEAH!” Debbie cheered.

“GO DAD!” Carl agreed.

“I’m hot. Ho ho HOT! Look out!”

You looked up as Lip sat down behind the kids. Kev started his frame.

“Can I talk to you guys?” Lip asked.

“Sure.”

“What’s up?”

“Guys, don’t get too used to this, okay?”

“What?” Debbie asked as she put on her shoes.

“Dad’s not always going to be so nice.”

“Yes he will!” Carl disagreed, “he changed!”

“Lip…”

“They have to know, Fi Fi. We can’t just let them think that this is going to be a forever thing. It never is!”

“Let them enjoy the moments they get…we all got that!”

“No, not when he starts drinking again,” Lip grumbled, “he always goes back to drinking again. He’ll go back to his old ways, and I don’t want the two of them getting hurt.”

“We’re right here!” Debbie muttered, “don’t talk to Fi Fi and act like you’re doing what’s best, Lip!”

“Hurt?” Carl asked sadly.

“Yeah…the last time this happened you guys were way too little to remember, but it has happened before. I was about eight…Carl was a newborn, and you were just a year old…but we all thought Frank got his act together. Came to a few of my games…made friends with the parents. Got Fi Fi into ballet and Fi did some gymnastics classes down at the community center…he took Ian and me to some military celebration at a park and that’s when Ian knew he wanted to be in the military. But things change.”

“You think he’s gonna put us in the military?” Carl asked, worry in his eyes.

“Dad wouldn’t do that to you, Carl!” you tried, reaching across Debbie to sooth your little brother’s nerves.

“Th-that’s not what I’m saying,” Lip said with a shake of his head, “look. Remember that turtle you had last summer?”

“Walter?” Debs asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Walter,” he confirmed, “and you guys were like really, really into him for like what, two weeks? You guys talked to him and fed him, and you took him everywhere with you. Right? But after a while, you know, you guys got busy with other things. So Walter’s water never got changed and nobody fed him. Then Debs, like two months later you wanted to show Walter off to your friend Susie…and you guys started looking for him, and when you found him, he was all dried up and dead. Now, you see, you guys are that turtle okay. And dads you. You get what I’m saying?”

Carl turned towards him excitedly, “dad’s buying us another turtle?”

“No…no. Forget it,” Lip frowned, shaking his own head, “never mind.”

Carl got up and went towards your father, and Debbie shook her head, looking first to Lip, then to you, “is it true, Fi Fi?”

“Debs…”

“I know you wouldn’t lie to us about it!” she said quickly, looking at you hopefully, “are we the turtle?”

You nodded, biting your lip, “Yeah baby…we’re the turtle…it’s only a matter of time until dad goes back to drinking. It always is.”

She thought about it for a second and turned back to your younger brother, “don’t worry, Lip. I get it. Daddy’s gonna forget all about us when he starts drinking again. It’s okay. I don’t mind. But Fi Fi was right in what she said last night. You guys got those memories…and me and Carl were too little last time. I’m gonna enjoy this while it lasts if that’s okay…”

“Yeah…sure Debs…that’s uhm…that’s a good plan.” She nodded, getting up from her spot before going to grab a bowling ball. You looked at Lip and he shook his head, “I just don’t want them to get hurt. We never saw it coming.”

“You warned em, Lip…you tried,” you offered, messing with his hair, “but we can’t be mad at them…can’t be mad at Debs or Carl for wanting some of the good memories…it makes the bad ones seem a little less bad.”

“Yeah…I know...it just sucks…” he sighed, “because I never saw it coming. I mean…I know that deep down, we probably knew he was gonna go back to being a douche, but you and Fiona pretended like it was going to be the new way of life…and I-I just fell into that trap. When I hit that double Fi Fi…when I saw how proud he looked of me…I believed it…I don’t want Carl and Debs to believe it.”

“Come here!” you sighed, holding your arms out over the chairs. Lip sighed and sat up just high enough over the chairs to hug you.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Frank’s remodeling…”

“Oh shit,” you groaned, shaking your head, “no…this can’t happen. We need to-“

“We need to kill the turtle!” Deb said from the top of the kitchen stairs, “right now daddy and Carl are up in the attic getting ready to cut a hole in the roof for a skylight. It’s time to kill the turtle!”

“Uh…you guys know that you are the turtle in my story, right?” Lip asked.

“Oh…right.”

“That’s okay,” he said, shaking his head, “I get what you’re saying.”

“Thanks!”

“You sure about this?”

“It’ll hurt less than if we wait two more weeks!” she said with a shrug.

“Okay!” he nodded.

Fiona looked at you and Lip, extremely confused, “what’s up with the turtle?”

“You wouldn’t understand!” she frowned, “come on.”

The four of you concocted a plan as you went upstairs, and Fiona hid in one of the rooms, while Lip pushed Debs towards the ladder.

“DADDY I THINK I SEE A MOUSE!”

“A mouse?” Frank asked, “uh, hold on. I’ll be right down! Where is the little-“

Lip pulled his stun gun from behind himself and caught Frank between the shoulder blades. He fell to the floor, jolting.

“I thought the taser didn’t work?” Fiona asked.

“Yeah…I just told Carl that,” Lip replied, eyes never leaving his father, “I took the batteries out. All right. Open his mouth.”

Deb went to his feet, and you grabbed his hands, while Fiona opened his mouth and Lip opened the bottle.

“No. NO!” Frank pled as Fiona plugged his nose, “NO!”

Lip poured the booze down his throat and the second he swallowed all of you let go. You frowned as your father’s eyes met yours and a tear slipped down his face.

“What happened?” Carl asked from the attic.

“It’s better this way, Carl!” Debbie replied.

Chapter 6

#shameless #season 1 #frank gallagher #fiona gallagher #lip gallagher #ian gallagher #debbie gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher #kevin ball #veronica fisher #ethel

4 notes · View notes

spookyshipperfics · 1 year

Text

Darkened Skies

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Explicit

Tagging @today-in-fic

What is it About? Scully and Mulder help out Skinner when bird attacks derail his vacation to a seaside cottage. Everything changes after they are forced to take cover in a phone booth.

Read a Sample:

It is 8:07 on a Monday morning. Mulder wants to tell Scully she looks beautiful, but instead, he tells her about the birds. Flapping, deranged clusters of them flood the skies in a nearby town. Typically, eye rolls and projector slides would follow, but this time the intel comes from Skinner himself.

It is not a case; it’s a request from Skinner’s personal phone. The assistant director’s rare vacation to a seaside cottage had been derailed by unruly birds. The FBI’s basement freaks the only two people willing to entertain him, despite his insistence that it is not an X-File.

“I guess he really missed us,” Mulder quips, earning him a small smile.

By 10:00, they are in the car. Scully sits in the passenger’s seat, rifling through the overnight bag she keeps on hand for such occasions. Manicured fingers parse through silk pajamas, underwear, bras—lacey, pretty things glimpsed only from the corner of his eye. The softer side of her she tries to conceal from him.

His thoughts are dirty, distracting, but they keep him busy. They reach their destination just after noon.

A children’s birthday party is the unlucky target of avian violence. An overturned cake litters the ground with icing. Balloons are tangled in trees. A lone party hat blows across the lawn like a bizarre tumbleweed. Mulder has barely left Skinner’s side since they arrived. Local law enforcement fills them in on witness testimony. The reports are all the same.

They came out of nowhere.

They attacked unprovoked.

You could barely see through the swarm.

A nearby farmer turns up next. Drawn to the scene by the commotion and glow of police sirens. He explains his chickens haven’t been eating. That something seems strange about the latest batch of feed.

Skinner’s off to collect a sample, his cell phone glued to his ear. Mulder stays behind, watching Scully tend to the children awaiting medical attention. Most of the injuries are minor. Pecks and scratches that bleed more than they hurt.

One little girl cries as Scully holds a washcloth to her cheek. For the second time that day, Mulder sees the softer side of his partner. A side that makes silly faces and tells stories with animated exuberance.

Soon giggles replace tears. When Scully removes the washcloth, the little girl peers back with glistening eyes. At that moment, Mulder knows that he and this child have one thing in common—they are both in awe of Dana Scully.

They park in the town center. Storefronts and the sparkling sign of a movie theater are a welcome change of scenery after torn party streamers and crying children. Mulder spots the police station next to the towering steeple of a church.

They are halfway across the street when he notices the crows. Perched in trees and crowded on telephone lines. He hurries Scully along, his hand on her lower back. Dozens of cold, black marble eyes watch their every move.

The church bell tolls.

The birds’ feathers rustle in a frightening orchestra. When the bell rings again, the birds take flight.

Mulder and Scully run, arms swinging wildly as the birds surge around them. He grabs Scully’s hand, diverting to a phone booth and slamming the door shut.

The phone booth is tight and cramped. He is so close to Scully that he can smell her. Swirls of floral perfume. Even in the face of danger, he wonders if she did it for him. Outside perils come secondary to the inner workings of her mind, her feelings, her well-being. The crows swarm around them, dark and menacing. They blot out the sky like a feathery storm.

The sound is the worst part. Fluttering. Flapping. Caws and squawks that are both threatening and panicked. One slams into the glass with a sickening crunch. Scully moves for her weapon, but he steadies her arm before she can reach her holster.

Together, they wait. They watch. Another crow collides with the phone booth. The glass cracks. Scully stumbles backward, and his arm moves around her middle on instinct.

“It will hold,” he assures her.

It’s not until the swarm clears that he realizes his groin is against her curves, her back almost flush against his chest. At some point, her fingers had found a vice grip on the arm encircling her waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The hold on his arm relaxes as she gives him the standard “I’m fine, Mulder” response. She doesn’t move, though. Neither of them does. The excuse of adrenaline is enough to keep them frozen in place. The fear that one of them could have been hurt allows them to stay like that for longer than they should.

Blue skies have been replaced by the purple coolness of dusk. The cottage Skinner had whisked Arlene to for a romantic getaway has two extra guests. Mulder helps Skinner board the windows before sitting down to dinner.

Scully’s blue eyes travel across Mulder’s face, lingering on his lips. Her gaze is like a lightning strike, fierce and bright. He wonders if Skinner can feel the crackle of electricity from across the table. If the assistant director does, he gives nothing away. Small talk and the clanking of silverware fill the silence.

When Skinner and Arlene depart for bed, Skinner shows Scully upstairs to the guest room. Mulder is left downstairs, banished to the couch the same way he was banished to the basement.

Somewhere in the twilight of sleep, creaking on the stairs alerts him. For a moment, the shuffling of feet mimics the flapping of wings. His eyelids flutter open only to find Scully standing above him.

“Mulder.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

They must have started swarming again. Why else had she appeared in front of him? He knows Scully better than that, though. He knows her voice, her infliction. This isn’t an exclamation; it’s a question. An inquiry about what had started five years ago when they first locked eyes. A flash of destiny. A hint of love. He knows his next words count, so he keeps them simple.

He takes his chance. “Come here.”

Read the Rest: a03

#the x files fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #msr fanfic #scully and mulder #horror movie inspired

5 notes · View notes

erstwhles · 23 hours

Note

“ it was my fault. it was all my fault. ” from juliet to henrik (i'm sure he'll be normal about this doubtful)

it's about the comfort!

"I don't know, Your Majesty. Have you spoken to your wife today? Perhaps she would have the answer you are looking for." Rosalind doesn't look up from her plate as she crosses the dining room where the king is finishing his breakfast alone. Nowadays, he seems to be doing most things alone, and as a result, the tension in the castle has yet to be resolved.

Henrik brushes his hands together above his empty plate, an unimpressed frown decorating his expression. "It isn't any of your concern, Your Grace. And I would ask you to watch your words," he says, but with all of the history behind them, the only threat he can make is an empty one. It is also quite obvious that he is severely outnumbered in any area where he and his wife are on opposite sides. "And to whom it concerns, I spoke with her this morning."

By now, Rosalind is halfway to the doorway that leads into the corridor, but Henrik's words are enough to cause her to freeze and turn. "About more than her schedule and what meetings she is to cover today?" There is barely a pause before she continues, but only because anyone currently residing in the castle could likely answer that question without hesitation. "When will this end, Henrik? Who are you angry with? I will not be the... carrier between you. Clean up your own mess."

"For heaven's sake--you don't think I have tried?" Henrik's words hang in the air for a moment, but it feels much longer as Rosalind allows him to stew in the uncomfortable quiet, giving only a shrug in acknowledgment.

"I am starting to think..." He continues, shifting in his seat, "that I can't. That we can't. Every time we do, we... argue. Or sit in silence." Silence as comfortable as the one currently filling in the space between him and his highest advisor.

Though the long dining table separates them, Rosalind glances down at her plate, to where the spiral of the sliced croissant is still steaming. In a moment filled with a truly self-serving fantasy, she wonders what the chances would be of throwing it in a perfect arc across the room so it would come in contact with Henrik. Too far, probably. "Have you considered..." Her eyes meet his, finally, and Henrik feels a bit of relief relax his shoulders "Having a third party in the room? Not me--God no, but... someone to keep you accountable? Because if you really hope to fix anything, I agree. Your time is running out. She has been plenty patient." Again, barely any time is offered to consider the sentiment before she turns and continues through the tall doorway.

"No, stay." A deep breath slips from his lips in a stream as his assistant pauses midstep after being addressed. Though his eyes widen, he gives the king a nod before stepping off to the side, remaining just in the corner of his eye. From there, Henrik's focus lands immediately on Juliet. "...can we talk?"

It is more of the same silence that fills much of the conversation. It's hard, he realizes. And of anything about his job, this wasn't supposed to be the difficult part. This was supposed to be the one thing he was sure about. When did that change?

For a while, it feels like that invisible wall between them is just as impermeable as it has been since Juliet first shared the news that managed to provide this great divide in the first place, but then her confession slips out, and Henrik pauses. "What do you mean?" A deep sigh leaves him and he doesn't even notice as his assistant slips from the room, leaving the door ajar so as to not disrupt the couple's conversation. "How could it have been?" They have been talking about this for so long that he could almost forget how it all got out of hand. "It wasn't your fault. It... it has been a long road, but none of that was your fault."

#look this could be so much worse honestly #∘ ˙ . ✧ ʿ answered ∕ henrik.#encntada

0 notes

duskholland · 3 years

Text

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✧

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

2K notes · View notes

24hlevi · 3 years

Note

can i just say that i've just finished reading that angst headcanons/imagines/scenarios or whatever it's supposed to be called about the boys reacting to y/n dying and i'm just...i'm just a sobbing mess.

it's well-written so 1000/10 for that, but whY MUST YOU ATTACK MY HEART IN THIS MANNER???? i love your work, but my poor heart ack-

btw is there any possibility to ask for a request for a same scenario but for kazutora, mitsuya, and hanma? like for kazutora's part, imagine if it wasn't yknow who died but its y/n 🥲

omg you’re so nice first of all thank you 😭 and OMG YES

TR Boys Reaction To You Dying Pt. 2

Tokyo Revengers Boys (Kazutora, Shuji, & Takashi) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Pure Angst

Warnings: Swearing, Suicide (kind of? it’s what happened to baji did so idk what to label it as 🤷‍♂️)

Hanemiya Kazutora:

All Kazutora could think was that it was all his fault that this happened. He was too caught up in his own world that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He didn’t even know you had shown up to the fight until he stabbed you instead of Baji.

“Y/n?” Kazutora asked, dropping the knife immediately when he saw you standing between him and Baji, blood dripping onto the ground below you. He completely froze, not knowing what he had just done or why he even did it. “Baby, are you okay?”

You held onto the stab wound, coughing up blood as you looked at your boyfriend. “I just wanted you…to stop.” You choked out before collapsing to your knees.

Everyone had stopped and was watching you by now, shocked that you had even protected Baji from both sides when your whole body landed on the car below you. Spitting blood out of your mouth, you laid on your back, staring up at the blue sky that was dusted with white clouds.

“Y/n!”

You heard multiple people yell your name, but you couldn’t even tell who it was until you saw Kazutora kneeling beside you. “Y/n! Keep your eyes open, okay?!”

You shook your head from side to side, raising your hand to put it on Kazutora’s face before quietly speaking, “Give it to me, the knife.”

“What? Why? Look, Y/n you just gotta stay awake okay?” Kazutora spoke fast, clearly freaking out on both the outside and inside, not even caring about the gang fight anymore.

“Hand it over, Kazutora.” You said his full name which caused him to go quiet, staring down at you with saddened eyes before handing you the knife that already had your blood on it. “Thank you, babe. I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Kazutora said to you.

You bundled up your shirt at the top, putting it in your mouth so you had something to bite down on before plunging the knife into your stomach and twisting it around, then pulling it back out and dropping it.

Kazutora wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him as you lived your last moments, and he couldn’t even say anything. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I always will love you.” Was all he said after you died.

Kazutora then took the blame for killing you, resulting im him ending up in jail again but he wasn’t angry about it. He was just sad. So sad that he didn’t even try to get out of jail and get back into the gang life. He just sat around, continuously saying,

“It’s all my fault.”

Hanma Shuji:

Shuji swore that he would never allow you to get hurt while he was away doing gang activities that he didn’t want you included in. That’s why he always had someone beside you and a bodyguard to make sure you would always be safe. But even then, it didn’t work.

It was half past 1 in the morning when Shuji’s phone rang while he was with the other Valhalla members, beating up some random other gang member. Shuji stopped punching the other male, standing up straight and took his phone out of his pocket and opened it, answering. “Yes?”

“Shuji…”

Shuji’s breath hitched when he heard your shaky and quiet voice, and he immediately knew that something was wrong. “Y/n? Where are you, darling? Is something wrong?”

“I’m…at home. B-But someone..got in.” You tried your best to reply, but it was coming out shaky and slow.

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I promise, baby. Okay? I love you.” Shuji told you before turning around and looking at everyone, taking the phone away from his ear. “Kazutora, you’re in charge until I get back, understand? As for everyone else, just do what you’re told.” He said to everyone, proceeding to then walk out and make his way onto the streets when he started to sprint down the different roads.

Now he was just making sure that he made it to your place in five minutes like he said he would, which usually he would be able to do easily, but he was more determined now that he had heard something had gone wrong whilst he was away. Upon reaching your place, he saw the front door opened already and he quickly rushed inside. “Y/n?! Baby, where are you?!” He called out as he started to run through every room in the house.

He finally made it to your room where you laid on the floor, a puddle of blood beneath you as you were taking shallow and slow breaths. “Y/n!” Shuji yelled out your name, going over to you and kneeling down beside you. He grabbed you and lifted you up, holding you in his arms as he checked for your pulse. When he felt it he let out a sigh of relief but it was very weak and barely noticeable which made him realize he probably only had a few more moments with you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For not being here when I should have. I’m so fucking stupid, I should have just stayed here with you. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry.” Shuji said to you, his voice cracking halfway through as tears welled up in his eyes.

You looked up at him and smiled lightly despite you dying in his arms. “It’s okay, Shuji. Don’t...blame yourself. I still love you.” You had never seen the boy cry before, that’s how you knew that he did really love you, that he wasn’t just saying it so he could manipulate or get things from you.

“I love you too.” Shuji whispered out.

Soon enough, your head went limp and your eyes were stuck open, all of the life drained from your face as blood dirtied the floor and Shuji’s clothes. “Y/n? Y/n? Wake up, please.” The boy pleaded to your now deceased body, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get you back. Not ever again.

Shuji became what you would have never wanted him to become, a terrible person who killed anyone if they even looked at him the wrong way, and most importantly, one that drank all of his feelings after the day was over, crying to himself over your death still.

Because he would never get you back. And he regretted that the most.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Takashi was the most important person in your life, just like you were to him. He had told you on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with you forever. And he thought it would really happen. Boy, was he wrong. So, so wrong.

You two were walking down the busy street, eating street food while going inside stores and just admiring the night scenery. Everything was going perfectly normal, until it all changed within a few seconds.

“Hey, babe?” Takashi said, looking over at you.

“Yeah?” You repled.

“Do you wanna get married some day in the future?”

The question that came out of your boyfrien’s mouth shocked you, and you didn’t know how to reply. You both were still teenagers, how the hell were you supposed to know? “Only if it’s you I’m marrying.” You aswered with a smile.

Takashi smiled back and pressed his lips against yours before pulling away quickly after. “Same here.” He told you.

Suddenly, car tires screeched on the black cement road and one zoomed around, an all black van. It’s windows opened and guns pointed out of them before they started to fire. Takashi quickly wrapped his body around you and covered you with his, not even caring if he would end up getting killed because of it.

After the car drove off, Takashi looked at you and asked in a frantic voice, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You looked at him, then down to your side, shaking your head as you spat out blood. Takashi’s eyes widened as he yelled out your name, but you had collapsed onto the ground, grabbing at your abdomen where the gunshot wound was, blood beginning to soak through your clothes and onto the sidewalk below you.

“No, no, no. Y/n! Stay with me!” He yelled, taking his phone out of his pocket and about to call the polce when you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” You told him, a small smile on your face.

“It’s not okay! I can’t lose you! We-We just talked about getting married some day!” The boy continued to yell.

“Maybe...in another life, we will.” You spoke barely above a whisper, your vision starting to darken and turn blurry. “I love you, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” Takashi replied to you but you didn’t respond. “Y/n?” He reached his hand over and shook you gently, and when you didn’t move he looked at your face, then realizing that you were gone. He sat on the ground, and put his hands over his face, beginning to cry.

Takashi cried and mourned over your death everyday, despite people telling him to move on. He just couldn’t. He would never be able to find someone he would love like he loved you. He knew that. So that’s how it remained the rest of his life. Lonely, and depressed.

731 notes · View notes

clairenatural · 3 years

Note

i had a dream that sam and dean took cas to an art museum and showed him all these paintings of angels and it was like that scene in vincent and the doctor and cas said these paintings are beautiful because they depict the angels as human when a true angel could never be described as anything but monstrous and i woke up crying

anon i love this SO much. i love it so much i had to write it. this is 1.4k, destiel, human!cas

They’re making their way out of the city, monster killed and day saved, when Castiel sees a poster, pasted up on the side of the plywood wall of a construction site. It’s an angel—he doesn’t recognize the artist, but he’d guess late 19th century. Be Not Afraid: a History of Angels in Art, it proclaims, the logo of the city’s largest art gallery tucked into the corner.

Castiel stares at it. The angel on the poster stares back, wings spread and staff raised. Valiant. Something in his heart twitches, but it’s hard to place. He still has his blade, tucked safely into the trunk with the rest of their frequently used weapons, and he never had wings like that; even the shadows, the ones they showed to humans, were simply the closest representation to the real thing possible in this dimension (his back aches anyway, dimly, his human body reacting to the loss as if they were real severed appendages. He ignores it).

Dean notices, because of course he does. He stops, because of course he does, and flags Sam down before his long legs can carry him too far ahead. “Hey. You good?”

Castiel isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at the poster, but it’s long enough that Dean is obviously concerned. “Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He considers the poster. “Art gallery, huh?” he asks, avoiding the obvious elephant. Castiel appreciates it. He nods back.

“I’ve never been to one,” he offers, as explanation. It seems odd—he can remember the painting of the Sistine Chapel, he remembers watching with fascination as humans began collecting the smaller paintings into collections and museums, but he’d never been inside one. It hadn’t seemed necessary. Humans collect art in large boxes to remember their history, but Castiel has seen it all.

Dean seems surprised by this. “Seriously?” Castiel nods, and there’s a pause, and he’s about to turn and keep heading towards the car, and Kansas, and home, when Dean claps him on the shoulder and turns to call over his own.

“Sammy! How do you feel about seeing some art?”

“You want to go to an art gallery?” Sam sounds incredulous, and is closer behind him than Cas expected. He hadn’t noticed him retreat the half-block he’d managed to gain on them.

“Yeah, why not? Come on. What happened to ‘a little culture wouldn’t hurt, Dean?’”

"What happened to ‘I’ve got plenty of culture, eat your damn burger?’”

“It’ll be fun, Sam,” Dean counters. Something in his tone has changed. Cas doesn’t think too hard about it.

There’s a long pause, and Cas knows there’s some sort of communication happening he can’t hear or see. “…Okay,” Sam concedes. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

Dean makes a comment about “haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid,” before they all fall into the hushed silence of the museum floor. It’s nice—nicer than Castiel had expected. Not in aesthetics; the building is sleek, and modern, and the art is obviously beautiful. But it’s nice to be there. It feels almost Holy—humans, funny creatures they are, with their habit of treating their own culture with the respect of something divine. Creating houses of worship out of museums and libraries and living rooms.

He wanders through the various exhibits but doesn’t really pay attention until he ends up in the exhibit from the poster. He’d managed to lose the Winchesters halfway through the photography exhibit, when both the brothers had gotten distracted. Castiel had continued onward anyway, on a mission, and by the time he finds himself walking into the angel exhibit he’s on his own.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the largest paintings in the room. It’s not the same angel as the poster. It’s several, actually, looking over what appears to be Mary and a baby Jesus. The angels are beautiful—smooth, flawless skin. They have long hair that looks soft, even in paint. They’re wearing white robes, and their wings are white and dove-like. None of these angels have several heads, rotating bands of fire, or thousands of eyes. They’re beautiful, but they aren’t angels. The human who painted this didn’t know that, of course—none of them did. Humanity was faced with the concept of divinity and conceptualized it as a version of itself.

“The real things ain’t as cuddly, huh?”

Dean’s voice startles him, which he hates, both because he hates being startled and because he’s still adjusting to Dean being able to sneak up on him.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, pretending he’d known Dean was there the whole time, “you paint us like we’re human.” Not ‘us’ anymore, he reminds himself, but he brushes that thought off. Not now.

Beside him, Dean snorts. “Yeah, well. If you’d told any of those Renaissance guys that the real angels are dickhead balls of celestial intent, they’d’ve arrested you for heresy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.” he pauses. “Well, yes. But that’s—” he turns to face Dean for the first time. He notices Sam over Dean’s shoulder, focusing intently on a painting a few feet away and obviously pretending not to listen.

“My father—God—Chuck,” he cycles through, which will never not be weird, “created us first, but not in his image. We weren’t worthy of that. Only you were. Humans, his perfect creation, modeled after their creator. But then—” he turns back to the painting and gestures to it. “You created us in your image. You thought about divinity and you couldn’t conceive anything more Holy than yourselves.”

Dean shifts. He tries for a laugh, but it comes out short. “Well, damn, Cas. Way to make a guy feel self-centered.”

Castiel turns back to him. He blinks. He frowns. That’s not what he means. “Most of my siblings thought so,” he agrees. “But I always thought it was an honor. Look,” He turns again and reaches out for the painting, only remembering a few inches from its surface to not touch it. “This one has a lyre. You always paint us playing music. But music, art….these are human things, Dean.” He lets his hand fall, but keeps his eyes forward. “We’re soldiers. They don’t teach us to play the harp in Heaven, they train us to fight. But these angels are…soft. Kind. Angels you trust to protect. The kind of angels people pray to, build churches to.” He looks back at Dean, who is staring at him with a frown. He holds his gaze, steady, and takes a deep breath before finishing. “I wish I was—that any of us were—worthy of being depicted this way. I wish we were the angels you paint us as.”

There’s a long pause while Dean searches his face, obviously trying to decide on the right reaction. If they were at home, Cas thinks Dean might reach out and hug him. Instead, Dean reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder—he lets it linger there, and Cas knows what it means, so that’s okay, too. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, and his voice is softer than the last time he spoke. “You’re the closest thing to those angels that I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Cas smiles sadly as he turns back to the painting. “I’m not any kind of angel anymore,” he points out, and tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head, trying to recapture Castiel’s gaze. “Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he looks back over. “Your wings weren’t what made you a good angel, alright?” he brings his other hand up to poke into Castiel’s chest. “That was all in here.”

He sounds like he’s quoting the Wizard of Oz, and Cas wants to make a joke about that, but he’s also never wanted to kiss Dean more. He doesn’t, because they’re in a museum, and they’re still working up to that, but he makes a note to do it later. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Dean’s hand away from his chest, links it in his own, and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s earnest, and it’s for everything.

Dean smiles. He understands. He squeezes back.

#i do hope it was ok to write this #i was hoarding this ask until i could #bc i couldnt stop thinking about it!!!#Anonymous #answered #my words #over 1k words #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #i am Not an art historian so i tried to keep all the descriptions vague enough to not cause problems but if there are issues im sorry

3K notes · View notes

xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

It’s Too Late - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, cursing

Summary: You’ve always made it clear to him about what you feel for him. It’s always been known so you’ve never had to say it. Until months had passed and yet nothing’s been reciprocated or cleared up on his end. He didn’t express any emotions of desire or love towards you so when you finally confess, you get an answer you halfway anticipated. And when it breaks you and you move on, finally taking 1 step forward, Bakugou comes back and pushes you 2 steps back.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“I just-“

“Love me?” Bakugou said with a raised brow and his hands in his pockets. “You love me? Is that what you’re gonna say?”

“..Yes. I love you, Katsuki.” You openly confessed to your best friend with a tired voice. You and Bakugou had been friends since childhood. You grew to love him as a friend, then a best friend, but now you wish to have him as a significant other. You’ve always been clear about your feelings. Telling others you liked the blonde, putting in a little extra effort to show some comfort and affection, or even just canceling everything for him. But you never said anything specific until now.

Your best friend continued to stare at you with a blank face. You were almost offended by it but you saw the gears in his mind trying to move. He was trying to say something but it’s like something else was stopping him. “Katsuki?”

“I don’t love you, Y/N. Why you think I would is ridiculous.” His words made you grow shock. He was lying now? You get it. This whole confession wasn’t cute or anything similar to what you would see in a cartoon. There was no blushing from either ends, no smiles. This was holding a dark element of hurt but you hoped that despite all that, he would still be able to find the light you always brought with you, just for him.

“…I know you love me too, Katsuki.” You said calmly.

“Don’t tell me what I feel.” He responded in the same cold tone but with a little more harshness.

“I’m just saying the truth. It’s the one thing you seem to be running from. I’ve accepted it, I’ve embraced it because I want it. I know you do to so why can’t you just admit it?” You asked before a block of silence filled the dialogue. “….I know you told Kaminari you love me.”

“That spark plug heard me wrong.” He defended.

“You also told Kirishima you love me too.” You added on. “You tell Kirishima, you tell Kaminari, you tell everyone and anything but me. Why can’t you just tell me?”

Bakugou looked at you in silence before squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Frustration and anger with himself. Why couldn’t he just man up and say it to you? Why couldn’t he tell you? You were right here letting him know exactly how you felt! Letting him know you felt the same way he did so why wasn’t he saying anything to help?!

“You can’t run. You have to stay and hear it out ‘till the end.” You began making his shut eyes tremble. “Bakugou Katsuki. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts when you just walk away from it. So tell me what I know. Tell me you love me back so that everything we went through, the gossip, the lies, the secrets, everything will have been for something. So that we could end up right here where we are now with a purpose and happy ending. Please.”

Finally, after collecting himself and coming up with an answer, he speaks.

“Maybe it was.” He said with a softer tone..almost hurt. “And maybe I did love you…but it doesn’t matter-“

“Why not?!”

“Because I don’t love you anymore. It was a crush. It was for a short period of time. I’ve moved on so maybe you should too.” He said and began to walk away. “You know Damn well feelings don’t help you achieve anything. I don’t want love or a relationship, I want to be a hero. That’s all.”

There it is. He said it. He wants to be a hero. Only if he was smart enough to say the rest. He wants to be a hero to protect you. He wants to become strong enough to keep you safe in his arms. Let him achieve this dream first so he can move on to his second dream. You. You will always be his dream. He knows he still loves you and he knows he will forever and always love you..but he’s accepted that he can’t be with you. Not yet. Let him secure everything first. Let him become a hero and make shit tons of money so he can provide for you and protect you. Let him become so domestically secure that he can give you the love he knows you deserve. Let him grow first so he can be good enough for you. Please.

—

He shouldn’t have disregarded you in that moment. He should’ve told you right then and there that he loved you too. He should’ve been smart enough to be able to multitask a relationship with you and his career. He could’ve done it! But now he’s here, 2 years later sneakily watching as Todoroki asks you to be his girlfriend at the hero gala he’s brought you to as his date.

As if his night couldn’t get worse. After your confession, you distanced yourself from Bakugou after his harsh replies. He’s tried to reach out to you and stay in touch but you didn’t let him. Despite that, when 2 years passed and the hero gala came up and he’s still been so in love with you, he asked you to be his date..but you said no. You said no and shut the door on him and the roses he brought to your house that day. Then when he thought it couldn’t get worse, you show up. Looking as beautiful as ever in a red dress that matched the tie of his tux and reached the ground. It had a slit in it to reveal the smooth skin of your leg. You were the pinnacle of perfection. And he was now ready to make you his. But before he could reach you, your date did. Todoroki. He stepped up from behind you and snaked his arm around your waist before moving with you deeper into the event. The sight of you two made him nauseous. But it got even worse when the night continued and the two-toned hair colored boy was pulling you to a corner and confessing to you. Nobody but Bakugou saw and it was making his blood boil. He wasn’t about to lose you to this icy-hot bastard. So before you could answer the calm hero, the blonde came rushing in and dragging you away forcefully by the wrist.

Bakugou pulled you into the empty parking lot of the event and looked at you while saying nothing.

“What the hell was that Bakugou?!” You shouted.

“That’s not my name.” He replied swiftly.

“I’m pretty sure it fucking is. Why did you bring me out here?” You asked.

“I fucking saved you from that idiot and his pathetic excuse of a confession! You’re welcome!” He shouted. You gawked at him before slanting your eyes.

“I didn’t need your help.” You said calmly. Afterwords, a block of silence returned and Bakugou couldn’t help but feel like it was that one moment all those years ago when you confessed to him. Growing tired of this, you attempted to walk back inside. “If you’ll excuse me-“

“Are you going to say yes to him?” Bakugou asked from behind you now. You turned to him, shocked at the whimper in his voice, and noticed he wasn’t even facing you. He had his back turned to you as he looked to the ground.

“I don’t think that concerns you.” You said and began to walk away. Until you felt Bakugou hold onto your arm.

“I think it fucking does!” He exclaimed. You turned to look at him in shock and noticed a fire in his eyes that you never saw before. “You can’t be his girlfriend, Y/N. You can’t be his!”

“You’re in no position to tell me who I can and can’t be with.” You replied.

“I actually am because you’re mine!” He shouted. You looked at him with wide eyes and shaky breath as you stared at him.

“W-what?”

Bakugou smiled as he took your nervousness and shaking as a sign of happiness. “You’re mine. I love you too, Y/-“

*SMACK*

“The hell-“

“Don’t you dare say you love me, Bakugou.” You said coldly.

“What?” He asked in shock.

“You had years to tell me how you felt. Before I confessed and even after! But you can’t just tell me that you love me when I’ve already happily moved on!” You shouted.

“…moved on?” He winced. You moved on? You didn’t want him anymore? Didn’t love him anymore? “W-..WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU MOVE ON?!”

“Are you fucking serious?! Why?! Because I loved you and gave you my entire being just for you to stomp on my heart-“

“You can’t move on! Not when I love you too! Not when I’ve loved you for years! Not when I’ve loved you from even before you fucking told me! That’s right!” He exclaimed as he stepped closer. “I’ve always loved you Y/N! Always! So you can’t move on!”

You stared at him and bit your cheek before turning around. “Too fucking late.”

“..N-No.” He whimpered. Without being in control, he ran to you and pulled you back before forcing a kiss onto your lips. To Bakugou, it was heaven on earth. You tasted the exact way he always imagined. Addictive and sweet. Your lips were soft. So soft. So perfect. So..you. You are heaven on earth for him.

You were surprised and infuriated by his actions so you of course pushed him off the best you could but not without a fight. The more you pushed back the tighter he held on, the more you pulled away, his lips would find yours again and steal your breath. Eventually, you ended up having to use a small amount of your quirk on him to keep him at bay. “Y/N please! You can’t be with him! Please! You have to love me! I didn’t work my ass off for years to not have you by my side in the end!”

“The hell are you talking about?!” You shouted.

“I did all of this for you! Because I love you! I didn’t tell you then because I wasn’t ready for you! You were too good for me! I had to change! I had to fix myself! And I did! I’m a hero now, I have money now, I can provide for you, love you, and take care of you now! I did this for us!” He shouted as tears trickled down his cheeks as he confessed with a smile. You only looked at him as if he were crazy.

“It didn’t matter if you were a hero or not, or had money or not. You didn’t have to change for me! I loved you because of you! And I was ready to have you just the way you were, Bakugou.”

“So please say you’ll have me now.” He begged.

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can! Y/N I’m right here. I’m not running anymore. I’m not going anywhere. Just tell me that you love me too and we can be together! Please.” He exclaimed while you shook your head with small tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

“….it’s too late now, Katsuki.”

At least in the end, you finally said his name.

Taglist: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight @lanantoine @whatdidshesayyy @qtsuki @lazyafgurl @dessykcm @misssugarless @unicornlover25 @sweethcnvy @hanamura-manami @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @ssurewhynottt @uchihackerman

A/N: SURPRISEEEEEE!! I’m back. Not gonna lie, I’m still getting over the large amounts of hate as I am still being sent them despite over a week already passing. However, the urge to write has been getting so strong and I poured out a bunch of thoughts in my head. They’ve been filling my mind and I couldn’t sleep without typing something down. Then I just couldn’t let my work sit in the drafts, I needed them to be seen for others to enjoy! So I’m back, little by little though! I’ll start posting but I might not start replying. Idk, we’ll see.

Also, but thank you to those kind supporters. I hope you know that to those who are consistent with my blog (meaning you’ve commented at least more than once) I see you and remember you all. I appreciate you all and every time I see your name pop up in my notifications I always get a little happy bc I know you all are so nice. Please don’t think you’re just another follower out of the bunch. You’re not. You all mean something to me and whether it be through messages or comments or likes, I have fond memories of you guys. So thank you guys, so much love for my Cubs!

585 notes · View notes

suna-reversed · 3 years

Note

HI CAN I REQUEST 58 61 AND 99 WITH SUKUNA🥺

Kitchen encounters with the King of Curses

SUKUNA X F!READER// fluff+ nsfw!!// 1.9k+

the 3 kitchen encounters that changed your relationship with Sukuna.

#58 “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

#61 “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.”

#99 “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

(Tags/Warnings- starts out with crack and fluff but MAJOR smut and filth at the end! Degradation, Oral (receiving), creampie, being bent over a table??)

A/N: you can either consider the reader to be in a poly relationship with both Yuji and Sukuna, or you can just take Yuji as your room-mate/friend.

-----

“Oh my god stop it- what is wrong with you argh-”

“I will burn down this kitchen the next time you try to put such an atrocious thing near me again-”

You snorted in the corner, hands coming up to suppress your uncontrollable laughter. You never thought there would be a day you’d watch the mouth of your lover try to attack it’s own host (and your room-mate) after Yuji had promptly tried to pop in a piece of coffee jelly into the mouth on his palm. Noticing your presence, the curse spat a few bitter words at you too while Yuji pleaded for your help in the background,

“He said he was hungry!” Yuji exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

“Well, I don’t think he did anything wrong then Sukuna, it’s not like you specified what you were hungry for...” You replied, tone laced with playfulness as you watched the mouth disappear from Yuji’s palm.

It was silent for a while, and you heard Yuji sigh with relief, but it was short-lived as the mouth once again reappeared on his neck, a smirk growing as it lowly said,

“Now that I think of it, I do know what I’m hungry for. You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

The comment was enough to make heat crawl up your entire face, prompting Yuji to shoo away at the mouth with his hand (not a great idea because he did get bitten in the process).

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

“Where’s the milk?”

You yelped, almost dropping the said milk carton at the sudden intrusion of a deep voice that you didn’t think you would ever get used to. Turning around, you realised that it wasn’t just a mouth on some part of Yuji’s body that spoke, but the king of curses in flesh himself. Very much in flesh indeed as he walked around in just a pair of sweatpants. Concentrating hard on keeping your eyes above his chest, you asked,

“Must you get rid of the shirt every single time you shift?”

“Yes” he replied without missing a beat. You pretended to ignore the sharp-set pair of eyes that were darting down your bare legs.

“And why do you need milk ? I didn’t think you required food for sustenance...or even preferred it.”

“I need it to take a bath of course.”

You scrunched your eyebrows, head tilting in confusion as you contemplated if he was being serious.

He countered with a look of his own that made it seem like his request was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And perhaps..you can join me” He said while covering the distance between you both in two long strides

Your face flustered at his suggestive tone, a hand reaching down to tug at your over-sized shirt nervously. His eyes darkened as his eyes raked down your body once more. Your breath hitched in your throat as he placed a hand right beside your head on the kitchen shelf, leaning forward until you could feel his breath on your neck,

“If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants , I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.” he whispered.

You gasped, half intimidated- half excited as his other hand lightly trailed up your side. But then just as quickly, you felt the warmth of his bare skin leave as he took a few steps back away from you. Noticing the sudden emptiness in your hand, you snapped your head up, your eyes meeting a pair of mischievous ones , whose possessor now held the milk carton in one hand as he walked away whistling a tune you didn’t quite know.

---------nsfw below cut!----------

It would be an understatement to say that Yuji’s mission had been a train-wreck. The biggest flaw being that you, a civilian, not only got dragged into it, but were also gravely injured. The higher ups had only let him get away with it because despite being utterly beaten and ruined himself, he had still risked his life to make sure he carried you to safety. No one knew that it wasn’t actually Yuji, who had ended up succumbing to his injuries, but the malicious curse instead who had gently nosed at your hair, carrying you back home as he, in his words, “forbid you from leaving him alone in this ramshackled world.”

That was the last you had seen of him, Yuji being caught up in meetings with the higher ups as you stayed in the now protected apartment, still recovering. And now here you were, standing in the kitchen in a comfy pair of shorts and sweatshirt, waiting for your tea to heat up in the microwave.

“Well, well, what did I say about you not changing out of those shorts...”

Your entire body stilled for a second at the voice that had become as familiar to you as the back of your hand. Turning around, your eyes met his, relieved that he was finally back.

Sukuna seemed to be in a daze as you walked towards him, your arms encasing his torso as you buried your head into his chest. When you didn’t feel him embrace you back, you pulled away worriedly. You knew it wasn’t just the strain on Yuji’s body that made him seem tired, his eyes were sunken, almost hollowed out as he continued to stare into your face. Your hand reached up to caress his face as a way of asking if he was okay. That finally seemed to snap him back to reality as leaned further into your touch.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.” He mumbled onto the skin of your palm, eyes moving up to meet yours.

Your heart swelled with joy at the raw tenderness in his words. Getting up on your tip-toes, you pressed your lips to his, hands moving to entangle in his hair. Small pecks turned into deep passionate kisses as your tongues clashed with each other. You lightly squealed as his arms wrapped around you, easily picking you up and putting you on the marble counter-top.

For once you were mad that he hadn’t ripped apart Yuji’s shirt as your hands slid under it to run your nails across his muscular abdomen. He got the message as he deftly pulled it over his head in one go, doing the same for your shirt and bra that were ripped off of you and discarded somewhere on the floor. Your shorts soon enough joining the pile.

Sukuna’s hands wandered and travelled all across the expanse of your body. Everywhere except for right where you wanted him. His mouth sucked hickeys onto the skin of your neck as his hands fondled your breasts, rolling around and pinching your sensitive nipples.

You cried out his name, a plea asking for more. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard and the curse decided that it won’t be the last time he does so. His lips trailed down your body, making sure to leave a trail of evidence behind, teeth coming into the mix to leave a bite-mark every now and then. Looking up at you from between your thighs, he had never had a better view. His mouth watered at the sight of your dripping heat as he pulled apart your legs. You were literally spread out like a feast on the table, a feast that was all for him to enjoy.

“Plea-please- need you to touch me.”

“Patience, my love.”

He ran a digit around your sensitive nub, another finger dipping down to add some lubrication to his perverse ministrations. You swore you saw stars as he finally leaned forward, pulling your thighs over his shoulders as his tongue rolled out to lick a broad stripe across your folds. The moans of your pleasure mixed in with the slurping sounds of him licking away at your juices only seemed to spur him on further as his lips suctioned around your swollen clit, making you buck your hips into his face. One of his hands slid up to knead one of your tits as he continued to devour you. You suddenly felt a wet sensation across your nipple, looking down to see the mouth on his palm nibbling at your bud. The mouth on his palm pulled your nipple into its mouth at the same time that Sukuna’s tongue latched around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the hood making you scream out his name as your orgasm crashed through you.

Your chest was heaving, eyes still closed when he came up, teeth nibbling on the side of your jaw as his hand pushed away stray hair out of your face,

“You were so needy just a while ago. Already tired are we?” He asked in a playful mocking tone.

“Not in the-” You panted slightly, “...least bit.”

He looked up at you, hooded eyes filled with lust as he licked a stripe right across your jaw to your ear, before moving away, making you whine.

“So impatient...” He commented, clicking his tongue as he pulled you up, melding his lips with yours once more as your hands moved to explore the expanse of his broad shoulders.

“I want you bent over this counter. Now.” He growled out against your lips, barely moving back as you rushed to hop down and turn over, his hands already pushing your back down.

One of his hands reached to the front to rub your slick heat, the other pulling his thick member out of his briefs, a moan escaping your mouth as he lightly tapped it against the inside of your thigh.

“ah- fuck-” You moaned out loud as two of his fingers filled you up, but it wasn’t enough, “Sukuna- please- need you to inside me so bad” You choked on your words as you begged.

“Only since you asked so nicely.” was the response as the hand that was covered in your slick now moved up to wrap across your throat as Sukuna lined himself up with your folds. You threw your head back against his chest, gripping the edge of the table as he entered you.

“I’m not even halfway through and you’re already so stretched out...stuffed all full of my cock like the needy little slut you are huh?”

Your eyes rolled back at his filthy words, hips jutting out towards him more as he filled you completely. Both of you moaned in unison as he started to move, hands gripping onto your hips tight enough to leave bruises as he relentlessly thrusted into you. You groaned in both pain and pleasure as a harsh slap came down onto your ass, followed by an arm lifting one of your legs up. His cock brushed against that one sensitive spot inside your walls at the new angle, his thrusts getting deeper with each stroke as you came undone once again with a loud scream, his name like a plea on your lips. Sukuna found his own release soon enough, pulling out to spray the lower half of your back with his seed, making a mess everywhere.

You were in a post-sex daze as you felt yourself being lifted up and carried into the bathroom. Soon enough, you found yourself being lowered into a hot bath, another body joining you as arms wrapped around your figure, making you sigh and nuzzle into the familiar scent. You felt your eyes fall shut, a small smile still etched on your lips, unbeknown to the two pair of eyes on the curse’s face, filled with adoration, as they stared down at you.

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

The next morning, you sat on the same countertop you had been utterly ruined on top of last night, the eyes of your lover (who had reluctantly carried you out from the comfort of your bed because you were hungry at 6 am and couldn’t walk by yourself) met yours as he pulled out the box of blueberries from the fridge.

“Maybe you’d like to give another chance to coffee jelly now-”

“I will kill you-”

“I’ll feed it to you if you want you kno-”

You were cut off by a pair of lips pressing against your own in a gentle kiss,

“I have something much more delicious right here already.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjksmut #jjk hcs #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna headcanons #gojo smut #itadori yuuji #yuji x reader #yuji smut

2K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Douse the Lights

A/N: I have no excuse for this, except I love one (1) Din Djarin and he deserves this and so do we. Enjoy! A little Happy New Year gift from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) - oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PiV, choking, degradation, creampie...filth. This is just filth.

STUTTER SOMETHING PROFOUND (PART 2)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop kriffing staring at me.”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“You,” with a sharp turn of your head you saw that he wasn’t even near you. Nope. Not at all.

Kriff. Awkward.

“Lothcat got your tongue, Princess?” you’d never seen his face, but Maker, you just knew there was a wicked smirk on it.

“Just mind your own business,” stowing away your clean blasters with a huff, you prayed with all your might that he couldn’t see the flush of warmth on your face or hear the crack in your voice. You hated him. Everything about him.

At least you wanted to; you would have given anything in the galaxy to. It would make constantly being around the Mandalorian that you called your employer a lot easier.

Maybe if you kept repeating it yourself, you would manifest it to become true. That you could hate that annoying, half-witted, tin can.

“Thought that’s what I was doing,” there was the most minute inkling of amusement in his voice as he came over, lithe and silent - ever the hunter. He was at your side in an instant, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cool metal of the beskar as he sent shivers up and down your spine. Along with the low pooling of heat and desire settling in your belly, but you were going to ignore that for now.

Almost as if he knew the effect he had on you, he made it a point to brush a gloved hand over yours as he nudged you to the side to inspect some of the weapons he’d tasked you with cleaning. You had to be quick in order to shut your mouth and keep a small whimper from escaping your lips.

How long had it been since someone last touched you? Maker, it had been….dank farrik. It had been way too long. A simple hand brush - there wasn’t even skin to skin contact - and you felt like a lothcat in heat. You really needed to get...some company and have your frustrations taken out or surely you would explode. There was no way you were to give Mando the satisfaction of knowing the type of hold he seemed to possess over you.

Perhaps once you were out of this more than awkward conversation you could slip out for a few hours and seek some pleasure. The little one had just gone down for a nap a short bit ago, and he was likely to be out for some time. Surely he wouldn’t have a problem for a few hours. Then you could -

“These are still dirty,” was his voice always that rough and low? He had to be doing it on purpose, surely. Before you could contemplate it too much, he took one of the blasters and shoved it back into your hands. Not rough or gentle, but with enough firmness to remind that he was in charge. You looked it over and raised your eyebrows as you inspected it yourself - it was polished to an almost pristine shine, “clean them again. All of them.”

“What the fuck, Mando,” you scoffed with indignation as you rolled your eyes at him, shoving the blaster right into of the black T of his visor. You waved it almost as if to prove your point, “this is clean. I dare you to find a cleaner blaster in this Maker forsaken galaxy.”

He was quick to your grab your wrist, his grip was firm as he kept your hand from moving. You didn’t normally argue with your stoic and mysterious employer, but this was apparently new and uncharted territory. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was a shift between the two of you, something had changed. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick you could cut it with the dullest of knives as you stared back at him.

“Clean it again,” it was a growl that went straight to your cunt as you subconsciously clenched your thighs at the sound. Either this was a one time deal that you would commit to memory or you were going to make it a point to annoy him more often. As he stared you down, he slowly let go of your wrist and pointed at the discarded cleaning rag, “and make sure its actually clean this time.”

“You are the worst,” you tried to retain the little bit of composure that you had remaining as you swiped the blaster back.

“And you are a brat,” brat. Brat. Brat. Brat. Of all the words available in all of the galaxy, he had to choose that one. This was absolutely on purpose. The Mandalorian never did anything without careful planning and calculating the risks. The same could be said with his words; this was all carefully and deliberately chosen. He cocked his head to the side, almost as if trying to gauge your reaction, “but here we are. Get them clean.”

“Or what?” it was a mere pathetic squeak as found yourself almost unable to meet his face.

“Just get it done.”

Without another word he strode away, as silent and dangerous as he was when he first came in. If you were stronger, if you weren’t a weak little fool, you would have looked away and focused on your work.

But no. Not today.

Instead you watched him go, staring shamelessly at his imposing figure as he moved to disappear back into the cockpit to do whatever it was that he did.

Was his ass always that nice? Were those thighs always so strong and sturdy? Was he always so damn broad and wide?

Shit.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you hissed at yourself as you picked the rag back up and slammed yourself back down on the bench in order to re-clean all the weapons that you had just done. He wanted clean weapons? You’d give him the cleanest blasters he’d ever seen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost an hour had crept by when you’d finished your second round of cleaning. At this point you honestly didn’t care if the Mandalorian deemed the job satisfactory or not. The longer you had ruminated on his words, the more frustrated you became.

Each word, each touch seemed burned into your mind as you let your imagination take over. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him before. There had been a number of sleepless nights when you imagined it had been his hand between your thighs, his fingers running through your slick folds before they slipped inside of you. On nights when you really couldn't help yourself, you even imagined it was his cock, how he would feel buried to the hilt inside of you. You wondered what he would be like, but something - this day in particular - told that he was big. And he would get the job done.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Nope. No. Nah. You were just his sidekick little employee that most definitely was not going to act on any impulsive or rash decisions. You might have been a lot of things, including a huge fool in that moment, but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t need to create some unnecessary strain in your relationship with the stoic warrior or even worse, lose your job and home and be left stranded in a forgotten corner of the galaxy.

Even as you tried to rationalize all the ways in which acting on your impulses was a horrible idea, the frustration and the throbbing between your legs didn't wane. You were getting so desperate and pathetically needy that you sat on the edge of your small bench just at the angle so you could get a little bit of friction on your clit. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

As you rocked back and forth, trying to keep the little mewls and whines from slipping past your lips, you realized you couldn't do this.

You couldn't risk getting caught by the Mandalorian. Oh yes, everything's fine, just getting myself off. Don't worry, I'm super horny because of you. Yeah of course I'd love your cock.

Yeah. Cool, cool, cool. This would never happen.

Just when you before you reached your breaking point and had your hands halfway to your soaked core, you stopped.

"Kriff," you sighed to yourself as you pulled your hand back out and stood up. What the actual fuck had gotten into you? A few commanding words you were completely losing your control. Either you were desperate for a release from something other than your own hand or you craved the mysterious Mandalorian.

Hastily stashing the impeccably clean blasters back into the weapons cache, you discarded the rag as you quickly came up with a plan.

Tiptoeing quietly back to where the little one was sleeping, you sneaked a peek and saw that he was still fast asleep. He wouldn't even notice you were gone - that's what you tried to convince yourself as you delicately touched his soft ears and button nose.

You weren't sure if you were speaking of the Mandalorian or the baby. At this point you really didn't care.

You glanced back at the ladder towards the cockpit, watching almost as if you expected him to come down and catch you sneaking out. Hells, technically he'd know as soon as you left the ship. You scrawled a quick note telling him that you needed a cleaner or something, in your haste you couldn't even remember what you put, and would need to go to the market.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was totally plausible, you insisted to calm your own nerves as you slipped on your boots and a cloak before making your final decision to leave. Attempting to be as quiet and subtle as possible, you slowly made your way off the Crest and started scurrying towards the nearby desolate town of Mos Eisley. In reality you looked more like a scrap rat scurrying away from the light than a woman heading into town to find something.

Whatever.

Mos Eisley wasn’t exactly known for its sparkling reputation, and you were sure you could get exactly what you wanted quickly enough. In and out, you thought to yourself as a flush rose in your check, well precisely that. For at least you were hoping.

But the Mandalorian, a seasoned hunter with a reputation for a reason, and didn’t miss a single trick. He was aware of what you were doing before you even left the cargo hold. If he was this frustrated and turned on you by you, his cock hard and straining against the confines of his pants, he was sure you must have been in the same position.

Oh, but he had been close to breaking, just like you. How easy it would have been to seal the hatch to the cockpit and relieve himself of the desire and ache. But no - just like you he had limits and wasn’t about to give in and stroke his hard cock while you were within earshot. No matter times he had imagined it - fucking your mouth or burying himself deep between your luscious heat before pounding you into oblivion, he wasn’t going to give in this easily.

He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but with your little backtalk and the way you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes and pretty pouted lips sure had him feeling like one. The thought of burying himself inside you, to watch as you bounced on his cock with your tits in his face was enough to make up his mind.

One time couldn’t hurt, right? People had casual encounters all the time.Why should this one be any different? If you were willing of course, although judging by how your pupils had dilated with each word from his mouth, had little doubt you felt the same way; but consent of course was key.

And tomorrow? You’d be back to being the same way you had always been.

Hopefully. Maybe. Probably.

Fuck.

This was a bad idea, and the small, sensible part remaining in his brain told him so. But he was too far in, too deep and lost in his own desires to stop himself.

He was watched as you ran away, deciding to wait until you were halfway to Mos Eisley before going after you. He’d take the kid to Pelli, sure she’d more than happy to watch him for the night. The rest? That was to be all consumed by you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The old cantina was dirty, dingy, and smelly. There was no doubt in your mind it must have been at least a decade since it was cleaned, and yet it still remained a hot spot; granted not for those of politer society, but enough to get the job down. You pushed that to the back of your mind as you clambered through the crowd and to the bar, sitting down next to a handsome Zabrak you had spied when you’d walked in. You’d never been with one his kind before, but you’d heard rumors of them, especially when it came to their prowess behind closed doors, and something within you was piqued.

He must have sensed something was up - as soon as you sat down, he motioned for the bartender to come back and bring the two of you a new round.

“You’re new here,” he said gruffly, a dangerous edge to his voice, sharp like a knife as he took one of the luminescent drinks and shoved the other towards you.

Before you could even move to grab your drink or utter so much as a word in response, a hand darted and quickly grabbed your wrist, the grip biting and firm.

“She’s mine,” the words washed over you before you could even turn to look at the Mandalorian. His chest was rising and falling heavy as his visor was trained on your would be companion for the night. A shudder ran up your spine as he pulled you off the stool, the two men glaring at each wordlessly.

He pulled you behind him, storming out of the cantina as the crowds parted at the sight of the gleaming silver beskar. They knew better than to stand in the way of the Mandalorian. You felt like a child being scolded as he refused to acknowledge you, keeping his gaze trained straight as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

“What the hell, Mando?” your question was an indignant shout as your voice climbed an octave. His grip didn’t waver for a moment as he grunted in his response. Oh, he was mad. Yup. Definitely. You had fucked up.

Any thought of talking back or prodding him further were estopped as you could see him fuming as he dragged your ass back to the Crest.

This was it, you realized. This was the end where he would fire you and send you packing. Of all the places in the galaxy to be stranded, Tatooine was not one of your top destinations. No one to blame but yourself, you reckoned.

Instead you hung your head as he refused to look back, making quick work of opening the cargo hold and shoving you inside. There was something about his touch that was rough, almost sending you falling to your ass, but there was still an odd gentleness.

You stared back at the blank visor in challenge, attempting to figure out what was going on. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he stared back at you. Neither of you were about to get a good read on each other.

“Did you really think it was a good idea to just walk away without saying anything?” his voice was dangerously low as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at you. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you tried to come up with either a smart response or an excuse but instead of anything coherent, it was a mixture of the two. Great. Now he's going to think you were an idiot on top of everything else.

“I didn’t...just um...doesn’t matter what you...I needed something from the market?” you swallowed the lump on your throat as you dropped your gaze to the floor. He sighed for a moment - heavily - as you’d come to know was his penchant to do.

“You needed something from the market?” it wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

“Mhmm.”

“What was it?”

“C-cleaner,” you lied. Somehow it sounded better than saying yeah, I really just wanted a quick fuck because you have me feeling some type of way.

“There's a new cleaner right in the cabinet,” he said as you internally groaned. He was right - there was a brand new gleaming bottle on the top shelf. He’d gotten some last week, “or did you conveniently forget that?”

“Umm,” you couldn’t get anything else out as he took a step closer and left minimal distance between your bodies. He reached up and put a hand under your chin, turning your face up to meet his, “uh huh.”

“Uh huh, honey,” his voice warmed you up from inside out as you gave him an innocent look. If he hadn’t known what he was doing earlier, he certainly did now. And he was going to milk every second of it, to push this as far as it would go. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a subconscious gesture, but not unnoticed by the Mandalorian. His hand slipped from your chin and jaw and slid until he was gently holding your throat. His grip was light, and he was barely squeezing, but Maker, you wished he was, “is that really what you were going to do?”

“Y-yeah,” how much longer were you going to keep up this little facade? You had no clue. But the feel of his hand around your airway, pushing slightly, ever so slightly, had your mind positively reeling.

“Then why did you go to that filthy old cantina?” he leaned closer, his helmet mere inches from your face as you closed your eyes, the blood rushing to your ears as you the heat pooled in your belly, “why were you talking to Zabrak? Did you really think he was going to fuck you? To make you feel good?”

“Mhmm,” you managed to murmur after a few beats of silence as you realized what was happening. This was new, uncharted territory - for the both of you - and if you went any further, there would be no going back. And you - fuck it. Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look into the visor, right where his eyes would be, “needed someone to do it, since you never would.”

And there it was - finally out in the open and hanging thickly between the two of you. All you could ever was a small huff from under the helmet and you were positive he was smirking like a victorious predator.

“Is that what you want, honey?” he asked and you nodded. Give and take and then...it all broke, “get on your knees. Now.”

And you wasted no time sinking onto the cool metal floor, now level with his cock, where you could see the hardness straining against his rough fabric. Shaky fingers worked to hastily pop the button and pull the zipper, but just before you could get to what you wanted, Din roughly grabbed jaw, turning your face up to his, “you take what I give. Yeah?”

“Yes,” you promised, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each word. But then, with another gentle tap to your chin, he seemed almost...gentle, “Mando?”

“If you don’t want this, just say stop,” he waited for you to nod as you a sense of warmth fluttered over you at his desire for consent, “I will not be gentle, I will not-”

“Give it to me then,” you beamed at him before turning back to his cock and pulling out of his underwear. You almost moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking already; and just as your little fantasies had led you to believe, he was more than adequate.

Spitting into your palm, you took him in your hand, pumping him a few times before licking the head, just small light licks, just enough to tease. Licking a stripe up his shaft, you played with his balls for a moment, earning what you were sure was a small groan from under the helmet. Making it a point to draw it out, you shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand went to the back of your head as he pushed you onto his cock.

A sound of surprise was muffled by his cock as you took all of him into your mouth, doing your best not to gag as he hit the back of your throat and your nose brushed against the soft curls of hair at his base. Your hands slid up his thighs and found purchase on his hips as he began to fuck your mouth. He started slowly at first, almost as if he was afraid to give too much. When you grew accustomed to him, making it a point to hollow your cheeks and suck him as best as you could, he picked up the pace. And it was brutal in all the best ways, spit was starting to run down your chin along with a few tears that had spilled over, but if nothing else, it worked to spur him on.

“Look at you,” he grunted between thrusts as he took in the sight in front of him, “take me so well. Knew your big mouth had to be good for something. Always wanted to fuck that pretty face.”

You hummed in delight as you raked your nails over the exposed slivers of his skin on his hips, golden and delicious and you wanted it all. His thrusts slowly become more erratic and sloppy as he twitched in your mouth. His hand dropped from the back of your head as you took over and put a hand back on his shaft as you worked to finish him off.

Soon enough he did, followed by an almost primal growl as he came, his hot, thick, cum coating your mouth and you eagerly swallowed all that he offered, which unsurprisingly, was a lot. As his breathing slowed down and he slowly came down from the rush of his high, you pulled back from him, looking up at him with innocent eyes and a wicked smile. You cleaned him off, but just as you went to wipe at your mouth, his gloved hand was faster and he collected the spit and cum that had spilled out and pushed it back into your mouth with two fingers. You grabbed his wrist and made a show of sucking his fingers clean, tasting him along with the worn leather of his gloves.

“Good girl,” he praised before hoisting you to your feet, “strip.”

“What about you?” you turned your head to the side, but he shook his head in response. He paused for a moment, almost as if he was having second thoughts, but just quickly, he whipped off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor before putting a hand on your cheek and stroking it tenderly. You swallowed thickly before nodding and working to pull off your clothes.

First was your shirt, tugging slowly over your chest and tossed down to join the gloves. Your arm went to your back as you tugged off your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders as an almost nervous breath escaped your lips.

“Keep going,” he commanded, eyes trained slowly on you as he drank in the sight of you. You undid your own zipper and pulled your pants and panties down in one fluid motion before kicking them off along with your boots and socks. You’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in that moment, wanting to cover up but also relishing in the fact that you seemed to have rendered the Mandalorian speechless. He looked you up down, not bothering to hide the fact as he looked at your form, glancing at your soft mound before your breasts and then landing back on your face.

Beckoning for you to come closer with a simple crook of his fingers, you did so, standing directly in front of him. His hand flitted from your cheek and down your body before resting at the apex of your thighs. You gasped lightly in surprise as he dragged his fingers through your soaked folds, coating them in your copious arousal, before chuckling darkly. A hand immediately went to his shoulder as you steadied yourself and tried not to completely lose it at the simple touch, “all of this for me, honey?”

“Mhmm,” you admitted as he gently rubbed over your clit, teasingly in the slowest, most tantalizing way possible. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, “always think about you. Always get so wet.”

He made a small, noncommittal sound as he pulled his fingers away from your wetness and brought them to your lips. He tapped your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, sucked his fingers clean from your own arousal, “I’ve thought about fucking you too. That mouth, that pussy. You’re such a brat, but you drive me crazy.”

“I like when you get mad,” you said as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, “‘s sexy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice deeper and lower than ever before, and you felt your knees start to buckle at the sheer sex it exuded, He brought his large, warm hands to your tits, touching over your pebbled nipples as you bit back a moan. While you wished it his mouth on them instead, this touch was just as well, as he massaged them, trying to get a good feel of them and seeing what drew out those sweet mewls from you. But before you could enjoy it too much, one hand gripped your waist like a vice and the other went between your legs. He ran his thick fingers through your folds, before slowly inserting one into your wet heat. You moaned as he slowly inserted another and then a third, stuffing you full and already having you seeing stars in no time, “make yourself cum.”

“What?” your eyes snapped open as he stilled his actions, “you’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he popped the p loudly as he lightly teased your clit, eyes boring into yours, “you act like a brat and you want to cum? You have to work for it.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned as he moved to pull his hand away, as if to show you just how serious he was. This time, you caught his wrist and held him in place. He chuckled lightly in triumph as one of your hands returned to his shoulder for balance and the other went to play with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He held completely still, a practiced and patient man, as he made you work for it. He wasn’t kidding by any means when he said he would not be gentle.

He remained quiet, watching your pretty face shift through a range of expressions as you worked to reach your own high. He was glad for the helmet, for if you had been watching him, you’d have seen the tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as the sight of you fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d envisioned this many times, no doubt about that, but he’d never thought it would become a reality. Maker, you were gorgeous as you thrust onto his hand using him for your own pleasure a string of gentle filth spilled from your lips as you rubbed slow circles onto your clit.

“Mandooo,” it was soft as you felt that familiar blinding haze start to take over you, and your toes involuntarily curled and your cunt started to clench around his fingers. Your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as your vision turned blurry and that familiar warmth started to spread all over your limbs. He felt his cock twitch from where he had tucked himself back in after you’d pleasured him. Before you could finish though, something different met your ears.

“Din,” he said as bit your lip in order to keep from crying out completely, “my name is Din.”

And there it was. Completely unexpected and out of the blue. It wasn’t just a name - no it was so much more than it. It was a sign of trust, of closeness, of the fact that whatever this little situation was, it was neither the first or only time something like this would happen. No, your story with Mando may have come to an abrupt end, but your relationship with Din was just beginning.

It was almost as his name, uttered softly and almost unsurely, was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge as you came around his fingers. A soft moan left your lips along with the sweetest sound he was sure he’d ever heard, “Din.”

A merciful man when he chose to be, he took over for you and worked you through your orgasm as you almost collapsed into his arms, “there you are pretty girl. You did so well, fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Not enough,” you rested your against the soft cowl of his neck as he pulled his hand from you, but not before slapping your ass a few times, almost as if testing to see how far he could push you. You made a few sounds of delight at the sting, only spurring him on as he slapped and then gently needed the ample flesh of your backside, “please, need you to fuck me.”

“Is that what you need, pretty girl?” he purred in your ear as he pulled back and grabbed your face in his hands, taking in the already blissed out expression on your features, “you want me to fuck you? Think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you were practically ready to beg at this point, “I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

At your words, he almost dragged you to the small bed that was reserved for you in the corner and motioned for you to sit. You watched with eager eyes as he scrambled for the waistband of his pants and hastily pulled them down and kicked them off, letting them join your discarded clothes. He practically ripped off the rest of the beskar until he was bared in front of you, save for the helmet. His cock was already painfully hard again, standing at attention and leaking fat drops of precum.

“Can I trust you?” he asked as you nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. You’d never questioned the fact that you’d never seen his face or that he apparently just never showed it to anyone. You respected him and his decisions, and you’d never dare to push the envelope or destroy his trust.

“Always,” you promised as he walked over to the wall and hit the switch for lights, cloaking the room in darkness. You sucked in a breath before you heard him shuffling about and the beskar helmet clanged against the metal floor. He stood in front of you, you could feel his breathing as he touched your cheek before wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Hands and knees,” he instructed with a delicious rasp, made even better by the lack of filtering from the vocoder of his helmet, “now.”

The singular word was enough to send a fresh rush of arousal through your veins, as you laid on your belly on the small cot before positioning yourself so your ass was in the air. He shuffled behind you, his large hands grazing over the soft flesh of your ass. He spread your cheeks apart before dragging a thick finger through your soaked folds. A small sound of pleasure rippled through your throat as you clutched onto the thin, scratchy blanket of the bed, “please.”

“Quiet,” it was harsh and biting as the palm of his hand slapped your ass, the sting delicious and leaving you wanting more, “you like that, don’t you? You like being spanked, pretty girl.”

“Only by y-y-you,” before you could say anything, he slapped your ass a few more times before kneading the soft flesh to make sure the sting wasn’t too painful.

Mando - no, Din - shifted his weight and you could feel him line himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds. A moan escaped your lips - and his - as he slowly pushed into you, giving you a brief moment to adjust to his considerable size. The stretch was amazing, the slight burn quickly turned into pleasure and you felt full, so completely full. He groaned as he bottomed out, already feeling pussy dumb by the way your velvet walls hugged him, “this - kriff - this pussy is perfect. Just like it was made for me.”

“Din,” you buried your face in your pillow as he pulled out, slowly, before thrusting sharply back into you. He was not lying when he said that he would not be gentle. His large, warm hands went to your hips as he held them in a bruising grip. You were sure you’d bear his marks for days.

He set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with no mercy as he slammed his hips into yours. There was nothing gentle or intimate about, no - this was months and months of pent up frustration and desire coming out all at once. Din was not a talkative man, but as he fucked you into oblivion, he was whispering strings of filth and praise into your ears. All you could do was lie there as he pounded into you, so lost in your own pleasure as you became a whining mess under him.

Before he came, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you flush against his chest. One large hand went to play with your breasts as the other went to your clit as he rubbed and circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth hung open in a blissful haze as he kept going, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your skin and shoulder, alternating between nipping and sucking and making sure to leave plenty of marks so everyone knew you were his.

“Look at you, pretty girl,” he grunted in your ear, “taking my cock so well. You love this don’t you? Getting used like this.”

“Mhmm,” you bit your lip as he kept going, kept abusing your spent pussy as he started to stutter in his thrusts, “‘m so close, please, wanna come.”

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he commanded as you nodded, “and I’m going to fill you up and make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” you insisted as you felt your walls clench around him and his cock start to twitch, “only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he turned your head to place a rough kiss on your lips. It was the sheer act of the moment and feel of his stubble that sent you over the edge and cumming all over him. You were like jello in his arms as he held you up, giving you a few more thrusts before spilling inside and coating your walls with his cum, “ahh - fuck - so fucking good. Maker, you feel like no other. Perfect pussy - just for me.”

He held you tightly against his body as he caught his breath, the two of you breathing in sync. You thought he might pull away immediately, but instead, he pressed more kisses, chaste compared to your previous actions, down your back as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. You couldn’t even form words as you laid there, cockdumb and already feeling his arousal along with your own dripping onto your thigh.

“You did good,” he praised gently before reaching between your legs and scooping up some of his cum that had started dripping out. You whimpered at the touch, still sensitive, and listened as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

Din gently flipped you onto your back so you were lying face up and exposed to him. He sat between your legs and slowly spread them apart, admiring his handy work. He leaned back before climbing off the small and getting on his knees, pulling you towards his face. Just as you had gotten on your knees for him, he kneeled only for you.

“Din,” you sighed contentedly as he kissed along your inner thighs, working his way back to your dripping heat. He nuzzled his nose against you, taking a moment to take it all in, “already so much."

"Come on, honey," his voice was like liquid gold as he reached up and touched your breasts, cupping them easily in his large hands, "you've got another one in you. I know you do. Aren't you a good girl?"

"Mhmm," you arched into his touch as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. How this infuriating man got you to become a pile of mush in his hands you'd never know, but you definitely weren't going to question it. He leaned up and kissed your hips before burying his face between your legs, "I'm your good girl."

And with those words, he licked a long stripe up your soaked folds, still soaked from your combined juices. His nose, which you presumed was aquiline in nature, nudged your clit as he ate you like a starving man. You were the shining prize, glimmering in the distance, and he was the wrecked man crossing the desert to get to you.

This time you didn't even bother to hold back as you mewled and cried, tears of pleasure and overstimulation welling up at the corners of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks. Din hummed in content as he licked and suckled at you, making sure to focus on your clit as you came completely undone.

Reaching down, you carded a hand through his locks - curls - as you pressed his face against your aching core. You could practically feel him smirking against you as he slipped a few fingers inside to join his ministrations. Expertly curling his thick fingers, he quickly found the sweet spot that made your toes curls and you see stars.

"Almost there," he grinned as he gave you a moment of reprieve before diving right back in, "I can feel that perfect cunt squeezing around me. Taste so good, pretty girl."

"D-Din," his name falling from your tongue was like pure magic as he became transfixed by how it sounded. Your mouth dropped open in a small O as your legs shook around him. He pulled his fingers from you as he held down your hips in order to keep you from squirming away from him, "feelssogood - makerohstars - Dindindin."

"Come all over my face, pretty girl," his tongue darted into you for a few moments before he gave your clit a harsh suckle. That was all it took before you came again, screwing your eyes shut as he worked your through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your juices, refusing to waste even a drop, "there you are - taste so fucking good. Perfect."

He was relentless until he was sure you were completely done and a practical ragdoll on the bed. Slowly, he pulled back from you, trailing light kisses up your body, stopping when he got your face. Almost as if he was able to see even in the almost complete darkness, he wiped away your remaining tears. He hesitated for a moment for leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You sighed softly as you rolled onto your side and scooted closer to the wall, making room for him.

It was a big thing you were doing, boundaries had been crossed and blurred and any rules you'd previously had were thrown out the window. Neither of you were sure what came next.

But you did know that you didn't want him to leave - not yet anyway.

"Din?" you asked softly as he pulled the blanket over your spent body; he was surprisingly gentle for a man that had just sent you to heaven and hell and back.

"Yes, pretty girl?"

"Will you stay?" your voice was small as you prepared yourself for defeat and for him to leave.

"Yes," he whispered softly as he slid in under the blanket and next to you, "I'd like that."

"Me too," you admitted as he shifted and pulled you in his arms so you could lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump thump of his heart, "Din?"

“Hmm?”

"I'm in charge next time," you smirked lightly as you kissed his soft skin. He inhaled sharply but you could tell he was into it. The man might have just been in charge, but you had a feeling he might like being told what to do as well - and you were going to find out, "I want to ride you."

"Kriff," he groaned under his breath, "You're going to be the death of me, little brat."

"I'll make it worth your while," you promised with a small yawn, "I'll have you crying in no time - begging me for mercy."

“Mhmm.”

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, right?” it was your turn to put your hand on his throat and give it a gentle, but firm squeeze as he stiffened at the feeling, “I know you’re a good boy, Din.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos @queenbbarnes @persephonesnebula @ah-callie @blushingwueen @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander @rae-gar-targaryen @hiscyarika @readsalot73 @huliabitch @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd @beepbeepsephy @scarlettwitcher @nerdyknightwritersblog @choicesarcade @arrowswithwifi @everythingaboutnothingstuff @suckerfor-fanfics @bestintheparsec @winters-buck @javihoney @aeryntheofficial @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial @asgardianvamp21 @keithseabrook27 @karmezii @dearspacepirates @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @kochamcie @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh #shes here!

2K notes · View notes