#little sad tonight lads

[synchlora]

:((

#little sad tonight lads #yknow the feeling when a rlyy long hyperfix is fading and u just realize it and u desperately dont want it to go cause its all thats there? #yeahhhh #fuckin :( sad abt the d.smp hyperfix fading #fuck #like. ill never rly experience the end of it like i wanted to #bc forcing myself to do it would be miserable #god i hate this feeling it sucks #i want to see it through for me 8 months ago but i fuckin cant :/ #just kinda. blank right now. feels weird #negative

[cosmic--static]

"you looked cold" (i love you)

#feeling soft but also a little sad in this chillis tonight lads #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #netflix the sandman #cosmo creates

[propertyofwicked]

"it'll grow back" - LN

v short. just expressing my sadness for the loss of beard lando </3 it's been a rough day lads

tried a little bit of social media au stuff so lemme know if that works <3

“hey ba-”

“you are in so much trouble,” you announce as he picks up the phone, pacing around the airport waiting for your layover flight to join him in australia.

“wha-? why?” lando says, his voice wavering slightly in panic, trying to remember everything he’d done in the last 24 hours that could anger you.

“how could you? how could you shave before i got to say a proper goodbye?” you whine down the phone, exaggerating your sadness at the loss of his facial hair.

“im sorry ba-”

“no i dont wanna hear it. firstly - i had to find out through twitter! AND my flight lands in 5 hours - you couldn’t wait till then?”

“if i waited you would’ve talked me out of it!” he argues back in jest.

“precisely!” you argue, the phone line falling silent, asides from max laughing in the background, and lando clearly trying to stifle his own giggles.

“max you’re a traitor! you promised me you would stop him,” you say, knowing he can hear you. max says nothing in response, just continues to laugh until he’s wheezing.

the announcement of your flight boarding was probably well timed, alerting you that you need to leave before the argument get serious.

“get on your flight angel, ill be at the airport to pick you up when you land.”

“you better be, you owe me.”

-

when you finally spot him in the airport, your pace quickens to meet him and his embrace. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms moving to rest on and behind your shoulders. your head rolls backwards slightly to look up at him, as sigh escaping your lips when you see the lack of facial hair in person.

“12 seconds!” max exclaims from behind him, holding up his phone timer, “it took you 12 seconds to make a remark about him shaving!”

“hey! i didn’t even say anything,” you argue back.

"debatable."

“it’s ok y/n - it’ll grow back,” lando says, grinning at you before looking down and kissing your lips. the lack of scruff touching your face is unfamiliar.

“but now it feels like i’m kissing a 13 year old boy.” max snorts at your response, lando just keeps smiling down at you.

“when did you last eat?” lando asks, moving the conversation along, as he grabs your suitcase and starts walking to the car, you and max stood either side of him.

“erm, on the first flight - so i don’t know but i am starving.”

“let’s go get you some dinner. i’ll pay, call it an apology.”

“lan, you’d insist on paying whether i was owed an apology or not,” you retort, moving to sit in the car.

“i’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, smirking at you. you had almost forgotten max was there till he started making fake vomit noises at lando’s comment.

“i’d love to see you try.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #propertyofwicked #f1socialmediaau

[iluvzaddies]

drunk confession

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight nsfw

summary: thomas shelby walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night and confesses his love for you.

you awoke from your slumber after hearing the door to your room suddenly open in the middle of the night.

you felt your heart pound through your chest, scared that it was one of billy kimber’s men, ordered to harm you as a way to get back at the peaky blinders.

but you needn’t fret for it was only thomas shelby.

thomas was the leader of birmingham’s renowned gang, the peaky blinders, and the second eldest son of the shelby family.

you knew him when he was a young lad. he used to be a troublemaker, always bringing trouble everywhere he went. he laughed a lot too.

you, on the other hand, used to be a loner. you didn’t have a single friend whatsoever. you were always alone, a sad look plastered on your face as you watched other kids getting along and playing with each other. young tommy felt bad for you, therefore, offered to let you play with him and his siblings. from then on, you became close and formed a bond, not only with him, but with his siblings too.

it was sad how much things have changed after the war in france.

the horrors of the war had changed him drastically.

he became a soulless, empty shell.

but there was one thing that didn’t change, and that was his feelings for you.

he always felt a sense of peace whenever you were around. you were a breath of fresh air and a reminder of his childhood days, where he hadn’t gone to the war yet, where he didn’t live a life of crime, where everything was normal.

he didn’t want to admit it, though. he was never good at expressing himself…

…until tonight.

“tommy!” you gasped. “why are you here?”

“because i can.” he said nonchalantly.

“just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” you huffed in frustration.

he shrugged.

“how did you get in my house?”

“key under your doormat.” he drawled, approaching you drunkenly.

you let out a squeak as he collapsed on your bed, nearly crushing your legs.

“okay, congratulations for knowing where i keep my house key, but that doesn’t give you the right to just barge in my house.” you looked at the clock on your wall, checking the time. “especially at three in the morning, you dimwit!”

“‘m sorry… it’s just… i’ve been thinking about you.. a lot– actually, an unhealthy amount. i couldn’t help it. i just wanted to see you again.”

“what?” you blinked.

“you heard me.”

“yes, i did, but…” that was unexpected. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

“by god, woman.” he sat up and you flinched when he started to yell. “how fucking oblivious are you? i’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake!–“

you covered his mouth, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. you were already dealing with a drunk thomas, who barged into your home uninvited, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with noise complaints from your neighbors.

“please, quiet down, will you?”

he grabbed your wrist, prying your hand off his mouth and guiding your hand to his cheek. he closed his eyes, sighing in bliss, reveling in the warmth of your touch.

“tommy.” you muttered under your breath.

“i mean it, (y/n). i love you. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids.”

was it true?

was it really true?

well, you were aware of the saying: “drunk words are sober thoughts”

and that made your face heat up.

“i–“ you gulped, trying to build up the courage to confess, so he didn’t think it was one-sided. “–i love you too, tommy. i’ve loved you ever since you offered to let me play with you when i had no one to play with.” you moved your thumb up and down his cheekbone. “you may be a dangerous gangster to the world, but you’re just tommy to me. my tommy. you think you’ve changed, but deep inside, that innocent, kind-hearted little boy is still there.”

thomas’ lips curved up, a genuine smile on his face.

you widened your eyes.

it had been so long since he smiled in such a way that you had forgotten just how beautiful it was.

he leaned towards your face and connected your lips together. you were caught off guard, but happily obliged and kissed him back.

he tasted like a mix of cigarettes and whisky. nonetheless, it was amazing.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. he entwined your fingers together and with his other hand, he pulled your body against his.

he proceeded to gently place you on your back, with him on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

“fuck, i love you.” he said in between kisses. “i love you so much. i’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life.“

he roamed his hands around your body whilst you raked yours through his hair.

he pulled away just to get a quick glimpse of your messy appearance before reconnecting your lips.

he slithered a hand under your nightgown and you moaned as his fingers made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing it through your undergarment until a wet patch formed.

he moved your nightgown up to your stomach, fiddling with the elastic band of your undergarment, and yanked it off. he reached down to touch your bare pussy, inserting two fingers inside. with how wet you were, he was able to put them in with ease.

your moans were becoming louder each time he thrusted and curled his fingers against your walls, so you clasped a hand on your mouth to prevent any more noise from spilling out.

he stopped and demanded, “no, let me hear.”

“my neighbors–“

“if they even think about coming here and ruining this, i’ll fucking send them six feet under.”

he scooted backwards, placing his head in between your legs. you could feel his hot breath hitting your core and your core clenched. he darted his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your clit, before attaching his entire mouth onto it. he sucked harshly, eating you out like he was a man starved, making your eyes roll back at the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.

your vision turned white as the coil inside of you intensified into a powerful ball of energy. and then it bursted, the ecstasy setting all your nerves ablaze.

it felt good, so so good.

he crawled back on top of you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself.

then, he pulled away once more to admire his work.

he loved the way you looked beneath him.

how swollen your lips were.

how breathless you were.

how red your cheeks were.

he loved knowing that your current appearance was caused by him and only him. rightfully so.

“all for me, eh?”

his deep, sultry voice sent shivers down your spine.

“all for you, tom.”

note: help, my unexperienced ass doesn’t fucking know how to write nsfw content. this is so bad.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #childhood friends to lovers #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I have the most random and oddball question... What would be some expletive type language in Welsh?

I'm playing a dragon in my D&D group who is from this fantasy world's equivalent of Wales and I want to add some flavor when he is fighting that he starts using bits of his mother-tongue instead of Common.

It's easy enough to find a random list of words, but without cultural context I have no clue what would be a proper equivalent of, for example "fuck off you asshole"... I probably am putting "too much" thought into it, but I'm a cultural anthropologist, so it bugs me to not think too much about it.

A funny quirk of Welsh is that we actually tend to swear in English when we need to - because one of the social arenas it survived in was through the chapels, the closest you'd get are things that in English you'd probably associate with your granny saying, or those sad little Christian youth camps in America. One of my favourites is Nêfi blŵ, which is literally just the Welsh transliteration of the words 'navy blue' said in a Welsh accent. Why is this a swear? Unknown. I presume someone somewhere hated the colour.

However, there are a couple:

Sweary

Sguthan/ysguthan: this is probably equivalent to 'bitch', it's certainly gendered the same way and has similar weight. Except much as 'bitch' literally just means a dog, sguthan means 'woodpigeon'. Why is this a swear? Unknown

Cach i fant: fuck off. 'Shit off', literally. Tbh though I don't actually know anyone who would actually use this. Mileage can and will vary wildly (keep an eye on the notes for other Welsh speakers chiming in), but this one always felt a bit like a sheep's eyeball to me, to use a Pratchett-ism. Like something Golwg would use to Appeal To The Youth. But, it is real, and does work.

Dos i ffwcio dy hunan: go fuck yourself. Now THIS one I use

Twll tin bob ____: Every ____ is an asshole. Naturally, the phrase in Wales is 'Twll tin bob Sais', but substitute Sais for the group of your choice.

Cêr y diawl: go to hell. Literally, 'go to the devil', with devil there being a reasonable stand-in for any devil you wish, not just, like, Satan.

And of course, Wenglish can provide:

Be'r ffyc 'dy hwnna: what the fuck is that

Pwy'r ffyc 'dy hwnna: who the fuck is that

etc

Non-Sweary

Bois bach a mawr: okay listen this is going to sound like I'm joshing you but I swear this is real. It's used by an older generation, admittedly, but even younger generations will say 'Bois bach' sometimes. It, uh. It literally means "Big and little boys". Or just "little boys". Just a sort of general mild exclamation. Or what you say when you sit down and your knees complain. Um.

Ych a fi: gross. Can also be Wenglished to 'Ych a ffycin fi' which is, you know, fucking gross.

Be' ti 'di 'neud?: what have you done?

Be' sy'n bod 'da ti?: What is wrong with you?

Cô ni off, bois!: Off we go, lads (gender neutral)!

There's probably a million I'm forgetting and will think of as I try to sleep tonight, but hopefully these will tide you over. Keep an eye on the notes, I expect others will chime in with further suggestions!

#asks #wales! #closed for cleaning on mondays #linguistics

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

Been thinking about doing this for a while, and about writing all the lads. But Leo comes to me the easiest, I guess?

Lowkey vent session!

Leonardo × F!Reader w/ Nightmare Disorder

Bad Dreams

He couldn't sleep.

Leonardo was endlessly tired. His eyes closed. But he was stagnant. Just laying here; thinking. Fretting. Totally unable to drift off.

The days events had been stressful, and he was overwhelmed with new information. Leo's mind raced with tactical strategies, leads, and contingency plans- wishing to handle the multitude of new problems NOW. But unfortunately, nothing was going to be solved anytime soon.

Which was all the more reason Leo should be asleep. No gear. No mask. No more new information. Everyone was gone. Asleep.

Leaving him ansty.

But he stayed here. Silent in the dark. The only thing keeping him in bed- fighting the temptation to walk around- was her.

Leo reveled in the warmth radiating at his side. The extra weight on the bed brought him a peace he was still getting used to; listening to her quiet, even breaths. He knew she was staying tonight out of sympathy or worry for what today had wrought- Leo wasn't sure.

She rarely stayed in the sewers for long. Let alone overnight. When he met her, it had bothered him. A flare of indignation and protectiveness would burst in his chest at the fact sometimes, and he had fought to ask why.

But she soon told him the real reason why she never stayed; told him while they were curled up on the couch. She was slumped against him, exhausted and upset, eyes red from crying.

Leo's heart had broken over her tired, nonchalant confession. And even more so at the graphic and horrible details. It got worse and worse, and he had almost asked her to stop.

Which was why now; Leo wasn't surprised when something in her changed.

It was still pitch dark in the room. But her peaceful breathing shifted. Just slightly in the silence. Quickening just enough- to click Leo into high alert, and he blinked his eyes open.

She wasn't awake, but he lifted his head quietly just enough to look at her. His nocturnal eyes could see her clearly, where she was curled away from him. Leo watched her back. Her sides.

Her torso was moving in tiny jerks with her small huffs. Her hand, the one bundled up close to her face holding the blanket, twitched.

Leo watched, saddened. The condition wasn't as dramatic as he had first thought. Always subtle, just like this. Nothing like his night terrors, which would wake him up in a cold sweat, leaving him so paranoid he'd sometimes get up to check on his family. He wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

Hers were so quiet that most of the time, it didn't even break his sleep; that alone being a miracle.

Leo was still watching.

She had explained that it is normal- and they happened every night. A life-long chronic issue, dating all the way back to her first memories. Haunting her night in and night out. Though sickness and in health.

Leo didn't have to wake her every time. She'd even explained that sometimes it was worse to jerk her awake. That it was even more disorienting to have an actual person grabbing and shaking her.

It was always going to be there, she had whispered, and Leo had actually believed her. His critiques, his suggestions and easy fixes dying on his tongue at the way she had been looking at him- like she was sad and resigned. Studying him. Watching for his reaction. Waiting for him to leave.

But Leo was here now. He hoped he always would be. His hand hovering over her arm, in the middle of the night, witnessing just another little fit.

Leo decided he couldn't wait. Couldn't watch.

"Y/n." He whispered. "Y/n, baby." He wiggled her shoulder just a little before he got up, bending his legs, resting on a hip and hand while he leaned over her. "Y/n?"

She blinked her eyes open, then suddenly grabbing for the pillow, squinting in confusion. Leo was there in a heartbeat, petting her back and brushing her hair away from her face. "It's me, it's just me. You're okay."

She sighed, eyes closed again as she slumped back onto the pillows. "Did I wake you up?" She whispered weakly, that pretty voice rough and broken.

"I never fell asleep." Leo moved again, scooting closer and switching his supporting hands, leaning even further over her form. Giving him room to comfortably pet her face and neck. To look at her. To sheild her from the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah." she said easily, eyes still closed.

Leo learned early on that prying for the details of a nightmare would only exhaust and hurt both of them. Sometimes, it even scared Leo, though he would never admit it.

"Need me to keep you up?" Leo offered instead.

She twitched, as if not expecting the question. She opened an eye, and Leo gave her a small smile, still petting her face. "I can keep you up."

"You sure you're not tired?" She asked.

"Yep." Leo whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'm right here. C'mon. Turn around."

She did as told, scooting around as he fell back into the sheets. This was always Leo's favorite part. They slotted together with practiced efficancy, and Leo buzzed with satisfaction at having her curled up under his chest and arm. Like perfect puzzle pieces. A position that allowed comfort for both him and the shell. And unlimited nuzzles and kisses to her head.

"Want to hear what's keeping me awake?" He asked.

"Yes, please." She muttered into his chest, then rested a hand over his collar bone. Pressing lightly there. "Thank you."

Anything for you. Always.

Leo pressed one last, sad kiss to his girlfriends head. Then he relaxed into her and the mattress, filling the dark with his quiet voice

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #bayverse #Leonardo #bayverse leonardo #my writing #mental disorders suck 😭

[moxfirefly]

"I'm going to kiss you. Okay? Just...just let me kiss you."

With bay donnie or Mikey pls? Some cute nervous fluff <3 thx thx

Gonna go with my lad Mike, boy deserves more love.

Rated Tooth Rotting Fluff

The voices in the apartment were loud, your friends had decided to drop by unexpectedly which had cause your evening with Mikey to be cut short.

Expertly he had scattered out of the window and you had followed with a quick excuse about not having service for your phone. While your friends dropping by wasn’t unwelcomed, tonight it really wasn’t the vibe when you knew in your gut that Mikey was just starting to tell you something.

Something that felt like a confession.

He was just about to go down the stairs when your whistled at him, kneeling as much as you could away from the window, Mikey crouched and climbed up a bit of the way to get closer to you.

“I’m sorry about this, these clowns really had some timing, huh?” You smiled apologetically, crushed with his little sad smile and shrug.

“It’s alright girl, we got another day filled with 24hrs we can choose from.” Mikey heard your name being called, felt a little tug at his chest.

He had spent the better part of the day trying to hype himself up to do this, to talk to you, to tell you something very important.

His nerves were rearing their ugly little heads, taunting him if he left now, that would be it. His window was gone.

“I know you wanted to talk, maybe I can call—“

“I’m going to kiss you. Okay? Just…Just let me kiss you.” His eyes searched your gaze for any negativity, any shape of the word ‘no’.

He found his ‘yes’ in your lips meeting his own. The soft meshing, a gentle collision that melted every self doubt going down the drain.

Mikey turned his head, lips a little more sure of themselves as he kissed with more determination. When his hand found your chin and a little love sick sigh found it’s way into his throat, if it hadn’t been for your name being called again, he would’ve had you pinned down on the couch.

Regretfully he detached himself from the closest he’s ever gotten to heaven.

But your red flushed skin and smile only told him that next time meant this again.

That he’d get to kiss you again.

#ask #anon #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #tmnt michaelangelo #tmnt mikey #michelangelo #Mikey #emotional? prompts

[billybennet]

Jealousy

James Maguire x reader

Summary: reader is jealous of james and katya, and becomes really good friends with david donnelly, but james thinks david and the reader are something more.

Masterlist

“Who is this?” Katya asks, her accent thick.

“Oh, that's just James,” Erin replies.

“You are handsome,” Katya says, “and also sexy.”

Everyone in the room was shocked by this revelation.

“Is her English not great?” Michelle asks.

Katya looks James up and down before getting up and kissing him.

The girls continued to make comments as you all watched them kiss, but you heard nothing they said. You had been secretly crushing on James for a little while, unbeknownst to your best friends, and the sight of him kissing the Ukrainian had you seeing red.

~~~

You were at Brennan's eating lunch with the gang. The girls were all fighting about something or other while you picked at your food silently, when Jenny showed up with her Ukrainian lad.

“Listen, I have a feeling Artem and a few of the others are a bit homesick,” Jenny explained, “It'd be nice for them to spend some time together. So I’m having a soiree at my place tonight. It's going to be great!”

Just then, Erin’s longtime crush and a good friend of yours, David, walks in. You were closer to David than the other girls, as your parents were friends with his.

He looks around the restaurant until he sees Jenny. “Hey, do you have the playlist for tonight then?” he shoots your group a smile and a nod.

Jenny hands him a piece of paper, “I'll need the sound system set up by 7.”

“Is your band playing at this thing?”

“Oh no, I just do a bit of DJing on the side.” he laughs and heads to order some food.

“On second thought, I think this party might be good for Katya,” Erin says to Jenny.

Just then you look up to see James and Katya making out right in the middle of the restaurant. You look down at your food in disgust, then excuse yourself to go to the washroom.

~~~

At the party, the first thing you saw when you walked in was David at his DJ stand, you waved hello to him before going to find your friends.

You mingled at the party a bit before you got tired of Erin freaking out about Katya taking James’ virginity. You found yourself hanging out with David, talking and drinking beer. David was cool and you enjoyed talking to him, it got your mind off of James for a bit… until you all heard a commotion upstairs, you followed David and the others to the stairwell, only catching the end of the argument.

“--How dare you? I am poor Ukrainian, so I must be prostitute!” Katya yells. You raise your eyebrows in shock.

Erin comes to address the crowd forming on the stairs, “Hear me out, first she comes on to James here. What would possess her?” you roll your eyes, “Financial gain, that's what!”

“He attractive boy, Erin.” Katya reasons.

“He's English, Katya.” Erin replies offhandedly.

“I have no problem with this.”

“You should,” Michelle butts in.

Erin continues yelling about the condoms in Katya's bag, and the money the Ukrainians have been giving her all evening.

“How the hell do you explain that?” Erin asks Katya in regards to the money.

“I organize, how you say it, whip round. We like to buy Jenny present to thank her for nice party.” Katya explains in her normal, but angry voice.

“Ohhh, you guys!!”Jenny replies sweetly.

Erin is left speechless, as is everyone else.

“So not only you insult me, but you've also spoiled Jenny’s surprise!” Katya adds.

“I think you should leave,” Jenny states. you sink back behind David in the crowd, not wanting to associate or even be seen by your friends. You could feel their eyes on you though, as they passed by in shame.

“You can still hang with me for the rest of the night,” David offered, you smiled slightly at him and nodded.

You spent the next little while drinking and talking, but David could tell you were a little off.

“So what’s up?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, taking a swig of your beer.

“You seem… distracted, sad even.”

“Nah, it's nothing,” you try to brush it off.

“Obviously it's not, so spill.”

“I… I.. have a wee bit of a crush on James…” you say with a pained look on your face.

David nods and hums in agreement. “So the whole Katya thing…?” he trails off.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.. that sucks, well, if it's any sentiment, he's gotta be into you too, because like every guy in Derry is into you,” He nudges you shoulder.

You laugh, “Yeah, OK.”

“It’s true!!” David chuckles.

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” you look around at the dwindling party, “Well… I should probably get going,” sigh, getting up from your spot on the floor.

“Want me to walk you home?” David offers, getting up as well.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks,” you smile at him as he sticks out his elbow for you to take.

The walk home is full of drunken giggles and nonsense.

When you reached your house, you turned to David to say thank you again, and, unbeknownst to you, James was looking out his window watching. He had been waiting to make sure you got home alright, after he realized you hadn't followed the group out of the party.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at David.

“No problem,” he replied, “we should hang out more.”

“I agree,” you laughed. You leant up on your tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, “Goodnight, David.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked into your house, David yelling ‘goodnight’ after you.

~~~

The next couple weeks, James didn't talk to you, which you didn't mind because you had been ignoring him before anyways. Plus now you were in a good mood due to your blooming friendship with David. It’s not that you had romantic feelings for him, but you did really like him, although you would never do something to hurt Erin.

The whole friend group watched in confusion as you and David became closer friends. After a couple weeks of silence James finally blew up.

“Why are you hanging out with him?” You were at Michelle’s house, you and James were alone in the kitchen getting drinks.

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“David, why do you keep hanging out with him?” James repeated.

“I don't know, he's nice and fun to be around..”

“So are we!” James countered.

“Fine. Why did you let Katya kiss you?”

“I--I..”

The girls had heard the commotion and came into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Erin asked.

No one said anything for a second..

“I saw Y/N kiss David Donnelley!” James exclaims. You gape at him.

“What?” The girls gasp.

“No! I didn't! I kissed him on the cheek-- which is a totally different thing! I was just saying thank you for walking me home!”

“How could you Y/N?” Orla asks, cradling Erin's head.

You shake your head, then turn and leave. James follows you outside, “So what? You're just gonna leave?”

“Yeah! Well, it doesn't feel like I’m welcomed there anymore!” you yell back, exasperated.

“Y/N!” you could hear a change in tone in James’ voice, was that desperation? “Wait! I've been a dick, I’m so sorry!”

You slowly turn towards him, “Yeah, you have been.”

“I’m sorry I just.. didn't like seeing you with him,” James reveals.

“How do you think I felt about Katya?” you say quietly.

James looks at you, confused, for a moment, “Wait-- you mean?” you nod in a response, smiling crookedly.

James runs forward, enveloping you in a hug, “I’m so sorry,” he whispers in your shoulder.

“Me too.” And your lips collide in the most beautiful kiss either of you have ever experienced

#derry girls #james maguire #james maguire x reader

[pacifierbby]

~ LONDON

Summary ~, you've been living in London since you were born. That's how you met Mason in a small coffee shop but when mason gets a chance to play for his dream team. will moving to Manchester be the right move?

A/N ~ hello my lovelys another story alert this won't be parts just a long imagine you can say? Hope you enjoy it but once again please leave feed back

Warnings ~ sadness, slightly fluff mase

Pairing ~ Mason mount x reader

Location's ~ London, Manchester

Word count ~

Taglist | navi | masterlist

~ no town does it quiet like my home, so take me back to London

London, that was where you and Mason grew up since you were both little. You never dreamed of leaving this town it was your home , and your whole family was here. You even met Mason here 3 years ago.

You and Mason met in a small coffee shop. You turned around way too fast, bumping into masons, figure spilling,hot coffee all over his top Yeah yeah very cliche fanfic story, but it stupidly happened even though you felt guilty. You, of course, asked if you could buy him a new top, but Mason, being the kind soul he is just laughed and said it was okay.

And here you are now 3 years on both of you living together In your house In London.

Mason attended his training session tonight. However, for the third night this week, he came home and didn't seem to be himself. He went straight for a shower, got into bed, and didn't greet his family with hugs, hellos, or even kisses. Fortunately, you had a day off today and went to a family meal where you discussed your concerns with your sister while your parents were out. Unfortunately, she dismissed it as stress.

Quietly sighing, I started wiping down the counters after milk had splashed out of the cup. Suddenly, I heard the jingle of keys as the door opened, and I walked over to see Mason looking sad once again. However, he just walked past me as if I was a ghost to him .

I walked into the living room, turning on the TV. It felt like we were strangers living in the same house. After 30 minutes, Mason slowly walked down the stairs and came into the lounge, where he sat down next to me, pulled the throw over his legs, and rubbed his face. I watched his every move, trying to understand what was going on In his own mind.

"What's wrong, Mason?" I whispered quietly, looking at him with concern. He looked so drained that I wondered if it was even him anymore. "I'm fine, my love. Just another stressful day," he replied. I sighed, knowing that I would never get the full and honest answers. I looked back at the TV and watched the movie that I had put on ages ago, not following the story since I was so lost in my own thoughts. Abruptly, Mason said, "I might be leaving Chelsea." He spoke so fast that my mind struggled to keep up. "Pardon?" I said, looking at him questioningly. He sighed and took my hands softy into his"I might not be fully honest with you, please don't hate me," he said. My mind instantly going into the worst "Chelsea doesn't need me anymore. It's been so hard in training. I'm never on the pitch anymore; I'm always benched. They're finding so many ways to what I feel like getting rid of me. However, there have been many football clubs that have been contacting me. One of them was Manchester." He stopped talking my mind instantly relaxing . "I know you've been here all your life, so have I, but Manchester has been my dream club since I was little. I've dreamt about it, and I don't want to turn this down."

I understood what Mason was trying to say. He had been dreaming about this since he was a young lad, and he was right. But when I looked at him, all I saw was confusion. Confused about what's the next step but of course you was going to move to Manchester if everything goes smoothly however you couldn't keep that thought off the back of your head

"I'm happy for you, Mase, but what about us?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer.

Mason quickly let go of my hands and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. "Nothing will happen. I promise you'll be coming with me," he said, exhaling quickly.

"But that means moving away from London, from our family and friends," I replied, my heart heavy. You weren't really worried about leaving London it was more of the fact you have to leave your mother,dad, and sister behind knowing the fact that they wouldn't be around the corner if you wanted a chat

"I know, but we'll get through it together, you and me, like we've done before," Mason said, pulling away from me slightly and kissing the top of my head.

" So when does it start?" Mason, shuck his head."I don't know, my love. A phone call will happen tomorrow after training. I'll ring you straight after. " You just nodded. Staying downstairs for a few more hours the TV in the background you and mason cuddled up on the couch for what seemed like two weeks since you've both had. A moment to yourselves

Both of you gotten up from your couch, turning the TV off by the remote, placed it back on the coffee table mason, turning the lights off in the kitchen, make sure the doors are locked, and secured while you are drawing the curtains. Walking into the hall, making sure the doors were locked while Mason turned the lights off in the living room.

Both of you slowly walked up the stairs and into your guy's room. Stepping inside the bathroom, going over to your sink, turning the taps on putting the toothpaste on your toothbrush, mason copying your actions, both of you doing your nightly routine in silence. Not the silence that was intimating but the silence that you know someone was their If you ever needed to talk

Getting inside yours and masons bed the moon shining through the blinds in the windows making a reflection on the walls behind your bed turning over turning the light off on your side rolling back on your back mason crawling in right after "well pull through this together" kissing your lips lying on his back pulling you a little bit closer "goodnight i love you mase" Letting sleep overtake you just about hearing mason saying I love you back.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the open curtains that you forgot to close the previous night. Mason had already taken a shower and left for another day of training. Moving to his side of the bed,taking in the scent on his pillows. You procrastinated about getting up, thinking of many reasons to delay, but unfortunately, nothing seemed to come to mind. And to be honest, lying in bed alone with your thoughts didn't really help your anxiety. Eventually, throwing the quilt aside and stepped into your bathroom to start your daily routine..

Stepping inside the kitchen. turning on the kettle and grabbing a cup from the cupboard. While waiting for the water to boil, you checked your phone, hoping to hear from Mason. Once the water finished boiling, you poured it into the cup. Adding the milk and the sugar quickly stirring it up.

Walking back into the lounge opening the curtains letting the light hit the living room.

sitting on your couch, taking the TV remote from your coffee table, and putting on any TV shows. When your phone buzzed on your lap you looked down to see your sister was calling you "Hello" you answered softly "Hello lovely just checking in to see how you and Mason are" "It's just everything with training at the moment" you replied not fully wanting to go into full detail what's happening. Not having the gut to even tell her about the moving process if it happens

You and your sister talked over the phone until your sister's husband came home saying goodbye to each other before making plans when to next go out. Hearing mason walk through the door that odd I thought he was gonna be at training till late and will call me if there was an update "hello babe" you stood up from the sofa walking towards him mason automatically bringing you into a hug "I've had the phone call today" you looked up at him "that's good" kissing his lips knowing that time in London is going to end soon " we need to go down on Thursday to sign everything and look for houses" mason brushed the piece of your hair. "We can invite your family tonight to tell them?" Mason finished already knowing how hard it is for you to leave your town. You nodded, agreeing."I'll have to tell them one way or another this isn't the most easiest thing to hide. " You knew for a fact that your parents would be over joyed for the both of you, having a fresh start for the both of you may do you good

Finishing the last bit of the meal prep for yours and masons parents. Hearing the door knocking mason and you looking at each other then at the door "come on then" you said tiding yourself up a bit walking towards your door seeing yours and masons parents "hello" you said happily pulling them into a hug once they stepped in "hello my darling" Debbie smiled then looking at mason bringing him into a hug "hello my love shall we go into the kitchen" Debbie looked over at you knowing that you wanted to have some time alone with your family once your mum stepped inside you automatically brought her into a hug "hello" you said your mum kissing the top of your head grabbing your hand "Let's go into the kitchen and have our meal don't want your house to get cold" laughing a little letting your mum fully step inside before closing the door.

The dinner was going well you and mason sharing a few laughs about your relationship and the memories that you shared knowing the time was coming up to tell them looking at mason grabbing his hand under the table when you got his attention he knew it was time "so mum, dad" mason started grabbing your hand a little " me and Olivia want to tell you something" everyone looking at you both making you a little nervous

"I'm signing up to play with Manchester United on Thursday. I've had the phone call this morning. This is why me and Olivia wanted to bring you here for dinner, but there's a but we have to move to Manchester. " Your mum and dad looked over to you smiling."Oh sweetie, is that why you've been so nervous we are always here if you need us I know London is your home but sometimes new journeys are more exciting" mason squeezed your hand smiling down at you. "Thanks ma" letting go off mases hand walking around the table where she stood giving her hug.

Thursday couldn't come quick enough. You, jazz,Debbie, and Tony were making your way to Manchester. Mason was already there since he traveled up the night before to get the clear from his test. "How do you feel love?" Debbie said quietly in your ear, "nervous for him, to be honest, it's a big step. A big step for the both of us I mean we officially move here on Sunday night" Debbie grabbed your hand " we may be in London my love but me and your parents will always be beside yours and my sons side please don't forget that" . Masons and your parents have been a god send this past week helping you pack away your London home, ready to move to Manchester. "Thank you, Debbie, for everything," you replied back, smiling down at your hands, grateful that you had a second mother like her. Unfortunately your parent's couldn't come to masons signing today because of work but they did call him this morning and sent him his best wishes, looking up at the car window to see you was pulling up at the stadium

You and masons family stepped out of the car paps already surrounding the area trying get a glimpse of masons family and masons himself not giving you any room to even move

Walking towards the stadium doors seeing Mason through the glass standing next to the desk talking to the resorption lady opening the doors mason having a good line of sight automatically opening his arms so you can run into them.

this was the first time you've slept alone for 3 years. You've always said good morning and good night to each other. Of course, you've had phone calls last night and this morning for updates before you arrived, but you've never slept apart. Letting Mason go so he can give his family a warm welcome.

Seeing Mason sign his contract was the highlight of any moments you both shared together. Even though it's gonna change Mason's life, it's gonna be yours, too. I had a few photos with Mason as well as his family. We also had a few photos on the pitch.

Of course, Mason made sure he added his niece summer in the photos and videos. Some where she was in his arms and some where she was running in front of mase and it was adorable to watch them two together having their special moment. You filmed and took some photos just for yourself

Once Mason finished his photo shoot, it was time to say goodbye. Walking outside of the arena, the taxi was already there waiting for them, exchanging hugs and kisses they all got into a taxi, of course. You and Mason left the best till last summer. It will be hard leaving her she always stayed with you and mason every Friday, but when you and Mason settle here in Manchester, you knew that there will be more memories will be made, helping summer into the taxi. giving them one last wave.

you and Mason watching the taxi leave the area. Grabbing your hand, "Come on, my love, let's see our new house" you nodded walking towards the car that was parked behind the stadium.

Manchester was a big place not as big as London but very close enough however the people here are more apologetic. the hellos are more welcoming people just instantly want to talk to you even if they don't know who you are. people rushing around the city center trying to go places to places. people sitting outside the pubs talking to their friends or other people you sometimes did wish people was like that in London but however your town is more of a tourist city Manchester is a homely town and for what you hope will be forever.

driving up the gravel road. the trees covering up the road the sun shining through the holes of the trees making marks in the middle of the road. "here we are" mason softly said stopping the car outside of the gated house. a lady waiting outside of the house we a clipboard in her hand. getting out of the car shutting the car door softly looking up just about seeing the top of the house because of how high the fencing is. making you instantly secure you knew mason moving to Manchester will be a big hit. the paps will try and turn up trying to get picture of mason

"shall we look inside" the lady said looking at you and mason once you approached her making you both nod. mason grabbing hold of your hand walking into the front garden

the garden big enough for you and mason and the family having little summer running around. many flowers leading up the front door. a small little fountain placed in the middle of the garden. you knew instantly this will be your little place. a peaceful place what may calm your anxiety.

the lady opening the front door walking inside leading into a big open space . a chandelier hanging from the ceiling above. the front door being faced to face with an open kitchen stepping inside. your dream kitchen being face to face with you was honestly was a shock you just wanted to tell mason that this was your forever home but you knew you couldn't do that sadly it was masons home too and you needed to make the decision together.

walking into the living room furniture already placed inside.a big TV on the opposite an LED electric fire underneath the carpets fluffy and silver the new interior that people are going for nowadays which you don't mind. You loved the grey interior ideas in fact you always like the pages on Instagram that has grey themed in. Making you love the home a lot more.

Turning around to see Mason with a smile plastered on his face the same exact smile your wearing right now "do you like" speaking softly in your ear rubbing your back softly which you automatically nodded "its a beautiful house up to now" looking around the living room one last time then back at mason which he agreed "Shall we go upstairs?" The lady asked interrupting yours and masons small conversation.

Standing next to the railing the chandelier next to you the beads hanging from a small thread making a lovely reflection on the doors opposite.

"This is the master bedroom," the lady spoke softly, opening the door and stepping aside, letting you and Mason in together a king-size bed placed in between two windows and draws on their side. A door that leads into a bathroom on the opposite wall, the shower big enough to have a party of ten inside. Each has a sink with drawers underneath like your London home. A big mirror fills the wall. With LED lights glowing behind it. Another open spaced room for a walk-in wardrobe. Not hearing mason coming behind you his arms sneaking around your hips "come on lovely the lady wanting for us in the foyer" kissing the back of your head letting go. Grabbing your hand leading you out of the room.

walking into the foyer. the lady standing near the front door that has frosted glass surrounding it letting in a little of low light "i'm hoping you enjoyed this house and all the small features that comes with it" the lady began with a smile on her face " ill leave you guys for a few minuets while you decide. Mason really didn't give her any chance to walk out of the door "well take it," shocking you and the lady. throughout the tour, Mason really didn't show any facial features, but maybe that's because he was too into the house, you thought. don't take it as you wanted him to show expression because honestly you were really happy that he loved this house as much as you did.

signing the last few paperwork made it even more real. this is your house now. moving from London to Manchester is an actual go-ahead. The lady left an hour ago giving you guys the keys and bottle of champagne with a congratulations.you never thought that at the age of 26, you'll be living in Manchester. you always thought London would be your forever home. your boss wasn't that thrilled when you told him about the move on such short noticed but he was more than happy to transfer you to his offices here in Manchester, which you were delighted about. Your family still comes by every other month so does Mason's.

You're getting used to Manchester life and everyone living here. The Manchester United girlfriends and wives are really lovely, but they sometimes go out to eat on weekends even though you miss London. Manchester is your new home and a different adventure for you and mason.

#manchester united #imagines #football imagine #football imagines #football #imagine #football fanfic #football x you #footballer imagine #football x oc #football x reader #football x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount one shots #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #masonmount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader fanfic #mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n

[carlos-in-glasses]

Starting us off bright and early and wishing everyone a great day! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

Although we do have the sad banner today lads.

From chapter 4 of I Was Thinking About Your Mouth, coming Sunday:

“I think I’m going to skip dinner tonight. I’m not really hungry.” He sounds nasal and faraway and Carlos is standing here, looking at him seriously, but all he wants to do is hold him tight and let him cry into his chest.

“You always say that and then you end up eating at 2 am.”

TK winces with irritation but still politely responds, “I just feel like being alone tonight if that’s okay.” Doesn’t really have the energy to argue.

“No,” Carlos tells him, “It’s not okay. Get up. I mean it.” Risky, using this tone. Sometimes TK is highly amenable to being bossed around. Sometimes Carlos pitches it all wrong.

But TK does get up – softly sulky as he humors Carlos and heaves himself off the bed. He follows Carlos with obvious reluctance, although Carlos is confident he’d have been coaxed anyway by the scent of heating tomato and mozzarella, like always. He knows details about TK that nobody else could ever know because they’d never care enough, except for Owen and Gwyn as his parents. Now one of the people who knows the most about TK is gone forever, and it occurs to Carlos then about the loneliness of it. Every time someone who loves you falls out of the world, they take a part of you with them. They take the facts and the secrets they’ve been privy to, the little details and quirks that they found relevant and charming for reasons of their own. When Carlos told TK he wants all of his pieces, he meant it more than even he realized at the time. He wants not just the addiction and recovery-related aspects of TK’s experiences and emotions – he wants everything that Gwyn took with her when she went. “Send it all back to me and I’ll do it for you,” Carlos prays to her silently, “Send all your love for TK back to me.” 

Open tag and tags below

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If you want to share! No pressure ever! ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

#wip wednesday #I was thinking about your Mouth #bj fic #cig fic #my fic #tarlos fanfic #tarlos fic

[star-rie]

when your servant is a little shite

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

Then Merlin looks at Gaius, who’s sitting there, eyeing him as if he knows what Merlin is going to do.

‘Merlin, no’

‘Merlin yes’

or

Merlin tests the limits of Arthur’s patience.

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

alternatively, ao3 link

original prompt

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6 (you're here)

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

After the thing with Arthur’s crown and the princess, Merlin decides that enough is enough. He already tests his theories out with varying outcomes. There’s no need to further embarrass both Arthur and his own reputation.

He just doesn’t want to drag Arthur with him, he doesn’t really care if people think he’s mental.

It was another feast. Royals sure do love feasts, Merlin thought as he poured the wine into a noble’s goblet. Tonight, they’re celebrating Sir Alexander’s ascension to knighthood.

A bright young lad he is, aspiring to protect Camelot and King Arthur. Merlin likes him already. In fact, Merlin praises the knights. They’re very loyal to Arthur, even following him to death. The knights are the only nobles worthy of their title.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” Modred said beside him, He takes that back, he forgot this rotten thing is actually a knight.

Merlin immediately scowls, looking at the gremlin up and down. Mordred is probably already planning for Arthur’s next death trap.

"Yes,” Merlin said tightly, shifting away from him. Go away, please go away.

Mordred frowns, his face sad. “Do you still hate me?”

Merlin scoffs, “Why would I hate you?” he said as he aggressively takes Mordred’s goblet and pours him water. Obviously, Merlin is not giving alcohol to a child, but if he turns away for a second, maybe Merlin can–

“Merlin!” The sun of his morning sky himself comes to greet him, enthusiastically putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Is that for me?” He asks, taking the goblet from Merlin, Damnit, now he can’t poison the drink!

“That was Modred’s sire.” Maybe if he can get it out of Arthur’s grasp…

“‘Tis mine now! Sorry Mordred” Modred nods, pretending to be the good boy he is. Damn it, poison is out of the window then. Hmm, maybe if Merlin can somehow create a mass hysteria right now, then he can kill him.

Merlin stares at Arthur’s sexy throat, swallowing water like a sexy person. He feels warmth radiating from the arm draping over him.

Nah, not worth it.

“Go join the other knights, boy,” Arthur told him from his sexy lips.

"Okay,” Mordred said, joining the rest of the knights.

“So Arthur, you-OW!” Merlin cried when Arthur smacked him.

“You know, Merlin, your hostility for that boy is really getting abnormal,” Arthur said, gesturing to his empty goblet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, pouring wine this time. Arthur sighs.

“Merlin, Mordred is a good boy; can’t you see how sweet he is?” Arthur directed his hand towards Modred and the knights, who were gaping over Percival’s muscly arm. But all Merlin saw was Mordred’s vile smirk and evil face, trying to craft a plan for Arthur’s demise.

“He’s clearly evil, sire. Look at his face!” Merlin gestures towards Mordred’s chubby features.

“You’re delusional”

“Am not!”

So Arthur and Merlin spend the next 10 minutes arguing about Modred’s chubby cheeks and how he’s secretly sorting out an evil plan behind that sweet smile. But then he saw it—the dagger coming at Arthur’s face. Behind him, the same mother from that trial a few days ago, Merlin, was sure she was executed, but she looks alive and well.

Merlin would move himself in front of Arthur. He really would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shield him even if the dagger might pierce his heart. But he had no time, the blade was already an inch from Arthur’s face, one more second, it would be stuck to his head. Merlin’s heart beats frantically, he has no choice.

Focusing his energy on the dagger, he stopped it right as it touched Arthur’s head. He immediately turns the knife and redirects it to stab the woman at the end of the hall.

She cries painfully, her hand clutching her stomach. And then she falls, blood running from her body. The court is silent, saved for Merlin’s harsh breath.

He knows now, Arthur knows.

He slowly looks at him, frightened of what he will see. Arthur is staring, particularly at his eyes. Merlin presses the ring that was on his finger.

Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me, please–

“Magic is legal now." he meant to declare it to the court, but he ended up saying it to Merlin instead. The court was silent, it was Merlin instead who questioned him, “What...”

“Magic is legal now." Arthur repeats, staring at his eyes. Merlin shakes his head. “You can’t mean that; you’re supposed to hate me; magic is evil; it’s—”

“I mean it!” He shouts, silencing him. And he goes to grab Merlin’s hand, the one with the ring, raising it so the court can see.

“You see this?” He asks, pointing to the ring on Merlin’s hand, “This man has already become a part of Camelot’s royal house; he saves my life more than I can count, but most importantly, he always puts Camelot before himself; he stays as my servant even if magic is illegal. Believe me when I say we won’t stand if he’s not here.”

He said, before looking fondly at him, “We owe a great debt to you."

And then Arthur turns to address the court “I will write a decree tomorrow. Are there any objections?” He asks, and Gwaine starts very slowly, "Um, is it just me, or it’s very obvious that Merlin had magic since, like, I don’t know, before Uther?”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Me too”

“No way”

"Wait, what do you mean? This is old news? this is new to me!”

And the court is now competing over which person discovers Merlin’s magic in the first place, which becomes very funny as the discussion gets more complex. Merlin looks at Gaius and Lancelot, who just shrugs. Merlin is perplexed.

“Wait..so you all knew that I–”

“I did say, Merlin, that you can’t keep a secret, even if your life depends on it.” Arthur cuts him off while Merlin is reeling over the fact that even Arthur knew.

…

ARTHUR KNEW HE HAD MAGIC!?

Arthur then smiles at the court and says, "Well, then continue on while me and my not-so-magical manservant—" Arthur held his hand tightens when he said that, which means that Merlin is in very serious trouble. “Clean this corpse from the room! Let’s go, wizard! Been dying to use that one." Arthur drags Merlin to the corpse, and they both carry her out of the hall.

Once they were far enough, when Merlin’s brain stopped short-circuiting, he started to chuckles at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, that was a—“ he starts, but is caught off guard when Arthur roughly pins him to the wall, trapping him under him.

“Arthur what--“

“Do you realize how dangerous that was?” Arthur spoke, grip tightening on Merlin’s jacket, “I had enough of you, trying to make a fool of yourself to the royal court; you think I didn’t notice, didn’t you? Your silly stunts of sitting at the throne and the time you sat at the table, and—wait, you’re doing this on purpose!” he realizes, shouting accusingly at Merlin.

"No,” Merlin said, avoiding Arthur’s eyes.

So he had noticed.

"Oh, stop lying, Merlin, you can’t even lie about your magic.”

“Well okay only some of them, the rest is because of the situation” he sighs, wiggling under his grip. When Arthur made no indication to move, Merlin finally voices the tiny thought that had been echoing in his heart.

“So you don’t hate me?” Merlin asks, not looking at him. Arthur had the right to look offended.

“Hate you?? Of course not! Why would I? No! Merlin! I’m mad at you!” Arthur said, pushing him further. “What if the court didn't agree with me back there?! What if they didn’t know about your magic?? What if they think that a king-servant relationship is not normal like my father? What then?? What if they separated me from you?!” Arthur asks frantically, and it finally clicks—all the things that Arthur did for him.

"Oh,” Merlin said, “I thought,“ and Arthur kissed him hard, awkwardly, their teeth clanking. And Merlin melts into it. Finally, he thinks, as he puts his hand on his hair, finally he gets to kiss him. And then they pull away from each other.

“Are we good?” Merlin asks

"Yeah,” Arthur said, before kissing Merlin again.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #arthur bbc #merthur #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #merthur fanfic #merthur fic #merlin fic #merlin fanfic

[humanpurposes]

Just for a Moment, part i

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Words: 3800

A/n: Me? Starting another series to avoid updating ongoing fics? No wayyyy. This is going to be a 4 part mini series and their song is When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, just so you know. Also available to read on AO3.

Tom Bennett had always had a talent for getting under people’s skin.

Kitty knew it when they were kids, when they’d run around the streets of Longsight and the alleyways behind Slade Grove. He would rile anyone up, regardless if they were older or bigger than him. He didn’t even do it for a reason, he just liked to get a raise out of people.

He used to tease her too, for all sorts of stupid reasons, because she was a year younger than him, because her mother used to dress her in shirts and shorts that used to belong to her older brothers, because when they’d buy bags of Yorkshire mix from the shop, she would only eat the red ones. Every Sunday after Church, they’d sit in the park or on the front step of the Bennetts’ house, and Tom would pick out every sweet he knew she liked, and keep the rest for himself.

When Tom was eleven he moved to the big school, where Kitty’s brothers all went, Eddie, Art and Stevie. Eddie was a prefect. He used to come home with all sorts of stories of Tom Bennett, ‘from over the road’. Tom talked back to his teachers, disrupted assemblies, picked fights with other kids, every offence Kitty’s mind could imagine. 

It only got worse when his mam died.

Thursday 12th July, 1928

Kitty had never been to a funeral before. She had a new dress and a black overcoat for the occasion. It was cold in the church graveyard, overcast and windy. Mam had held her hand so tightly she wondered if she’d ever get it back. 

The Bennetts stood together, on the other side of the grave. Lois’ hair was braided into a messy plait that stuck out on one side, the ribbon at the end tied into a knot rather than a bow. She was trying to hold her father’s shoulder as he cried, but she couldn’t quite reach. Tom stood a little further away from his father. His hair was messy, his knees scabbed and bruised, his shirt skewed and the buttons done in the wrong places.

Kitty kept her eyes on him, all through the service, the burial and the wake back at number 27. Tom didn’t cry once.

That night, when she should have been asleep, she lay awake in her bed, listening to her brothers whispering and in the next room as they always did. Sometimes she felt sad to be left out of their antics, but tonight she was glad to be on her own, in her little box room at the front of the house.

Until she heard a tapping on the window.

She froze between her sheets. Was it too late for it to have been a bird?

And then it came again, tap, tap, tap.

With a determined little huff, she rose from the bed, smoothed her hands down the front of her nightgown and drew back the curtains.

“Tom?” she whispered.

He grinned when he saw her, perched on the windowsill behind the glass. 

Kitty raised the window and before she could invite him in he was crawling through it.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

Tom shrugged and went to sit on the edge of her bed. He glanced around the room, at the little shelf of books, dolls and small wooden animals, the black overcoat hung on the back of the door and the drawings stuck to the wardrobe. He’d been in the Wheelans’ kitchen before, but he’d never been allowed upstairs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, far too loudly for Kitty’s liking.

She pressed a firm finger against his lips. She held her breath, waiting for one of the lads to notice, but they kept on chatting– whatever it was teenage boys chatted about.

“Keep your voice down,” she said.

Tom smiled against her finger and made a cross over his heart.

She sat beside him, swaying her legs while she tried to think of something to say.

Tom reached for a book on her bedside table and flicked through the pages. When he was bored of that, he grabbed her teddy. He tossed it about in his hands and ran his hands over the ancient and matted fur. It had been Eddie’s, back in the day. Every single one of her brothers had owned it before her.

“I don’t like seeing my dad cry,” Tom said.

Kitty frowned. “Why not?”

“I just don’t like it. He’s always been a bit…”

Dad had often mentioned the case of Douglas Bennett. They had fought in the same regiment in 1914. When Micheal Wheelan came back from war, he returned as a self-proclaimed hero. His boys loved to hear his stories and take turns wearing his medals. Douglas Bennett had returned to Manchester a far more troubled kind of man.

“And with mum he–” but he stopped himself with an irritated grunt. “Can I stay here?”

“What?” 

“Not forever, I just… can I sit here, just for a moment?”

Kitty took the teddy from him and placed her hand firmly in his. “That’s what we’re doing, isn’t it?”

From then on, Tom made quite a habit of appearing at the window and hiding in her room whenever he was in trouble.

Saturday 2nd September, 1939

Being up and out before the boys are awake is a strange feeling, it’s the only time the house is so quiet.

It’s just before dawn. The sky is a hazy shade of dark blue but an orange glow is starting to appear over the rooftops. Mr Gregory wants her in the shop early to help with a delivery.

Something draws her eyes from her black leather shoes on the pavement, up to the end of the street. A figure makes his way down Slade Grove. She recognises the sway of his shoulders and the end of a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says when they’re in earshot of each other, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “What are you doing up so late?”

“It’s early,” she says. He’s in a jacket and slacks, and he has a dazed sort of look in his eyes. She can guess where he’s been but it doesn’t stop her from asking. “What have you been up to?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, taking another drag. He tilts his chin up and exhales the smoke above their heads through pouted lips. “Just been down the pub, nothing scandalous.”

A likely story. She’s seen the police knocking on their front door twice in four weeks.

“How’s your job in the shop going?” he asks.

It was supposed to be temporary, a little money to make ends meet after dad got laid off from the factory. Six months later and she’s still there. 

“Grand,” she says.

“Can you do me mates rates on a packet of Marlboros?”

“Yeah, if you promise to actually buy them.”

He clutches his chest and his face lights up in an ironic expression. “Of course, what sort of man do you take me for?”

The sort who used to sell cigarettes in the schoolyard— God knows how he got his hands on them in the first place. At that age he could talk himself out of anything. That’s what makes Tom Bennett every parent’s worst nightmare, he’s a troublemaker with pretty blue eyes and an infectiously charming smile.

“I should get going,” she says, taking another step until Tom moves in front of her. Her eyes meet with the collar of his jacket and the hollow of his throat. She can smell the musk of the pub on him, the cigarette smoke and the faded scent of his aftershave.

She looks up to his face and his expression has changed, not quite smiling but amused, smug and somewhat severe.

“What?” she says impatiently.

“Nothing,” he says, unphased, “have a good shift.”

The morning drags on at a gruelling pace. Mr Gregory’s getting on a bit now so Kitty has to do a lot of the heavy lifting, piling boxes into the storage room round the back, going through the stock in the shop, filling the shelves, flattening the boxes and bringing them to the bins outside. It feels like hours of work, but when she looks at the clock it’s not even 9. Eight hours until closing. Mr and Mrs Gregory live above the shop, so at least she gets a steady supply of tea, toast and bits of carrot cake.

By the afternoon she feels her eyes start to close. The morning rush is over now and business will dwindle for the rest of the day. She tries to stay awake, fanning herself with her blouse and nibbling on little mouthfuls of cake.

The bell above the door rings. She straightens her spine and smooths down her apron, ready to put on her best customer service voice, only for Tom Bennett to swagger in through the door.

He’s changed his clothes and donned a blue jacket instead of the earthy green she had seen him in earlier.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Kitty asks at the heavy look under his eyes.

He grins it off. “Packet of Marlboros please, Miss Wheelan.”

She fetches them from the cabinet behind the counter and places the packet in front of him. His aftershave smells a little stronger now. “Anything else?”

He drums his fingers against the counter, looking around innocently at the array of chocolate bars and the jars of sweets behind her.

“I’ll have a bag of Yorkshire mix,” he says.

She takes the jar down from the shelf. She can hear him breathing steadily through his nose as she scoops the sweets into a paper bag. When she turns back around he’s watching her.

“Nine pence,” she says, swallowing down a nervous feeling in her throat.

Tom counts through some change from his pocket and drops the coins into her hands, a sixpence and a thruppence. His fingertips brush over her palms and his knuckles are scabbed over. She dreads to think why.

“Nice one,” he says once she puts the payment through the till. “What do you make of this stuff going on in Poland then?” he says, popping a pear drop into his mouth.

She’s only been reading the headlines of the papers when she stocks them in the shop every morning, or hearing snippets from dad’s radio. 

“Since when did you start taking an interest in foreign affairs?” she asks.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a raspberry. “Been reading the news, haven’t I?” he says, holding it out for her. 

She hesitates for a moment before she takes it. She lets the sugar melt over her tongue. It tastes like summer afternoons after school and weekends in the park, tearing at the grass and watching the boys play football because they’d never let her join in.

“That’s where Harry is, isn’t it?” she says, “Lois must be worried.

Tom tuts and tucks the bag into his pocket. “Posh boys can talk their way out of anything,” he says. “Speaking of, I met Madge’s new man last night.”

“At the pub?”

“Yeah. Right ponce in’t he?”

She purses her lips in irritation. She hates it when he does this, poking fun at others until he feels better about himself. “He’s training to be a barrister.”

“Like I said.”

She shrugs. “I suppose there are worse jobs to have.”

“Is that what you’ll do then? Find some rich boy with a big house and stick up his arse?”

It’s not quite the future she has planned out for herself. Her friend Madge is a secretary in Manchester. There are all sorts of exams she had to pass, but it could be doable. Mam’s always tried to put her off it though. “Parents need their girls,” she says.

“I don't think I’m likely to find any of those in Longsight. Maybe I should ask Lois for advice?” she says, trying not to smile.

“Steady there, Kitty, I didn’t mean to get you all excited,” he says, leaning into the counter. His voice is lower all of a sudden, it sends an odd, jittery feeling though her chest and stomach.

He winks at her before he turns and leaves. The bell rings and the shop is quiet again.

Her feet feel heavy when she walks through the front door. Her bed calls her name but she’s unbearably thirsty. Saturdays are half days and the boys are already home from the factory. Mam’s started on dinner and the others are around the kitchen table. 

Dad waves a blue leaflet at her. “One of Douglas Bennett’s pacifist… things,” he says.

“Do you really think there’ll be a war, dad?” Kitty says, shrugging off her coat.

“If there is, it won’t be long,” he says with a determined nod, “no one wants another war.”

Eddie and Art hum in agreement. The oldest of the four Wheelan siblings, they were born before dad went away to war. Their faces are older and more stern, like they can still remember a time when they didn’t have their father around. They still call Stevie and Kitty “the babies,” which she thinks must make them feel more important.

Stevie’s in good spirits though. “Ran into Lois and Connie on the bus, and Connie personally invited me to their gig tonight!” he says brightly.

“Come off it,” Art grumbles, “she was just being friendly.”

“Kitty!” Stevie sings, waltzing over to her. He takes her coat from her hands and twirls her around the kitchen, to mam’s despair. “Come to the Fiddler’s Bow with me tonight, please.”

“So you can ditch me for Connie once their set’s done?”

“There’ll be other people there,” Stevie says, turning her around to face their brothers, “or ask one of these grumpy bastards to join us.”

“Stephen Wheelan!” their mother chides.

Eddie and Art share a pointed look and shake their heads, already backing away towards the front room.

In the end she decides she’ll just have to brave it. After eating, she changes into a flowy, white blouse and an emerald green skirt, pinning her hair up so it won’t go everywhere as she moves. She hides a tube of lipstick inside her purse. Mam and dad would rather die than let her leave the house with makeup. She only owns a lipstick because Lois Bennett had given her one.

Stevie brushes up well, in a white shirt and freshly shined leather shoes, his hair slicked back with wax. They run into each other on the landing and race downstairs.

Mam gives them the usual instructions. Home by 11 o'clock and not a minute later. One drink each. No smoking. No noise when they get in. 

Stevie’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket when they’re halfway through the front door.

And Kitty’s breath hitches when, for the third time that day, she sees Tom Bennett. He’s hovering in the doorway, putting empty milk bottles out. When he notices them, he smiles. “Off somewhere nice?” he says.

“Fiddler’s Bow,” Stevie calls back, “to see Lois and Connie play.”

“She’s down there already,” Tom says, his eyes flickering to Kitty for only a moment, “left half an hour ago.”

He’s in a white t-shirt now, that’s just a little too tight against his torso.

“Why don’t you join us?” Kitty says without thinking it through. “Stevie’s going for Connie, I’ll need a partner once he ditches me.”

Tom looks down at the pavement. His lips are thin and his hands fidget by his side. “I’ve um… got something else on tonight, ‘m sorry.”

Her heart sinks. Any lighthearted hope she had about enjoying the evening dissolves right in front of her. Right, of course, because why would he actually want to spend more than a few moments with her?

“Movin’ on,” Stevie says, steering Kitty down the road with a brief farewell to Tom. “He’s no good, you know that?” he whispers in her ear. “Eddie says he nicks scrap metal from the yard, sells it to all sorts dodgy fuckers.”

“Yeah, I know,” she breathes. Her chest feels tight and suddenly she feels like she wants to cry.

Stevie has a good time at the gig. Lois and Connie are first in the lineup and once their set is over, Stevie makes a point of cheering the loudest. The four of them spend the rest of the night dancing.

When Stevie and Connie disappear outside for a smoke, Kitty drags Lois to the bar, to catch their breath and down glasses of tonic water. Lois drones on about her Harry issue, but having three older brothers who presume every word they say is profound and worthy of note, Kitty knows where to hum and nod without really listening.

They walk Connie home first before the three of them make their way to Slade Grove. The houses are quiet now, save for a few lights in the windows, creeping through drawn curtains. Two policemen are standing outside number 27.

“Have you seen your brother?” one of them calls to Lois when she reaches the door.

“No,” Lois says, “but if you see him before I do, will you tell him he’s in trouble?”

Kitty meets Stevie’s eyes and he raises his brows.

“Piss off,” she grumbles.

Mam and dad have gone to bed, but Eddie and Art are playing cards in the front room— or they should be. Eddie is standing by the window, peering through the curtains. 

“Who are they after?” Eddie asks.

“Who do you think?” Kitty mutters, but she doesn’t stay to hear another rant about ‘troublesome Tom Bennett’, and slips her shoes off before she makes her way upstairs.

It can’t be said Tom doesn’t make an impression on the people he meets. Mam and dad still have a soft spot for him, though less so since he’s started getting into trouble with the police, and the lads seem to outright despise him.

She’d be lying if she said he didn’t find him irritating, to a certain degree. Maybe it’s because he’s cocky, maybe it’s because he used to be surprisingly sweet, or maybe it’s because nothing seems to phase him, but something about Tom Bennett makes her restless.

She wipes off her lipstick, takes out the pins in her hair and changes into her nightgown. Her eyes feel heavy, but tomorrow is Sunday, which means the shop will be closed and she can have a whole day of ‘freedom’, so long as that includes helping with the laundry and the dinner.

Dad’s snores are evident and the boys are still distracted downstairs, they’ve even put the radio on by the sound of it.

She’s about to turn off the light when she hears three taps on the window.

He knows it’s unlocked. The window slides up and Tom squeezes through it, slipping his boots off so he doesn’t make too much noise when he plants his feet on the floor. He goes straight to the bed, making himself comfortable over the throw with his hands under his head.

“Lois says the police have been round,” he says quietly.

She looks down at her hands, nervously playing with the fabric of her nightgown. “I saw.”

He turns his head to where she stands. The lamp hits his face like sunlight, catching the sharp features of his face, the point of his nose and the curve of his lips. 

She nudges him closer to the wall, making some space for herself beside him. Her body rests against his. He smells like smoke and fresh air.

“What did you do this time?” she asks.

He doesn’t give her an answer. In a way she thinks she’d rather not know.

His arm falls around her and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Nights with him are often like this, quiet, just two people existing in the same space.

He turns on his side to face her. “Can I stay the night?”

“Tom,” she whispers, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Please, or I’ll have to sleep on a couch in the pub.”

“Are you mad? can you imagine what Eddie’ll do if he sees you walking out my bedroom in the morning?”

“Kitty,” he hums. He brings his hand to her face, gently stroking his thumb over her cheek. His eyes are wide and pleading. “Please.”

It’s in moments like this when she hates Tom the most, when her heart thrums in her chest and she wants nothing more than to lose herself in the feeling of his skin against hers. When their heads are so close together, all she sees are two blue eyes.

Each time she thinks she wants to close the distance between them, something stops her.

Neither of them ever dare to move closer than this.

She reaches to turn off the light and turns back to Tom. Her head falls into his chest and her arm settles around his waist. She falls asleep to the pulse of his heartbeat, the sound of his breath and the warmth of his body.

And by the time the sun shines in through the window, he’s gone.

Sunday 3rd September, 1939

She appears in the kitchen just after 11 o’clock. Her body feels heavy and her eyes are still tired. She shouldn’t have gone back to sleep after she woke up the first time.

Dad’s fiddling with the radio, Art’s pouring tea into six cups, and Eddie and mam are listening to Steive’s retelling of the previous night. He seems incredibly proud of himself, despite the fact the closest he came to kissing Connie was lighting her cigarette.

She helps Art with the tea. They all like it the same way. Strong, with one sugar and a little dash of milk. 

It might almost be a perfect morning, if dad were listening to something more uplifting than the news.

“How about some music?” she says as she hands him his cup, but he doesn’t take it. His eyes are fixed on the radio, and his hands are shaking.

“Dad…”

Art appears over her shoulder and turns up the volume. “Quiet,” he says, and the others fall silent.

A voice speaks through the crackles in the transmission, “consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”

Kitty looks at the faces around her, Eddie and Art glaring furiously, Stevie’s wide eyes and his lips fallen like a child’s, mam and dad’s haunted sorrow.

The transmission ends and she wishes it didn’t, it would save her from the grave silence in the house.

She decides to make herself busy. She washes out an empty milk bottle and goes to leave it by the door.

When she opens the door the two policemen are back, only now they’re walking out of the Bennetts’ house.

Her heart sinks. They have Tom in handcuffs.

His eyes meet hers across the road. He doesn’t make a fuss, or try to protest. He hangs his head as they walk him down the street.

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince (comment to be added)

Series taglist: (comment to be added)

#my fics #tom bennett #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #wof #world on fire bbc #world on fire season 2 #world on fire fanfiction #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennet x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut

[kisarastrife]

Ah lads.

What's happening in Dublin tonight is utter unabashed selfishness and utilising a tragedy in the name of lawlessness.

For anyone out of the loop, Dublin in Ireland had an atrocious incident today where people, including children, were stabbed outside a school. The male suspect was arrested. No one else is sought in relation to this incident.

A 5-year-old little girl is undergoing emergency treatment. There's no excuse nor reason for it. It was outrageous and horrendous. Rumours have spiraled of the male suspect being a so-called 'non-national'. So what? A criminal is a criminal, the back ground doesn't matter.

But the riots and protests in the capital city in the so-called name of that little girl are a charade for people looting and attacking Gardaí. The Irish police force are 95% unarmed; specialist units have firearms and a range of non-lethal weapons. Regular on the street Gardaí have pepper-spray and a retractable baton, that's it. But these allegedly 'protesting' people are isolating Gardaí, beating them up, assaulting them, setting fire to police cars, public buses, public trams, looting shops, setting off fireworks at officers and threatening to kill immigrants.

This is wrong.

And it's a sad day for Ireland when the people on the dole and job-seekers are the ones who are setting a reputation for our country, not the law-abiding people just trying to get by.

A little girl and others were stabbed by a man who was immediately arrested and prevented from doing any more harm. How does looting shops and assaulting people just doing their jobs really stand up for that 5 year old?

#long post #personal post #dublin #dublin riots

[s-creations]

Comes in Waves - Vintage & Modern

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

“Yes, no, I get that- Fucking excuse you? You have the audacity to say that to-” Vox let out a warning growl into his phone. Taking slight pleasure in having the demon on the other end stumble over his words. “Listen here, you little shit, you work for me. This ‘promotion’ was just because you had somehow come up with a clever idea. That’s it. If I didn’t think your shit was marketable, I would be consuming your soul without a second thought for even approaching me with your stupidity. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a weak noise of confirmation.

“Good, then you figure out how to make it happen. I gave you a deadline. Get it done. Don’t bother me with this again.” 

Pressing the end call harder than he meant to, Vox let out another aggravated growl. Great, now his screen was cracked. One more thing to sour his already poor mood. 

He looked up as the elevator let out a small ‘ding’, announcing his arrival to his penthouse. Vark was already waiting by the front door. Happily bounding around as Vox entered the area. 

The Media could hold back the small smile as he tracked Vark. “Hey you…at least someone’s happy to see me…”

Feeding his companion and getting his own food, Vox took a quick glance at the time. 

6pm. 

He had an hour until the show started. Plenty of time. 

He ate, cleaned up both the kitchen and himself, changed into something far more comfortable, and locked down his penthouse. The area went dark as Vox walked into his bedroom, Vark not far behind. The hammerhead shark made himself comfortable on the large bed while Vox wandered over to a bare stretch of wall. 

Knowing he had no reason to, Vox double checked to make sure it was just the two of them before typing a code into the wall. A small portion slid back, allowing Vox to reach inside and pull out a small radio. An old fashioned one, an very early model that the Media Overlord had been very fortunate to find in his early years in Hell.

When he’d purchased it, Vox had just barely started his climb in the ranks. A little more than a nobody, biding his time with his inventions and grand ideas. No one batted an eye when he purchased the radio. He wasn’t the technology tycoon yet, he hadn’t been vocal about his disdain for vintage items. 

Because he didn’t have a reason to fuel his hatred into the items yet. 

Vox carefully placed it on his bedside table, getting comfortable with Vark laying into his back, before he turned the radio on. It staticed for a few seconds. Vox fiddled with the knobs as he helped it try to focus on the correct station. And, just like magic, Alastor’s voice started to pour out and into the darkened room. 

“Salutations, my wonderful listeners. I have returned to bring you proper entertainment for you to indulge in. I have a few stories I plan on sharing with you tonight, a particularly interesting one involving a sinner who thought he could best me. Poor lad, I believe he was new to Hell and didn’t know better. And will never learn his lesson now. As well as a wide selection of music to listen to in between. There is a theme for this evening. If you think you’ve figured it out, I would love to hear from you from your sent in letters. I’d love to tell you how wrong you are on the next show.”

Vox settled down in his bed further, bunching his pillow under his chin as he listened. He felt Vark wiggle a bit more before getting comfortable himself. The shark started to snore soon enough. Vox smiled softly at the sound before he focused back onto Alastor’s voice. 

Allowing the words to wash over him as another blanket to calm his nerves, to take him away from the stresses of the day. 

Vox was fast asleep before the show reached its hour mark. Screen dim with  ‘sleep mode’ text just barely visible. All the while, Alastor’s voice filled in the quiet, filled Vox’s mind and dreams. 

“And it appears we have reached the end of our run time, dear listeners. Midnight is fast approaching and I must give you all a fond farewell. Until next week rolls around, that is.” 

“Sleep well…and I look forward to the time when we can meet once more.”

_____________________________

Despite the protest that he made, Alastor was vetoed at every turn to get that blasted picture box out of the hotel. Charlie insisted upon it. Said it would help keep everyone up to date as to what was happening in Hell.

As if he wouldn’t already know. But lesser demons need lesser tools to get the same job done, he supposes. 

Regardless, Alastor has made his point clear that anything to do with that box or anything connected with it was not going to be handled by him. Especially after that commercial disaster. Ugh. At least he had a deal with Vaggie to never be bothered by it again. Small victories…

His footsteps barely made a sound as he made his way through the darkened hallways of the hotel. The many windows providing the only illumination for that time of the night. All were fast asleep, tucked away in their beds, uncaring about the world around them. A break from the worries and strife that always seemed to be closing in. 

How he wished he could join them. But sleep always seemed to elude him these days. Which left him to just wander the halls of his new confinement. 

Making his way down the large staircase, Alastor found himself in the main area. Pausing to look around the area, letting his mind work on small problems and details that would hopefully help this place look less like a joke. Even if it wasn’t his most passionate project, he did have some pride poured into this place. His image was attached to it after all…

Eyes eventually land on the picture box. He felt his skin prickle at it. If anyone was around to witness this, they would have concluded it was his silent objection towards the piece of technology.

Puffing out his chest, he walked over to said contraption. Standing by the couch as he glared the item down. It didn’t respond back. Because of course it wouldn’t. The screen was as blank as every other time Alastor has gazed upon it. Barely any light reflecting off of it. 

He did hate this thing. That wasn’t a lie. But the reasoning behind was not always…truthful. Alastor will always stand by the fact of radio being the more superior version of entertainment. The picture box made those who looked at it mindless, drooling zombies. So his detest for anything ‘modern’ was not unwarranted. Why change what works so well? 

But the picture box, the TV, was a more…physical reminder. A harder thing for him to push past and forget. 

Because it looked like him. 

Vox’s original head, original face. The big, clunky, and very heavy set that made it difficult to walk on occasion. Alastor remembers teasing the other Overlord about it so many times.

He moves forward. Sitting down in front of it, legs crossed, cane placed to the side, Alastor indulged himself. Let’s the world fall away as his eyes focus on the screen. His reflection eventually fades away and is replaced with Vox’s face that he remembers fondly.

‘Well, there’s my darling doe…’

He could pretend that Vox is there and it’s just them. No hotel, no obligations, just them on their time. Hands moving away from the carpet, Alastor places them on either side of the screen. Vox’s face flashing that smile that made his heart stutter in the best way. Alastor swears he can feel the heat coming from the other, even if his hands tell him the unresponsive TV is cold. 

“Hello…my beloved entertainer…”

And just for a moment, Alastor can find peace in that TV. 

#radiostatic #radiostatic week #alastor x vox #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #s-creations #fanfiction

[pecanwriter]

The Orc's Lover

Themes: Body worship, affectionate feeder/encourager, fantasy setting, Orc/Elf couple

Words: 2741

“You wanna play the harp to my patrons?” Zaranor asked the elven bard. He looked at his sharp cheekbones and chiselled jaw with dismay. All the poor elves were so scrawny and slim, not a bit of meat on any of them. The bard’s face was bad enough, but his body was equally sad to Zaranor, a thin, almost lithe waist, his stomach almost sunken in, narrow hips and long, slender legs… Zaranor let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure his patrons would be interested in elven music, but that way he could at least put some proper food into this poor lad. 

“So what brings you to the Orc Country?” He asked, wiping down an ale mug where he stood behind the bar. “I didn’t really fit into the elven society, my parents are scholars, and they didn’t approve of me becoming a travelling bard.” The elven bard said. “I went to the Human Lands, but they’re… peculiar creatures.” 

Zaranor hummed in understanding. Humans were, indeed, strange. 

“So I came here. I hear Orc Country is a much friendlier place than people at home made me believe.” He smiled at Zaranor and he couldn’t help but think he could be really pretty if he wasn’t so wretchedly thin. 

“What’s your name then, elven bard?” “My name is Tarkilon.” he gave a small, smooth bow. No meat on that one, not one bit, Zaranor couldn’t help but note. 

“I’m Zaranor.” He poured a big jug of Cream Ale, an Orkish speciality, a honey ale that was mixed with heavy cream into a thick sweet drink full of great nutrition. "Here, drink this. And then, you can entertain my quests."

Tarkilon smiled, smelled the drink uncertainly, took an experimental sip and his eyes widened in surprise.

"This is really good!" He drank it eagerly from that point on, and Zaranor nodded with satisfaction. Maybe he would make this little skinny thing look a little better, at least. He seemed like such a nice young man, it would be a shame if he were wasting away.

Tarkilon’s playing was surprisingly very well received by the Orkish audience, and Zaranor could see why, the elf played absolutely beautifully. But he heard the same things from his patrons that he was thinking himself; it was such a shame to see such a small skinny thing waste away when he clearly had so much talent. The more enthusiastic fans of the music would order snacks and food and cream ale jugs for the artist and he would accept it all graciously. Zaranor watched from behind the bar, nodding in approval. 

“I think I had too much ale…” Tarkilon slurred slightly. The bar was already emptied out for the night and the Inn guests disappeared into their rooms, it was only Zaranor finishing his cleaning up and the bard. 

Zaranor looked at the skinny thing. He was looking a little better with his face flushed from ale and his previously sunken-in stomach now pushing against his shirt, filled with all the food the patrons were sending him. 

“You had just enough.” Zaranor smiled at him. “Come, I will let you a room to stay tonight. He helped the swaying elf to his feet and led him to a room at the back, massaging little circles into his stuffed belly as they walked. 

*

“You’re leaving already?” Zaranor stared at the bard. “I thought you’d want to stay for at least a few days!” “One of the patrons from yesterday has an entertaining band, they travel all around Orc Country playing and entertaining, he invited me to join them! I can travel without having to figure out the routes myself, this is exactly what I was looking for.” He beamed. “Thank you for letting me play here yesterday. And for letting me stay the night. When the band passes this way I’m definitely coming for a jug of that Creamy Ale!” He leaned over the counter and kissed Zaranor on the cheek. With that and his harp slung on his back, the elf was gone. 

Zaranor let out a pained sigh, watching as his long skinny legs carried him outside. 

“I hope they will at least feed him properly.” He said, patting his own round belly. What was a man without some meat to him, after all? 

*

“Zaranor!”

Zaranor looked up from where he was agonising over the profits and his mouth widened into a smile. It’s been six months since Tarkilon left with the entertaining band and he was looking decidedly better. His face softened a little, his legs and hips were rounding out nicely, filling the legging he had on and there was a little paunch above his belt. Still looking way, way too skinny and weak in Zaranor’s opinion, but it was a step in the right direction. “Welcome back!” He hurried to the bar, pouring a jug of Creamy Ale for the elf. “How is Orc Country treating you?” “It’s been really great! I really love it here, I should’ve left the Elven Lands a lot sooner…” He seemed wistful, absently rubbing the tiny fold of flesh on his belly. Coming back to himself, Tarkilon smiled widely at Zaranor. “I’ve met a lot of nice orcs but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

Lost for anything coherent to say, Zaranor just poured him another Creamy Ale and pushed it into the elf’s hand. 

“Can I play here tonight?” “I’d be very happy if you did.” 

The elf beamed and downed the jug in one long gulp. 

Similarly to last time, all his patrons kept sending food and drink Tarkilon’s way all night, and he obligingly accepted it all. 

“I think I’m never going to move from this chair.” Tarkilon said, let out a groan as he leaned back, undoing the laces of his legging and letting his now perfectly round, bloated belly free of the lacing. Zaranor observed the roundness with satisfaction. He was starting to look good, Zaranor really hoped the elf’s belly would be this round permanently very soon. For his own good. It wouldn’t do to be this skinny, not in Orc Country. 

“Come, elf, I will lend you a room for the night.” 

“How’s about…” Tarkilon wrapped his arms around Zaranor’s neck as he was helping him up. He pressed his small, bloated belly into Zaranor’s own soft gut. “How’s about you lent me your bed… With you in it?” 

Zaranor squeezed his big green hand between their bodies to massage the elf’s belly. He leaned down to nip at the long, pointy ear as he led the elf to his room. 

* “The band is leaving today.” Tarkilon said the next morning, lying next to Zaranor. His belly was sadly deflated and only the little paunch remained. Zaranor could think of little else than preparing all the best Orkish breakfast specialities and feeding them to the elf. He needed some meat on his bones, this just wouldn’t do. 

“Stay.” Zaranor said firmly. “Really?” “Stay. Play for my patrons. And I will feed you and love you and make you beautiful and strong.” 

Tarkilon laughed. 

“So you think I’m too skinny like all the orcs from the band did too?” “Yes. But I will soon remedy that.” He kissed Tarkilon softly, careful not to get his tusks too close to his delicate elven skin. “Let me love you like a proper orc loves their mate.” 

Instead of a reply, Tarkilon moved in between Zaranor’s legs, his pale elven mouth soon closing in on it’s target. Zaranor let out a nasty orkish curse and rocked his hips, already thinking of all the foods he was going to feed the elf that was no his. He had to put some meat on his bones, it was improper for a respected orc like himself to have such a skinny little thing in his bed, oh no, it wouldn’t do at all.

*

“Zaranor, my love, you must order new clothes for me.” 

Tarkilon came out from behind the partition where they had their bath, he was only wearing a loin cloth and a tunic that wouldn’t reach past his soft chest. 

Zaranor, still splayed in bed, examined his elf appreciatively. It’s been about seven months since Tarkilon decided to stay and he was blossoming beautifully. Although he still wasn’t up to the orkish standards of beauty, he was definitely on the right path. His belly was now not only a little paunch but a fully formed, round belly, starting to sag slightly against his very nicely widening hips. His legs were filling in nicely as well, slowly getting some proper meat on them, from his rounded calves to the thickening tights. His face was looking better and better too, with a much softer jawline and softer cheeks, a small suggestion of a beautiful double chin was starting to form as well. 

“I will order you anything you want, my love.” He came up to his lover, placing an appreciative hand against his soft belly and giving it a little shake, marvelling at how it jiggled. Elf skin was much more delicate and softer than orc skin, so their bodies didn’t really shake and jiggle like that and Zaranor found himself completely enamoured by it. “But perhaps I should order them with some room to grow. I need to put some meat on your bones, after all, this is Orc Country.” 

*

“Stop it! Tarkilon laughed, slapping Zaranor’s hand away. “You’re so silly, Zar.” “Do it again.” He demanded. 

Tarkilon laughed but obliged. He moved his knees from one side to the other where he laid on the bed with his legs bent. The motion sent his entire body jiggling and rippling and swaying and Zaranor felt like he could watch it forever. 

It’s been about two years since his elf came to live with him and he was really filling out nicely. His belly was now big and soft, hanging in front of him proudly, sagging low and almost covering his entire groin. His chest was soft and with a pair of beautiful tits, Zaranor couldn’t help but bite on every single night. There was a ring of soft, doughy flesh starting to develop around Tarkilon’s softening face and the prominent double chin. Although Zaranor loved all of these things about his lover’s body, his favourite were his legs and ass. Since elves had much thinner skin, Tarkilon’s legs and ass looked like they were made of curdled milk with a layer of delicate milky white skin on top. Zaranor loved it, loved touching it, biting it, kissing it. And he loved how it bounced and jiggled and slapped against each other every time his lover took a step. 

“Turn around,” Zaranor ordered and looked at his lover as he changed position, his beautiful body jiggling with every move. He marvelled at the wide, ample hips and how Tarkilon’s ass and legs were spread on the bed’s surface, making him look even wider and more beautiful than when he was standing up. He kissed and bit and squeezed the elf’s delicate doughy ass, already thinking that he’d have to make him this wide even when he was standing up. This was Orc Country, you needed some meat on your bones!

*

Zaranor looked up from the ledger where he was sorting through the Inn’s finances in his small office. He heard a loud crack, and when he looked up he was his beautiful lover bent down with a big crack ripped in his legging, revealing his glorious, curdled milk ass. 

“Oh-uh.” Tarkilon said, trying to see the damage but unable to twist around enough to see over his own increased bulk. “I will have to order you some new clothes, my sweet, beautiful elf.” He came from behind his desk to kiss his lover, pulling him close and feeling very satisfied that encompassing him in his arms was starting to be difficult. 

Tarkilon was filling out beautifully, Zaranor accomplished his goal of making his hips and ass much wider, along with it grew his beautiful, heavy belly, his soft tits that Zaranor loved to suck on these days. There was a definite roll of fleshy softness around the elf’s neck, moving and squishing his soft face every time he moved his head. Each day Zaranor was finding a new roll of fleshy softness somewhere on his lover’s body, or noticing him getting just a little wider, his belly hanging just a little lower. He beamed with pride every time someone gawked at him with obvious awe or even stared daggers at Zaranor with jealousy. He relished those looks, he wanted everyone in town to know this beautiful, gorgeous creature that could play harp like no other and make Zaranor feel loved like no one ever did was his and only his. All of him, all that gorgeous, jiggly soft flesh and the elf adorned with it. All his. 

*

“I didn’t know elves could be so beautiful!” He heard one of the patrons say to his comrade as they left the Inn at the end of the night after Tarkilon’s concert for the evening came to an end. 

Zaranor smiled in self-satisfaction. No other elf was as beautiful as his lover was, he didn’t even doubt it for a second. It’s been almost five years since Tarkilon came to stay with him. 

Zaranor looked at where he sat still with the harp in his soft fleshy hands. The elf was simply a vision of perfection. His gorgeous soft body continued to steadily expand over the years, his curdled milk legs and ass were simply a work of art, spreading wide, taking up nearly the entire bench he was sitting on. It was a new one, of steadier wood, the old one couldn’t handle Tarkilon’s beautiful body anymore. His soft, doughy belly hang between his widely spread legs, hanging off the edge of the bench and peeking out from underneath his tunic. The belly was a perfect shelf for Tarkilon to keep his harp on, although it was sinking quite a bit into the doughy, gorgeous flesh. 

“Zar?” Tarkilon called over front the bench and Zaranor abandoned the bar, ready to serve his perfect elf in any way he could. 

“Will you help me up, please?” He asked, putting the harp away and outstretching his arms, making the soft flesh on them sag and swing from side to side. His beautiful elf couldn’t really get up without his help anymore, his beautiful body too much in the way of his movement. Zaranor was happy that his lover needed him, and relied on him. Being there for this gorgeous creature was all he really wanted to do. 

He pulled his lover up, even his orkish strength straining slightly as the incredible, magical body jiggled and wobbled around with the force of standing up. 

“I think I had too much ale.” his elf complained, swaying a little. 

“Let’s get you to bed, my beloved.” He said softly and led Tarkilon in front of him, following a half step after, at the elf’s pace. He looked with fascination and a growing, warm feeling in his chest as his elf waddled down the corridor to their rooms. They used to live on the top floor, but his beautiful elf didn’t really do stairs these days. Zaranor marvelled, looking at how his elf waddled, how his enormous, soft tights rubbed against each other, both they and the massive hips and ass jiggling and sloshing around with every step. When they made it to their room Tarkilon halted briefly, his ample, gorgeous hips momentarily stuck in the doorframe. Zaranor gave him the gentlest of pushes to get him through and then helped to rearrange his elf’s folds and rolls on the bed so he would be comfortable. He climbed into bed himself and as he ran his hand over the gorgeous, doughy flesh, sinking his fingers deep into it he made a mental note to have a carpenter brought in to widen the door. He couldn’t have his incredible, beautiful lover bruise his perfect hips on the doorframe now, could he?

No, a wider door was needed. Especially when he knew his beautiful elf was only going to get wider.

A little drawing of Tarkilon

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #chubby boy #fat elf #fantasy weight gain #wg txt #wg story #wg text #bbm #bhm #bhm weight gain #fat bhm #male feedism #Weight gain story #Weight gain txt #Weight gain writing #i think i'm officially obsesed with elf cellulite

[shadowmonkstone]

Camping is supposed to be restful, right? Well it’s bloody well not.

Lae’zel has built herself a Mind Flayer dummy to train on, presumably for when we all start transforming so she can lop our heads off easier. Cheeky bitch.

Obviously I haven’t said that to her face because I still quite like having my head attached to my shoulders.

Astarion thought it was hilarious that Wyll doing what was right got him transformed into a devil. I think he’s going to try and seduce him tonight from the way he was talking. A vampire humping a warlock, or the other way round. It’s the sort of tale the bards weave on ghost night in the pub. I can’t wait to tell Prim about it, three gold says she’ll blush, look down at the floor and punch my arm. Unless she’s drunk, then the naughty minx will want details.

Still, to be fair, vampire-warlock shagging is about the most normal thing that’s happened these last few days. I’ll just leave them to it while I work my magic on Karlach.

Honestly mate, the way she smiles. Blimey.

Oh! That reminds me. Kay said that this bastard in Baldur’s Gate called Gortash palmed her off to Zariel and that’s how this whole infernal engine bollocks started. You could see the anger and sadness in her eyes when she spoke. I would have offered her a hug if wouldn’t have singed my fucking skin off.

Pretty sure Gortash was the name of the bloke who was hosting the wizards’ gala bullshit you sent me over to work, wasn’t it? Now I dislike the wanker on two levels.

Anyway, finally tried to get some sleep and I won’t lie, I made sure my bedroll was just a little bit closer to Kay’s than anyone else’s. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I’m pretty sure hers has inched a little closer to mine.

Then Gale woke me up with another of his ‘oh, I wasn’t expecting you to notice my personal moment of self-reflection on the state of the Weave bullshit blah blah blah here’s ten words when one will do’ fake surprise moments.

Mate, you’re being loud as shit talking to yourself right by my bloody earhole with a glowing magic picture of a woman I’ve never heard of hovering above your palm. Of course I’m going to wake up.

So he offers to show me magic, I tell him to shove it up his arse because all I want to do is get some fucking sleep, and then he has the bloody nerve to get all uppity with me.

Gale, you’re a good lad and your heart’s in the right place but fuck me, know your audience yeah?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 act 1 #bg3 rp #bg3 tav #lae'zel #d&d 5e #astarion #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #karlach