#made of glass chapter sixteen

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! I hope you like the confession twist in this chapter! Please lmk what you think!

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: None? Dm me if I need to add anything here...

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter sixteen: A Hangover and a Confession

The building Easy company was celebrating in, roared to life with chatter and music. Light seeped out from every window, illuminating Joe’s surroundings enough that he could see a few feet in front of him. 

After walking back from the women's barracks alone and in silence, Joe looked up to the stars once more. He usually didn’t stop and take the time to stare so intently at something so trivial but Bernadette’s amazement in the inky black sky filled with twinkling lights had ignited something in him. 

As he gazed upwards trying to recall where she had pointed out that belt, he found himself distracted, only able to picture her face, the sweet smile she sent him, her round eyes and the musical lilt of her laugh. 

A particularly loud bout of cheers broke Joe from his stargazing. He didn’t want to go back into the party, but what else was he going to do? Return to his barracks and sleep? No way, not while beer was flowing and cigarettes needed smoking. Sobel very rarely allowed merriment and fun so Joe would take the chance to do so while he could. The idea of walking back and finding Birdie for some conversation or another stargazing lesson popped into his head, instead Joe swung open the door and walked into the celebration.

Immediately his attention was pulled to a boisterous group of men he called friends, they each had a drink in their hands and were enthralled by the gripping chit-chats they exchanged. He smiled and grabbed a drink for himself before joining them, pushing aside his thoughts of the girl from Mississippi.

Not even a full minute later and he had heard her name. 

Across the table, Malark had spoken of her and Joe’s ears instinctively perked up. The redhead was talking to Sergeant Lipton worriedly, he was sharing his concern for the girl. Apparently she had promised to ask Lipton for an escort to her barracks and now the man thought she was missing, as Lipton said he hadn’t seen her for at least an hour. 

Before Don could panic too much, Joe butted in, “I walked her back.” He spoke the words so casually that both Don and Carwood second guessed themselves. Had they heard him correctly? 

“You?” Donald pointed at Liebgott, double checking the meaning of his shocking words. Joe nodded as he sipped his beer, suspiciously nonchalant. Lip and Malarkey shared a look, eyes widening at the implication. 

“And she’s….” Carwood began, fading out as he couldn’t find the words to finish his thought.

“Alive?” Don called out brashly, shrugging when Lipton threw him a disapproving look. That wasn’t exactly what he meant but it was close enough. Both men turned to Liebgott, curious about his response. 

“She’s fine.” The San Fran man shot them both a strange look, tilting his head slightly. Did they really think he would hurt her?  “She was drunk.” Don laughed and Lipton rolled his eyes and muttered, “She only had one drink.” 

Now it was Don and Joe’s turn to give each other knowing looks, they had both seen her sneaking alcoholic beverages all night, unbeknownst to Carwood. He caught on quick to the unspoken insinuation and gave an exasperated sigh, of course she had more than one drink. 

Carwood strolled away, leaving Liebgott to chug the remains of his drink in an attempt to keep the woman out of his mind, which was easier said than done. The entire rest of the night he kept tuning in to any conversation that mentioned her. Every time he caught himself eavesdropping he skulled whatever was left in his glass immediately and stomped off to get another drink.That night was, without a doubt, the drunkest Joe had ever been in his life.

The next morning was a nightmare. Joe was so used to waking up at the crack of dawn, that his body did this for him automatically. He wanted to pull the blankets over his head and curl into a ball but that wouldn’t help now that Joe was awake and he highly doubted he’d be able to get back to sleep. He lay on his cot listening to the men in his shared barracks snoring away, peacefully unaware of his torture. Every snort felt like it was getting louder, splitting Lieb’s skull, so eventually he got up, unable to endure it any longer. 

Luckily, Easy was given the day off to recover from the previous night, which meant no early morning exercises or dull lectures to sit through. Liebgott changed into his OD’s and made his way to the mess hall, some coffee would do him good and knowing what shenanigans his friends got up to the previous night, he suspected not many would be there, that equalled silence.   

He was right, of course. Most of the easy company men were sleeping off the night of drinking and the ones who were here, sat quietly most likely nursing throbbing heads and queasy stomachs. 

Joe headed straight for the caffeinated drink, poured himself straight black coffee, no sugar and sat down to sip away at it. As he sat there, inhaling the strands of steam rising out of his cup, a melodic voice infiltrated his ears.

Bernadette’s tawny brown hair came into his view, followed by Bull’s large frame, the two walking side by side looked funny. Birdie seemed shorter than usual and Bull looked like a giant next to her. 

The pair of southerners found seating next to each other and chatted happily, at one point Birdie playfully slapped a hand onto Bull’s shoulder while laughing. Joe narrowed his eyes, what could Bull being saying this early in the morning that warranted that reaction from her. Surely he wasn’t that funny at 0600. 

Liebgott turned his attention away from them, trying to ignore their endless communication. Every time they shared giggles, he shrunk closer to his cup of coffee, glowering at their joyful mood. 

After what felt like hours to Joe, but was really only ten minutes, Bull excused himself and left the mess hall. Birdie glanced around at the other inhabitants of the room and her eyes fell on Joe, hunched over his drink, sulking. She imagined he’d enjoyed himself at the party and was more than a little hungover. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him up this early, so she just about skipped over to the table he occupied. 

“Morin’ ” Bernadette sang, sitting across from him with her own cup of coffee, hers was almost entirely milky white and loaded with sugar. Joe glared up at her, unimpressed, he hummed at her gloomily. 

“You drink a lot last night?” She was enjoying this too much, smiling at him with that bright cheery look. Ugh, he couldn’t stand that delighted expression on her face. He didn’t even know why he was so mad about it, it was probably the hangover. Definitely not the fact that he had been listening to her all but flirt with another man for the past twenty minutes. Not that he cared who she flirted with. 

“I’ll take that as a-”

“Jesus! What do you want, Coldwell?” He spat the words out quickly, cutting her off and stunning her into silence. She didn’t answer him, she just sat there blinking at him. Studying his features, trying to understand his attitude change from the night before. She had hoped they could start being more friendly with one another but obviously she was mistaken. 

George Luz walked in and she decided to make conversation elsewhere, somewhere she knew she was wanted. Birdie stood and left without another word; Joe, quite plainly didn't want her to speak to him so why should she put the effort in? 

“Hey, Luz.” The woman chirped.   

“Birdie.” He greeted in return. She went with him as he collected his breakfast and sat at an empty table. George filled her in on the highlights of the party after her departure, he let her know that Malarkey had freaked out when she left without telling anyone and gone to Lipton. So she expected someone to tell her off later today, most likely the Sergeant. 

She pretended not to notice when Joe glared daggers her way, she brushed it off with a joke to George who laughed heartily. For some unknown reason, the happiness coming from the pair pissed Joe off to the point that he stomped out of the mess hall, huffing and growling words under his breath. 

“So, what are your plans for today?” Birdie asked her friend, choosing to ignore Liebgott’s temper tantrum. She was confused about him On the two occasions they had been alone together, he was surprisingly nice to her. He had told her she’d belonged in Easy just as much as everyone else and even complimented her, and then last night he took interest in her stories of the stars. 

Birdie had noticed his way of thinking was similar to her own about the tiny scorpion, even her own brothers thought she was weird for siding with an arachnid. She assumed that maybe they could drop the animosity act and start forming a friendship but the way he snapped at her made her rethink that. 

Then again, he could be really hungover and she was being loud very early in the morning so perhaps she should let that one slide? 

It registered that George had been talking to her while she zoned out thinking about a certain Californian man. She caught the tail end of what he was saying and pieced together that his plans were to lounge around and enjoy the time off. 

“You have any time for me today? I wanted to talk to you about something.” Bernadette and George were close, not as close as her and Toye or Guarnere but still very good friends. She liked spending time with him, he was funny and they got along easily. He agreed to hang out with her for a bit after breakfast as some basketball games were penciled in for the afternoon. 

The pair walked around camp for a bit trading stories of their hometowns. Birdie spoke about life on a ranch while George countered with his suburban childhood. They had a fair amount in common, coming from large families with almost twenty siblings between them, so both Birdie and George had countless memories to share.

Eventually, they found themselves settling in the shade of an oak tree at the edge of the training fields. 

“I have something I wanted to ask you.” Bernadette suddenly went serious. She adored George and wanted to let him know that she would always adore him, no matter what. 

“Ah, is this your ulterior motive? Get me out here by myself and take advantage?” He gave a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension that built between them. Birdie noticed his somewhat shaky laugh and lack of eye contact and her hand shot out to his bicep, soothing her friend as she squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“We’re friends, right?”

“You're being weird, Birdie.” He was smiling but his hands began busying themselves, plucking strands of grass and twirling them round. Bernadette kept her voice quiet and calm, hoping this might ease him. 

She had a suspicion about the man in front of her and how he was hiding his infatuation for a certain someone. Birdie may have been way off base confronting him, it wasn’t really her place to bring this up, she knew that. But she cared about George and needed him to know she was understanding of his repressed feelings and would be on his side at any cost. 

She had been through a similar situation before and missed her chance to show her support to someone important to her. Maybe this was her way of rectifying the lost opportunity.  

“I just want you to know… you can tell me stuff. And I would never think of you any different…” The woman didn’t want to say the word, in case she was wrong and he got offended, the last thing she wanted was to upset the ray of sunshine.

His face dropped. “You know, don’t you?” It was whispered, like a shameful secret he didn't want to speak any louder, just in case.

“I think I do… you don’t have to say it.” He had all but confirmed what she thought she knew, but she recognized he wasn't exactly jumping to discuss it. “I just want you to know, I’m on your side. Always.”

“You can’t say anything.” He paused, “To anyone. Ever.” Seeing the jokester so serious and solemn was spine chilling. 

Bernadette saw a flurry of emotions in his eyes, fear, nerves and a small twinkle of appreciation. He hadn’t ever said it aloud and he was glad that he wouldn’t have to, George could go on being George and he knew if he did want to share things with someone, Bernadette would be right there, waiting for him.  

“I won’t. I wouldn’t do that to you, Georgie. Not ever.” 

A/N: Birdie and Georgie friendship is everything to me! How do y'all feel about it?

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter seventeen

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #made of glass #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #joe liebgott #don malarkey #carwood lipton #bull randleman #george luz #made of glass chapter sixteen

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #mob bucky au #mob bucky barnes au #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fan fics #bucky x smut #mob bucky smut #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky barnes x freader #bucky barnes x fluff

[wileys-russo]

Leah williamson "how can you fall asleep at a time like this" watching a football match at home

superstitions II l.williamson

you were happily tucked into bed, glasses on and reading light pointed to the final ten chapters of the book you'd spent the last month battling to finish, never seeming to have enough free time to get through more than a few pages before something came up.

but with your girlfriend having dinner at her best friends house you finally had the cherish little pocket of time you needed to finish, incredibly invested in the story thus far and dying to know who killed the main protagonist.

you planned to sit down and read for an hour before you'd make yourself something to eat and then finish off the rest, angling for an early night as you were quite tired from a long week of work and family commitments.

you'd only made your way through a few pages before you heard the front door click from downstairs and you frowned, snapping the book shut and swinging out of bed.

but hearing a familiar laughter ring out through the home your shoulders sagged in slight relief, but the frown never left your features as leah wasn't due home for a few hours yet, and it didn't seem like she was alone.

"baby girl?" you appeared at the top of the landing at leahs call, the blonde stood at the bottom of the stairs with a happy smile, the same adoring twinkle in her gaze anytime she looked upon you.

"i bought dinner babe, come make a plate." she nodded her head toward the kitchen as you made your way downstairs. "hi wally." you greeted the girl sat at the counter with a surprised smile who span around.

giving her a hug you lingered by her side with her arm around your waist, various takeout containers from leahs favourite italian place down the road spread out in front of you.

"why do you look so shocked?" your girlfriend asked with a mouthful of pasta making you roll your eyes, sometimes you could swear she was a sixteen year old boy and not a twenty six year old woman.

"i just wasn't expecting...this." you gestured as lia let go of you to start eating her own plate of food. "well i hope you weren't expecting me to cook love you know thats not in my wheelhouse." leah grinned and again nodded for you to make a plate.

"obviously not. but you told me this morning you were going to lia's for dinner and to watch arsenal play, not coming here with lia and dinner." you retorted as you started to dish yourself up some food.

"no i said wally was coming over for dinner and then we're going to watch arsenal play." the blonde argued with you as you grabbed your plate and sat down on the stool beside lia.

"i'm not arguing with you about this lee, i just had a hot date with a book you've interrupted." you smiled before digging in as your girlfriend pulled a face. "you are not still reading that are you? baby its been like five months!" leah groaned as lia reached over to smack her hand.

"and what was the last book you read leah? picture ones don't count." the swiss defended you causing your girlfriend to scoff and you to grin, bumping your shoulder into hers appreciatively.

"well your little book date will have to wait till later baby girl we have traditions to attend to!" leah warned as you threw your head back with a groan. "you can't be serious? its all superstition love it doesn't actually help anything!" you laughed as both footballers now turned their gazes onto you.

"yes it does." they spoke seriously and in sync making you pull a face and roll your eyes. "no it doesn't." you sighed, knowing regardless this was not an argument you'd be winning anytime soon with it clearly being two against one.

"leah i don't want to!" you whined after the blonde had wrestled a jersey onto you, laying down on the bed stubbornly. "well too bad! now are you walking downstairs or am i carrying you?" the girl questioned, hands on her hips as she stared down at you from the end of the bed.

"why can't you and lia just do everything you normally do but without me?" you sighed as your girlfriend rolled her eyes. "because thats not how we did it last time and last time we won 5-0. you weren't here the time before that and we lost 4-2." leah rationalized, gesturing her hands around wildly.

"can i at least read my book while you watch?" you tried to bargain as the defender shook her head. "no! you didn't do that last time, isn't happening this time. now up!" leah motioned, clicking her fingers impatiently.

"kick off in two minutes!" you heard lia yell from downstairs as your leah's eyes widened and before you could blink she was manhandling you up and off the bed, pulling you toward the door as you groaned but didn't dig your heels in.

"okay. you were there with the red pillow and the scarf, i was here with the blue pillow and babe you were here." you were once again manhandled to lay down between leahs legs, a beanie forcefully tugged over your head, your hand smacked away as you tried to pull it off.

"oh! i think your hood was up too." lia remembered as leah quickly pulled her hood up and over her head, the whistle blowing for kick off. "the two of you are ridiculous, you know that right?" you sighed but wiggled around a little to find a comfortable position.

"perfect. you were in a grumpy mood last game too, thank you for your cooperation stroppy!" leah teased peppering several kisses across your face as you pushed her away, interlocking your fingers with hers and wrapping her arms tighter around you.

as time passed you grew bored of the game. you loved watching your girlfriend play and would never ever miss an opportunity to be there and cheer her on. but you'd never shared the same passion that the blonde had for watching games at home.

you'd appease her by sitting with her at times when she wanted, though your attention was always elsewhere and you encouraged her to invite the girls over so she had other people to actually watch with.

but the premier league north london derby always commanded an extra special set of rules and regulations, and your strong willed girlfriend was always the first to enforce them.

you sat quietly and patiently throughout the first half, arsenal going up 2-0 before suddenly by half time it was 2-1, and then a few minutes into the second half it was locked 2-2.

you'd long grown used to leahs tendencies to scream at the players on tv as if they could hear her, learning how to block it out and zone off into your own little world.

today was no different though you were much more tired than most nights you laid down with the blonde to watch a match, and with lia there for her to discuss and commentate with it was easy for you to drift off.

"hey! there's no sleeping during the derby." leah laughed, pinching your cheeks as she noticed your eyes closed, lia smiling in amusement as you exhaled deeply.

"i'm here, i'm wearing your stupid vintage shirt and beanie, im sitting in my designated position. why can't i take a nap?" you huffed in annoyance. "how can you fall asleep at a time like this baby? its deadlocked 2-2 this is fantastic football babe!" leah protested as you shrugged, unbothered.

"leave her be." lia chuckled as you shot her a grateful smile, eyes closing again as leah started to argue, her best friend only shushing her as eventually her protests died down.

a smile curled into your lips as you felt her body shift beneath you, hands on your hips pulling you upwards so she could hug you a little tighter, warm lips affectionately pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"i can't believe she'd rather sleep than watch this, this is the best match of the season so far!"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #engwnt #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A new threat comes to town, and a new applicant comes to the pub.

Warning: language, mentions of assault-ish

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 16: Fear & Delight

I don’t show it but I quiver whenever you come near. And I cannot decipher between the thrill and the fear. I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here. It’s wrong but I want you tonight.  It’s not my own volition but I fell in deep, by running the distance I’ve been advised to keep. I trot to the wolf like a doting sheep, it’s wrong but I want you tonight. — Fear & Delight, The Correspondents

There was news from Belfast. 

There was no way for you to anticipate the severity of what this actually meant when you heard a Shelby family counsel had been called. Apparently Arthur wanted you there specifically, which of course caused you some unease. 

While the oldest Shelby brother hadn’t called you a whore recently (at least not to your face), he still hadn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms into their business. Over the last month, you’d noticed an uncomfortable power dynamic shift between Arthur and Tommy. One that you were sure Arthur wasn’t too happy about. 

For a moment, you wondered if it had anything to do with your incident with Benji — something you still dreamed about. There was a looming ache in your heart that you imagined wouldn’t go way any time soon. 

“Eight o’clock,” Tommy said again, his voice low against the hum of the busy patrons of the Garrison. You nodded, continuing to wipe down the glassware. “I already told Harry, he’ll cover.” 

You gave him a disapproving look, still unhappy with the way he seemed to go about handling your pub-related business with Harry. But Tommy brushed you off. 

The man you recognized as Freddie stood up from his table in the back. Discreetly, you looked between him and Tommy, trying to busy yourself. 

You weren’t sure if Ada had told Freddie yet that you knew of their dalliance. He hadn’t made any indication that he did, heck he hardly ever even looked at you, so you assumed no. 

“I’ll take a mild,” he said to you, leaning against the bar as he looked toward Tommy, who continued to smoke his cigarette and avoid his old friend. 

You took another look between the two before pouring his glass, then watched as Freddie leaned over and took one of the two coins Tommy had laid down on the counter, and pushed it toward you. 

Looking between the two, you were surprised to see Tommy chuckle, flicking the ash off his cigarette. 

“Cheers, Thomas. Good health to you,” Freddie said, lifting his mug before taking a sip. When Tommy didn’t respond, Freddie reached over and grabbed his cap off the counter, examining the razor blade stitching. “Crown of a prince. Soon to be king, I’d bet–” 

“You don’t bet,” Tommy finally replied, still looking forward. 

“No, but these past few days I’ve been speculating.” 

You tried to appear busy, like you weren’t eavesdropping. It was the job of the bartender to blend into the background. So you continued to polish the glassware as you pretended not to listen to the scene before you. 

Tommy waited for Freddie to continue, but when he didn’t, Tommy took the bait. “About what?” 

“One of my union comrades has a sister who works in the telegraph office at the BSA factory.” 

You remained cool as you listened, but paused at hearing Freddie’s confession. Luckily, Freddie was leaning with his back against the bar counter, head leaned toward Tommy and away from you. You chanced a look at Tommy, who gave nothing away as he continued to look down at his cigarette and listen. You followed suit, going back to your task at hand as Freddie continued. 

“She says, over the past week, they’ve had messages coming up from London to the brass. From Winston Churchill himself.” Freddie paused, pushing up from the bar and moving closer to Tommy. He offered the next part in a softer voice, just loud enough for you to overhear. “Something about a robbery. ‘A robbery of national significance’ it said.” 

Tommy rose his brow unimpressed, still not bothering him with a glance. 

Freddie went on. “She found a list of names left on the telegraph machine. And on that list was your name and my name together. What kind of list would have the name of a communist and the name of a bookmaker side by side?” 

You chanced a peak toward Tommy, watching him set his tumbler down before finally addressing Freddie. “Perhaps it’s a list of men who give false hope to the poor. The only difference between you and me, Freddie, is that sometimes,” he leaned in closer, “sometimes my horses stand a chance of winning.” 

He sat back up, taking another hit off his cigarette as Freddie considered him before pushing off the counter. He moved in closer, and the tension rose, causing you to grow more cautious. If a fight were to go down, you weren’t sure what you would do – what you’d be allowed to do. You knew Harry was in the back room, but still. 

“You know,” Freddie said, leaning in toward Tommy, “there are days when I hear about the cuttings and beatings that I really wish I’d let you take that bullet in France.” 

Tommy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he continued to look down. “Believe me, there are nights I wish you had.” 

The front door swung open, a man crashing through like a bull trapped in a pin. You gasped, jumping toward the back of the counter as you watched Tommy and Freddie spring into action at the sight of their friend Danny. 

“They’re gonna get me!” he shouted as Tommy and Freddie grabbed both sides of him, throwing him down to the ground together. 

“Breathe, Danny, breathe!” Freddie shouted when they finally got him face down. 

“Danny! Danny! You’re home!” Tommy said loudly as Danny continued to cry out on the floor. “We’re all home in England. You’re not in France. You’re not an artillery shell, Danny, you’re a man. Hey? You’re not a whizz-bang. You’re a human being, Danny. You’re all right, you’re all right.” 

You watched astounded as they managed to calm down Danny. According to Harry, this wasn’t the first time that Danny had barreled into the pub like this, lost in his mind and attacking everyone in sight. But this had been the first time you’d witnessed an incident. 

It reminded you of what your life could had been like, had your father not gotten help himself with his own PTSD. You knew that nowadays, the concept of PTSD wasn’t even an idea – no one could have anticipated the trauma influenced by the harrowing nature of the First World War on the veterans as they returned home to normal lives. 

You were beginning to wonder if Tommy had any sort of symptoms or triggers when they lifted Danny from the floor as Tommy comforted him back to the present. At some point, Harry had emerged from the back room during the commotion and began righting the tables and chairs. 

“Ah hell, did I do it again?” Danny asked Tommy, crying when he confirmed. 

Tommy pressed his forhead against his friend’s, “You’ve gotta stop doing this, man.” 

Danny offered his apologies as Tommy led him toward the door. 

“It’s all right. You go home to your wife now, Danny. Try and get all that smoke and mud out of your head, eh?” 

Danny apologized again until he left the pub. Tommy and Freddie shared a look before Tommy wiped his face with his hand and moved back to the counter. 

“Mr. Shelby,” Harry said as he gestured toward a broken table top. “You have to do something about him.” 

“Damn right, Harry,” Freddie said antagonizingly, patting the man on the shoulder. “You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection.” He followed Tommy back toward the bar, where you’d already filled up his glass. “You’re the law around here now, Tommy, aren’t you? Maybe you should put a bullet in Danny Wizz-Bang’s head, like they do with mad horses.” Tommy paused in his walk toward the door. “Maybe you’ll have to put a bullet in my head someday, too.” 

Tommy shook his head, lifting his cap and straightening it back on his head before turning to look at you. For a moment, you could see the real hurt behind his eyes. A vision flashed before you, of Tommy putting a gun against his own head, and you shuttered. 

“Bring the bill to the Peaky Blinders,” Tommy said to Harry on his way out the door. “We’ll take care of it.” 

That night you approached the Shelby house with trepidation. Aside from that first family meeting, you hadn’t exactly been invited to any of the other meetings. Which was to be expected, you weren’t really family after all. Plus, at the time, there were members at these counsels that still didn’t know of your involvement in the company. 

After the Benji incident, Scudboat and Lovelock had become privy to your real status amongst the business. Polly assured you that they could be trusted, and that they would be useful security-wise. You had been receptive to this update, since neither man had ever had any kind of trouble with the books (aside from some bad math) and they’d always been kind toward you. 

“Finally, we can get started,” Arthur shouted when you walked through the den door. 

Apparently you were the last to arrive. Polly pushed a chair out for you to sit between her and Arthur, who stood and began to pass out small pamphlets. 

“Right, I’ve called this family meeting because I’ve got some very important news. Scudboat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares. They were in a pub on the Shankhill Road yesterday and in that pub there was a copper, handing out these.” 

He handed a paper to Ada, which John snatched away to read himself. He gave the remaining papers to Scudboat to pass to you, Polly, and Tommy, who was standing against a beam on the other side of Polly. 

“‘If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.’” John read from the pamphlet. 

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur went on. 

Ada’s brow creased, “To do what?” 

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy answered. “He’s a chief inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast.” 

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked acusatoringly. 

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll.” 

“And why didn’t you tell me?” 

Tommy continued to stare at his older brother, shrugging slightly, “I’m telling you.” 

Arthur fumed, taking a swig of his flask as Polly asked, “So why are they sending him to Birmingham?” 

“Well, there’s been all these bloody strikes at the BSA and the Austen works lately,” Tommy explained. Ada shared a quick look with you, knowing that it was Freddie who had a hand in most of those strikes. “Now the papers are talking about sedition, and revolution. I reckon it’s communist they’re after.” 

“So this copper’s gonna leave us alone, right?” Polly followed up. 

Tommy chanced a look with you before easily answering her question. 

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night.” 

“Yeah, but we ain’t IRA,” John chimed in. “We bloody fought for the king. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers.”

“He’s right,” Arthur added. 

“If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.” 

“So, Arthur, is that it?” Tommy asked, ignoring his younger brother. 

Arthur pointed toward you. “Her.” Your brow rose as everyone turned to look at you. “Was the powder trick her idea?” 

Tommy’s brow furrowed, “Like I told you this morning–” 

“You brought her in to help us with the company. Ever since she got here you’ve been reckless. We don’t fuck with the Chinese!” 

You rose your finger, “I’d like to point out that I have no idea what a powder trick even is–”

“Y/N is only doing what we agreed to,” Tommy answered honestly. “I’ll have no more talk of it.” 

Arthur huffed, still staring daggers at his brother. 

“You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?” Polly asked, breaking the tension between them. 

Tommy shook his head. “No. Nothing that’s women’s business.” 

You rose a brow to that, curious what business was unfit for either you or his aunt to be privy to. 

Polly narrowed on him. “This whole bloody enterprise was women’s business while you men were away at war. What’s changed?” 

“We came back.”

“How could you let him do it?” 

Polly stormed into your flat that night, pulling off her black veil that she typically wore to the church. 

“Uh, sure, come on in Pol,” you joked, motioning for her to come in despite her already standing in the middle of your room with her hands on her hips. 

“Tommy told me about the guns.” 

You sobered up real fast at that, closing the door. 

“You have to convince him to get rid of them – throw them in the Cut.” 

Taking a deep breath, you moved to prepare you both a cup of tea. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Talk to him, he’ll listen to you. Do you know how much trouble he’ll be in if he’s caught with those guns, or selling them for that matter? He’ll hang!” 

You swallowed, the severity sinking in. You knew that Tommy was going through every possibility that these guns could serve him. 

“You know I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t make Tommy do anything, Polly. You know that better than anyone.” 

She huffed, the sound of surrender as she knew you were right. She ran her hand across her forehead. “This copper is going to be trouble. I can feel it.” 

You had to meet Harry early the next morning. He’d closed early due to the mess Danny had caused and you offered to help him clean up. You were sweeping the floors when the door opened. 

A woman came in and you stopped her, “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closed–”

“I’m here about the job as a barmaid,” she said with a polite smile.

You appraised the woman before you. She was beautiful, her features soft and polished. Her blonde hair stood out against the others in the town. 

A pang of jealousy filled you immediately, but you pushed it aside. You’d already convinced yourself that this place needed more help, and that no one was going to encroach on your territory. But dammit, why’d she have to be so pretty. 

“Y/N,” you offered her a smile and your hand. 

She reciprocated, “Grace.” 

“Harry!” you shouted, listening for Harry to come back from downstairs. “This is Grace. She’s here about the barmaid position.” 

“Are you mad?” he asked, looking her up and down. 

“Am I what?” 

“Job’s been filled.”

He turned back and you shared a confused look with Grace, knowing that the role hadn’t been filled, unless he’d hired someone without letting you know. 

She took a step forward, “It was in an advertisement in yesterday’s paper.” 

“Believe me, love,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m doing you a favor.” 

“I’m not asking for favors, I’m asking for employment.” 

You couldn’t help the small smirk on your cheek at her response. “Do you have any experience?”

“And references,” she replied, opening her bag and handing you her papers. “I worked in a pub in Dublin.” 

Harry walked over toward you, looking over your shoulder at her papers. “What part of Ireland are you from?” he asked.

“Galway.” 

He hummed, “my mother was from Galway.” 

“She does have experience,” you commented. “That’s better than any of the others who’ve come in to apply.” 

“I can’t have two pretty women in my pub. The coppers will think I’m runnin’ a brothel.” 

You shared a look with Grace, sighing at the real reason Harry didn’t want to hire her. 

She straightened as she took off her hat. “Watch. And listen.” 

Your brow knitted curiously as she picked up the spit bucket, then she began to sing. 

“I wish I was in Carrickfergus, only for nights in Ballygrand. 

I would swim over, the deepest ocean. The deepest ocean, for my love to find. 

My boyhood friends and my own relations, have all passed on now, like the melting snow.” 

She sat down the spit bucket, now filled with the spatoons she’d dumped inside as she sang. You and Harry shared a surprised look. Her singing really was magical, and the jealousy you’d been fighting off rose back up like vile in your throat. 

“In Ireland, my singing made them cry and stopped them fighting.” 

Harry chuckled, “I hope you know a lot of songs.” 

Grace nodded, smiling as she looked back toward you hopeful. 

You smiled back at her encouragingly, but something in your gut pulled at you to take caution. Something about her felt very disingenuous – she felt too polite, too posh, nothing at all like the other people you’d met in town since you’d arrived. 

You tried to convince yourself it was your jealousy, that you were being territorial, all the things you’d been afraid of – but something deeper felt off. 

Like you weren’t the only one here with secrets. 

“This investigator isn’t messing around,” Tommy commented as you brushed Monaghan Boy’s coat. 

It was just the two of you at the Yard, Charlie and Curly were on guard. Tommy used your interest in visiting the horse as his cover to check in on the crates, which hadn’t been touched since you left it the other night. 

“Our coppers say he made a big speech about taking down the Peaky Blinders and Fenians and Communists,” he continued. “Said he doesn’t trust any of them, and brought in his own brigade of men.” 

“This is getting serious, Tommy. Aren’t you worried?” 

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’m told he didn’t serve. Reserved occupation—“

“Tommy!” Curly ran toward you, “It’s Arthur. He’s been beat bad!” 

You handed Curly the brush and hurried alongside Tommy, who led the way back toward the Lane. He stopped first at the Garrison to grab some rum – said it was the best for disinfection. You disagreed, but didn’t dare argue with his determination in the moment. The pub was packed, but the minute Tommy walked in, the crowded moved aside. 

He snaked through the snug and opened the window as you pushed your way behind the bar. 

“Doesn’t matter what kind, just any bottle,” he shouted, causing Harry and Grace to look toward him. 

“What are you doing, I thought you were off this morning?” Grace asked you, looking between you and Tommy. 

“I am,” you added, searching the shelf for an unopened bottle. 

You heard Harry whisper to Grace that whatever it is, it’s on the house. Tommy sat some money down on the window seal anyway, which Grace moved to collect. 

“Ready?” you said after finally finding the bottle. Tommy nodded, giving one last look to Grace before turning to leave. 

“If I say something’s on the house,” you heard Harry say to Grace as you moved to leave, “then say nothing to whoever you’re serving. If they decide that they want you, there’s nothing anybody could do about it. Lucky for you, Tommy there hasn’t looked at anyone other than Y/N since he got back.” 

You couldn’t help the swell in your chest and smirk on your lips as you gripped the bottle and made your exit from the pub. 

Your smirk immediately fell when you arrived at the Shelby house to the sight of Arthur beat up and bloody. 

“I’m not bloody chocking, am I?”

“You will when I wrap this cloth around your neck,” Ada said back to the older brother as she poured boiling water into a bowl. 

“Let me see him,” Tommy announced, opening the bottle of rum and ringing out a rag. Arthur took a swig of the bottle before Tommy took it back, pouring some onto the rag and pushing it against a nasty gash above his eye. 

Arthur hissed as Tommy reassured him he was alright, then grabbed his arm. “He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said. Something about a robbery.” 

Tommy pushed away from him, taking a few steps backwards to breathe. 

“Who?” You asked innocently, moving to help Polly and Ada tend to some of his other cuts. 

“The inspector,” Ada answered. 

Your mouth fell again, surprised that an officer did this, and realizing just exactly how out of your depth you may be. 

“He said he wants us to help him,” Arthur continued, still watching Tommy as he leaned against the counter. 

“We don’t help coppers,” John commented. 

Arthur pointed to his younger brother. “He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots, like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears.”

“Was this before or after he beat you to a pulp?” You scoffed, mostly to yourself. John breathed out a laugh, but Arthur remained serious. 

“I said—“ he hissed again as Polly bandaged up his hand. “I said we’d have a family meeting and take a vote.”

He waited a beat, watching Tommy until his head dropped down to his hand. 

“Why not? Hmm?” Arthur asked when Tommy still didn’t say anything. “We have no truck with Fenians or communists.”

Tommy continued to remain silent. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” Arthur asked, then looked to you. “What’s wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” He finally asked, directing the last question to Polly. 

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists,” she replied looking back at Tommy with that cut throat disapproving glare. 

Arthur set his sights on you, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. That it was you — you were what was wrong with him lately. 

After you all got him relatively cleaned up, he left and grumbled something about getting back his money’s worth. You didn’t ask what he meant by that. Ada and John soon followed, leaving just you, Polly, and Tommy left in the kitchen. 

Polly gave you a pointed look before leaving. 

“Tommy—“ you began the minute you two were alone. 

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Did you see Arthur’s face? And this guy wants your help,” you scoffed, dropping into the seat. “This man has to be insane.”

“And desperate,” Tommy added. “This changes our plans. They’ve shown their hand. We can use this. If they want them back this bad, they’ll have to pay.”

You blinked. “You think you can extort from this guy? God, you really would make a great politician, you know that?”

He shook his head. “This is our ticket for legitimacy.”

“In what world?” You all but laughed, thinking of the irony that something legitimate could come from theiving and blackmailing. 

“In this one! This is the way of the world!” He softly exclaimed. Despite the two of you being alone in the house, he still felt the need to be discreet.

You took a deep breath. “I understand that you believe the only way to get ahead is to play dirty, but this — you saw your brother’s face. This guy isn’t messing around. And Winston Churchill. I mean, that’s serious business. He’s the fucking prime minister—“ Tommy’s brow creased, and you shook your head. “I mean, he— he could be one day. He’s just, he’s— he’s powerful, I mean.”

“Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it on the bank of the Cut,” Tommy said strongly.

You swallowed, knowing there was no talking him out of it. “Okay. What’s your plan.”

“In France, I learned that it was frivolous to have a concrete plan. You had to adapt at a moment’s notice to survive. My Kimber plan remains, this just may be an opportunity to further my original goal.”

“Alright,” you conceded. 

You held his gaze for a moment before he sat down and took your hand. “This is good, Y/N. This is our chance.”

Outside of Birmingham, the new Inspector walked into an art museum, approaching a blonde woman wearing a large hat. 

“Are you in position?”

Grace rose her head, “I am, sir.”

“First impression?”

“I’m quite shocked at how these people live. Have you found anything out that might help me?”

“I interrogated the head of the Peaky Blinders. He didn’t know anything. A brute.”

Grace hummed. “It strikes me that it isn’t Arthur who heads the Shelby family. It’s the younger one, Thomas. They say he won two medals for gallantry in the war.”

“You sound fascinated,” Inpector Campbell commented, raising a brow. 

“There’s a woman at the bar. She seems very close with the family. I believe she may be my gate to learn more. However, my opinion has not changed. The bookmaker gangs have other business, and the communists are too weak to have planned this. I believe the guns were taken by the IRA.”

He hummed. “You must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.”

“What history?” Grace countered. “That the IRA murdered my father will not affect my judgement.”

“If you see any guns, check the serial numbers against that list,” he slipped a folded paper in her hands. “Your father was the finest officer I ever worked with. I know he’d be very proud of you.”

Back in Birmingham, you were helping Polly with the books when Tommy walked in, blood splattered across his white collar. You knew what this meant — Danny was gone. 

He’d accidentally killed someone during another fit. An Italian whose family wanted revenge. Tommy had promised to dispatch of him himself, with the Italians as witness. 

“Where are ya!” Arthur shouted from the other end of the empty shop. He slammed a paper in front of Tommy. “It bloody won! Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“Yeah. It won. And word will spread. So the next time we do the powder trick, it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse. It’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it, we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we’re ready, the horse will lose.” Arthur only stared at him as Tommy shut the book he’d opened. “Think about it.”

He walked the book over toward you and Polly, dropping it to the table along with a bag of coins. 

Polly picked it up, judging the weight. “Bad week?” Tommy didn’t reply. “There was no moon last night, I checked. Did you do the right thing?”

“Yes,” he replied, meeting your eyes. “I did the right thing.”

God, you hoped he did. 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #fanfic #Mine #time after time

[fandom-chic]

Please Please Please: Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N is only a child when she and Tommy Shelby meet. The two quickly become best friends as they grow up in Small Heath. As the years go by, Y/N and Tommy realize there may be more to their friendship than they originally thought.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Previous chapter

Year: 1913

She spun around slowly, observing how the dress fell on her frame. It had belonged to her mother, and she couldn't help but feel it suited her mother better than herself. Nevertheless, it would have to suffice. Tonight, she was meeting James, and she wanted to appear nothing short of beautiful. They had been seeing each other for almost nine months, and although it felt like an eternity to her youthful mind, she knew that everything was still fresh and new. At this point in the relationship, she believed that external beauty held great importance.

James was a good man. Shit, that was an understatement to say the least. His family came from old money. It was the kind of wealth she dreamt about. Wealth that her family had never known and might never know. He didn’t keep it a secret either. On their first date, he had taken her to the nicest restaurant she had ever stepped into. All she ordered was soup and water, worried that she would come off as a mooch. James had chuckled and ordered her a glass of wine, reassuring her not to worry about the bill. But she worried.

James was also training to be a solicitor. That was a job that had lots of prospects and a steady future. It was the kind of job a husband would have. It would allow him to make a decent living while also being able to come home to his family every night. It would also not leave him with anyone's blood on his hands, at least in the physical sense. Y/N ran her comb through her locks, contemplating her reflection.

It wasn’t a secret to her that a proposal was on the horizon. She had noticed the way her mother tossed her old dress at her and gave her an excited smile. Something was coming. It also didn’t hurt that she overheard her mother and father discussing the topic.

Y/N had stumbled out of bed early last Saturday. On her way to grab a coffee, she heard whispers coming from the kitchen. She quietly made her way over before stopping to hear what her parents were saying.

“That James fellow seems quite nice,” Mother had exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Yes he does,” Father replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Definitely would make a fine addition to this family,” her mother added, a smile evident in her voice.

“I would say so,” Y/N could hear the monotony in her father’s voice. Her mother seemed to notice it too.

“Would you?” Mother asked.

“I would,” Father said, there was defiance in his voice.

“You sure don’t sound like it,” Mother said, a sharp tip to her tone.

“I just,” there was hesitation in Father’s voice, “I just always imagined a different path for Y/N.” Mother snorted at that.

“What path is better than one with a solicitor from a wealthy family?” Y/N didn’t want to know the answer to that, and entered the kitchen at that moment. Both of her parents turned toward her, uneasiness plastered across their faces as they wondered what she heard. All she did was smile and say good morning, feigning ignorance. Her parents knew she heard but if they all pretended, maybe they could truly pretend it wasn’t reality.

Y/N picks up her lipstick, tracing the red along her lips. It was her favorite shade. She remembered the first day she put it on. She was sixteen and experimenting with makeup. When she stepped out of her house to see Tommy, she couldn’t forget his grin.

“Now that’s the classiest whore in all of Small Heath.” he had said, raising his eyebrows playfully.

“That better be a joke Thomas Shelby!” she warned.

“I thought you knew me better than that, Y/N,” he said, with a wink, “You look beautiful.” A hint of electricity flies erupts in her stomach.

“You think so?” She had a tough time looking up at him at that moment.

“Of course,” At that, he held his arm out for her. She laced her arm in his and they went off. 

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered to herself, seeing that in her moment of distraction, her lipstick had not decided to stay in the outline of her lips. Fucking Tommy, even absent, he ruined everything. He never showed up after their fight and she has not seen him around Small Heath. It was as if he had dropped off the face of the earth. But he hadn’t. He just didn’t want to see her. At that, a knock echoed on her door. 

Her father poked his head in. "James is here," he informed her. Y/N nodded, quickly grabbing a tissue to wipe away the smudge.

“Okay," she replied, sensing her father's lingering presence. She glanced back at him. "I'll be out in a few." He nodded, observing his daughter with an uneasy expression. "You know," he spoke up, entering the room, "you don't have to go if you don't want to." Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't I want to go?" she asked. Her father sighed, closing the door behind him.

"You're my daughter, Y/N, and I can tell when something makes you happy and when it doesn't," he explained, sitting on her bed. "I can also see when you're doing something just to please your mother and me." Y/N turned to face her father, crossing her arms in front of her.

"James makes me happy, and I'm not doing this for you or Mum. If you have something else to say, say it, or you can leave," she asserted. Her father sighed but remained seated on the bed.

“I haven’t seen Tommy around here in a while.” her father stated. Y/N knew this conversation was coming.

"I don't want to talk about Tommy right now, Dad," she pleaded.

“And why is that?” he interjected.

“Because," she averted her gaze, "he hasn't made any effort to reach out to me, and I don't want to be the only one trying anymore. He's draining, and I can't bear his chaos any longer." Her father nodded, absorbing her words. 

“I understand,” He puts his hands on his knees, ready to get up, “Have a fun night with James,” At that, he exited the room, leaving the door open for Y/N to follow. She did so and found James waiting in the doorway, a smile adorning his face.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented as she walked toward him.

“Thank you,” she said, as he offered her his arm. 

He turned toward her father, “I’ll have her back by 10 PM.” Her father nodded, giving the couple a wave before they left. As the door closed behind them, she was greeted by the sight of something she had never seen before, an automobile. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight.

“My father purchased it for me last week and I thought I would take the loveliest girl in Small Heath for a ride.” James said, looking down at her. Y/N could not look him in the eye yet, wanting to take in as much of the car as she could. She had never seen one this close to her. It truly was the pinnacle of the high life.

“It’s amazing.” she whispered, almost in disbelief. 

“Indeed," James agreed, opening the passenger door for her. She cautiously climbed in, afraid of breaking something. James took his seat beside her on the driver's side, and the car roared to life, eliciting a gasp from Y/N. Then they were off. Y/N watched as the world outside the window zoomed past her. Small Heath had never seemed this enchanting before. Perhaps her father's stories held some truth.

“Wow,” she breathed. It wasn’t until she heard James clear his throat that she realized he had asked her a question. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was asking how your teaching courses were coming along.” James inquired. 

“Oh, they’re going very well. Only a few months left before I am done.” Y/N answered, a proud smile dawning her face. 

“Very nice, very nice.” He muttered to himself as they drove down the street.

“And you,” she began, “how are your courses this semester?”

“Good.” he replied, refocusing his attention on the road. Y/N looked at James, expecting more words to follow that, but none came. From what Y/N had heard around Small Heath, law school was a grueling but fascinating time. But that did not seem to be the case for James.

“I can only imagine.” Was the only phrase she could think to answer with. 

“And a pretty imagination you have.” James responded as the couple pulled up to the restaurant. The words caused a pit to form in her stomach. Pretty imagination. What did that even mean? She stared into the windshield, curious about those words as James opened up her door. His hand gestured to the restaurant. “After you.” She gave him a curt nod as he assisted her out of the vehicle. She followed him in. The host gave them a smile as he brought them to their table. 

“What do you think you will order tonight?” James asked, looking over his menu. Y/N hadn’t looked at the menu yet as she watched the people of Small Heath wander. James gave a small snicker, tapping her hand. She jumped. “My dear, you have to at least look at the menu.” That same empty feeling washed over her.

“I will, just taking in the view.” she said, looking away from the window. Her eyes skimmed over the menu, not particularly focusing on any meal in particular. It was then she heard a voice she could recognize anywhere. She didn’t have to look up to know Tommy was in the same room as her. She couldn’t help herself from looking toward the door to catch a glimpse of him. To her surprise, he wasn’t alone. The most recent woman to have won Tommy’s heart had accompanied him. Her name was Greta and that was all she knew. Y/N’s gaze lingered as the couple began to move in her direction. It was when Tommy was sitting at the table directly in front of theirs did he notice her. He quickly shifted his gaze away, but hers remained on him. She couldn’t bear to look away, for all she knew, he could disappear again. 

“You know,” Y/N began, putting her menu down, “I heard that Oxford has one of the most prestigious law schools in the world, isn’t that true, James?” Her voice was pitched a bit louder than usual, she knew that. 

James gazed up from her menu, “Oh yes, it is quite the institution.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about your studies.” she said, letting her eyes move back to Tommy. This time, his eyes were locked on hers. James had begun to discuss his torts class, but Y/N could not decipher one word he was saying. All she could do was watch Tommy’s reaction, or lack of one.

“James, why did you pick the career path of a solicitor?” Y/N asked, “Is it because you enjoy helping people? Or because you like to see the world become more just?” James smiled at her question as he continued on about the world of law. This time, a reaction came out of Tommy. Disdain. His eyes narrowed as James passionately discussed his ambitions and dreams within law school. It was then that a bottle of chardonnay was brought to the table. She quickly took a large gulp, letting the warm feeling of alcohol run through her. She swallowed the rest of her drink before pouring herself a new one. 

“And, James, wouldn’t you say that your family is very well respected? Definitely, not the kind to bring a weapon to a meal, correct?” This caused James to cock an eyebrow. 

“Um, well, that is quite the question-”

“I just want to know that the man I associate myself with is an honorable one.” It was then she noticed Tommy excuse himself from his table and approached her. He stopped right beside her, leaning down so his mouth was right next to her ear.

“Outside, now.” And he proceeded outside.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Y/N said. James gave a nod before she got up and followed Tommy. As the door shut behind her, she looked to see Tommy lighting a cigarette, his body languid against the stone wall of the restaurant. His gaze drifted over to her and his eyes narrowed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“What’s wrong with me?” she gestured towards herself, taking quick strides toward her friend, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Why would there be anything wrong with me?” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, “I’m not the one causing a scene.” The nonchalance in his voice stabbed her, causing a part of her to break.

“How was any of that a scene? I was just having a conversation with my boyfriend.” Tommy snorted at that.

“A conversation? That’s not what I would’ve called it.” Tommy said, taking another drag. Y/N opened her mouth, trying to will a retort. Anything to match up to him. But all that could come out was silence. Tommy stubbed out his cigarette against the brick wall behind him. “Now if you would excuse me, I have a date to get back to.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” The words came out as a whisper. As they escaped her lips, she felt a tear come into her eye. Tommy took a breath, his hands falling into his pockets.

“You know why, Y/N,” he responded.

“No Tommy,” she said, shaking her head, “I do not, please tell me.” Her plea hung in the air. Finally, Tommy met her gaze again, and she saw a flicker of emotion pass across his face. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“That day at the lake made me realize, we are two extremely different people. You want the solicitor husband, the beautiful house and the two kids raised by the nanny. You want to come home and relax on your day bed while your maid brings you your meals. If you stay close to me, that is not the life you will have. All those dreams will never come. Our friendship just doesn’t make sense anymore, Y/N and you know that.” Tommy said, finally moving away from her.

“Do you really feel that way?” she whispered. Tommy stared directly ahead before he gave a slight nod. Her stomach dropped to her feet as she began to come to accept a new reality, Tommy was gone.

“Tommy,” Everything in her wanted him to face her, but he stayed staring straight ahead “I miss you so much.” 

“I know.” Was all he said, before putting his head down and walking back inside. She was alone. She let her body collapse against the brick wall as the real sobs began to erupt from her. It was then she heard footsteps begin to approach her. Her gaze snapped back to the door Tommy just walked through but all she saw was James.

“I think it may be time to go home.” James said as Y/N nodded. His hand touched the small of her back, leading her to where the car was parked. Y/N gave one final look to the window where Tommy had just seated himself again. She could’ve sworn he was staring right back at her.

Next chapter

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[lavender-romancer]

I'd Do Anything

Part Two

Tommy Shelby x Reader

You met when you were sixteen and from there, your lives ebbed and flowed closer and further away from one another but there was always something that brought you together.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Previous chapter

1911

Graduation was only slightly stressful. You and the other women in your college were in a small group together afterwards swapping stories about how daunting it was to stick out that much in a cohort. Looking past some of them you saw Tommy walking out of the cathedral with a cigarette in his mouth and you smiled before running over to him.

"How was I?" You asked as you hugged him.

"You looked beautiful." Tommy said with a smile, kissing you on the cheek.

"I'm so happy it's over now and I don't have to worry about it." You rubbed your hand up and down Tommy's arm.

"I can't believe I have a friend so insanely clever." Tommy gushed and you rolled your eyes to hide the pang in your stomach at the reminder that you were friends.

"If you focussed you'd be able to do the same thing with a scholarship. You're just too clever for your own good." You raised your eyebrow and Tommy laughed.

"I don't have enough interest in anything to do a degree in it. Three years on one thing sounds like a nightmare." Tommy took a drag of his cigarette.

"Let's go to the pub please!" You announced with a smile before walking down the cobblestones.

You and Tommy went to drop off your cap and gown before walking to the local pub together. It was bustling with students, alumni and lecturers lit by dingy candle light in each room giving it a guise of dark academia you quite liked. The two of you squeezed through the dense crowd near the bar before getting to the front and ordering two bitters. You were paying- Tommy had spent almost all his money on the return ticket to London- you didn't mind. Looking around and being surrounded by reminders of your time at university made you even more anxious for the future. Had this all been worth it? Would you actually get a job from this? It was ridiculous that you chose this time to worry about these things but you almost couldn't help it.

"Come on, let's go outside." Tommy said, snapping you outside of your own thoughts.

You both spilled a fair amount of your respective pint on the floor and some graduates shoes before getting outside, it was insanely busy. As you stood outside together for the first time in a while it felt awkward. A silence fell between the two of you and neither of you quite knew how to break it. Even at 21 the two of you still hadn't figured out what you were to one another, what the occasional drunk kisses or the longing looks meant.

"What will you do now?" Tommy asked and your eyes shot up from the floor to look at his.

"Get a job in banking or something I suppose. Really anything that will pay well and I'll succeed in." You took a sip of your pint which you couldn't say was your favourite drink you'd had recently.

"In London?" Tommy asked in a higher pitch than usual.

"Perhaps. I haven't decided if I want to go home yet. I have money saved from the part time work I had so I could afford to live down here after successful interviews but there's jobs in Birmingham city center. So I'm not sure." The coldness of the glass was particularly apparent at that very moment.

"Ah." Was all Thomas replied.

The two of you finished your drinks with intermittent conversations and smoking to break the awkwardness before heading to the train station to get your overnight. You were ridiculously happy it was an overnight so the lights were dimmed and you couldn't pretend you were asleep. You couldn't help but well up slightly, Tommy had never been good at hiding his emotions and you could tell how disappointed he was. All you had ever wanted was to be with him, but after you left for London three years ago nothing happened. Regardless of the kiss and the sex, nothing changed. And that made you angry, especially that now he could be so visibly upset that you would want to focus on your career when he made no attempt to solidify a relationship between the two of you.

The following day you woke up in the room you shared with Ada when you'd come home from university, after your parents practically disowned you. The sun shone a thin beam of light through the gap in the curtains, highlighting all the bits of dust kicked up when you got out of the bed. Ada was still snoring so you went downstairs and made a pot of tea. You sat down at the dining table and opened the newspaper from yesterday still sitting mostly untouched. Aside from the sports section, the Shelby boys rarely looked at the paper aside from Tommy. But his treatment of the pages was so immaculate you'd never know he'd even opened it.

"Morning." Tommy said walking into the kitchen and you involuntarily jumped, surprised that he was even speaking to you.

"Good morning." You returned and took a sip of your weak tea. "There's a pot of tea on the side if you want any." You told him without looking up and he grunted in response before pouring himself a cup and sitting adjacent to you.

"Have you looked in on Finn yet?" He asked in a matter of fact tone you couldn't stand.

"Not yet." You replied just as curtly, this situation would not be resolved by you saying sorry since you absolutely did not owe him an apology.

"I'll see if he wants any food." And with that Thomas was up and gone again, albeit for good reason but still, you expected some kind of communication from him.

When you were away at university the Shelby's had started an under the table bookkeeping business venture. After you left university you'd begun helping with the finances and organising every bet with corresponding funds etc. They were mostly just lucky when a large group of people made a terrible bet with awful odds to try and win big, but it hardly happened. So most of the finances were self-explanatory but either way you decided to take up some of your time looking over them.

You pushed back the curtain and opened the double doors, smelling the familiar scent of staleness and cigarette smoke. It was, in a strange way, extremely comforting and familiar. The Shelby house usually smelt of some kind of smoke whether it was from the coal fire or cigarettes but, regardless it was homely. The smell only reminded you of a situation that had happened two years prior when you were working for the Shelby's in the summer.

Walking into the sparsely covered room you saw someone drooping over a table, seemingly asleep. It was early so you weren't expecting any customers let alone someone who had possibly broken in.

"Hello?" You called out cautiously. Walking towards the stairs you saw the door was open. "We're not open yet," you called out again standing closer to the figure, a mass of tangled dark brown hair crowning their sleeping form. You picked up a pencil from one of the tables and gingerly poked the figure on what you thought was their arm. They suddenly woke up in a start making a strangled type of scream sound which surprised you, causing you to scream in turn.

"What happened!" Tommy exclaimed, running through the doors holding Finn in his arms. As the figure sat up you saw it was Polly.

"Pol?" You paused and sat across from her. "What are you doing here?" Tommy put Finn in Pol's arms and she had him sit on her knee, clutching him close. She began crying without explanation, Finn was fidgeting with a tassel on the edge of her coat.

"What's happened?" Tommy asked in a softer voice than you expected and Polly tried to compose herself but she was an absolute mess.

"They-they took them a-away." She stuttered through tears.

"Who took who away?" You asked, reaching across the table to hold her hand.

"The kids. They're gone." Polly held Finn closer and he didn't seem to mind, babbling to himself happily despite Pol's agony.

"Did someone snatch them?" Tommy asked in a voice of panic and Pol laughed.

"No. That bitch who lives in the house that's behind mine reported me to the police because she thought I'd stolen something and the parish took them away from me." Polly dried her eyes.

"What can we do?" You asked slowly, having no idea if anything could be done.

"We could appeal but they wouldn't touch g**sies with a ten foot pole. They need one excuse to take away our children and they took this one without a thought." Polly despaired and you couldn't help but think of how Finn was almost as old as Anna.

"We can try." Tommy sounded almost motivated.

"I can feel it. She's so far away I can feel the cord between the two of us snapping. She's never coming back and Michael… I can't find Michael in my meditation. They've both gone from me, they've been taken and they're never coming back." Was all Polly said.

That day had haunted you for years, unable to help a woman who had done so much for you in her one moment of despair. From that day on you had written to Polly at least twice a month and made sure Thomas was helping her heal by developing a motherly bond with Finn. It was the little you could do, but it couldn't fix what hurt there already was. Since you'd been back in Small Heath you hadn't seen that compassion from Tommy. He was jealous of your prospects or just too infantile to express that he was upset. Either way you didn't know this version of Tommy you'd come home too.

"The books are fine. I checked over them before I came to London." Tommy suddenly said as you walked over to the safe and it made you jump again.

"Tommy can we-" you started but he had already walked away.

Over the next few days you looked after Finn, had tea with Polly, taught Ada more advanced mathematics and tried to talk to Tommy. Only one of those activities was a complete failure. It was as if he had decided you were no longer part of his life and it was insanely hard to accept that eventuality when you simply didn't believe it could be true. Tommy was your person, romantic or not it didn't matter. You adored one another and the thought of him not always being in the sphere of your life was something you were not ready to accept.

"You are going to fucking talk to me." You said storming into Tommy's room and closing the door behind you, leaning against it so he couldn't leave.

"What is there to say?" Tommy asked, he genuinely didn't seem to care.

"Why the fuck are you being so childish and refusing to talk to me? Why are you shutting me out and honestly acting like a child whose mother has told them off? You're ignoring me and devaluing our bond." You yelled, Tommy wasn't too far away from you but he refused to raise his eyes from your shoes. It made you uncomfortable and you kept shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

"I don't want to talk about this." He said so quietly you almost didn't hear him and you scoffed.

"Well that's fucking convenient, Tommy. But we are talking about it. I will not leave this room without you talking about it." You stood your ground and balled some of your dress into your right hand.

The noise of John and Ada arguing downstairs was the only thing calming you down. Tommy mumbled something that you couldn't quite make out and you took a step closer to him. He pushed his fingers through his hair and still didn't look up.

"Say that again?" You said in a more encouraging tone, there was a long and heavily pregnant silence before Tommy finally spoke.

"I don't want you to leave." He said very calmly and you felt your stomach drop at that moment.

Could this be when he finally fucking admitted he wasn't happy with leaving things how they were? You never had been but this status quo had begun as soon as you started university, whilst your first few letters back home to him began with words of affection and adoration. Whilst the letters he wrote were more factual or friendly. He often updated you about the family which you loved but there was no feeling, no care behind the words. After a while you had followed suit.

You walked closer to Tommy at a quicker pace and wrapped your arms around him. The closest hug you had ever given him you were convinced he might throw up because of it. The two of you cling to one another in silence. Listening to the sound of your clothes rustling against one another when you moved slightly and the slight sound when you shuffled closer to him.

"I think I love you." You said into his shoulder and it sounded like Tommy half choked- half sobbed into your shoulder. It wasn't something that should have made you laugh but nevertheless it did. "Are you okay?" You asked cautiously with a slight giggle and he kneed you.

"You bastard." Tommy replied in a muffled voice. "I love you too."

next part

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@swordofawriter @jessimay89

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby angst #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders tommy shelby #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders x y/n

[foreludes]

Blood on the Side of the Mountain

pairing: young!coriolanus x reader

summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?

word count: 1,960

warnings: mild sexual content

chapter 4: there’s snow falling over the city

The next couple of days were a whirlwind. You had finished Coriolanus’ portrait but he still wanted you there. You had barely spent any time at home in the past couple of days and your apartment began to feel less like yours and more like a place where you just laid your head and kept your stuff. Throughout the days, you learned a lot about Coriolanus. You learned that he was a perfectionist, that he was sometimes too honest, and that he was used to getting what he wanted. But you didn’t know anything about his past, you didn’t really know him like you wanted to. He had this tough exterior that was so hard to crack and sometimes you wondered if you ever really would know him and how long he would want to know you. You spent a good amount of time at the president’s mansion and Coriolanus would often tell you to cancel your appointments with promises he would cover whatever money you lost in the process. You decided to take a week off, something you never did, but it felt like you had to. Coriolanus wanted you by him almost at all times, besides when he had to do something important. You had to convince him to let you go home at night, you weren’t in a relationship, and sleeping with him when you’d only met him a couple days ago didn’t feel right. And don’t get me wrong, you wanted to, but you had to have self-control.

The last time you were in a serious relationship was when you were sixteen years old. It was with a boy who was the son of your father’s business partner. you fell hard and fast for him, it was an intense relationship. And in the end, he didn’t want you anymore. You were scared that the same revelation would happen with Coriolanus. it wasn’t a fear that caused you to run away from commitment or caused you to close yourself off emotionally, but it made you cautious. This experience had made it harder for you to love, made it harder for you to trust. But Coriolanus didn’t really seem to care about love. He cared about other things way before that, and that kind of brought you comfort. You felt like he didn’t expect so much from you so soon, even though it seemed like his every waking minute had to be with you.

Right now, you were sitting with him in the same room you had first had lunch with him. but this time it was different. There was tension in the room and you could feel it. You looked at Coriolanus, his blue eyes were like pools, frozen pools. they seemed to pierce through the facade of his carefully crafted exterior. They seemed to harbor complexity and hidden turmoil, something you hadn’t noticed about him before. “There’s a gala tonight,” he finally said and his hand reached out to rest around the glass that was placed in front of him. You were hoping you’d be able to paint tonight, something you hadn’t gotten to really do in the last couple of days. But it seemed like that wouldn’t be happening and a feeling of sadness crept into your mind. “I was hoping I’d be able to paint tonight,” Coriolanus shook his head, just like you thought, he always got everything he wanted. And although you were beginning to feel things for him that you had really never felt with anyone else, you still began to also feel the control that he had over everyone else settle onto you. “I don’t believe there’s anyone more fitting than you to accompany me,” he voiced as he began to tap his finger against the glass in front of him. You nodded your head slowly and gulped, this was just another way that Coriolanus kept you next to him, and you couldn’t refuse.

As the sun dipped below the glistening spires of the Capitol, Coriolanus’ staff began to dress you in something you never expected to see yourself in. This gown was meant to be worn by the elite of the Capitol, it was telling. It was a work of art in terms of grace, a sophisticated symphony of material and design. Delicate lace with complex patterns that told a tale of timeless charm graced the bodice. The sweetheart-shaped neckline, with its subtle and elegant details, suggested modesty as well as allure. The waist of the gown was seamlessly clinched to your waistline and it cascaded into a voluminous skirt of some of the Capitol’s finest satin. The fabric itself was a rich shade of blue, a color that you had recently learned was one of Coriolanus’ favorite colors. The back of the dress was open, allowing the subtle shimmer of the straps to contrast with your skin tone, making the dress all around look polished and regal. On your feet were heels, and you had barely ever worn heels. The last time you had worn heels was when you were fifteen at the academy’s semi-formal that you had been invited to by your ex-boyfriend. They were beautiful heels however, a silver color that pulled all the qualities of the dress together and made the look almost enchanting.

Conveniently, the gala was to be held at the President’s mansion, which meant there was no traveling that needed to be done. The gala was being held to celebrate the Capitol’s opulence and probably to commend Coriolanus’ sacrifices when it came to his dedicated work for the Hunger Games. You walked out of the fitting room that was on the second floor of the mansion, the hallways were empty, but you could hear the music coming from the back of the mansion. You could also see the lights, a mix of different hues, piercing through the upstairs windows. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Who would be attending this gala? Only the best of the best were probably invited. Meaning that you would be the only one deemed to be less fortunate than the rest. You wondered if people would be surprised by your attendance if they would whisper about you behind your back and pretend you didn’t hear it. You wondered if people would judge Coriolanus for being with someone who didn’t necessarily give him leverage in the Capitol. Finally, as you reached the end of the hallway, ready to descend down the stairs, you heard the door open. It was Coriolanus, he looked better than you had ever seen him before. You began to feel that warm feeling in your stomach that you had felt a couple days prior begin to creep up on you again. You hated that feeling because you had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Coriolanus was wearing a suit that was a testament to his refined taste. The jacket, just like your dress, was a midnight blue. The lapels, adorned with a subtle sheen, framed his chest with such elegance. The jacket fit him perfectly, accentuating his silhouette, making it almost impossible to turn away. The entire outfit was perfectly tailored to fit his every need, it was made for him. “Everyone’s waiting for me,” he stated, linking his arm with yours as he directed you down the stairs. The nervousness you had felt in your chest prior was beginning to become more prevalent. You had no choice but to show your face though, there was no running and hiding to go paint anymore. This was your life now.

The President’s mansion had been decorated perfectly. Everything was where it should be, nothing out of place. To say it was impressive was an understatement. Coriolanus and yourself had already been introduced and it was practically impossible to ignore the whispers of the other attending guests as you walked towards the table that was adorned with all different kinds of food and drinks. You could feel the stares as you reached over and picked up a glass of a drink that had a pink hue. Before you could pick it up, a hand stopped you. You looked up about to protest when you saw your ex-boyfriend whom you had dated when you were sixteen. “You might not want to drink that,” he said with a smile. You hadn’t seen him in years, you were speechless. “It’s supposed to make you sick when you eat too much,” he said as he removed his hand from yours. “Oh.” That’s all you could say as you looked up at the boy, who was now a man, that you had once loved before. It made sense why he was here. His father had taken over your father’s business and made good money, leaving your family in the dark. You felt a mix of emotions, none too good. You hadn’t seen him since the night he had broken up with you. “It’s been a long time y/n,” he reminisced, looking down at you. “Yeah it has,” you agreed, picking up a water from the table. You wanted to drink, but it seemed like you weren’t having any luck with finding anything that would soothe you. You took a sip of the water and cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to find something to talk about. "My father was invited by President Snow. And it seems like you two are smitten," he retorted. You nodded your head, your eyes scanning the room for Coriolanus. And then you saw him. He looked upset, angry even. He was talking to an older man, someone you figured was important. But it seemed like he was fixated on you. You began to get nervous again, you had never seen Coriolanus angry before. Your eyes moved back to the man in front of you as you began to speak, "Yeah, you could say that," you answered as you brought the water up to your lips to take another sip. Before you could do so, you felt a strong grip on your waist. It was Coriolanus, and he wasn't happy. You watched as Coriolanus gave your ex-boyfriend the most condescending smile you had ever seen. "Excuse us," he said briefly as he led you towards the inside of the mansion.

The mansion was practically empty since everybody was enjoying the gala outside. The only voices you could hear were miscellaneous staff members who were further away in the home. Coriolanus led you into a hallway way that was dark, barely lit by any lights at all. You began to speak, but before you could you were slammed against the wall. The air you had in your lungs felt like it was being pushed out of you all in one second. "Coriolanus, I-" Before you could speak, a hand wrapped around your throat. You had never been touched like this before and that warm feeling you had in your stomach hours earlier began to find its way into your body again. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to see the woman you're with talking to another man in front of everyone?" Coriolanus' voice was rough, it was different than the usual kindness that seeped from his every word. "It wasn't like that," you pleaded, as you stared into the eyes of the man in front of you. Coriolanus' grip got tighter around your throat as your eyes began to water, you couldn't tell if you were scared or enjoying this occasion. "Oh, it wasn't like that?" He stated condescendingly. The hand that wasn't around your throat began to slowly lift your dress up and move furtively underneath. You drew in a breath of air, the touch of his cold fingers startling you. "We'll have to make sure it wasn't."

Hello! Thank you for reading chapter 4, I'm so sorry for the delay. The next chapter is going to be a little bit spicier, so stay tuned! I will try to get the next chapter out in the next couple of days. It is finals week for me, so bear with me.

tag list:

@bambikitten

@pepperanddsprayy

@andwhatofthelight

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth #the hunger games

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 39

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

The lodge was buzzing. The big, open area was lined with rows of long tables, accompanied by high top tables on the ends. Down one end a group of guys was singing a cheery song that I had never heard before, but it made me smile. People of all ages, all clad in winter hats and hoodies, were slung about in small groups having a good time.

“Beers all around?” Carol asked, once the four of us were seated at a high top table by the bar.

After the elegant night at the winery, and bumping into Carol and Will before they went to the strings concert, I loved that Carol easily slipped into the more casual scene and could sling back beers on a whim. I was really looking forward to getting to know her better.

Dr. Miller rose to his feet and reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. When Will went to stand along with him, he motioned for him to sit. “Everything is on me tonight. What’re we drinking?”

“I saw a beer on tap as I passed by called Road to Ruin,” Carol explained, “I have to try that one.”

“Which means we may be on the road to ruin,” Will joked with a laugh. “A Miller Lite is fine for me.”

Dr. Miller looked at me with a smirk and a subtle wink. I smiled at him. “What kind of beer is the Road to Ruin?” I asked, glancing at Carol.

“It’s a double IPA.” She made a guilty face and looked to Will, who smirked and shook his head.

“I’ll try it,” I said to Dr. Miller.

“Two Roads and two Millers.” He motioned to himself and Carol. It took a second for it to click as he added, “I’ve got more Dad jokes up my sleeve.”

“That’s why I’m getting the Road to Ruin,” his sister joked.

When Dr. Miller went to retrieve our beers at the bar, Carol focused her attention on me. “My brother really seems to adore you.”

“Oh.” I smiled and raised my eyebrows, feeling my cheeks grow hot. I wished I had a drink to hide behind. “Yeah.. I.. I feel the same way.” I was so awkward and I couldn't hide it.

“Honey, don't embarrass the poor girl,” Will put a hand on her forearm with a chuckle.

“I'm just saying,” Carol went on. “You both seem very happy.”

“We are.” I gave a nod and a smile I couldn't contain. “I've never met someone like Joel.” When I sighed out loud, both of them gave a laugh and my cheeks reddened some more. “How was the concert last night on campus?”

“It was very nice.” Carol looked to Will and then back to me. “Elizabeth was one of those students you’ll always remember. She even came back to help out with building our school’s drama club set this year. They spent hours, probably too late most nights, working on all that.”

“Great kid,” Will added.

“What drama production are you guys putting on?” I asked.

“Legally Blonde,” they said at the same time, making Carol chuckle.

“I keep having to chase that little dog around the auditorium, nightly,” Will said with an eye roll and a smirk. “This one’s been eating her dinners alone a few times a week.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” 

Dr. Miller returned, barely able to carry all four beers, which so happened to be in oversized, frosty mugs. “They asked if I wanted the sixteen ounce or twenty-two ounce beers.” He gave a shrug, “I didn’t think anyone would oppose the twenty-two.”

“Certainly not,” Will said with a nod, reaching for the one Dr. Miller slid in his direction.

“Should we toast?” I asked, gently raising my glass just a few inches off the table at first.

“To Carol and Will,” Dr. Miller raised his glass before anyone could intervene, “May you have the long, happy life together.” He added, glancing at Will, “And to gaining a brother.”

“Amen.” Will tapped his glass against Dr. Miller’s and then mine and eventually Carol’s.

“Amen.” She smiled wide and that same warmth and happiness radiated out of her when she looked at her husband-to-be. “Should we get drunk and fool around?” She asked him, prompting Dr. Miller to plug his ears as if he was twelve years old.

I laughed out loud and Will snickered and shook his head.

“And she’s not even drunk yet,” he said with a laugh.

“Maybe I should’ve gone with the sixteen ounce,” Dr. Miller said, shaking his head with a smile.

“Are you going to do any skiing before the wedding?” Carol asked us.

Dr. Miller extended an arm across the back of the chair and grinned. He glanced at me and then back to his sister. “Possibly some snow tubing.”

“Safer.” She sipped her beer, “Good choice.”

“And are you two going to risk breaking a leg on the slopes between now and Saturday?” He asked them.

“We’re going to skip the black diamond,” Will said, joking around. “But we may take a few runs down the slopes tomorrow.”

“Risky business.” Dr. Miller brought the beer to his lips.

“It’s in our genes,” Carol reminded him.

“I would have to agree,” I chimed in with a shrug, “I mean, you started dating me.”

Carol gave a laugh. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She purposely looked away and then back right away.

“Already the women side with each other,” Will said, pretending to be exasperated as he shook his head.

“Happy wife, happy life,” Carol reminded him with a little wink.

“Yes, dear.”

The night was fun and lowkey. Dr. Miller went up to get several rounds of beers for the group, denying each person who tried to jump in and pay, myself included. 

The same group of guys down the end that had been singing earlier got the entire room singing Sweet Caroline when it came over the speakers from someone’s jukebox request. It was one of those nights that got sillier and sillier and sillier.

I hadn’t been drunk in quite awhile, but I began to feel the effects of the alcohol and found myself singing along, swaying and holding Carol’s hand as we pumped our fists in the air to the, ‘Ba, ba, ba’ part of the song.

Honestly, I had never seen Dr. Miller so carefree since I’d known him. It was refreshing and rejuvenating to be a part of such a cheery, upbeat atmosphere. All the tenseness from the week had all but vanished. And it felt amazing.

When we finally cashed out and decided to call it a night, we exchanged hugs all around. I turned to Dr. Miller and gave a him a firm kiss on the lips when his sister and Will had rounded out of the lodge.

“You’re not ready to call it a night, yet, are you?” He asked.

I smirked at him. “What do you have in mind?”

Dr. Miller eyed an oversized clock on the wall. “We have about forty-five minutes-”

“Until what?” I interrupted, largely because of the buzzed feeling that left my filter flying out the window. 

He laughed a boyish laugh. “Let’s get our coats.”

“And then what?”

“And then I’ll show you.” He held out a hand and led me back up to the room. We bundled up quickly, despite my several silly attempts to seduce him, and then I let him lead me out into the night.

“Thirty minute warning,” a worker with a bright, red jacket informed us as we made our way toward the thinning crowd on the slopes.

“Where’s the tubing hill?” Dr. Miller asked.

The man extended an arm, “Take that lift up right over there.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, no.” I smiled and laughed as he towed me toward the station to retrieve a pair of snow tubes. We then made our way toward the lift.

When we got there, Dr. Miller helped me onto the seat with a one, two, three and then we were being raised into the cold, mountain air.

“Wow.” I soaked it in. “I’ve never even been on a ski lift. How do we get off?”

“We kind of.. glide and run.”

“Great.” I laughed again. “You may have to catch me.”

“Always.” Dr. Miller continued to stare in my direction until I turned back to him so we could share a kiss.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“For one of the funnest nights.. ever.” It was all I could come up with at the moment and we laughed together.

“It has been fun,” he agreed.

When we got close, he motioned up ahead. “Alright, we have to kind of just jump off and pepper your feet as you go so you don’t fall.’

“I’ll try.”

“Ready?”

“Nope!”

The bar raised and I giggled as he helped me off, stumbling as we went onto the snow. Neither of us fell, but it was hardly graceful.

“Wow, okay!” I reset. I was ready. “Now what?”

“Come on over.” Another man in a red jacket waved us on and we wandered down over toward him. “You can go side by side in these two lanes if you want.”

I could clearly see the man made snow lanes that had been made. They looked like giant, icy slides.

“Ready now?” Dr. Miller asked, taking the lead as he planted his tube and laid head first on top of it where the worker instructed him to do so.

I breathed out a wintery breath and laid down on my tube beside him. “What does the winner get?”

“What does the winner want?” Dr. Miller smirked at me.

“Beers or sex,” the young man butted in from behind us. When we both looked back at him he added, “That’s what people usually bet on up here.”

I let out a laugh and raised my eyebrows. “How about both?” I asked him.

“Sounds like a win-win,” Dr. Miller said.

“When you’re ready to go, just push yourself to the spray painted red line,” the worker explained, “ Once you’re past that, there’s no turning back.”

I walked myself up with my hands and feet, feeling like a turtle with an upside down shell. When I got to the faint line, I glanced over at Dr. Miller. “Should we count to three?”

“One..” He began, “Two..” There was a dramatic pause and I finally cracked a smile. “Three!”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #joel miller x original character #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!oc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel miller professor #professor joel #protective joel #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #joel miller gif #pedro pascal gif

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Sixteen

Day: Sunday, December 31st Time: 10:20 PM EST

Neil didn't remember falling asleep, but he blinked blearily awake and stared at the florescent lights overhead. Cold glass rattled against his shoulders and hair where he sat propped against a window. He heard the muted roar of a jet engine as it hurtled down the runway. The glass stilled before the noise faded. He rubbed his eyes with gloved hands and regretted it immediately. The gloves hid his bandages but did nothing for the pain. He made his hands into fists, hissing through his teeth at how much it hurt. Satisfied his fingers were all accounted for, he dropped his gloved hands to his lap. "Passengers for flight 1522 to Atlanta, please be advised: there has been a gate change. We will now board this flight from Gate A16. Please report to your new gate immediately for an expeditious departure." The announcement came on again a couple seconds later, this time in Spanish. For a moment Neil was baffled that it wasn't in French. He'd spent so much time with Jean he'd forgotten any other language existed. Jean was technically forbidden to use French, since Riko couldn't understand it, but he'd whispered it to Neil when Riko wasn't close enough to hear. Jean would mock him for his current confusion, except Jean wasn't here. Neil looked at the seat beside his and saw only his duffel. Jean was nowhere in sight. He was at an airport, so Jean must be on the other side of the security checkpoint. Neil would have to go back and tell him he'd slept through his flight. When he looked around for a sign to Departures, though, he recognized the tacky furnishings of Upstate Regional Airport. Upstate was in South Carolina, but Neil didn't remember leaving West Virginia. He didn't even remember leaving Castle Evermore. Neil gripped the armrests of his chair to ease himself upright and looked over his shoulder. It was dark out; night had fallen and he hadn't even noticed. He pawed at his uncooperative memory, then let it slide. It didn't matter how he'd gotten here so long as he was here.

Art used with permission by Karasawr. Thank you @karasawr!

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #riko moriyama #jean moreau #artists #karasawr

[shinycollarboneapologist]

an opportunist

(part 1 to clandestined or the one where matty piques your interest.)

content: mentions of drugs and alcohol, no smut but heavy petting, matty’s insufferable, matty is also george’s best friend, slight age gap (3 years), and bending of irl timelines

a/n: special thanks to @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars for inspo and for letting me rattle my silly little ideas to you. 

matty healy is nothing if not insufferable.

his very presence evokes a roll from your eyes and scoff from your lips nine times out of ten. he’s got an ego that often takes up all the air in the room. he’s always jumping down your throat, always has to be the one that wins every argument (you always give him a fight, though, never one to back down too easily), and always has to have the last word.

matty healy is insufferable. but he’s also your older brother, george’s best friend.

it started when you were thirteen. george had accumulated a new friend group and a new after-school hobby of playing the drums so loud you thought your ears were going to bleed. with george came matty by association, the boy a few years your senior and george’s best friend. he had curly hair and lanky limbs, and he always smelled a bit like weed when he would kiss you sweetly on the cheek and hug you hello. and when george tells your mum he’s joining a band and has to trek over to the healy residence five days a week, she tells him that he can go anywhere he wants so long as you go with him because realistically how much trouble can a group of teenage boys get into when there’s a thirteen-year-old thrown into the mix. in truth, the answer is a lot, but you were sworn to secrecy with a few crisp bills and the promise that when not if they make it big they’ll have a chapter dedicated to you in the tell-all book. it’s enough to keep your lips sealed, plus you get a place to go after school to kill time and get homework done. though george is begrudgingly dragging you along, matty never once batted an eyelash. he embraced your presence, welcomed your ideas, and made you feel special (all before joining in as the other guys held you down and shoved worms in your face until you cried and begged to go home). but you felt special, nonetheless.

matty healy is insufferable and your older brother’s best friend. but he’s also the long-term object of your desires.

while george slowly grew out of his distaste for your presence at band rehearsals and gigs and grew into the adoring and protective older brother you have now, matty planted his seeds in your brain. he was george’s friend first, but with that came the extension of him being another older brother figure to you. he was a good listener (when he wanted to be) and gave sound unbiased advice. when he spoke to you, he kept eye contact and made you feel like he was really listening (even if he wasn’t he was good at keeping up the charade). and when you would mindlessly ramble about some stupid boy in your science class or how much you hated the switch from lime to green apple skittles, he was good at making you feel like your opinion mattered- even if he would take the piss out of it all when you left. he made you blush when he complimented your hair or your outfit. and when the other guys would make fun of your heated cheeks and bashful gaze, matty wouldn’t join in. instead he would tell them to fuck off, and would flash you a cheeky smile. he was equal parts annoying and fascinating.

he’s always been the one, you’ve known that much since you were sixteen. you admit that to your roommates one night after a few glasses of wine and a conversation about lost loves. and though they tease you about it until your cheeks burn and you’re hiding your face in your hands. they tell you to go for it, to just bite the bullet and confess already. but that’s a loaded request. he’s matty, probably only seeing you as a direct extension of his best friend and you’re you, said direct extension that hasn’t been around recently due to the stress of work and classes. you haven’t realistically been in his presence since last christmas, you presume, minus all of the gigs you attended and george’s birthday party. it’s silly really. the way he still has you blushing and giddy all these years later. you chalk it up to the wine, though. especially when you’re scrolling through your socials later and see a few posts of matty belligerent on george’s story and it turns your stomach a bit. but people often mistake butterflies for moths, right?

you keep telling yourself that over and over as the brisk wind whips around you while you weave in and out of cars and you’re pulling your jacket tighter around your chest. the occasional horn blares at you, but you satiate it with a flip of your finger. you have places to go, people to see, drinks to consume and you’re running late. they have to be at least getting on stage for their set now, meaning you’ve missed the ceremonial pre-gig toke and you know you’re going to get the stink eye from all of them for it. the four of them, especially matty, are big on their traditions, citing some karmic return if they’re not completed. you just hope it all goes well so the blame doesn’t fall onto your shoulders, as it playfully often does.

when you approach the club, the line is already wrapped around the block. so much so that you can barely make out the dark facade of the building. you’re groaning. time is ticking away and four oversized toddlers are going to rip you a new one if you’re not in there and fast. through some bribing and squeezing and lying and smiling, you make it toward the middle of the line; the door is visible and you can vaguely see the bouncer checking id’s. you’re thanking a bunch of religious deities at this point.

“sorry, we’re at capacity and the show’s about to start.” the bouncer rips you from your self-reflective glee. your eyes widen immediately, a plethora of pleas babbling out of you.

“no, no, no. you don’t understand, my brother’s in the band and he’s gonna be so fucking pissed at me. i need to get in there,” you plead, eyes big. you’re trying to connect with the bouncer at some level at this point, eyes scanning for a name tag, something, anything. “c’mon,” you try, “daniel, you get it right?”

his eyes soften, giving you a once over.

“yeah i get it,” here it is, your golden opportunity, “now go get in line with the other sisters, wives, girlfriends, and boyfriends over there,” he nods his head over to the line of people behind you who were also denied entry. you groan, defeated.

the one night you want to go out and you’re stuck warding off frostbite in a skirt that’s too short, a jacket that’s hardly even warm enough, and the stupid, uncomfortable-heeled boots that your roommate let you borrow. calling george would be a moot point by now, but you try it anyway. as predicted, his phone goes straight to voicemail. you try a few more times, but each time it follows the same route. you wallow for a few minutes, trying to ward off the frustrated tears that have already started to sting at the corners of your eyes.

“no, dude. i don’t know where she is. yeah, i’ll keep looking, calm your balls,” a familiar voice is pinging through the air and before you can even turn your head, there’s an even more familiar mop of curly hair in front of you.

“found you. where’s my reward?” matty grins, pulling you into a tight bear hug. if it was any other time, you probably would have shoved him off and pinched his arm. but he’s warm and smells good and you’re still freezing. “we thought you bailed on us!” he confesses, and you can tell there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“me? never. the train was late, the knob at the door won’t let me in, and it’s cold. and i’m pretty sure i almost got hit by a car coming walking over here,” you groan. he pulls away and you almost want to cry as he takes the warmth with him.

“no wonder you’re cold. look at you!,” matty chides, “really, look at you.” his voice falters as he mumbles the echo of his words prior.

he gets a once over at you. his eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual, darkening a bit at the sight in front of him. you suck in a breath, feeling your cheeks burn and your skin prick with goosebumps. matty’s eyes trace you again and in a self-conscious fit, you wrap your arms around yourself. there’s a familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach, those god-damned moths won’t let you have a break.

“let’s get you inside, yeah?”

you nod in return, fingers intertwining with his as he leads you to the front of the line again. you flash the bouncer a smile and he only rolls his eyes in return.

it’s crowded inside. the crowd is at least twenty people deep on the floor, and that’s not including the people wrapped around the bar or those on the balcony. matty’s grip on you tightens and he weaves you both in and out of the small huddles of people to get to the makeshift backstage area.

“precious cargo acquired,” he calls out to the guys, pushing through the dark curtain that separates the band from the gig’s patrons. there’s an eruptive cheer as your figure pushes through after matty’s. “thought she was gonna freeze to death out there.”

george is the first to envelop you in a hug. you hit his shoulder as he pulls back, furrowing your brows at him.

“hey, what’s that for?” he shrieks and you narrow your eyes at him.

“learn to answer your phone, dickhead. almost got hypothermia out there,” you grumble. he retaliates by mimicking your voice, turning up his nose.

“she would’ve frozen to death without me mate. m’her prince in shining armor. or whatever that’s supposed to be,” matty calls over and george just rolls his eyes. your cheeks feel hot, much like they did when you were sixteen and staring up at matty with wide eyes after he said he liked your eclectic music taste.

“s’knight in shining armor,” adam quips. matty just waves him off with an utterance of tomato-tomato as he lights up a cigarette.

“are you guys still playing my favorite song?” you chirp.

“nah, matty scratched it from the setlist,” ross sighs.

your eyes go wide, “what?”

matty, preoccupied with his cigarette, only shrugs. “doesn’t fit the vibe anymore.”

“and what vibe is that? emo sad boy virgin pop?” you huff.

his eyes meet yours, softening as he seems to rethink what he was about to say. there’s a twitch of a smile at his lips. he runs his tongue out over the plush flesh. the intrusive thoughts take over your brain and you’re trying to tell yourself that it would not be a good idea to tell him that you’re jealous of his tongue.

“watch it,” he’s snide, tone alluring as smoke fans over the room.

you blink a few times, exhaling slowly as you regain your composure, “or what?”

“i’ll make you go sit outside in the cold again.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“you’re right, i wouldn’t.” his eyes travel over you. he lingers a bit at your hips and you swear you can see the wheels turning in his head. you go to comment, but adam’s already rounding all of the boys up to get them on stage. his head tilts at the proximity between the two of you (which isn’t much as matty’s made his way to be a few inches in front of you now), noticing the way matty’s looking at you. he hits him on the shoulder, giving him a look and jerking his head towards the curtain. matty’s hand brushes your waist as he passes behind you. it’s there for a fragment of a second, but the repercussions weigh heavy in your brain. there’s a phantom of his hand remaining on your heated skin, heart thumping hard in your chest. and as they walk away, you can hear the harsh whispers between the two men, but you can’t make out what they’re saying.

matty ends up playing your favorite song. and it’s the only think you talk about the whole cab ride back to his and george’s apartment. the others try their hardest to switch the conversation but as soon as you see an opportunity, you’re circling back to the fact that they played your favorite song. you’re an opportunist at heart, living for the way they groan.

the five of you are sitting around on matty and george’s balcony. you’re curled up on the beat-up couch, knees pulled to your chest. you’ve changed, thankfully, into some old sweats you left here at one point. and it all feels normal and a bit nostalgic, an air of their early days. the guys are asking about your classes at uni, and how your roommates are treating you. and when you answer, you find yourself catching matty’s eyes lingering on you for a little longer than normal.

he watches you intently as you bring the bottle of cheap wine up to your lips, taking a long sip. he thinks a lot about what your lips would taste like, probably a mix of the wine and the cherry chapstick he had seen you use earlier. matty’s head feels heavy and he’s chalking it up to the wine and the weed from earlier and not from the lingering thoughts of you swimming around in his brain.

he’s bringing up a cigarette to his lips, expert fingers flicking the lighter as he inhales. matty catches your eyes on him that time, half-listening to what ross is rambling off to you. he grins at you from across the table, loving the way you’re rolling your eyes at him and returning your full attention to ross. there’s a fire burning within him, an antagonizing thought screaming that all your attention should be on him and him only. he loathes fighting for your attention, even more so now that you just look at him that way. it’s just pointless banter. that’s what he hushed back to adam as they walked to the stage. adam was being ridiculous in his accusations that matty was pushing the flirting with you thing a little too far. if you didn’t seem to mind, then why should he? it wasn’t like the both of you were going to do anything about it.

the night is settling down. adam and ross had both abandoned the remaining three of you to head home; they had an early morning tomorrow with some radio interview and they all had to be on their a-game.

matty’s got his hand in the snack mix bag, grumbling to himself.

“who ate all the pretzels?”

you laugh to yourself, hand coming to cover your lips. he’s quick to hear it though, eyes narrowing, “you’re just like george, i swear to god.”

“hey! what’s so bad about being like me?” george huffs in mock offense.

“i’ve got a list.” you and matty drawl at the same time, heads already snapping to gasp at each other.

george only laughs, stretching his arms above his head. “think i’m gonna call it a night. need my beauty sleep. matt, you’ll lock up right?”

matty nods.

“goodnight,” george hums and presses a kiss to the top of your head, “pillows and blankets are already on the couch for you.”

a warm smile finds its way to your face, thanking george.  

you can’t find the will to get up as george exits the balcony, limbs feeling like liquid and head still swirling with the weed-induced daze.

matty pulls another cigarette out from the pack. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“i’m quitting, i swear,” he scoffs.

you only laugh and lean your head back, “i didn’t even say anything. you’ve just got a guilty conscious.”

“don’t need to say anything, it’s in your eyes,” he comments, “you want one? feel like i’ve been rude in not offering one to you all night.”

you nod, pensively. he holds the pack out and you take a cigarette for yourself before you place it between your lips. george would freak out if he saw you like this right now despite the fact he had done far worse at your age. before you can even ask for a light, matty’s already bringing the open flame up to the end of the cigarette. you blink a few times. his eyes are trained on yours, tongue poking from between his lips. it feels like ages go by. the intensity of his stare is consuming you, goosebumps littering your limbs.

“you’re supposed to inhale, love,” he remarks.

you shake your head, flustered and embarrassed, “no… yeah... i know. yeah.”

you inhale as he brings the ember up to the end again. matty’s intense gaze falls to your lips. the plump skin is curling around the cigarette, puckering as you exhale and his mouth goes dry. this is wrong, so wrong. and although there’s a part of him that just wants to pack up for the night, he knows there’s a stronger part of him that just wants to be close to you and feel your skin prickle with goosebumps again.

matty’s lips are cherry red, indicative of the way he keeps licking over and biting at them. his pupils are dilated; dark black bleeding into chocolate brown irises. his hair is awry as his fingers kept running through it. and in a fleeting thought, you wonder just what it would feel like to run your fingers through it and pull at the curls- not enough to hurt just enough to elicit some kind of a reaction. the thought alone sends a shiver down your spine, which he notices, and you feel your molten limbs get pulled toward him. the blanket that adorns his body is soft. he wraps you up in it, properly tucking you into his side as he pulls the frayed hem taught around you. you’re close enough to feel him breathing now, close enough to watch his adam’s apple bob up and down. he’s lost in thought as you stare down his side profile.

“the guys treating you alright up there?” matty asks. it’s not a far-off question seeing as you’ve told him nearly everything about any male interests when you were younger.

“I’m bored-,” you hum, voice listless. the carefully curated consonants hang in the air before dispersing like the smoke that’s exhaling from matty’s lips.

“well fuck you, too, then,” matty snorts as he cuts you off, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “didn’t want to babysit tonight, anyway.”

you shake your head, and you can almost feel your thoughts rattling around as you do so.

“i wasn’t done talking,” you glower at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. you watch as he shifts under your gaze. maybe he was just peeved with you, or maybe you catch the hint of a flush rising from his neck.

“go on then. we haven’t played therapist in a while, what’s on your mind?” his focus is back on the second joint he’s now begun rolling. you watch his fingers carefully, throat tightening. you’re not sure if it’s the after-effects of the weed or the absolute filth in your mind that’s causing this reaction, but it’s caught matty’s attention. he grins at you, “i said-”

“i-i heard you,” you scowl.

he purses his lips at you, shaking his head, “don’t frown, sweets, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

“like you?”

“oi!”

“you already compared this to babysitting so i’m allowed to make all of the old man jokes i want.”

he holds his unoccupied hand up in mock surrender, “touche.”

“now, let me finish before you interrupt me yet again,” you narrow your eyes at him, playfully this time, “i’m bored with guys, i think. s’not one guy that’s caught my interest and i’ve been away at school for months. they’re all so boring, or they say dumb things and i just, ugh, i haven’t been properly kissed in ages.” you’re playing it up for dramatic effect now, honestly, and it seems to have the desired effect because he stills for a minute.

this piques his interest enough that he’s abandoning the joint that once preoccupied him to glance at you, eyebrows knitting together, “is that so?” he guffaws, smirking softly. “i think your problem, little miss, is that you,” he pauses to lick the edge of the rolling paper. it’s meticulous and calculated and your thighs squeeze together under the blanket. he knows what he’s doing, knows the dangerous game he’s playing, “you waste your time on boys. you need a man.”

“you’re a man, right?” you ask.

“uh, yeah? what are you on about?” he laughs. he’s still not paying attention to you, eyes focused on the joint in front of him while your whole brain, whole being even, is screaming out for him.

“so, why don’t you do it?” you’re leaning in close to matty, his eyes shut as he feels your breath against his neck. the scent of your perfume is intoxicating. it's so sweet; reminds him of you and your lilted laugh, something that’s never changed.

“what?” he sputters, blinking incredulously.

“you heard me,” you murmur. he can feel the ghost of your breath against his jaw now as you make your way toward his ear. “show me what it’s like to be kissed by a man,” you purr.

his resolve dissipates in a low groan of your name. he turns to look at you again, eyes tracing over your lips once, twice, thrice. but it’s taking too long for you. lunging forward, your lips press to his heatedly. and though the weed has lowered your inhibitions, it’s doing little to nothing to calm your nerves. maybe you read the signs all wrong. maybe this was a mistake. and oh, god, you’re still kissing him but he’s not kissing back. you pull away quickly, eyes wide and ready to begin your apology parade. this was not how this was supposed

the slew of apologies are ill-fated, though as he growls lowly and pulls you close to him. his hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him in the eyes as he speaks, “you’re playing with fire, sweets. if you’re not careful, you’ll be burned.”

matty barely gives you a second to process what he’s doing before his lips are pressed to yours indignantly in a bruising kiss. it's slow at first, his lips working with yours as his hands fall from your cheeks to your waist. he’s pulling you even closer to him, your knees knocking against his thighs. you take the initiative and climb into his lap, straddling his waist and fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. matty’s hands wander from your waist to the hem of the t-shirt, nimble fingers traveling just underneath. you feel his cold fingers on your heated skin. they send a shiver down your spine, nerves ablaze with him.

your mouth falls open in a gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. he tastes of the remnants of his cigarettes and the wine he was drinking before, it’s dizzying. there’s a certain sense of pent-up desire behind his movements, a fever that you can’t quite put your finger on. you’re left only to whine against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair like you wanted to only minutes before. he’s kissing you like no one ever has before and you’re not sure anyone ever will.

matty pulls back just for a second, allowing you both to catch your breath. when your eyes flutter open, his darkened pupils meet yours. his lips are swollen, smudged with the rogue of your lipstick. you want to imprint this sight into your memory and tuck it away so that you’ll never forget how he looks in the moment. his lips are back on yours before you can comment on it. his movements are not as soft as before, not as calculated or contrived. you give in to the passion, let your desires drive you as your hips start to move against his. it’s his turn to gasp, and judging by the stiffening in his pants you can tell he’s a fan of it. he doesn’t pull away though, instead, he lets his hands grip your waist to control your movements. there’s some satiation from the friction, but it’s not enough. you want more, want him to completely ruin you.

his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, tugging as he pulls away. a whimper, deeply rooted in your chest, falls from your parted lips. there’s a smirk on his lips. you’re left panting on his lap. he leans up, cups your cheek and presses a softer kiss to your lips. your lips move against his slowly. and just as you’re about to part your lips for him once more, he’s pulling back.

an exasperated sigh leaves your mouth and he laughs at you, actually laughs, “you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

you’re breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. you try to find the words to rebuttal him, but they’re lost on you. the only thing you can think about is him, he’s completely encompassed your thoughts and your brain. matty’s lips move to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down the sensitive skin. he nips gently and you moan, waiting for your reaction as he flicks his tongue out to soothe the area. he drags his hands languidly up your waist and you think that he’s going to lift your shirt and let you have it like you want. but, the notion is lost. he lifts you off his lap and kisses your nose.

“i’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” matty murmurs, “goodnight, sweets.”

he’s walking into the apartment before you can even formulate your own goodnight. the words feel lost on your tongue, thoughts feel lost in your brain.

you’re fucked. absolutely fucked and not in a good way.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy one shot #matty healy fanfic #matty healy #✏️ - matty. #bbf!matty #my writing. #.... yeah.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Touya "Dabi" Todoroki x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you are given one NYE that you will never forget when Keigo invites your friends over for a game of strip Uno and you become acutely aware of how attractive Dabi is. 

Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Flirting; Stripping; Threesome; Verbal Consent; Mutual Oral; Double Deepthroat; Double Cunnilingus (Hawks & Dabi both eat your pussy); Big Dicks; Spitting; Hair-Pulling; Degradation & Praise; Spitroast; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Throatpie; Dabi Calls You "Baby Doll"; L-Bombs; Aftercare; Loud, Sneaky Sex

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Someone gave me this idea in a comment. Originally, I was just gonna write a smutty holiday chapter for Hawks for NYE, but Hawks AND Dabi?? I couldn't resist. Enjoy & happy holidays! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BIRD BABY DADDY! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

Songs Mentioned in this Chapter:

Umbrella - Rihanna

Can I - Kehlani

Moodswings - Pop Smoke

Touch It (Do It Well Pt. 4) - DVSN

OTW - Jhene Aiko ft. Mila J

Sit On It - Jazmine Sullivan ft. Ari Lennox

***********

Bonus Chapter: New Year, New Experiences.

Dabi has always been nice-looking, but seeing him now has made you realize how attractive he really is. 

When the fuck did he get this fine? You can't help but wonder this as you nurse your second glass of Moscato of the night, then feel extremely guilty for it. You look down at your drink, wondering if the alcohol is having more of a deeper affect on you than you anticipated. Usually, at this point, you’re giving major “fuck me” eyes to your boyfriend. Which you are…but to your childhood friend as well. 

They both stand in the kitchen you and Keigo share now, whipping up snack plates and cocktails for your NYE celebration. Keigo had suggested you celebrate at your shared crib tonight and invite Rumi and Dabi over too. You had asked what he wanted to do for New Years this year about a week ago after the chaos and festivities of Christmas faded. 

“I really don't wanna go out,” he said, your feet in his lap and his hands expertly rubbing them, massaging out the kinks. He laughed at your bewildered expression. “Shocking, I know, but after Christmas, I’m just not feelin’ like bein’ out in the streets and around too many people…or spendin’ money.” And he did go all out for Christmas, gifting you at least $1k in gifts and presenting all of his employees and interns at his agency with gift cards (and two weeks off for Christmas and New Years). 

“But since you asked, I just wanna stay in and invite the gang over for a private celebration…have food, drink, games…is that okay with you?” Before you could even reply, he immediately talked over you, softening the blow that he was sure he made. “We can still go out if you want. I wouldn’t wanna keep you cooped up in here if you–“ 

You stop him by pressing a finger to his plump lips. “Keigo,” you interrupt him. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll call Rumi and Dabi right now to see if they wanna join us.” His wide, golden eyes stared at you for a moment in shock before softening, relieved that you weren’t upset. So you hit up Rumi who was a definite yes and Dabi to see if he had enough free time to come out for the night. 

“Only if I can make my famous drinks,” he said in his raspy, chainsmoker voice. “The cinnamon fireballs. I’ll send you the recipe so you can grab the shit for it.” You groaned over the phone, already envisioning the chaos in store for you. Dabi swears he can mix drinks like a bartending pro. “Okay, but just don’t blow up my kitchen,” you warned. 

My kitchen. You are still getting used to calling all of the things in Keigo’s penthouse yours, but sometimes, it just comes out naturally: my kitchen; my living room; my bed. Shortly after the Billboard Event, you moved into Keigo’s home, albeit secretly. You had to pay the moving men double to move your shit out of Rumi’s place at night in order to avoid paparazzi, but in a week, you were settled. Though Rumi misses you, she also doesn’t mind the privacy, especially when she's able to bring someone home and have as much loud sex as she wants. 

Though almost a month has passed since you moved in with Keigo, you’re still adjusting to this new way of life, especially since you’re not just a roomie to Keigo. You’re his girlfriend. His partner. Every time you wake up next to him and see the sun shine against his hair and long eyelashes, you are reminded of this. It’s like the fact remerges in your brain every single morning despite nothing changing. And you hope it never does. 

“The snacks are almost done!” Keigo happily calls into the living room where you and Rumi sit. “You’re never gonna wanna leave when you get a taste of these babies.” Rumi rolls her eyes at you, twirling a lock of her hair. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she scoffs. Her silvery, long hair is tied up in a high ponytail while she adorns a Christmas sweater and booty shorts that make her muscular, firm ass look extra delicious and envious. 

Opposite to her cozy, lived-in look, you’re wearing Keigo’s oversized cashmere sweater that looks like a dress on you and hip-hugging skinny jeans. You also slathered on some lip gloss and nail polish to look presentable tonight, at least wanting to feel pretty with company around. “The fireballs are almost done too,” Dabi announces. “Rumi, you still like extra tequila in yours?” Rumi gives him a look which makes him laugh. “Y/N, you want one too?” he curiously asks. 

You take a look at the kitchen counter through the threshold of the kitchen, finding a huge bottle of tequila open and cinnamon dusting the countertop. “I’m good with Moscato, thanks,” you say. “I’m not tryin’ to burn my tonsils out.” Dabi shrugs a shoulder, snorting. “Suit yourself, but my stuff is good. I’d even make it lighter for you.” 

Keigo cackles as he moves behind his friend, kicking him in the ankle as he does. “Bitch, you don’t know how to make any drink light!”

Dabi rolls his eyes and turns back around to finish the drinks, his arms and back muscles flexing under his black tee that seems to stick to his upper body something sinful. You thought this when he first arrived at your front door thirty minutes ago after getting dropped off by his assigned guard for the night. “Welcome!” you cheerfully greeted him, only for your voice to die in your throat once you got a look at him. 

Looking at him now, you become highly aware of how attractive he’s gotten since he’s been in prison. His lean, scrawny body as a kid and teen have gone away, now replaced with muscle like hard grant though he still has that leanness to him that makes him appear skinny under his clothes. But anyone who saw how tight his shirt is would realize that they’ve been duped. He has obviously been working out to build such muscle and tone his body, no doubt using his time to focus on his health. 

And he looks good. Especially with his snow-white hair, which he has opted to keep instead of his black hair, that makes his crystal blue eyes pop. Every time he looks at you, you feel like he is stealing the very breath out of you…and it’s fucking weird.

Where did this attraction come from? Though you’ve always known your friend is cute, you’ve never been attracted to Dabi. Even the one time you played Spin the Bottle back in middle school and you were dared to kiss by Keigo and Rumi, nothing came from that. It was a stupid, little kid thing that happened after school behind the building, in the setting spring sun. After, you decided you worked better as friends which he agreed with and since then, you’ve been nothing but friends. Yet there you were, staring him down as he stood at the door, waiting for you to let him in. 

He raised his pierced eyebrow at you and your speechlessness. “Well?” he asks. “You gonna let me in or what?” Realizing you were standing at the door like a moron, you quickly let him in, your face hot. He gave you a weird look as he shimmied into the room, immediately bombarded by the Bunny Hero. “Dabi, you’re here!” Rumi squeals, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “Damn, what have you been eatin’, man? You’re bigger than me now!” 

Dabi chuckled, squeezing her tight before yanking on her ears, making her shriek. You watched, still confused as to what just happened. “Dabi’s here?” Keigo called from the kitchen. “Tell him to come in here and help me get these veggies ready!” Dabi clucked his tongue, giving you a sly side eye. “Only five seconds in and he’s already fucking up,” he chuckles. “You picked a good one, doll.” 

And you did. You know you did. Keigo is the best boyfriend and sexiest man in the world…and yet here you are, staring down his best friend. Your best friend. Even now as you sip your wine, you can’t understand it. Are you just horny?

Since the holiday season, you’ve been more stressed and extremely horny lately, leading you and Keigo to try new things in the bedroom. It’s been an interesting and exciting adventure for you both. Handcuffs and rope; sensory and roleplaying; all kinds of kinky shit that has led to conversations about more things to try…and things that you’ll keep private for now. Things that you are interested in that you won’t dare tell Keigo right now. With how possessive he is, he just wouldn’t go along with it and you wouldn’t make him. So you’ve kept it to yourself, instead fantasizing and wondering all of those “what ifs”. 

You’re so deep in your troubling thoughts that you barely see Keigo saunter into the room in his cute apron with a tray of appetizers: homemade fried cauliflower bites, cheesesteak egg rolls, and a gorgeous veggie plate of orange carrots, green celery, and bright red tomatoes with all kinds of dipping sauces in the middle. “Wow, this looks amazing, babe,” you coo. “You really went all out for us tonight.” Keigo smiles proudly as he lowers the food down on the coffee table. “Oh, that’s not even the best part, baby bird,” he chuckles. 

Dabi then emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of mugs filled with his fireballs and cinnamon sticks. He lowers the tray down and gives Keigo a smirk as the winged pro pulls out a bag of weed and a game of Uno. You and Rumi immediately abrupt into laughter, knowing exactly what is in store for tonight. “It’s almost 2024!” Keigo chuckles, popping a carrot into his mouth. "Might as well celebrate to the fullest.” 

“Strip Uno,” Rumi cackles, nudging you. “Y/N, your man is one horny motherfucker. Are you treating him right or does he have something to tell us?” You roll your eyes as you flush in Keigo's sweater. “Shut up,” you giggle. “And you know damn well that I treat Keigo very well.” You and he share a secretive smile, one that immediately propels you into memories of endless nights and days of good ass sex. 

Rumi makes a disgusted face, hopping away from you to the other end of the couch. “Ugh, don’t even remind me. I’m so tired of seeing you two suck faces when we’re out.” While Dabi snorts into his drink, Keigo pulls on one of Rumi’s ears. “Ooooh, someone’s jealous,” he sing-songs. “I always knew you wanted this sexy ass, cotton tail.” You swear, you’ve never seen Rumi look so uncomfortable in her life and it makes you nearly choke on your Moscato laughing. 

You help Keigo and Dabi move the coffee table to the middle of the floor with your snacks, drinks, and game in tow while Rumi hooks her 2000s hits playlist up to the TV. Soon, the sound of Rihanna’s “Umbrella” fills the living room space. After everything it set up, you sit down on the floor across from Rumi while Dabi takes your left and Keigo takes your right. “Okay, so before we start, I wanna propose a toast,” Keigo happily states, raising his mug. You three groan exhaustively and he pulls the cutest pout. “C’mooon, this is one of the only times in weeks we’ve all been together since the Billboard Event!” 

Though indifferent to the idea, Rumi raises her mug while you raise your glass of Moscato. Dabi notices, his expression albeit blank. “You sure you don’t want none of this?” he asks, nodding at his drink. Then a sly smirk quirks onto his lips. “Or is it ‘cause you can’t handle it?” he teases, ever the asshole. Usually, his teasing doesn’t bother you, but tonight, it does. Along with the way his voice dips into a deeper, raspier tone when he says it. 

You give him a look to hide your reaction, daring him to try you. “Dabi, you know I can’t handle it. You make drinks like you’re trying to poison people.” He shrugs a shoulder though he is still smirking. “Fair point, but a sip won’t hurt.”

He passes a mug to you but doesn’t hand it to you. His blue eyes flick from the drink to you, patiently waiting for you to take a sip. It’s as if he’s silently asking you, “Do you trust me?” Or maybe the Moscato is just speaking to you at this point. “Toast!” Keigo shouts, interrupting your thoughts. “To a new year of new experiences and new journeys with old friends.” 

He smiles at each you fondly, his golden eyes twinkling with utter joy. Deciding quickly, you take Dabi’s drink and hold it up with the others. “Cheers!” you all shout before downing Dabi’s drink. It’s only a sip, but it’s enough to taste the strong tequila and sweet cinnamon mixed in it. Though your throat burns as it goes down, the sweetness is addicting. Dabi looks proud as you lower the mug down. “See?” he murmurs. “Nothing you couldn’t handle.” You resist the urge to think of something else besides the drink. 

“Uno time!” Rumi bellows, taking the cards to shuffle while Dabi begins rolling a blunt to pass between you four. Keigo takes a seat next to you, his eyes already set dead on you. “Come sit close to me, baby bird,” he coos, wrapping an arm around your lower back. “You look so fuckin’ cute tonight. I can’t keep my eyes off of you, even for the game.”

You do as he requests, snuggling in close despite being in your friends’ company, loving how he smells so much like cinnamon and the brown sugar soap you got him for Christmas. You also bought him Burberry cologne which he has sprayed on his skin, making him absolutely irresistible to you. Add in the black cashmere sweater and sweats that hide one of your favorite parts of him, and you’re ready to use him as a seat. 

“Well, you’d better,” Dabi grumbles, glaring at both of you. “Nobody’s tryin’ to see you two eye fuck for the next few hours.” Keigo presses a finger to your cheek, turning your head to face him. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous that I’ve got such a gorgeous woman to cuddle up with at night and all he’s got is a pillow.”

You put a hand on his arm and squeeze, shaking your head in warning. Too far. But Dabi isn’t bothered by the jab, simply sprinkling marijuana into a piece of paper. “You’d be surprised how many visitors I get who wanna replace that pillow,” he retorts. “I get a lot of fan mail too…mostly nudes.” 

You give a big, ugly cackle at this. “Oh, I believe it,” Rumi snickers. “Plenty of people are attracted to villains, bad boys, and emotionally damaged men with tattoos and piercings.” She gives Dabi a shit-eating grin while he pegs a carrot at her, making you and Keigo crack up.

You go to pick out a cauliflower from the veggie plate, but accidentally brush your fingers against Dabi’s reaching for the same thing. “Oh, sorry!” you squeak, quickly snatching your hand back. Your friend barely bats an eyelash. “Take it,” he says carelessly. “No big deal. I’m still rollin’ up anyway.” 

You do so, slowly reaching for a cauliflower and dipping into the ranch dressing. Your movements are robotic, mechanical, as you chew and swallow, feeling Dabi’s eyes on you. You can tell he wants to ask, but he doesn’t and you find yourself drinking some more of his drink to push away your nagging thoughts. Fortunately, Rumi interrupts the awkward moment. “Game time!” she shouts. “I’ll deal and then we can start. Everybody know and remember the rules of strip Uno?” You each nod having played this game dozens of times (mostly tipsy or high). It usually ends in either someone halfway naked. 

After downing the rest of your Moscato, you feel looser, you go first and put a red card down. The turns go right (Keigo, Rumi, Dabi) before settling on you again when the color is changed to yellow. You take a card and read it, groaning at the instructions. “Oooh, first loser down!” Rumi giggles, taking Dabi’s finished blunt from him. “Read it to us, babe.” Keigo tries to look over your shoulder, but you shoo him away. “Take six cards or strip off your shirt,” you read. “Well, I don’t wanna take six cards, so…” You feel yourself stripping off Keigo's sweater to reveal your lacy red bra underneath. 

You feel warm under Keigo and Dabi’s gazes, one of which you can feel burning into you though you don’t look. “Oooh, sexy,” Rumi chuckles, puffing on her blunt. “Now it’s your turn, Keigo.” She passes the blunt back to Dabi who takes a hit, smoke billowing from his lips and nostrils in clouds. His eyes are blue slits that regard yours as you glance at him from the corner of your eye. Keigo takes his turn, putting down yellow, before Rumi takes hers. “Take eight cards or tell the person beside you to take off their shirt,” she reads. She gives Dabi a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Dabi, but…” 

Keigo cackles hysterically while Dabi rolls his eyes, passing his blunt to you. You don’t know why but you take a hit, already feeling the affects of the alcohol mingle with the weed. You feel lighter and more comfortable. “You guys are fuckin’ whores,” he growls but he can't hide his smile as he stands up to strip for you and your friends. You turn away from him just as he goes to untuck his shirt, instead turning all of your attention to your boo. “Aww, I was hoping you’d pick a card,” you playfully whine, snugging into Keigo's arm. 

You not-so-innocently push your breasts against his forearm, catching his attention. “You tryna get me to strip?” he chuckles, raising a brow at you. “Maybe later and then it’ll be all for you. Just be glad we’re not alone ‘cause this pretty bra would be off by now.” He glides a finger down the strap of your bra to one of the cups, staring intensely at the lace. “If you two are gonna do that, get a fuckin’ room,” Dabi interrupts. 

You turn back to him and wish you didn’t: he stands before you in all of his semi-nakedness, jeans sagging low, bare skin and lean, inked muscle on display. “Daaaamn, you did get cut, Dabi!” Rumi hollers. “Just look at this fuckin’ guy!” 

And you are. Your eyes roam over his toned abs and pectorals where you catch two nipple rings hanging from his pink nipples. His arms and right side are covered in tattoos along with his collarbone which holds his little brother’s (Shoto) name. You know that all of his siblings’ and mother’s name are tattooed on him; just not his father. Realizing how long you’ve been staring, you look away, instead staring down at the table. “Shit, I can beat that,” Keigo scoffs. “Just you wait.” 

After twenty minutes of playing and the first round being completed, Keigo successfully stripped off his shirt and shoes before hurrying to the bathroom because of the alcohol. Meanwhile, Dabi is washing dishes and Rumi is scrolling through her phone and smoking on the last of the blunt, waiting for Keigo to come back so you can continue. You, luckily, only stripped off your top for the first round and quickly throw it back on before taking your glasses to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go put these in the sink,” you announce and Rumi only hums in response. When you walk into the kitchen, you are met with Dabi’s muscular back and a large, snake-like dragon snaking from his lower back and curling up the back of his right forearm. It moves and flexes whenever his arms move, making his back muscles bulge. 

Finding your voice, you greet him. “Hey, just came in to wash these.” He turns to look at you over his shoulder before nodding at the soapy, hot water in the sink. “Put ‘em over here; I’ve got it.” You do so, lowering the glasses on the counter for him to wash. You press your back against the counter’s edge, watching him. Silence swells around you, but this one isn’t comfortable; it’s awkward and heated, filled with tension. “It’s really good to see you, y’know,” you chirp, trying to ease the tension. “I was so upset you couldn’t make it for Christmas.” 

Dabi puts a tray on the drying rack, focused yet still answering you. “Yeah, my CO was on my ass about that fight I had, but I wasn’t gonna miss this chance to smoke a good blunt and hang with you losers. Everyone seems to be so scared about my new body, includin’ you.” His blue eyes side-eye you, making your stomach flip. “I’m not!” you squeak. “It’s just a shock seeing you look so…” Sexy. “Big,” you decide. “But whatever trainer you got in prison, give them my number.” 

He chuckles at this, the deep rumble making something swirl inside your gut. He then goes back to doing what he was doing, but only for a few seconds, until he speaks again. “What?” he finally asks. You blink at him. “What?” you dumbly parrot. He turns to you fully, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I can feel you starin’ mad hard at me, Y/N. You’re not discreet in the slightest.” Again, you feel hot in your sweater with shame. At this rate, you may as well strip and throw yourself at him with how much you’re staring at him. 

“Is that a new tattoo?” you tentatively ask, pointing at the dragon. “I don’t remember seeing that before.” Dabi hums out a yes as he dunks a mug into the soapy water. “Had it done a month ago durin’ one of my free days when I didn’t visit you or Hawks. It hurt like a bitch, but it looks decent, don’t it?” You slowly nod, admiring the way the dark green scales on the dragon compliment his skin. It reminds you so much of the dragon from the ‘Spirited Away’ movie, just darker. “It’s…beautiful,” you softly say, more to yourself than to him. And before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to drag your fingers down Dabi’s spine, making his body clench. “S-Sorry!” you stutter, snatching your hand away. “I should’ve asked to–“ 

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, but still looks perplexed. He looks as if he hasn’t been touched in years and isn’t sure how to handle it. But he shocks you when he turns his back to face you, giving you full advantage of his tattoo. “Touch it,” he encourages. “Y/N, it’s just me.” Right. This is just Touya Todoroki. Your friend since childhood. The same guy that was afraid of public pools, eats charred marshmallows, and loves his steak well-done. The friend you’ve been dying to get back since he joined LOV and have missed since he went to prison. And yet, looking at him now and feeling his warm skin under your fingertips when you touch him, you don’t see him as any of that. You see him much differently. 

You run your hand over his back, feeling his muscles flex and his warm skin. He stands there, not speaking or moving, letting you touch him. It’s so intimate. So sensual. When you pull away, he finally turns to face you, his expression blank and eyes intense. His hand then moves to lightly touch your wrist, sending currents of electricity through you. “Yoooo!” Keigo’s call suddenly drifts in the kitchen, making you flinch and jump away from Dabi’s touch. He pokes his head into the kitchen, grinning. “I’m back!” he announces. “We ready for another round or what?” 

Dabi smirks at his friend as if nothing happened. And nothing did…right? “Sure,” he replies. “Just let me pour us some shots first.” Keigo hums delightedly, practically floating into the kitchen. “Lemme help you. Baby, pass me that bag of lemons and limes in the fridge, please?” You do so, your hands trembling somewhat as you open the fridge and hand the bags of fruit to your boyfriend. “Thank you, darlin’,” he coos, winking at you. “Now go and sit down! Let your men take care of you.” 

Your men. You can’t help but stay stuck on that as you quickly walk out of the kitchen, not once looking at Dabi. Rumi is still in the same position you left her in, laying on the floor on her phone. You nervously pick at a loose thread on your skinny jeans, keeping your voice low to avoid the guys hearing. “Rumi?” you softly question.

She looks up from her phone, blinking. “Hm?” she questionably hums. You sit down next to her, folding your knees under you. “Does Dabi seem…different…to you tonight?” you carefully ask, your words slow and deliberate, like you’re carefully picking each word like they are fruit. 

Rumi stares at you, confused. “Uh…other than his new set of muscles and the tattoo, no.” She squints at you suspiciously, making you hot like a spotlight is on you now. “Why? Do you think they’re something different about him?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. But this is Rumi! Your girl and confidant. She’d never judge you for anything. “He just seems more…attractive, I guess,” you shyly murmur.

She barely bats an eye. In fact, she smiles. “I figured there was a reason you were staring at him so hard tonight,” she chuckles, earning you a shocked look. “What, you thought I didn’t notice?” At the sight of your panic, she rubs your back. “Relax, girly. Keigo didn’t notice anything. That bird is in his fucking world tonight.” 

Oh, yes, Keigo. Your boyfriend. Your very happy, amazing, wonderful boyfriend who is oh-so overjoyed that you’re all together here tonight. “God, I’m so stupid!” you groan, putting your head in your hands. “What am I doing? Here I am with one of the sexiest men in Japan and an amazing boyfriend, and yet, I’m eye-fucking our childhood friend!” 

“Well, to be fair, you did say you wanted to try to do other things with Keigo in the bedroom,” Rumi says as she puffs on her blunt. “You remember tellin’ me about that threesome kink of yours? If you don’t, I’d understand. You were downing those cocktails like they were water.” You groan embarrassingly because yes, you do remember that night: it was a month ago before Thanksgiving when the moon was full, the night was young, and you were full of drinks during girls’ night. There, you spilled to Rumi, Nemuri, and Yu about your secret threesome kink and wanting so badly to ask Keigo to participate in one. 

You can't help the way you get so wet at the thought of having two men please you or being one of the people to please them. You’ve had this fantasy for a while, dreaming of Keigo and another sexy, mystery man occupying your bed, hands and mouths all over you, two cocks inside you. But you’ve never brought it to Keigo’s attention. “Unfortunately, yes,” you sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I should be eyeing my own best friend!” You feel like crying, mostly because of the alcohol. “I feel like a slut,” you whimper. “And not in a good way.” 

Noticing your internal fight, Rumi quickly steps in to ease your shitty feelings. “Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is. You just stared at the guy! You didn’t try to suck his dick or anything.” You flinch at her words, not wanting to picture that. “But if it’s really got your panties in a twist, just pull Keigo to the side and talk about it. Knowing his freak ass, he’ll probably be okay with it. He’d probably even suggest a threesome himself.” She gives you a sly smirk to which you roll your eyes at. “No way,” you scoff in disbelief. 

“Mark my words,” she giggles. “Personally, I approve of this sluttiness in you, girl. I think you should fuck both of them to really end this year with a bang.” You could've strangled her right then. “You’re not helping!” you growl, swatting her hand away as she cackles. “Not helping with what?” Keigo asks, making you squeak in surprise. You turn, seeing him and Dabi standing behind you carrying a tray of tequila shots. “U-Uh, with my cards!” you quickly reply. “She won’t show me how to shuffle ‘em.” 

You turn to Rumi with a glare, making her crack up even more. 

After almost two hours of playing, stripping, drinking, smoking, and shooting the shit, things start to finally wind down an hour before midnight. Rumi is fast asleep on the couch, snuggled into her pillow and softly snoring, while Dabi has ventured outside to have a smoke. He sits in the cold December air in only his jeans and socks. You don’t ask him if he’s cold, knowing he’ll refuse his shirt or a blanket. You take it upon yourself to clean up before tomorrow morning, washing dishes and wiping down the counters. You plan on making a big New Year’s Day breakfast for your friends––blueberry pancakes, eggs, and plenty of mimosas. 

You’re just about to rinse the soap off of your hands in the sink when you suddenly feel two arms slink around your waist and a very hard chest press into your back. Keigo's scent of cinnamon and Burberry cologne enchants your nostrils. “There you are, baby bird,” he murmurs. “Where’d you run off to?” You smile, pressing back into him. “Just to clean up so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning.” You turn around in his arms, noticing his hooded gaze and lopsided smirk. “Somebody’s drunk,” you giggle. 

He hums in agreement and presses his hips into you where you feel a very noticeable hard-on. “And very, very hard for you,” he softly growls in your ear. “I know you can feel me pressin’ up against you right now.” And you can; it’s impossible not to. Immediately, your body temperature rises and you feel a tingle between your legs. His hands move under his sweater draped over your body and glide up and down your sides, his fingertips gliding against your skin. He whistles as he does so, somehow making that tingling sensation even more intense. “You have the sexiest body, baby, I swear,” he sighs. “I’m so fuckin’ lucky. You make me so horny every time I see you, but without the clothes? That’s even better!” 

His compliment makes you bashfully giggle, always loving to receive such love and admiration from your man. “Thank you, baby,” you shyly reply. “The feeling is mutual.” You stroke your hands up his naked chest as he kisses you, playfully and passionately. He begins to walk forward, pushing you against the counter and trapping you between it and him. You’re now at his total mercy, his mouth and hands all over you, the taste of wine and cinnamon on his tongue as he swirls it with yours. Soft moans mingle in the air between you, only heard by your and his ears alone…though soon, if you keep this up, someone may become privy to what’s happening in the kitchen just a few steps from them in the living room. 

Reading your mind, Keigo pulls away and runs a thumb over your bottom lip. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t wanna waste this moment. Don’t worry; Rumi is dead on our couch and Dabi is on the balcony. They won’t hear a thing.”

You believe the part about Rumi after being her roomie for so long, but Dabi? What if he does hear you? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable enough to leave. But with the way Keigo is giving you such a heated stare, you can’t resist. So you go with him, listening to your pussy instead of your head. You let him steal you away and lead you upstairs to your shared bedroom by your hand, softly giggling to each other as you walk past Rumi sound asleep. 

As soon as you’re inside the room, alone at last, Keigo shuts the door behind him and uses his wings to wrap around you. He drags you into his body and arms, crushing his lips to yours in another passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and his wrap around your waist, both of you locked together in an embrace as you kiss, and kiss, and kiss. The more you do, the wetter you get until your body is begging for more. Keigo’s lips leave yours to busy on your neck.

“I can’t get over how sexy you are,” he murmurs. “I would’ve rathered you strip for me instead of our friends.” He pauses for a moment, pulling away to stare at you, befuddled. Then a secretive smile pulls at his lips. 

“Actually, you can do that for me now,” he chuckles and pulls himself away from you. You resist the urge to follow him, instead staring at him across the room, burning up for him.

“Y’see, baby, I feel like since the holidays, we’ve barely had much time to be together, just you and I,” he lustfully explains. “But now, here we are alone, and I wanna take advantage of it. So I’m gonna sit here”–he pauses to sit on the bench at the foot of your king-sized bed, smirking–“and you’re gonna strip for me.” He takes his phone and plays a song for you––“Can I” by Kehlani––and leans back, legs spread. 

He doesn’t explain anything more to you. Neither one of you talk. The only sounds are of the TV softly playing from downstairs and the music playing on his phone. You feel nervous, the alcohol’s magic beginning to ware off. But something in the way Keigo stares you down has you moving, giving him exactly what he wants. You let the music take control of your body, letting your hips sway and your fingers play with the edges of Keigo's sweater. You slowly, tantalizingly, slip it up your body to reveal your bra and discard it. Then off comes your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping your fly before sloooowly dragging it down your legs to reveal your naked thighs and lace panties. 

You can practically hear Keigo salivating at the sight of you as you twirl for him, bending over and moving your ass in his face. You flip your hair and look over your shoulder, becoming the woman he is seeking tonight: a vixen. A slut. Because that’s all you want to be tonight for him too. Turning around, you walk over to him, relishing his gaze upon you, and grasp his shoulders before hooking one leg over his lap. You take a seat and begin to grind yourself into his lap, causing your knee to brush against his crotch. He groans softly as your knee caresses his hardened cock, his hands gripping your hips. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “That feels so good.” 

You feel the same, biting your lip at the pleasurable sensations of his thigh rubbing against your pantyliner. “I think it’d feel even better with these off,” you giggle, tugging at his shirt. You stare down at him through your lashes, a sexy smile pulling at your lips. “Don’t you wanna join me?” You’ve never seen Keigo move so fast before, even while fighting villains. Instantly, his shirt is off and you help him out of his pants until is just in his briefs. He then hooks his hands under your ass and hikes you up, your arms and legs wrapping around him instinctively. 

Then you’re soaring through the air and bouncing onto the mattress, the air leaving your lungs. “Get your pretty ass up there,” he grunts, grinning at the sound of your laughter.

He swoops down onto you, pressing a kiss to your lips as his chain necklaces press against your bosom, cold metal against heated skin. He pulls away to press kisses down your legs and thighs, prying them open to get a good look at what lies in between. He hums appreciatively at your scent and the sight of red against your brown skin and juicy thighs.

“Mmm, someone’s excited,” he chuckles. He glides one finger over your panty line, soaked through. You moan at the slight contact, your toes curling. “Whatchu want me to do?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. 

He begins to rub a thumb over your clit, causing your panties to become wetter and more uncomfortable.

“Kei,” you whimper. “Please.” Keigo’s eyes grow darker, his wings fluffier. “That’s not what I asked,” he teasingly yet firmly states. “C’mon, mama, give me your words. Tell me what you want Daddy to do.” He then ducks down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, nearly making you jump straight out of your skin.

“Taste me,” you whisper. “Put this pussy in your mouth. Please, Keigo, I’m begging y–!” Before you can finish, your boyfriend is already pulling down your panties, pressing his tongue against your clit and sucking gently on the little bundle of nerves. 

Keigo is a certified master at eating pussy. He puts his whole mouth on it, in it, swirling his tongue and flicking it just right against your clit. He holds you open, spreading your thighs apart as he laps at your cunt and even your asshole (because he’s also an ass man). He eats up all of your holes, eagerly licking, sucking, and lapping at them until you’re moaning, whimpering, gasping for air. You see stars behind your eyelids and your body twists against the comforter neatly spread across the bed. Your hands grasp his golden strands of hair as you feel your first orgasm quickly dawning, rising to reach its peak.

You can’t keep quiet––your sounds of utter pleasure release out of you, bouncing off of the walls. “F-Fuck, Keigo!” you sob, not even realizing how loud you are. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s so good! I’m gonna cum, baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m…I’m–“ 

Knock, knock. A gasp erupts from you as your heartbeat accelerates at the sound of the bedroom door. “Yeah?” Keigo asks, not even sounding scared or impatient. The door opens and there appears Dabi. He doesn’t even blink at the fact that you’re semi-naked. “If you two were tryin’ to be secretive, you’re not doin’ a good job at all,” he blandly says. “Y'all are loud as fuck. I could hear you all the way downstairs.” 

You try to squirm away, but Keigo holds you still, his hands still pinning your thighs open. “Oh, forreal?” he laughs as if this whole thing is funny. “Sorry, man. It’s just been a while for us.” He gazes down at you before looking back at Dabi, smirking. “Well, since you’re here, you wanna join in or just watch?” You stare at your boyfriend like he just lost his last few braincells. “Keigo, what the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss. “Are you crazy?! Why would you even ask him that?!” 

“I actually wouldn’t mind either,” Dabi announces, shocking and confusing you even further. His head cocks to the side, looking at your spread open pussy from another angle. “Seein’ her spread out like this is a definite treat…though I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want a taste either.” His eyes, blue and intense, tick up to meet yours, nearly stopping your heart. “And you’d like that too, wouldn’t you, doll?” 

You’re in such shock that if it isn’t for the eye contact, you wouldn’t realize he is talking to you. This is just too weird. You feel like you’re dreaming, like none of this is real. The two begin to chuckle lightly at your reaction, as if this is some inside joke to them…is it? “Baby, it’s okay,” Keigo chuckles, gently stroking your stomach. “Relax. Dabi is here for a reason.” You stare at your boyfriend, eyes wide and absolutely speechless. 

“I’ve been noticing tonight how much you’ve been eyeing him, and that’s okay,” Keigo further explains. “He happens to have been doing the same thing, haven’t you, D?” 

Your eyes widen even more as Dabi steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, wearing an expression close to lust. “He knows all about us wanting to spice things up more in the bedroom, even suggesting ways to excite you.” A smirk grows on Keigo’s face, one that makes you scared. “I also let him in on your little secret.”

He and Dabi share a look and you instantly know what he means. ‘Oh, no,’ you think, horrified. ‘He knows. How could he know?’ 

Keigo is happy to explain it to you. “You happened to have left your browser open on your phone one morning when you took a shower.” A twinkle appears in his golden irises. “Imagine my shock when I saw a video of a girl clearly getting fucked silly by two dudes.” Heat immediately envelopes you and you hide your face in your hands. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed!” he laughs. “I think it’s hot, but I can see why you didn't tell me. I can be very possessive, can’t I?” 

You simply look up at him, not responding, but you don’t have to. You both know he is. He’ll glare down any man who even looks your way when you’re out and about on the street. Which is why it’s so shocking to you that he would agree to share you with a whole other man. “Well, I took some time to think it over and I realized that the idea of watchin’ you suckin’ another man’s cock made me cum a lot harder than I ever have before one night.”

He smirks at you, loving the way you sharply inhale at the thought. “So I ran it by Dabi and chose him as he is the only person I trust enough to touch you and take care of my girl the way I can.” He sits back on his hands, staring down at you with utter care and affection. “But the ball is in your court, baby bird. You don’t have to say yes if this is too weird or too uncomfortable for you. Even if you say yes, you can always say no.” 

Then it’s Dabi’s turn to be caring and affectionate. “I won’t touch you until you ask me, doll,” he firmly says. “Like the bird brain said, this is your decision to make. And before you ask, I don't think this will fuck up our friendship in the slightest. I’ve always had a thing for you, especially after that kiss we had with that stupid bottle game.” You blink at him, suddenly dizzy.

“But you’re too pure to deal with my crazy ass,” he chuckles. “So I figured Hawks would be a better fit for you, and he is.” His blue eyes sparkle with something––love? Lust?––that nearly steals your breath away. “But I can still fuck you and show you how much I value you.” His hand moves to gently settle on your thigh, never moving farther than that. “Is that okay?” he asks in a voice so unlike his own. It is very soft and careful as if you are a spooked animal he is trying to calm. 

Is that okay? They could simply take you right here, right now, but they don’t. Neither one of them even touches you, letting you give them the green light. You can hardly contain yourself, feeling so aroused and oh-so loved that you could burst. So you sit up and toss your arms around Dabi, immediately pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. A surprised moan leaves his lips, shocked at your boldness, before he melts into the kiss and lets his hands settle on your waist.

When you pull away, both of you are panting heavily and overcome with need. “Fuck me,” you whisper. You turn to Keigo, seeing that he is just as needy as you are. “Both of you. Right now.” 

Your boys don’t need to be told twice. Dabi immediately goes back to kissing you stupid while Keigo presses kisses and forms love bites on your neck, stealing silent gasps and whimpers away from your mouth and into Dabi’s as he does. Dabi’s and your tongues swirl together, cold against hot, especially when you feel the nub of something cold and steely attached to his tongue.

You pull away, perplexed, and he gives a sexy, throaty chuckle before spitting his tongue out at you. There, you see a black studded piercing embedded into the pink muscle. You nearly cum right there. “Please,” you whimper as Dabi begins to kiss down your neck and breasts. “Fuck me.” You roll your hips into Dabi’s, earning a throaty groan in response. 

“So eager, right?” Keigo chuckles, grinning at Dabi. “Not yet, love dove. First, Dabi needs to have a chance to play with you. Get that bra off of her, D.” He flicks his chin at his friend, impatient. Dabi doesn’t need any other pushing. He unhooks your bra from the front, letting the cups fall free to reveal your gorgeous breasts and hardened nipples. The two men groan at the sight of them––the prettiest, ripest fruit they’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing and tasting. Each attach their lips to your nipples, hungrily lapping and licking at the hardened peaks of your nipples. 

Keigo watches your face, transfixed by the way your pretty features contort in pleasure at the feeling of two mouths on your sensitive nipples. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs. His compliment makes you wetter than before and soon, you can’t control yourself. Your hands grasp their scalps, running through their hair, and your toes curl as the pleasure travels downward to your pussy. “Kei,” you whimper. “T-Touya.” The white-haired stud softly growls at his birth name being uttered from your lips, leading him to grip your ass as he continues to suck at your nipple. 

Impatient, you go to grasp their cocks in their pants, but Keigo moves your hands away. “Uh-uh, mama,” he chuckles, giving you a lopsided smirk. “We’ve first gotta play with this gorgeous pussy. You okay with sharing her kitty, D?” 

Dabi looks like he was waiting for Keigo to mention something about your cunt. He pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting to his bottom lip. “Long as I get to make her cum, I’m down.” His eyes cut away from staring deep into yours to glare at Keigo. “Just don't get in my fuckin’ way and we won’t have a problem.” Keigo only laughs and pats the space on the mattress beside you. “On your knees, baby. Face down, ass up.”

Helpless to resist their hungered stares, you do as your man orders and position yourself on your knees with your ass hiked up in the air, right in your friend’s face. You barely have time to feel embarrassed before a hand connects to your asscheek. Smack! You whine at the sharp sting. “Sorry,” Keigo sniggers. “My hand slipped.” 

Dabi groans at your reaction, visibly turned on by you. You. “I knew she liked it rough,” he comments, his voice strained. “Mind if I try?” Keigo must obviously give him the go because you feel his hand, rougher from his burn scars, slap your ass too. Smack! You gasp, taken aback by the bite of pain…and the pleasure that comes with it. 

“Shiiit, that was nothing,” Keigo tuts. “Put some force in it, Dabs.” Smack! Keigo does it this time, putting more force into his hit just to spite Dabi. You clench your teeth at the sting, feeling like your ass is on fire. “Like that?” Dabi blandly asks, scoffing. “You barely made it jiggle.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! The two smack your ass like they’re landlords and your ass is a tenant who owes them rent money. They relish the sweet gasps and whines that leave your mouth with each assault on your asscheeks, damn near leaving handprints in their wake. They love how much you love this, the little masochist you are. 

Finally, when you’re a panting mess on the bed, Keigo stops the punishment. “That’s enough for now. Her poor pussy can't take much more.” His finger lightly brushes against your oozing, gushing pussy who always betrays you as a slut. “Let’s see whose tongue makes you cum the hardest,” Dabi softly growls. “But I’ll warn you, baby doll: this tongue piercing always seems to make pussies cum before they’re ready.” He chuckle is a promise to you that has your heart pounding and clit jumping in excitement. 

And boy, is it a promise. Once your panties are off, his tongue touches your clit and slides inside your pussy. And it’s over for you. His tongue piercing is a perfect mix of cold that adds to the intensity of his hot tongue and mouth sucking and lapping at your pussy. He does it like he’s been doing this all his life, similar to Keigo but quicker, less gentle. At this point, a new song has begun to play from Keigo’s phone––“Moodswings” by Pop Smoke––and Dabi’s broad tongue strokes match the tempo, making you see stars. “God, Dabi!” you moan, gripping the comforter below you. “That feels so good!” 

Though it’s hot to Keigo too, he isn't too keen on his friend hogging his pussy. “Bitch,” he growls, “I’m here too. At least lemme suck on this pretty asshole. And yes, she likes that too.” Dabi pauses, staring at you then at the winged hero in shock. “Fuck, Kei, you’ve got a real freak on your hands,” he exhales in disbelief, earning a laugh from both of them at your expense. 

Then Keigo’s hands are spreading your asscheeks apart and his tongue is lapping at your puckered asshole. You’re whining and sobbing into the mattress, fingers clenching the comforter so tight that your knuckles turn pale. Then they switch, Dabi eating your ass while Keigo gulps down your pussy, giving you softer yet eager tongue flicks against your clit.

“You like this, baby?” he asks, his words muffled by his tongue in your little hole. “You like gettin’ both of your holes fucked? Mmm, I know you do. That body is tellin’ us everything we need to know.” And it is: you can’t stop tossing your ass back and grinding your hips into their mouths, desperate for more. When your orgasm begins to rise, it is intense and builds in your core, threatening to spill over.

“Oh, sh-sh-shit!” you squeal, pushing your ass and pussy into their faces. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum! You’re both gonna make me cum!” 

“Do it then,” Dabi demands, now licking on your pussy. “Cum down my fuckin’ throat.” Keigo whines in protest, pulling away from your ass to busy himself stroking your clit with two fingers. “No, baby,” he mumbles. “Cum for me. Cum for your man…please?”

Both of them watch you as you cum all over yourself and them, filling their mouths with your taste. Your orgasm is intense; earth-shattering. It makes your body shake and quiver and stars explode behind your eyelids. A loud whine that you barely recognize as your voice escapes you as you let go of every bit of sanity and control you have left. 

When you’re finally done, the duo laps greedily at your juices, earning soft sighs and whimpers of protest in response to them overstimulating you. “Fuckin’ move, Dabi,” Keigo growls, growing impatient. “You’re hoggin’ all of her up! Don’t forget, you burnt bitch: that’s my pussy you’re eating.” You look back at them now, breathing heavily. Dabi pulls away from your cunt to chuckle at his friend, his lips shining with your juices. “Tell that to her. She seems like she likes this piercing an awful lot.” He spits his tongue out at Keigo, teasingly wiggling it at him. 

And then you get an awfully devious, nasty idea in your head at the sight of that sinful piercing: “Is this pierced too?” you innocently ask. The song switches now––“Touch It” by DVSN––and it immediately changes the atmosphere in the room to something way nastier and intimate than before.

Dabi and Keigo stare at you in silent awe, both clearly aroused by your change in demeanor. Dabi smirks, taking your hand and placing it on his crotch. “You tryna find out, baby doll?” he gravely asks, tracing a finger over your cheek. You shiver in delight at his touch. 

“Is your man okay with that?” he asks, questionably looking at Keigo. You look too, asking with your eyes. “Only if you’re okay with sharing,” he chuckles, “but something tells me you’re just as eager to see her take two dicks as I am.”

Seeing the look in his eyes and how ruffled his wings have gotten, you can tell he is worked up, so you hurry to coax him closer to you. Soon, they are both sitting on their knees above you while you sit low on your knees on the mattress, your feet curled underneath your butt. “You two are wearin’ way too much,” you sternly say. “I want both of you naked. Now.” 

They smirk at your bold request but hurry to fill it, fingers working at their flies and peeling off their tops. You help them each, damn near gasping at how much sexiness is in front of you once they’re down to their boxers.

Though they are both lean with hard muscle, toned arms, and bite-worthy thighs, they have their differences too: Keigo has smooth, tanned skin that is accentuated by the gold chain hanging from his neck and a few tattoos here and there inked across his skin.

Meanwhile, Dabi has pale skin that is inked with tatts and scarred and bumpy with burns and staples. He has nipple piercings that wink at you and a happy trail of white hairs that lead down to his toned V-line. “Not the prettiest sight, I know,” he lightly laughs, but you can tell he’s ashamed of the way he looks away from you. 

You make it your mission to make him feel otherwise. Standing higher up on your knees, you press your lips to his and stroke your hands over his stomach. “You’re so sexy,” you purr. You turn to Keigo, pressing a hand to his chest to feel his heart beat against your fingertips. “Both of you are,” you sigh dreamily. “I’m such a lucky bitch.” They silently laugh, their eyes aglow with lust as you begin to work their boxers down with both hands. 

Then you’re faced with two big dicks in your face. Your eyes widen at the sight of Dabi, noticing how he curves upward and is slightly longer than Keigo. The cock head is an angry red, while Keigo’s is pinker, pre-cum dripping from the tip for you. You have no idea how you’re going to handle both of them at the same time, but you surprise even yourself when you spit into your hands and begin to stroke them both, getting a feel of both of them in your hands. Their soft moans coax you to continue, your body relishing the way they sound. “Such a big girl takin’ two big dicks at the same time,” Keigo hums, watching you stroke him and his best friend. 

Dabi watches too, his bottom lip caught between his teeth at the way you gently run your thumb across his head. “Careful now, baby bird,” Keigo chuckles. “He’s sensitive there.” The white-haired man glares at his friend though not as hostile because of how good your soft, little hand feels stroking his dick. “Fuck you,” he growls. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, bro,” Keigo chuckles. He takes a lockful of your hair and pulls your face back, making you look at him. As you softly gasp at the sensation of your hair being tugged back, Keigo’s cock twitches in your hand. “Now show our friend how good you are at suckin’ dick,” he demands with a smile.

You don’t hesitate to do so, quickly opening your mouth and swallowing Dabi’s dick. You suck, gargle, and gag on it. You lick from base to tip, stroke his balls with one hand while stroking his dick with your throat. Dabi is gobsmacked by how good you are, his hand gripping your hair and his pretty eyes rolling to the back of his head. He can’t get enough of how tight and wet your throat is, mumbling about it through heavy pants. 

“Go on, bro,” Keigo encourages him. “Fuck her up. Her throat is there for a reason.” And so he does, thrusting into your tempting throat while you force yourself to take him, no matter how much your jaw aches and tears sting your eyes. You love seeing him feel good. You feel the same for Keigo when you switch to him next, taking him deep as he fucks your throat with slow, deliberate strokes that would no doubt draw long moans out of you if he were inside of you. 

You repeat this, alternating between stroking one and sucking the other, coating their cocks in your spit that collects in your mouth and drips down your chin. You stare into their eyes, adoring how they stare upon you so intensely, so lustfully. They each give you words of dirty praise though different. Keigo is sweet, stroking your hair back as you take his cock. “Good girl,” he praises. “Such a good girl for me.” 

Meanwhile, Dabi’s praise is full of degradation as his hand yanks on your hair and his balls hit your chin. 

“Good fuckin’ slut,” he groans. “How are you so good at this shit?” He pulls out of your mouth suddenly, letting you breathe. “Open your mouth,” he demands. You do so, sticking your tongue out. He tilts your chin up before spitting a wallop of saliva into your mouth, much to your pussy’s delight. “Now spit it back on that dick,” he orders which you do, spitting it back onto his cock before slurping it up and letting it lube him up so it’s easier to take him into your throat again. 

Keigo yanks you back to him and sticks his cock back in your mouth, laughing at your surprised mewl. By this time, the song has changed and “OTW” by Jhene Aiko and Mila J is filling the bedroom. Keigo thrusts into your mouth according to the tempo, grinning at how you struggle with his long strokes. “Don’t stop now, cutie,” he chuckles. “You asked for this and now you’re gettin’ it. Don’t disappoint us.” The two evilly laugh at your expense, loving how hard you’re finding it to take a breath. 

And you are. The more dick you take, the more you’re finding it difficult to breathe or recover. Your mouth is coated in spit and your throat feels raw from it constantly being fucked…but it also feels damn good. You love that you’re the one making them feel good. No one else. This only becomes realer for you when Keigo feels himself getting close and slides out of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m ‘bout to cum!” he grunts, but slows his hand down so he doesn’t pump cum in your face. “No, not yet. I need to be inside you for that.” 

Excitement zings through you. Finally! What you’ve been waiting for! “I’m cool with just fuckin’ her throat till I bust,” Dabi pants, lazily stroking his cock. “That is your girl, after all. And this feels way too good to give up.” He is not just referring to your heavenly mouth and throat, but to your soft hands that leave the mattress every so often to stroke up and down his chest and stomach. He takes one of them and presses it to his lips, a change to his rough demeanor while he was fucking your face. 

 “Thanks, bro,” Keigo says with a grin “I’m dying to see how she’ll take all that cum down your throat.” Dabi smirks, looking down at you looking absolutely wrecked (so far). “You think you’ve had two big dicks, baby doll?” he asks, grinning evilly at you. “You haven’t seen shit yet.” You’re almost afraid to find out, but you know you’re too late to turn back now when Keigo positions you. He hikes your ass up and gives your ass a smack before his cock is sheathing inside of you without warning. 

You gasp, your mouth open wide at the searing pleasure you feel. Dabi takes advantage of this, sliding his cock back inside of your mouth and freely fucking your throat while Keigo begins to follow suit, following the same tempo his friend does: rough and hard.

Keigo grips your tits as they swing and your ass as it jiggles against him with every thrust. “How’s this, hm?” he teasingly asks. “How’s this for takin’ two cocks, huh?” You mumble nonsense against Dabi’s cock, earning a panty laugh from your mutual friend. “Can’t even speak ‘cause both of your holes are filled to the brim,” he laughs. “I’d feel bad if your throat didn’t feel so fuckin’ good, shit…” 

He fucks your mouth a little faster, making his heavy balls slap against your chin and the bed creak with the force of two men fucking you at the same time. Your jaw begins to intensely ache with how much Dabi is filling your throat and you try to ease back to allow yourself some comfort, but Keigo takes that as you losing focus.

“C’mon, mama, don’t leave me out,” he pouts, giving your ass another sharp smack. “Throw that ass back for me. Fuck me back. Show me how much you love this.” And, like a little doll being controlled, you do so, tossing your ass back into him to shove his cock deeper inside of you. “There we go,” he moans. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect…our perfect girl.” 

You swear you nearly squirt when he says this. Being between them, getting your brains fucked out by them, you feel as if you are their perfect girl only. You are there to please them, and they you. You want this moment to last forever, but as their thrusts in unison begin to quicken and their moans intensify, you can tell that your end is about to be reached. Keigo presses a kiss to your back, buried to the hilt inside your pussy. “We love you so much, y’know that?” he pants. “We fuckin’ adore you, Y/N.” 

“So much!” Dabi grunts, pulling out to tap his dick against your lips and chin. “You’re the best little slut for us.” You whimper at their words, your pussy quivering and clenching around the big cock inside of you. “Think we can make her cum at midnight sharp, D?” Keigo chuckles, realizing that you’re close. “I wanna ring in the new year the right way.” Dabi only mischievously grins, wordlessly agreeing to the naughty act of celebration. 

The song switches to something smooth and relaxing yet adds to the intensity of your end––“Sit On It” by Jazmine Sullivan and Ari Lennox––and it doesn't take long for the duo to begin to feel their orgasms coming. “God fuckin’ dammit, I’m ‘bout to cum,” Dabi groans, feral and losing control. “Take me deep, baby doll. Deep down that slutty throat.” 

Keigo tugs on your hair as he grips your hip with the other hand, railing you into the mattress. “M’close too,” he warns. “I can tell you’re gonna cum too, baby bird. Are we gonna make that little pussy cum?” His hand loops between your thighs to rub at your clit, each circle to makes with his fingers pushing you closer to the edge of no return. Dabi’s dick slips out of your mouth, letting you take a breath and utter your arrival. “K-Kei!” you sob. “T-Touya, please! I’m gonna cum!” 

As the music plays, something breaks through to mingle with it: all around you––on the TV downstairs, outside your balcony, through the walls next door––people begin to countdown from ten till midnight. Till the new year. You were getting fucked so good that you nearly forgot it’s NYE. 

Ten. 

Nine.

“There’s the countdown,” Keigo moans, quickening his pace and nailing your G-spot again and again. “C’mon and cum with us, baby. We’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

Eight… 

Seven.

Six. 

Grunts, groans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill the bedroom as you get closer to your climax. “Cum, baby!” Keigo demands, gripping onto you tight as he pummels into your pussy. “Cum while I fill you up.” 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

“Cum all over that dick, baby doll,” Dabi growls into your ear as he shoves his cock deeper down your throat, prepared to fill it up. “Do it. Make us proud, Y/N.” 

Two. 

One. 

Zero.

Happy New Year!

Cheers, applause, and the sound of makeshift fireworks and poppers fill the tense air, making you feel as if all of this is happening because you’re cumming for your boys as much as they want you to. Because you're doing as they told you to.

As soon as the countdown reaches one, you gush around Keigo’s cock just as he fills you up, digging his fingers into the flesh of your ass as he does. Dabi joins you both, cumming down your throat, his deep, guttural grunts mixing with Keigo’s louder, high-pitched moans. You scream around Dabi’s cock as your orgasm takes your body and propels it through the skies. You’re soaring, flying above the clouds. You feel like you could touch the stars with how good you feel. 

But just as quickly as it comes, it fades, deliciously so. You ride the wave for a couple of minutes with Keigo and Dabi whose thrusts slow and grow sloppier the more they try to chase that high. “Fuck me,” Keigo sighs as he gently pulls out of your tight hole, groaning at how his cum drips out of you and down your thighs. You reach back to stroke the buttery-soft feathers of his wings, helping him ride out that wave of bliss, pleased with the soft whimpers he gives you.

Dabi slides out of your mouth, leaving cum and spit staining your lips and chin. He wipes it away with his thumbs, letting you suck on them when they linger close to your mouth. Keigo moves to pause his music, the air now filled with your soft panting and the muffled sounds from the TV and your neighbors. 

When your orgasm finally fades, you settle onto your elbows, finally able to rest. You feel achy and sore yet immensely satisfied. You can hardly believe it. You just had your first threesome with your boyfriend and childhood friend. “Wow,” you sigh. It’s all you can say. Keigo grins down at you, sitting back on his hands, glinting in sweat and his semi-hard cock splayed out in front of you. “Right?” he chuckles. “That’s the only word to describe it. You alright, Dabi?” 

You look over to the ex-villain who is lying on his back next to you, looking content. “Never better,” he softly sighs. “I haven’t came that hard in ages.” Keigo sniggers, winking at him. “Told you she’s good,” he chuckles and the fact that he’s talked about your skills makes you flush. “Never did I think I’d fuck my boyfriend and my friend at the same time,” you giggle, mostly at the absurdness of it. Talk about ending the night with a bang. 

“And now you’re about to cuddle with ‘em,” Keigo adds. Dabi side eyes him to which Keigo returns it. “What? Do emotionally damaged, bad boys not like cuddles?” He snuggles in next to you on your right, helping you turn around so you’re facing his chest and handsome face.

You look back at Dabi, hoping your backside and puppy dog eyes will reel him in. “Please, Dabi?” you innocently beg, staring up at him through your lashes. 

Fortunately, your ass and eyes win him over. “Such a baby,” he sighs with an eye roll, but snuggles up behind you anyway, his hand laying lazily on your thigh. “You need to stop spoilin’ her so damn much, bird brain,” he criticizes Keigo who laughs, having no intention of stopping.

For a while, the three of you lay in complete silence, no words needed. Dabi strokes up and down your side, starting from your hip to your calve and back up again. Keigo presses kisses to your cheek and forehead, his fingers drawing shapes on your back. You press a hand to his beating heart and play with his necklace, breathing in both him and Dabi’s mingling scents. “This was so, so nice,” you hum, content and satisfied. “Thank you both so much for this. I love you both so much.”

Keigo presses another chaste kiss to your cheek, his touch as soft as a butterfly’s wings. “And we love you too,” he murmurs into your hair. Dabi doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. The kiss he leaves on your shoulder blade is all the confirmation you need that the feeling is mutual. 

Knock, knock, knock! You startle, jumping out of your skin as you and the boys look toward the bedroom door. Keigo shields you with his wings immediately, your entire body covered with red feathers. 

“And I love y’all too,” Rumi calls through the door, "but you freaky motherfuckers woke me up! And I missed the countdown! At least wake me up with your fucking before midnight!” 

You, Keigo, and Dabi silently look at each other before erupting into laughter. “Sorry, cotton tail,” Keigo laughs despite Rumi cussing outside the bedroom door. “Oh, and before we forget…” 

He and Dabi slowly move in and each press a kiss to your cheeks. “Happy New Year,” they say in unison. 

THE END. 

#bnha smut #smutty smut #black fanfic writer #my works #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #hawks x black reader #keigo takami x black reader #dabi x black!reader #dabihawks #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #hawks x black!reader

[rottenroyalebooks]

Love Drunk - 0.3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x older sister!Harrington reader

Also includes: Steve Harrington x sister!reader (siblings)

AU: No Upside Down.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N Harrington left Hawkins as soon as she turned eighteen with her boyfriend to follow her dreams of being a Rockstar. Three years later, she returns to Hawkins alone and scarred. Now, she has to repair her broken relationship with her younger brother, all while trying to prevent herself from falling for a cute metal head who plays at the Hideout, where she works.

Warnings: Announced each chapter.

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A/N: Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list (messages and/or asks preferred)

Taglist: Open!

The hideout was just as busy as I remembered.

Live music, the smell of weed and cigarettes lingering in the air, the bustling of customers and waitstaff, the unknown sticky stubstance that seemed to coat the floor, and Jim's voice hollering at the cooks.

Yep, same place, different year.

"Y/N Harrington as I live and breathe." Sarah, Jim's wife's voice came from the bar, gaining my attention quickly.

I smiled and waved, walking over to the bar with a small pep in my step.

She looked me over once, "When Jim told me you were calling our house that early to ask for a job, I thought we were being punked. What the hell are you doing here?"

A chuckle escaped my lips, and I ran my hand through my hair, "Stuff happened, and I had to come back. I'd rather not get into it if you don't mind."

She waved it off, "Understood. Come on, get back here and show me what you know."

♡♡♡

The night at The Hideout was in full swing, and I was mixing drinks for the bar patrons.

The night was still young, and once I got a chance to breathe, Jim was standing at the bar.

"There's a live band playing tonight. They're a cover band called Corroded Coffin. Pretty good group of guys." He explained, leaving against the bar, "I gotta warn ya, one of the guys, he's got these high school friends that like to come watch. They're allowed to be in here but no alcoholic beverages. Only food, water, soda, or a virgin drink if you're nice enough."

I nodded, understanding what he was telling me, "It's cool that you let them come watch."

"They bring business, and that's all I care about. Same reason why I let you perform whenever you wanted, starting at age sixteen."

I laughed, shaking my head as I handed one of the patrons their drink, "God, that feels like a lifetime ago."

He nodded, smirking as he sat in one of the barstools, "Why don't you help out your old pal and perform one of these nights, huh? I'm sure you'll get quite the audience when people realize Y/N Harrington has come back to town."

"People already know. I got five calls from people asking if she was performing or not." Sarah joked, which made me chuckle lightly, shaking my head.

"Sorry guys, my rockstar days are merely a distant dream."

Jim furrowed his eyebrows, watching me move from the bar to the sink as I started to clean the glasses, "Is that why you're back? Because you didn't get your big break in three years?"

There was a pregnant pause before I answered. I didn't want to tell the truth, so I didn't, "Yeah, that's it."

A group of young teenagers raced to the bar; the tallest had shaggy brown hair and looked very excited as he was bouncing off the walls, he had an anxious looking girl with long brown hair gripping his arm as she looked around.

"Hey Jim!" Another boy with curly brown hair greeted, before looking over at me, "You're new."

I shrugged, amused at the teens, "Not really, just moved back. Want some nachos?"

A read head nodded, glaring lightly, "You look familiar."

I shrugged, "I've got one of those faces; what can I say."

The curly-haired kid interjected, "Can I get a Sherly Temple?"

"You've got it," I said grabbing my notepad, "Anything else?"

The group of teens gave me their drink orders from various sodas, and the redhead asked if I could make her a fruity mocktail. I agreed as I loved mixing drinks of all kinds; it shouldn't be too difficult to replace tequila with Sprite.

"You guys find us a table; I'll wait for our stuff." The curly kid said, and they all nodded, moving off in separate directions to attempt to find a table big enough.

The kid turned to look at me as I was making their drinks, "What's your name?"

"Y/N." I said, moving my hip so he could see my name badge on the apron that was tied around my waist, "What about you?"

"I'm Dustin." He greeted, "It's nice to meet you"

I smiled at his kindness, "It's nice to meet you too."

A very familiar voice that approached the bar, "Henderson, where are the others?" Steve, in a bar, seemed to know many kids. I smirked, passing Dustin his drink as Steve made eye contact with me, freezing.

"Why, hello, Steve. What can I get for you?"

He blinked, snapping out of his shocked state, "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? Making your little friends Mocktails just as the good lord intended."

He rolled his eyes, "Really, Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I'm working, Steve. Can't you tell?"

Dustin looked confused, looking between the two of us, "Do you know her, Steve?"

"She's my sister." He gritted out, not taking his eyes off me as I put the drinks on a tray so I could bring them to the kid's table.

Dustin blinked, "You have a sister?"

"Go find the others, Dustin." He said and the boys' eyes widened, scurrying off with his drink.

He sighed, "Put their stuff on my tab." He mumbled and some other older teenagers walked over to him, including Robin whose eyes widened as she saw me.

"Right on." I say as I write it down in my notebook, "Can I get you anything else? Sodas? Another plate of Nachos?"

He turned to his friends, and they ordered, and I wrote it down, "Cool. You can find a table, and I'll get right on it after I deliver these drinks."

Nodding, they all turned and walked off, and I grabbed the tray of drinks. Spotting the kids at the table, I saw Jim approaching them with the Nachos as I approached, "Alright! A Coke, Sprite, Fruity Concoction, another Coke, and water for the little lady. If you need anything else just come and find me, yeah?"

They all stared at me; Dustin must've told them I was Steve's sister. Apparently, it's uncommon knowledge. I wasn't too surprised.

"Alright, enjoy your night." I slipped off and back to the bar, a waitress was clocking in which meant I could stay behind the bar for as long as I needed.

I heard tapping on the microphone, and I glanced over at the stage, seeing the band that was playing that night. Corroded Coffin was written on the drums, and they seemed like they were a relatively normal rock band.

My eyes found the frontman right away.

He wore a Metallica shirt with the sleeves cut off, black ripped jeans with a studded belt, he held a beautiful electric guitar, and he had silver rings on his fingers on his hands. His hair was long and curly, and he had big brown eyes that excitedly looked through the crowd.

He had a stage presence like no other.

His eyes scanned the bar and they landed on me, where he stopped looking around. Our eyes met and I felt my stomach drop, so I looked away as a customer walked up to the bar.

I smiled at Robin, who greeted me as she sat at the bar.

"Sorry, Robin, I'd hook you up with something good if Jim weren't here." I said with a smile as I leaned against the bar, "Can I make you a fruity virgin?"

"I already am one." She joked, but her face turned pink, and she looked away from me, looking down at the ground, "Sorry, bad joke."

I smiled, laughing, "I spent the last three years in California, Robin; I don't care if you do swing a certain way." I winked at her and grabbed an empty glass from a customer returning it, placing it in the sink for later.

She nodded, tapping on the counter as the band started playing.

I looked at Steve's table, and they were all paying attention to the stage intently; they must know someone from the band; I decided not to inquire since Steve didn't seem to want me to know his business.

"I'll take whatever you made for Max, though," Robin brought my attention back to her, "Just so you know, I know that things between you and Steve are tense right now, but he loves you. He's just a dingus who can't healthily express his emotions."

I chuckled, nodding, "Cheers to our parents for that. Thank you, Robin. I'll get right on it; bring it to your table if you want to enjoy the show."

"Oh, we come here every Tuesday. Supporting the band and all," She turned, pointing to the first band member, "Jeff is on the guitar to the left, Gareth is on the drums, Dougie is on the Bass, and Eddie is the frontman, singing and playing the guitar. We're mostly here for Eddie."

Ah, so the man has a name.

I nodded, handing her the drink, "Enjoy the show."

She grabbed the drink and nodded, disappearing into the crowd.

I looked back at the band, and my eyes went to Eddie immediately. His playing was good, but his voice was fantastic. I was surprised to find out about any other talent coming from Hawkins, Indiana. I leaned against the counter and watched since no customers needed my attention.

#rottenwrites #fanfiction #writers of tumblr #writer #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #fiction #eddie munson x sister!harrington reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x older sister!reader #rottenspeaks #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stranger things

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twenty, Part Two The Masque of the Red Death

(A/N- not a full chapter but very important)

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Throughout the night, music and chatter filled the hall. The familiar face of Gaston Leroux stands against the wall, a glass of champagne in hand, he was going his best to keep his eye on Ayatsuji, members of the Hunting Dogs, and other government workers, if any of them interfered with the plan it could be all over. His eyes also kept darting to the door, keeping an eye on who came in and left, making sure none of them would cause a problem either.  Then his eyes fell on a familiar man, through not many would recognize him with the masquerade theme of the night, it was Mr. Tonan’s assistant. He was leaving the room but Gaston spotted Mr. Tonan talking to Victor not a moment ago. Without a word to any other society members Gaston activated his ability and stepped through the wall, disappearing from everyone’s sight. Gaston walked out into the hallway, keeping his ability activated to keep his foot falls non existent. He silently followed the man, upstairs, into another meeting hall, one that would be used for the auction that would be held tonight. Gaston hid himself behind a long window curtain, watching. The assistant went over to the table of cases, full of items for tonight’s auction, he was trying to tamper with the lots. Gaston  stepped out from behind the curtain and deactivated his ability so that when his heels hit the floor it made a sharp clicking sound, getting the assistant’s attention.

“Did you get lost? I believe the party is downstairs.” Gaston said, looking the man over with a polite smile, but one that quickly fell when the man didn’t say anything. “Or perhaps you meant to come here?”

At that the man slowly turned to look at the composer and that wicked grin came across his face that gave even Gaston chills. Then Gaston gained notice of his eyes, green and blue, they weren’t that way before. Then the scar over his eye, that also wasn’t there before. Then it was the hair, black to white, then the clothes to that of clown’s, and a card coming to cover his eye, but what stayed the same was that horrifying smile. It was an ability that was changing him of that there wasn’t a doubt, a teleportation ability perhaps? 

Then he felt it, behind his head… the barrel of a gun…

That’s when he knew…

“Nikolai Gogol, I’ve heard of you, didn’t I think I’d meet you in person ever.” Gaston said, staying calm despite the gun on his head. “And what would a criminally insane or perhaps just an insane criminal want here? This auction doesn’t seem like your style not to mention this is far from Europe and your home ground.”

“Let me answer your question with another question.” Nikolai replied as Gaston felt the gun move down onto his neck. “What is Fyodor doing here?”

The composer’s eyes widened at the mention of the name, he was so much in shock that he would have stepped back if it wasn’t for the gun behind him. 

“What?”

“Don’t worry he’s not actually here as in this building, but why?” There was a long pause in silence, Gaston didn’t actually know why he was. He had been helping try to stop the Guild and he knew why, but why are they still here? Their goal wasn’t Fyodor, so why were they? “Ohhh you don’t actually know, such a shame… but I can’t just let you leave after what you’ve seen, I’m sure Dostoy would love to see you.”

Gaston felt the gun move down his spine, pressing into the small of his back. He could feel the pressure shift as Nikolai pressed his finger on the trigger.

3…

2…

1…

BANG

…But the bullet never met skin…

Gaston activated his ability just in time, letting the bullet fly right through his ghostly body but then in a flash of gold it disappeared…

Gaston looked around confused…

Oh no…

Gaston saw the bullet reappear in the corner of his eye. The flash of gold then the searing pain in his side as the bullet drove into his skin just above his hip. The world went white in pain as Gaston fell to the floor. His vision was rapidly fading and the last thing he saw was Nikolai’s smiling face…

Gaston Leroux, Society Member

Status: missing

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor #yandere jouno #Yandere Ango #yandere tecchou #Yandere Paul Verlaine #Yandere Yukito Ayatsuji

[echantedtoon]

Until Death Do You Vow Ch2 A Saving Plan

(EDIT: None of the things in the beginning of this chapter is cannon to The Groom of Gallagher Mansion. It's just made up for the story for Y/n's college scenes.

Warnings for mentioned murder, death, and illness.)

"Class, turn to page one hundred and thirty two. Today we'll be reviewing the foundation of our town and the roll it had in the battle of-"

The sounds of many pages turning in the large room as at least fifty students turned to the appropriate places in their textbooks. Others took out note books lined with lots of notes from previous lessons with room for future ones. Pencils and erasers at the ready for the task ahead of taking down important information. Highlighters in bright yellow ready to highlight any very important details hidden in the professor's speeches. Lights dim as the first slides showed in time with the words the professor spoke.

"Now this here is General Markus G. Tuttle. He was one of the founding fathers of our city and first established it with five other men back in sixteen hundreds under the orders of the current reigning monarch of the time."

The current slide showed up a picture of an old painting taken at the city's local museum. It's old pain chipping away but still held together enough to show the picture of a man in his late fifties in a war uniform.  The professor looked up at the slide before adjusting his glasses and looking back at the younger crowd. 

"Who here can tell me who the reigning monarchs were?" Murmurs and coughs were circulated around until one hand raised up in the very back row. He pointed at it after a moment of straining his eyes to see around the dimly lit room. "Yes. You, Y/n!"

"The reigning monarchy during that time was lead by King Cedric Roland Jackson Snider the Forth and his wife Queen Stacia Emily Snider." Your hand slowly lowered after your answer and the professor nodded in approval.

"Excellent! Yes! Both King and Queen during that time funded their exhibition out to the area where our town would first be established. Who can tell me what the original purpose of the exhibition was?" Again unsure looks were given around until once more your hand raised in answer. "Miss Y/n?"

"The original exhibition was to survey the area and establish a trading route halfway through the path leading to the next country, but the fertile grounds and booming wildlife changed their minds into establishing a large farming and hunting community instead."

"Right you are! Yes! The booming wildlife untouched by most of mankind is what drew them to that idea when first coming to the area! After discovering most of the untouched riches that lay within the surrounding forests and the nutrients in the ground, General Markus Tuttle had it in his mind to return and convince the reigning monarchy into establishing a community and improving the agriculture of the country's economy. Now who can tell me the original name of the town?" You waited to see if someone else would raise their hand and someone else did. A boy in the very front row. "Yes, Charlie!"

You didn't bother interrupting and only listened to the professor continue his lesson and turn to the next slide which was a picture of some old relics from the same time as the founding of the town. You busied yourself by writing down words in the notebook you always took with you during these classes. The words forever being inscribed upon the surface of the paper with ink- Something poked your arm making you pause.

"Psst. Hey, Bud. I gotta tell you something."

Tired f/c eyes deadpanned looked at the mitchmatched eyes of the man sitting next to you blinking behind glasses. A head of red hair met you as he again poked your upper arm.

"What, Taylor?," you whisper hissed back to him voice low to avoid drawing attention. "I'm trying to take notes here. You should be taking notes too! You have no idea if this'll be on the finals!"

Taylor, your best friend and dorm buddy, didn't seemed phased by your words in the slightest and only whispered back. "We need to talk about the OHSIC. It's important!"

"We're having a meeting anyways tonight. You can wait until then."

"WHAT?! BUT THAT'S STILL HOURS AWAY-"

"Mr. Potts." The professor gave a look of silent disapproval as the lesson paused. A good few heads also turned to stare at the seemingly frozen red head next to you suddenly in the spotlight. "Is there something so important that you have to disrupt my lesson? If so please share it with the class."

In an instant Taylor's face went an embarrassed red and he shook his head no. "N-NO! I was just-...Uh. A-Asking to borrow a pencil! Yeah!"

The professor narrowed his heads. "Well then next time ask quietly or better. Next time actually come prepared and not disrupt the class. Now then. " He turned back to the board. "As I was saying, most of the earliest population consisted of farmers and their families and their farm hands and their families. However there was a couple dozen larger plantations usually owned by the wealthier families of the time. One of the most famous ones being-"

Taylor gave a sigh of relief as the faces of their classmates turned away from them and focused back onto the lesson the professor was giving.

"I told you. Just wait until all our classes are finished and we'll talk at the weekly meeting. Ok?" You looked back to the notebook after giving Taylor a quick reassuring pat on the hand.

His cheeks turned back to the faint color of pink before he pulled his hands back and looked away. "F-Fine. But don't take too long."

You only smiled at his pouty tone. You were used to it by now though. It's just how Taylor was ever since you both met two years ago in your first year of college. You both just happened to be taking the same classes as each other two of them being Local History and Folklore Studies, also known as Folkloristics. It was the study of all aspects of culture, particularly material culture or the products of a society. Or in other words local folklore, myths, and legends. And in this city there was certainly quite a lot. You weren't sure why but you were always fascinated by the paranormal and fantasy sides of things. You supposed that's what drew you both together as friends. Granted Taylor was WAY more into the cryptozoology parts than you were but it was still a  thing you two could bond over. Local History and Folklore Studies were the best ways to find out about any spooky happenings that were around the city and a way for you to study for that job you wanted. You were hoping to get a job ast the local museum and become a writer on the side. What better way to achieve both your passions? Which was also why you took the Language Art classes the University offered. 

But you weren't expecting to make a friend in Taylor but it was easier when you both realized you had a lot in common and you saw each other so often. Taylor may have been eccentric, quote 'nerdy', and over passionate about everything he was passionate about but he was honestly one of the easiest guys to talk to you've met. 

Other than Ia-.....

Anyways- It was sorta hard not to be friends with him and hang out with him especially when you both stayed in the same dorm building on campus. It was halfway through the first year of college that he made his club and by the second year you agreed to joining after he practically begged you to. It was a pleasant distraction after all you've been through, and you could rely on Taylor to at least be there for you. Even if he could be a lot, he was a good friend you could count on. 

The rest of the classes were spent on collecting notes as usual with each one but you noticed that Taylor seemed more anxious and impatient about something the more time had passed. Guess whatever it was was eating at him a lot. So when you're last class ended for the day and you gathered your things, it shouldn't have surprised you when Taylor grabbed your arm practically dragging you behind him pushing past people and giving you both dirty looks as he pushed through the crowds.

"Taylor! What the heck?! You dug in your heels and yanked your hand from his with a frown. "What are you trying to do? Pull my arm outta socket?"

"Y/n, class is over! You gotta-"

"Stop by my dorm room and put my books away!" You frowned. "Not to mention I left the notes for the next meeting on my desk."

"That can wait! We gotta talk NOW!! It's a matter of life and death for the club!"

Your brow rose. "I doubt that but fine. I'm gonna go put my stuff away and grab the notes. Just go and I'll meet you at the library as usual." You turned away and began walking.

"I- You- BUT- ...RRRRRR!!" He gripped his head before stomping off making you roll your eyes at his antics. 

Always so dramatic about things. You were sure whatever it was it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be-

"THEY'RE GONNA SHUT DOWN THE OHSIC!!!"

Ok. Maybe you were mistaken.

You had just arrived with the small notebook you set aside just for OHSIC meetings and you were just expecting to go over your failed attempt to pull in more members by handing out homemade flyers and go over more ways to get members when Taylor grabbed you by the shoulders when you first stepped foot in the University library. His panicked voice echoed in your face. 

...You blinked. "What?"

"The Union Chairman said he's going to take away all the funding and space for the club because we haven't been retaining members!" Hr finally let go of you and began to pace as you blinked shaking your head. "'The space is being utterly wasted on us'. Can you believe that stupid pig faced jerk?!"

"Taylor, keep it down. We're in the library. Do you want us to get kicked out of here too?" 

Your frown seemed to cut through his rambles because he sighed and rubbed his face. "No. Sorry I guess. B-But we gotta do something!"

"Ok. Time out!" You held up your hands in a 'T' shape making Taylor once again as a hand pointed at him. "Back up to the beginning. What's going on?"

Taylor blinked before groaning which turned into a sigh. "This morning. I-I got called into a meeting with the Union Chairman." He motioned his hands around with a scowl. "He basically said he's going to shut down the club if we don't get members soon and FAST!"

Your face contorted into one of shock . Well you couldn't say you were too surprised by the outcome. The club has had trouble retaining membership for a while now with the only consistent members being Taylor who was the founder and you being the vice president of only because you were the only other member who showed up. Mostly only because it was a good distraction for what happened two years ago (even if you had gotten over it by now) and because you felt bad for Taylor putting in so much work into the club. 

"Really? I wasn't expecting it to happen this soon. I thought they would've waited at least until this Christmas break before deciding to drop funding."

"You knew this would happen?!"

"Not so soon but eventually. The club's been in in hot water for a while now Taylor."

He growled again running his hands over his face and messy red locks screwing up his glasses. "They said they wanted to use our space for the JUGGLING CLUB!! THE JUGGLING CLUB!! Can you believe that?!"

You rose a brow at Taylor's logic. By his logic clowns juggle things. Clown are scary and evil. Therefore by default the juggling club was scary and evil. Maybe that's what had gotten to him the most and made him so angry? Either way you just shook your head and sighed.

"Well the whole point of today's meeting was to figure out new ways to get new members anyways." You lightly waved the notebook in your hands. "So do you want to start the meeting now and see if we can figure something out?"

He lit up fixing his glasses and turning. "Right then! Vice prez, let's get brainstorming!" You rolled your eyes and followed Taylor to a hidden table in the back between a few shelves where he sat down. "Alright! Roll call! Say here if you're present!"

"Taylor, we're the only ones here. *sigh* But here."

"Here! All members of the OSHIC are accounted for. As club president I dub this meeting started! Now that's out of the way, it's time to get down to business!" He pointed at you . "We need to start finding new members to save the club fast! Any ideas?"

"Not a single one." You dropped the notebook on the table and gestured to it. "We've tried everything and nothing's worked. At least nothing long term. I've written it all down here and we've been through it over and over again."

He groaned slumping over to press his face against the table. "Great. This is just what we wanted today....What if we put an ad on the University's web page?"

"We tried that. Ten times in the last two years." Taylor groaned muffled by the table again. "What if we do a ghost story contest? Maybe that might attract a few people from the writing classes."

"Not a bad idea but what would we use as a prize? Between us both we both got like twenty bucks to spare and I don't think hand me down furniture and broke college kid ramen is a very enticing prize."

It was your turn to sigh. He was right about that part. "It's too bad we don't just have something cool like a magic wand like Cinderella's fairy godmother or something really cool like some alien tech. We'd be getting hundreds of members and some money offers too. But that only happens in movies."

"Yeah...Hey. Wait a sec." Taylor's head lifted up from the wooden table as his eyes widened, glasses crooked. "That's it!" You jumped as he suddenly leaned back up smacking his hands onto the table. "That is it!"

"Uh...What is?"

"Most of the people leave the club because it's not enticing enough or they get bored, but if we can actually get some actual proof that the paranormal exists then that'll make more people more interested!"

Your brows rose again. "Uh huh. And how exactly are we supposed to do that? We haven't actually been able to get anything besides some muffled audio recordings from the ghost investigations you had us do. And even that won't be convincing to most people."

Taylor laughed awkwardly looking away nervously. "Ahaha. Rrriiiight. *Ahem* Anyways-" he quickly changed the subject. "This town's huge! There's gotta be at least ONE paranormal hotspot that we can take advantage of! All we gotta do is find one and get some proof and BINGO!! CLUB'S SAVED!!"

"That's your plan?"

He placed one hand on his hip frowning. "You got any better ideas?"

"Touche. But how are we going to get proof? It's not like we can just waltz into the woods and ask Bigfoot and the forest elves to pose for us."

Despite chuckling at your words Taylor spoke with a serious voice. "We'll just have to do a little research! And lucky for us we're in the best sort of lace for studying!" He gestured to the walls around him as if to answer his own words. "C'mon! There's not a moment to lose! I'll check out the computers and see if there's anything interesting we missed! You scan the shelves!"

Your face deadpanned as he was already standing up to make his way to the nearest computer. Of course you'd get the harder job. You sighed and with a roll of your eyes you stood up to go browse the shelves. By now you already knew where most of ghost stories and haunted history books were so it was so easy to walk over towards the shelf and pulled out the first book that might be useful in your search titled 'Real Hauntings and Unsolved Murders'. Cue ten minutes later of you flipping through the pages as Taylor was... somewhere around here also assumedly researching. 

"... Hey! There's a bus station where someone was murdered twenty years ago. They say his face was pale and looked like he saw the devil himself before he died." You called out looking up at the rows of shelves. "You wanna try and have a seance there? Maybe we can conjure something up."

There was a moment before Taylor leaned back in his chair to poke his head out three shelves down from you. His nose crinkled as he shook his head. "Nah. It'd be weird if we just lit candles up and used a ouija board at a public bus stop. Someone might even call the police and get us in trouble. Besides it's too noisy and crowded there. Even if we did get anything it'd be hard to make out from the noise mess." His head disappeared and you sighed. 

Unfortunately he did have another good point. Back to the books. You skimmed through the rest of the book which was mostly uninteresting old murders and legendary ghost stories from around the world which weren't helpful to you. So you placed it back and picked up another book titled 'Cryptids of The Century.' You flipped through the first chapter talking about the author and her experiences before skimming the stories told. 

"..Taylor!"

"Yeah?," his voice called back to you.

"You remember that old pond that used to be by the park?"

"Yeah?"

"They say a siren lives there. You wanna try and see if we can get anything from there?"

Another small pause. "Didn't they drain the pond and fill it in to expand the park's playground on top of it?"

You wanted to smack your face. Instead you sighed. "Right. I forgot about that. I'll keep looking. Any luck on your end?"

"No dice," he called back, "I've been scanning through every search pop up in our area but most of it are things we already checked out, proven to be fake, or don't have enough backing to be worth the effort. UGH! I didn't think finding at least one good haunting experience would be this hard!"

"Keep looking, Taylor. I'm sure we'll find something." You looked back to the book. "Even if we gotta dig through the boring haunts, we'll find something to use."

There was more silence as you flipped through a few pages talking about an alleged unicorn sighting from over a hundred years ago when Taylor hummed again loudly in thought. 

"Boring haunts. Hey. I think you might have something there!" You looked up from the book but didn't see him. "It just crossed my mind!"

"What did?"

The sounds of a chair scraping could be heard before Taylor appeared standing up and smiling excitedly. "Something we've never done before!" Your face looked even more confused so he continued to explain excitedly holding up his hands. "Okay, okay. Here's the plan! You know that old house way out there on the corner of town? That old Gallagher place where all those deaths and murders happened ages ago?"

You paused for a long moment before you understand what he was talking about. "Wait. You mean the old Gallagher Mansion?"

He nodded excitedly with a bright smile. "Don't you see? We've never checked it out! We all thought it was too boring. Too bland. Too.. vanilla. But no! Maybe we made a mistake trying to find new things when we've left the biggest stone in town unturned!"

You hummed again at his words before staring down at the book you still held in deep thought. That... wasn't a too bad of an idea. You both really hadn't been there before as everyone knew it's reputation quite well around here. It's a hot spot for college dorks to drink and hope no one notice, an occasional haunted house for paranormal investigators, and home to a few basic ghost stories a lot of the older locals take pride in. Heritage and horror in one neat package. Other times it was an attraction for the tourists' haunted tours during Halloween but mostly it was just one of the older abandoned houses around here. There was a few but most were in the woods where the forest drew over the abandoned parts of the earlier town. 

"That's an idea I'll give ya that." The book closed before you pointed at him. "But there's been TONS of investigations done there and no one's really proven anything's there. Plus people use that old place for parties all the time and no one's really came back with ghost encounters. Even if they did, it just could've easily been a hallucination from the booze they always have at those parties."

"I know but isn't it worth at least one shot?" He countered back. "We've never even tried to see the place before and who knows. Maybe the ghosts never revealed themselves to anyone partying because they don't like it. Would you want to talk to a whole bunch of drunk college jocks if you were a ghost?"

"Probably not. But I guess that's a fair enough point. There's no harm by looking at it I guess."

Taylor happily lit up with a wide grin and held up a hand. "Right then! Vice Prez, tonight we're hitting the books! Research like your life depends on it!"

You sighed placing your book back on the shelf. It'd be a long night you could see. "You're lucky you're my friend. Go look up the mansion on the computer, I think I already know the book I need."

"Right! This will be what saves the club! I just know it!"

You rolled your eyes as Taylor disappeared again and went to pull out the book you needed. A book titled 'Unusual Murders and Mysteries.' You remembered there was two whole big chapters dedicated to the Gallagher Mansion when you skimmed through it once trying to research good ghost hunting spots for the club. You opened it up and turned the pages until they got to the parts you needed. Stopping and carefully beginning to read the words written there. Meanwhile Taylor typed away at the keyboard quickly. You just turned the first page when Taylor shouted again.

"Eureka! I found them!" Taylor's shout caught your attention enough to walk over and peep around the shelf at his smiling face. He smiled at you before looking back to the bright screen where a web page was open to a black and white old photo of a grand mansion and the article under it. "According to this...The Gallaghers were a well off military family from Europe who came to America in the mid eighteen hundreds." He scrolled down more giving you the summery of the large article before stopping on another article next to two old black and white photos of an older couple. "Archibald Gallagher, the family patriarch, found success as a cornmeal Barron. He married a woman named Mildred and together they had a total of.." He paused again to scroll down more until he stopped on a bigger black and white photo. It was the older couple again and seven younger men and women whom looked about your's and Taylor's age. "Seven children."

"Wow. Quite the large family." You commented looking at the large family portrait. 

Taylor shrugged. "It was normal during those days to have large families. But all of the Gallaghers were quite exceptional except for-"

"Elias right? That's the ghost that's rumored to haunt the mansion."

Taylor nodded. "He would be.." His eyes squinted at the old family Portrait before pointing out one person that stood behind who you assumed to be one of his sisters sitting in a chair and between two tall men who must've been his brothers. You could barely make him out from the crowded photo. "That one there. Elias was born the black sheep of his family. All of his other other siblings were born healthy and strong, but Elias's birth came with a lot of complications."

"He was bedridden for most of his childhood right?"

Again Taylor nodded. "Pretty much the epitome of the sickly Victorian child trope."

You frowned. "I don't think it should be talked about like that."

He shrugged before moving onto the next paragraph of the article. "They all died under mysterious circumstances other than Elias who's death was arguably the most normal out of all the family deaths if you can count murder normal."

"How though?"

"Well a lot of rumors say it's cuz of a curse, but nobody can agree why they were cursed to begin with. The eldest died in a freak accident involving a horse and from there it's a chain reaction of freak accidents in short susession, completely unrelated to the previous deaths but without fail it would kill the next eldest child like a couple of dominoes hitting them in some pretty gruesome ways." Taylor looked almost pitiful at the dates of deaths and the causes of the deaths listed next to the names of each Gallagher family member. 

"That's got to be so hard on the family dealing with so much tragedy."

"I don't think Archibald and Mildred were too happy to write Elias down as their sole heir after his brothers and sisters all passed on but somehow he managed to dodge the curse. At least until his own death when he was murdered but he still managed to outlive his parents too." He squinted at more of the deaths listed in the article. "Also not too long after rewriting the will both of them died during a bridge collapse on what was supposed to be a calm carriage ride. Same energy as scented candles setting fire to your apartment."

"That part about him surviving for so long is a big strange." You hummed. "Why would the curse skip the youngest sibling and go after his parents only to then come back for him?"

"There was and still is speculation about Elias spinning elaborate murder schemes to take down his family but here's the thing." Taylor rubbed his chin in thought. "Elias had few people to write too and even fewer people who'd write back. According to this, Elias became a permanent shut in after becoming head of the entire Gallagher Estate. I'd probably do that too if it was me."

You nodded in agreement. "Who wouldn't after something like that happened to you? But..Elias was killed himself wasn't he?"

"Yep! Murdered."

"By who?"

"That would be.." Taylor scrolled down more. "Gerald and Violet Dupont. According to this, Gerald Dupont was the Gallagher's groundskeeper and after the death of the rest of his family he introduced Elias to his sister, Violet Dupont, as a fellow heiress without a partner. You can guess what happened after that."

"The whole courting thing, proposing, and a romantic fairytale wedding right?'

He waved a hand. "Everything but the wedding part. According to these old newspaper clippings-" He again gestured to the screen. "Elias died the night before his wedding ceremony while the Duoonts were caught red handed tearing the mansion apart looking for the family's fortune."

"Wait. I know this part." Taylor looked up at you as you flipped through the still open book in your hands. "He was found with his head decapitated from his body using an axe and the Duponts were arrested on charges of murder. Without anyone else to claim the property it was soon abandoned after Elias's burial."

"What a way to go huh?"

You nodded. "And selfish. To murder just to steal a poor man's family legacy. They must've taken advantage of his own grief."

Taylor nodded before looking back at the screens. "Which is why besides ghost hunting, we'll also see if we can find out where the fortune is. Treasure hunting isn't our primary goal but it's still worth looking out for."

You nodded. "Good idea. Even if we don't find any ghosts, finding a legendary fortune would also make us famous but are you sure there's even any treasure? I mean wouldn't someone have found it by now?"

"All these old newspaper clippings keep mentioning how big the inheritance was but some assets were never accounted for in the banks. Rumor has it that the Gallaghers kept some of it hidden on the estate."

"Alright but those are just rumors. That doesn't really mean there's a treasure and that doesn't necessarily mean there's a ghost either."

Taylor hummed. "Maybe but we have to try."

"That's another thing." The book closed with a thud and pointed at him. "If no one's ever seen the ghost, or at least recently-" The rumors had to have started from somewhere. So there might've been a ghost at one point or a long time ago someone THOUGHT they saw the ghost of Elias Gallagher. "-how are we going to get him to show up for us? No other investigation has ever been successful and no one else has claimed to see him."

Taylor legitimately looked shocked at the revelation before again he hummed and a hand rubbed his chin. "That's... Actually a fair point. Even if he's there he might just want to be left alone and not talk to anyone."

"So there's no way we could get him to talk even if he supposedly was there? Great. That's another dead end." You turned to leave but stopped when Taylor's hand grabbed yours.

"Wait a sec. ... Maybe it's not WHY. Maybe it's a matter of how and when!" He turned to you as you blinked confused. "Think. Why would Elias want to talk to anyone? Drunk people party in his home and investigators usually come demanding he show himself. So maybe it's just how we go about trying to communicate with him, and when. And it just so happens that this week happens to be one of the best days to do a ghost hunt! What's the last day of this week?"

"Um...Friday?"

"Friday THE THIRTEENTH!," Taylor corrected you with a bright smile. "Paranormal activity increases more on Friday the Thirteenth more than any other day of the year except for Halloween! And not only that! This Friday the Thirteenth is supposed to be a blood moon! Which also increases paranormal activity. And on top of BOTH of those it's also gonna be a FULL MOON too! How lucky can we get? The moon being in its fullest cycle is said to increase in power. This is like the best combination possible!"

You blinked at him before slowly nodding. "Ok. That's all really good conditions. But even with all of that and even if we ask him really nicely, all that stuff still doesn't guarantee anything. If that was true then that crew who did the investigation on All Hallows Eve, which is arguably more powerful than Friday the Thirteenth, would've gotten something."

Again Taylor hummed in thought looking you over, then back to the computer screen, then back to you gears whirling in his head. Before he smiled very widely and in a way you didn't like. "Oh I think I have an idea. Get ready, Bud! We're gonna investigate the old dump! I just know there's something we can find in there. It's our last hope!"

#Until Death Do You Vow #the groom of gallagher mansion #thegroomofgallaghermansion #taylor potts x reader #taylor potts #elias gallagher #elias gallagher x reader #tgogm

[ohtobeleah]

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Five: B-Rad

Summary: After the death of your father and some time spent with Rooster, you find it in yourself to keep pushing. But stealing an F-18 to run a course you weren’t permitted to has its consequences.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x reader fluff. SMUT! Female receiving. Ex Rooster ex reader.

Word Count: 7k

Author Note: literally my favourite chapter by far. Falling a little behind schedule though so we might end up with seven chapters. Not the original six.

“Bradley—“ Rooster knew how you were feeling first hand. He lost his father at a young age—so young you could only remember the vaguest memory of Goose. He lost his mother—not so long ago either. You would always remember Carole for her kindness, her heart, her love for you as a daughter that never wavered even if you and Rooster were a million miles apart. “Come in, I wish the reunion fell under better circumstances.” Your mother Sarah welcomed the aviator she’d watched grow up into the man he was today into her home. Still in his ceremonial uniform. Only a few hours after the funeral, only an hour after the wake had ended.

A warm embrace consumed her for a moment before Rooster pulled away, looking around your childhood home that held so many memories—albeit the home itself had been extended and renovated a time or two. The memories were all there. Rooster swore if he held his breath and closed his eyes he could still hear your infectious childhood laugh.

“I couldn’t tell you where my daughter is even if I wanted to, I haven’t heard from her since we got back from the wake.” Sarah, your mother and the woman Rooster had confided in many times throughout his life, sighed as she stalled in the kitchen. Meals upon meals, flower arrangements and cards of many condolences and sympathies scattered the kitchen island. Overwhelming her. “She’s not doing well, Maverick told me what happened—“

“Admiral Beau isn’t one for timing, is he Mrs.K?” Rooster acknowledged the saddened widow as he took his dress hat off. Staring out into the backyard– Rooster saw slightest movement coming from inside the treehouse Tom had made you well over sixteen years ago. “I think I know where she is, do you mind if I—?” Rooster gestured to the treehouse outside as your mother scoffed out a small chuckle.

“Be my guest honey.” Rooster was quick to kiss your mother on the cheek, bending over to match her height before making his way outside. Birds sang in the garden as he climbed the wooden stairs. To his surprise they were still as stable as they were the day Tom and Pete had built it for you. True craftsmanship.

“Chaos, it’s me—“ Roosted cooed as he looked through the little window, sliding the clear plastic across that was meant to mimic glass to pop his head in. You didn’t answer as you sat curled up on one of the old bean bag chairs. Your Pajamas on, hair damp from the shower you had cried long and hard in after you got home. “Y/n—“

“Go home flyboy can’t you read?” Rooster could hear in your voice how much you had been crying. If anything you needed to blow your nose. “Sign says no boys allowed.” Rooster took his head out of the window, looking to where you’d hung the No boys sign up across the front door.

With a single toss over the balcony, the sign landed on the grass below as Rooster ducked his head slightly as he made his way inside. As a kid he remembered this treehouse being a castle, maybe it still was. You’d both grown up since then—there was definitely less space to play teapaties now. But if you asked? He’d be blue.

“What sign?” Rooster sat beside you. “I don’t see a sign.” chuckling softly as you picked your head up. Eyes swollen from tears cried long and hard.

“Hi—“ You cooed softly. 

“Hey Chaos.” Rooster cooed back as he gently nestled in, his back against the bean bag you sat in, your arm draping over his shoulder to keep him close as he drew unidentifiable objects into the palm of your hand.

“Really living up to the call sign aren’t I?” You shook your head softly. Rooster took in all the photos you still had hung around the treehouse from your childhood and teenage years.

“Yeah well, can’t say you don’t suit it that’s for sure.” Silence fell as Rooster continued to draw unidentifiable objects into your forearm. “Mav told me what happened—“

“Ah well, you know what they say Bradshaw—“ you paused for a moment as you stood up, kicking Roosters legs apart softly before you came to sit between them. Your back against his chest as you pulled up the blanket that had been working to keep you warm on the bean bag. “You win some, you lose some.”

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now.” Admiral Beau sat behind his desk after having requested you see him in his office before the funeral. “Take some time, whatever you need.”

“I appreciate that sir, but there's no time, I just wanna get this over and done with so I can focus on the mission, sir.”

“Unfortunately Lieutenant Kazansky, you will not be continuing on with this detachment effectively immediately.” Your heart sank. Still holding your position you raised a questioning brow.

“Sir–?”

“You and I both know that after you stunt with Lieutenant Seresin the only thing keeping you here was your old man.”

“Sir with all due respect i believe i–”

“Save it, Lieutenant, my decision is final.”

“I believe im one of the few who could actually achieve the mission directives sir and i know you know that–”

“That may be true Chaos, but all you've managed to do in your time here is assault another Lieutenant, fraternise with your co-worker and destroy a multi million dollar F-18!”

“Sir–”

“That is all, Lieutenant, you are dismissed.”

“Are you telling me in full confidence right now that Lieutenant Y/n Chaos Kazansky is gonna take being dropped from the program?” You let you head rest against Roosters chest. You had nothing left to give. Nothing left to fight with. “That’s not like you?”

“Rooster—I literally just buried my dad. The last thing I care about right now is flying some suicidal mission for Admirals who don’t give a damn if we make it home safe or not.”

“Since when do you let people tell you what to do?” Rooster never picked you as the type of person that would join the Navy, purely based on the fact you hated being told what to do. But—he’d never been more proud of everything you’d managed to achieve. Even if you’d just been kicked out for recklessness.

“This is the navy Rooster—they’re called orders for a reason, I don’t like them anymore then you do but that’s the way it is—I’m grounded.” You let your head fall into his chest as Rooster let his chin rest on top of your head. His arms strung around your shoulders.

“Can I be honest with you real quick?” It wasn’t that Rooster wasn’t being serious before, but as he asked you, the tone in his voice got a little heavier. More serious.

“Yeah—“ I mean hey why not right? Expecting another catastrophe you held your breath. Hope for the best, expect the worst they always said.

“And I wanna preface this by letting you know this is coming from the part of me that admires you as a pilot.” Rooster paused for a moment as he took his chin off the top of your head. His arms unwinding from around your shoulders as you turned around to face him. Sitting back on your knees between Roosters legs. “But you’re the only person I’d wanna fly this mission with, simply because you don’t think—you just do.” There was a part of you that was quick to take that as an insult, but deep down? You knew that was as good as any compliment Rooster could ever give you.

“Love when you talk dirty to me, keep going.” You couldn’t help but to smile, the way Rooster looked at you with so much love, so much admiration in his eyes. The women of his dreams.

“Only someone as reckless and as dangerous as you could fly this mission successfully—sure, maybe Hangman’s stupid enough to go balls to the wall but you? You calculate the risk and go for it anyway.” Shaking your head softly, you bit your bottom lip. Stopping it from quivering under the Immense pressure of your fragile emotions. Tears welling in your eyes.

“This is all very flattering, Rooster, really, but I can’t do anything about it now. I’ve already been dismissed from the program.”

“Your dad wouldn’t have taken no for an answer?” God Rooster hit you with that one didn’t he. “C’mon Y/n, you’re Chaos fucking Kazanksy for crying out loud. You didn’t get your call sign from taking L’s and backseats. You got it from pissing off Admirals, why stop now?” Rooster questioned, trying to egg you on. He knew you weren’t the type of person to take things lying down. This was no exception. He knew you just needed a push in the right direction.

You didn’t respond, you let Rooster's words rattle around in your head. You wanted to play tough, do all this on your own. Be an independent woman who didn’t need anyone—but after finally letting your dad go? Losing the one man who never let you down ever? You felt lost, exposed, exhausted. Giving in, you fell back into Rooster's arms, crying as you let your sobs echo throughout the treehouse you and Rooster held so many childhood memories in.

With wide eyes, Rooster instantly took you in, your arms wrapping around his midsection as he held you back. Rocking you softly side to side as he just let you cry. Not saying a word—Rooster knew you just needed to flush it out. Because even Superwoman sometimes needed Superman's soul.

“I've got you–” whispering softly, Rooster did his very best to comfort you. All he could do was hold you close. “I've got you Y/n.” There was no clock to watch the seconds, the minutes, what could have been hours pass by as Bradley Bradshaw sat there with you crying in his arms. The sound of your heartbreak tearing a part of his heart out. But there came a point where your sobs were a little less violent, your grip became a little less intense around his waist, and sure enough, you’d cried yourself to exhaustion. Passing out in the comforting embrace of the love of your life, your best friend.

Rooster knew that you couldn't stay up in the treehouse all night, the sun was beginning to set, the temperature started to slowly drop, enough to the point he could feel you shivering slightly under the warmth of the blanket. Deciding that he would do the only thing he really could do besides leaving you there. Gently, and ever so slowly, as delicately as he possibly could– Rooster slid himself out from behind you. Bending over, Rooster groaned softly as he tried not to strain his back. Picking you up bridal style– if you heard him? He’d be honest, it wasn't about how heavy you were. It was purely technique based.

He hadn’t thought this through very well. Because getting you off the floor of the treehouse was only part one, part two included getting you out the door. Rooster had to not so gracefully duck to avoid a nasty whack to the forehead. Although you and himself had grown over the years–the treehouse had remained the same. Which included a small door frame that had pen marks and permanent marker lines that marked how tall you were both getting. Dates and times spanning the years you'd both known each other.

Rooster had to pause for a moment before making his descent down the seven or eight wooden stairs that lined the side of the treehouse. Your head lulled against his chest as he cradled you in his arms. Sighing, Rooster took one step at a time.

“Oh, my heart.” Your mother cooed as she held her hand over her heart from her seat in the living room. Pete had stopped by to again let his condolences be known to the grieving widow. A friend. A beloved family member. “Pete, turn around.” Taking a sip of the tea Sarah had prepared for him, Pete Mitchell turned his head to see Bradley Bradshaw trotting down the stairs of the treehouse he had once pushed you down. “Isn't that just–pure.”

“Not something I thought I'd ever see, but sure, we can go with pure if you like.” Maverick teased as Rooster used his boot clad foot to pry open the glass sliding door. Turning sideways to crab walk you inside. Huffing a gentle sigh as he did so. His eyes meeting Mavericks. “You right here Rooster?”

“She knocked herself out, I just didn't wanna leave her up there alone.” Rooster explained as his eyes fell to your mother. “She was pretty upset.”

“I thought she would be.” Your mother nodded. “Um, you can probably just dump her in her room?” You and your mother just had that type of relationship, easy going, a little dark humor based. relaxed. “If you wanna stay the night Rooster there should be a box in the top of the cupboard with a bunch of stuff you left around the place over the years.”

“Thanks Mrs.K–” Rooster didn't really acknowledge the question, but nevertheless he appreciated the offer. “You say something to Admiral Beau?” Rooster tilted his chin upwards as he asked Maverick the pretty intense question. “Or–”

“I had a few choice words, but at the end of the day I can only do so much.” Rooster nodded. Accepting the reality of the situation unfolding around him. Heading off down towards where your old childhood bedroom was. “Bradley?” Maverick called out as Rooster turned around to face him, his arms about to pop out of their sockets if he didnt put you down sooner rather than later. “She's tough, she’ll figure everything out.”

“I know she will.” Rooster didn't hesitate to agree as you softly moaned against his chest. Shit he really had to put you down before he dropped you, his arms numbing at the sensation of being bent too long, holding pressure too long. “I know she will.”

In another life—there would have been a time where Bradley Bradshaw would have slipped in behind you with ease. His arms pulling you close to him as he got comfortable between the sheets and the fluffy covers of your bedspread. But like I said—in another life.

Rooster placed you down as gently and as carefully as he could, watching as you instantly in your sleeping state took to your new environment. Comforting, all consuming.

With a drawn out sigh—Rooster stepped away from the side of your bed. Rubbing his palm down his face as he fought every urge he had to stay. Wondering over to where the cupboard was, Rooster didn’t wanna pry into the past all that much. He knew that although the good most certainly weighed out the bad, there were definitely landmines scattered. He didn’t want to be the latest victim of his own stupidity. But nevertheless, Rooster saw the box your mother had told him about. A clear plastic box with a hand written label scotch taped to the lid. The nickname evoked a chuckle that came from the very depths of Roosters soul. Clear as day he read the nickname you knew he hated, knew he wouldn’t let anyone else call him ever. An abbreviation so atrocious it took him his entire junior year of high school begging and pleading with you to stop calling him that.

Head hadn’t heard it in years—but reading it? Seeing it written in your writing kinda made him miss it. Grade a Stockholm syndrome.

Holding the box before he dropped it carefully to the end of your bed, being cautious not to wake you—Rooster ran his fingers over the nickname written in bold:

B-Rad’s Stuff.

There was an old t-shirt he’d sworn he’d lost back in senior year—it smelt of you as he held it to his nose. Rooster wondered how many nights you’d dawned it when he wasn’t around. Pictures of moments passed were scattered throughout the box. Old birthday cards he’d written you, dried and pressed petals of what Rooster could only assume would have been from a bunch or roses he’d given you were thrown in absentmindedly.

But amongst the clothes that surely wouldn’t fit his physique now, Rooster pulled out a pair of sweatpants he’d remembered he’d left behind at your place the last time he’d ever so stupidly broken off your relationship, an old Naval Accademy shirt that was balled up in the box would have to do. A snug fit—sure, but he’d make it work.

Although Rooster couldn’t find it in himself to lay beside you, not knowing where he stood with you, he simply took a pillow from the other side of your bed, laid it down on the ground beside you—and decided that’s where he would stay.

He was there—just in case you needed him, but Rooster made sure to stay far enough away in case you woke up and decided you didn’t need him.

But let’s face it? It wasn’t a case of whether you needed Bradley Bradshaw or not. The fact of the matter was you simply—

Wanted him.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Four in the morning was a peaceful time. The world had not yet begun but it was getting close. The stillness of your childhood bedroom was like any other. Frozen in time. You weren’t sure how you got here, nor were you sure when the tears had actually stopped—but you knew enough to know that you had a criminally dry mouth. Tossing the covers aside with a groan you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Your heel connecting with something hard.

“Ow—!” Rooster hissed as he jolted awake from the sudden heel to the back of the head he’d coped.

“Shit—!” Your eyes widened as you scurried off your bed, dodging where Rooster had been laying as he sat up to meet you. Rubbing the back of his head. “What are you doing down here?” Crouching down in front of him you frowned curiously. “Hang on? Did you, did you carry me to bed?”

“Well I wasn’t gonna leave you up there a sobbing mess was I?” Rooster chuckled as he stopped rubbing the back of his head. Yawning— he moved to rub his eyes. “What time is it?” You didn’t respond, you simply smiled a soft smirk as you reached for Rooster's hand.

“Time to come to bed.”

“What? No I can’t—“ Rooster hesitated as you dragged him to his feet. Standing before him in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. “Y/n—“

“I’m one hundred percent sure that the bed would be more comfortable than the carpet—“ Noticing the clothes Rooster had changed into. The content of the plastic box still haphazardly scattered beside him. “B-Rad.”

“Oh you just had to go there didn’t you?” There wasn’t much distance between the two of you. Barley any at all as you stood before Rooster and he stood before you. Surrounded in darkness—only the slightest bit of light peering in from your window. The patio solar lights working overtime. “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“Yeah, but you always let me anyway.” Reminding Rooster you enjoyed the closeness a little too much—allowing Rooster to duck his head slightly, his face closer to yours. Lips ever so close—almost close enough to just capture with yours. “We aren’t gonna do this again.” You smirked, teasing Rooster as your fingers played with his. “I’m still holding a grudge—“

“I told you, you’re it.” Rooster cooed as his breath fanned across your face, hot. “What’s a guy gotta do? Beg?” Rooster let his forehead rest against yours as you thought about your next move.

There were a lot of things Bradley Bradshaw was good at, commitment clearly not being something on that list. But getting you off? That was in the top five.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna make you do.” Smirking, you pushed Rooster back so his legs hit the back of your bed frame. Guiding him down by his shoulder as you stood between his legs, his hands instinctively on your hips. “Beg—“

“Chaos, you can’t be serious?” Rooster questioned as you reached for the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head before discarding it across the room. Standing before Rooster as his eyes fell to your exposed chest. Stunned into absolute silence.

“Tell me how much you love me—“ It wasn’t that you needed a definitive answer, you just wanted to hear Rooster say it. Regardless if he truly meant it. That might seem fucked beyond belief—but you didn’t know any other way. “Beg me to be yours, Bradley.” With a gentle shove to the shoulder you had Rooster on his back. Making with hairs you shed your sweats, completely and wholeheartedly exposed.

Rooster couldn’t believe his eyes as his knee rested between your bare thighs. Watching with hooded eyes as you stood waiting for him to say something—anything.

“Never have I ever felt so stupid for leaving you.” It was an administration of guilt more than anything else. “But I’ve never stopped loving you—not for a second.”

“Keep going.” You crawled onto the bed beside where Rooster laid sprawled out. “Or else I’m putting my clothes back on.” With a gulp, Rooster nodded softly. Following your every command.

“I’m a coward.” You liked that one a lot. Sending a leg over his waist you mounted Rooster with ease. “I’m scared of just how much I love you—“ Moving closer to where Rooster's face was with every sentence he spoke, he knew exactly what he’d be doing for the next however long it took him to get you where you needed to go. “So I run thinking just maybe I’ll figure something out but I never do and I always fucking regret leaving you.”

“Start begging Lieutenant Bradshaw before I change my mind.” Sitting on his chest so close he could almost taste you, Rooster begged.

“Take me back—“

“Why should I?” You were quick to ask as you hovered just above his chest, slowly creeping forward.

“Because I’ll never leave you again.”

“I don’t believe you.” You sighed dramatically as you backed away slightly—Roosters hands coming to stop you by your ass. Pulling you back closer as you hovered his Nirvana over his chest.

“One more chance, that's it. One—“ Rooster pleaded. “I’ll give you my last name just to prove it baby.” That got you a little too good. “I’ll follow you to the moon and back, heaven or hell, I’ll be yours.” You were so close to just letting him have it. But Rooster hadn’t worked hard enough to gain your trust. “Please Y/n—“

“Prove it?” You teased. With a jolt, Rooster had you down on his face in a matter of seconds. Devouring everything you gave him. “Ohhh fuck—!” Throwing your head back so fast you swore you gave yourself whiplash. “Bradley! Jesus—oh my go—“ You couldn’t finish what you were saying, hell you couldn’t breathe as Rooster lapped away at your core, so tender yet so fierce. He needed to prove he could get you to your high, already drunk of the power you had over him.

“Feels so fucking good Rooster don’t you dare stop.” You couldn’t help but to moan as you saw Roost looked up at you for a brief moment as you looked down. “Don’t stop.”

“Now who’s begging? Rooster teased playfully—the response he got from you came in the form of a tight tug on his hair. Sending painful yet oh so pleasurable shockwaves through his body. Hissing against your core as you moved your hips in small circles. Grinding down on Rooster’s face as he sucked and lapped at all the right places.

“Yes—just like that!” It felt otherworldly. The way Rooster was giving you everything he had to offer, his tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his lips worked to create an almost vacuum seal like sensation. The pressure immense. The feeling sensational. “Rooster—fuck!”

He wanted to hear you cum for him, that was all that was Rooster's mind as he felt your sweet nectar dripping down his chin, down his neck. The way he didn’t mind straining himself in order to hear you cry those blissful moans into the early morning darkness. He was committed to you, to getting you to your high and making sure that when you got there he’d ride it out with you.

“Please—Rooster, im—“ You had to collect your thoughts as the feeling of a tsunami started to form. “I’m gonna cum—“ Roosters hands came up from where they had been resting gently against the small of your back to reach up for your breast. Squeezing and playing with your sensitive buds. Knowing it would give you just a little extra push. “Oh my god—oh shit shit shit shit—“ There had never been a more perfect place to sit.

“Come for me Chaos.” There was a small part of Rooster that thought you were spiralling out of control. He wondered for a brief moment if this was what you truly wanted, if this would backfire. Was it taking advantage of your poor lack of judgement if you came onto him? What if after all the endorphins had left your body would you want him to stay? “Cum for me baby—let me taste you.”

Electricity. That’s what you would describe it as as your hands cupped Roosters cupping your breast. With a wide jaw and an angelic moan, Rooster had your thighs shaking on either side of your face. Completely buried in your core, pulsing rapidly as he sucked and lapped away at you. Steadying you above him as your orgasm washed over you—hitting you just as hard as a semi trailer would.

“Ohhhhhhh fuckkk—“ You cried out into the darkness. Rooster drank you up, his chin completely saturated with your nectar. Sweet and perfect. “Rooster—“ Sighing dramatically you fell to your side. Eyes closed as your body relaxed. Rooster was quick to sit up, meeting you in the middle of your bed.

“Want me to stay?” It was the way you instantly nodded in response that had Rooster connecting his lips with yours. Tasting yourself you pulled him down on top of you. His hands instantly roaming your body. “Chaos—“

“Just go with it.” You threw caution into the wind yet again for Bradley Bradshaw. Knowing that if he was going to break your heart again it would truly be the death of you. Would you ever learn your lesson?

Falling asleep around six thirty in the morning, wrapped in each other’s arms. Rooster knew he wouldn't let you go again. This was it for him. You were it. You had a power of him. Falling asleep content that the moment he had a chance to he’d ask you to marry him.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

It felt like minutes, but as Rooster reached across to pull you close he was met with an empty bed. Questioning whatever reality he had somehow transported from, he swore blind you were just with him a second ago.

Sitting up dumbfounded—Rooster's eyes landed on the small post it note stuck to his uniform, wrapping the sheet around his waist, Rooster padded across the room to see what you had written. He couldn’t say he was shocked—but still, he was concerned slightly.

“I know what I have to do, see you back in Fightertown B-Rad.”

****~****~****~****~****~

Rooster hadnt heard from you all morning. His few text messages and handful of calls had gone unread, unnoticed, unanswered. He knew he should be focused a little more on the presentation going on before him. But his mind was still stuck on you, the way you tasted, the way you felt. They way Rooster knew you were one inconvenience away from completely breaking down.

“Unfortunately due to circumstances out of our current control, Lieutenant Kazansky won't be continuing on with this detachment.” Maverick addressed the class who looked just as saddened to hear you had been dismissed then what you did when Admiral Beau pulled the plug. “And it pains me to say, as of today there are new mission parameters.” Pete Mitchell had fought tooth and nail to keep the parameters in place. But Admiral Beau admitent things had to change. “Time to target is now four minutes.” Maverick wasn't enjoying this, he almost walked out the moment he was told. But he couldnt leave his pilots. He felt a personal responsibility to see this out.

“You’ll be entering the valley at reduced speed, not to exceed four hundred and twenty knots.”

“Sir, won't that be giving their planes time to intercept?” Bob interjected as he looked around at his fellow pilots. Wishing you were sitting with them. Knowing if you were there you would have been the first to call bullshit.

“Well Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head on collision with a mountain?” Admiral Beau was quick to chim in as he stepped up next to Maverick. Taking over with a stirn voice as the graphic course behind him changed. “You’ll be attacking the target at a higher altitude– level with the north wall, it will be a little harder to keep your laser on target but you will avoid the high G climb out.”

“We’ll be sitting ducks for enemy milles.” Fanboy sighed. The automated map behind where Maverick and Admiral Beau stood began to beep. The class confused as the two men turned around just as stunned.

“Who the hell is that?” Admiral Beau looked at Maverick with fire in his eyes. Maverick shrugged his shoulders, unaware of what you had planned. Watching on just as confused as he looked down at his list of attendance. Everyone was here and accounted for– except maybe……

“Chaos to range control, entering Point Alpha.” You explained as you clipped your mask on, swinging around with speed to where the check point was marked. “Confirm, green range.”

“There’s no way—“ Rooster sat a little straighter in his chair, balling his first as he egged you on silently. His girl. “No fucking way.”

“Did you know about this!?” Bon whisper shouted as he turned to face Rooster from the chair in front. “This is crazy even for her!”

“I swear to you she didn’t mention it—“ Rooster widened his eyes as he smirked wildily. “This is the first I'm hearing about this too.” He knew there was a reason you didn't tell him. That reason being he was free of all consequences if things went south. Rooster couldn't be dragged into the mess your stunt would surely cause. He’d be free to thrive in his career. “She’s insane.”

“Uh, Chaos, this is range control–uh green range is confirmed, I don't see an event scheduled for you ma'am?” The entire class moved to the edge of their seats as they watched your tracker progress on the flight projector. The little camcorder in your cockpit live streaming your face, your cockpit, your overall being.

“Yeah well, I'm going anyway.” You confirmed. Shrugging it off because you had already gotten this far–may as well finish it right? Taking a deep breath in because this may be your last flight in an F-18. This could get you dishonourably discharged. “Kazansky is a go.”

“Nice–” Phoenix whispered under her breath as she watched in utter bewilderment.

“Setting time to target, two minutes and fifteen second.” The timer that read four minutes changed instantly before the class.

“Bull, two fifteen? That's impossible.” Hangman hissed, sure he wanted you here but he knew that two fifteen was pushing it, even for you. He knew what it was like to have something to prove, but this? This was chaotic at best. “She won’t make that.”

“Shut up before I decide to make you.” Rooster came to your defence quicker than ever before. Pointing a stern finger Hangman’s way as his elbow rested on his arm chair. “What don’t you understand here? Chaos is the best of all of us, if anyone can do two fifteen it would be her.”

“I understand she was kicked from the program, Bradshaw, so this literally impossible stunt of hers will have her ass kicked out of the Navy quicker than you can say dishonourably discharged.” Rooster knew Hangman was right. This wasn't going to end well for you. Turning his attention back to you, Rooster softened as he watched you back your final decision. He couldn't help but to wonder if he’d pushed you to do this. But when Rooster had said don't take this lying down he didn't know his words translated into stealing a goddamn F-18.

“Final attack point, Chaos is inbound.” Throttling forward, you increased your speed. Inverting down as you punched it. Giving it your absolute all as you increased your speed as fast as you could physically handle. Starting strong with every intention of finishing strong.

You didn't know you were crying until you felt the tears streaming down your face. You hoped this was something your dad would have done if he were in your shoes. There was never going to be a day where you made commander, never going to be a day you ranked higher than captain at best.

At this point you were tired, sick of running as fast as you could. Always wondering if you would have gotten where you were today quicker if you were a man. Why did you get kicked out of the program for fraternisation but Rooster hadn't been? Why did you get kicked out for assaulting another lieutenant but Hangman wasn't even written up for pulling your papers. None of it sat right with you–especially the part where the moment your dad had passed Admiral Beau took it as the perfect opportunity to dismiss you. Knowing there was no one left to stop him.

With your mind running wild with enough emotional trauma and baggage to fuel your determination to complete this course– you pushed that throttle so far forward to send your G’s climbing. Coming out of the turns into the straight away. This was the home stretch.

As the timer counted down the seconds, it was as if everyone watching you fly forgot how to breathe. With forty seconds left on the clock you approached the straight. At this point Bob grew nervous, standing from his seat as did Rooster. Eyes glued to your map. Fanboy clung to the head rest of the chair in front of him.

“Popping in three, two one–” Rooster stood from his seat the second he noticed the tears in your eyes, running his hands through his hair. There was nothing he could do for you but all he wanted to do was hold you. Watching as you inverted over the lip of the course guided mountain. Flipping over shorting after as the class watched you line your target up expertly. “Target acquired– confirming tone!” You reported as the class heard the high pitched tone echo through the room.

“Bombs away–” With just eight seconds remaining, you dropped your bombs, throlling up miliseconds later for the steep climb out. Rooster watched your G’s climb as your timer ran out. Only seconds remaining as his heart raced.

Bob was the next to jump from his seat in anticipation, watching as the bombs you dropped his dead centre where they needed to be.

“Bullseye holy shit!” Fanboy cheered. Rooster hid his smile behind his first. Of course you had done it, he never doubted it for a second.

“That's my girl–” Rooster whispered to himself. “Atta girl.” Reaching a total of 10 G’s with less than a second to spare. You’d done it.

“Damn–” Hangman smirked, nodding because you'd done it. Done what none of them had been able to do. Perhaps Rooster had been right all along, they should have packed their gear knowing you were here.

Settling into your seat as you chuckled, you shook your head in utter disbelief. You’d actual fucking down it.

“Captain Michell” You radioed in. “I never got a chance to say it has been an honour to work under your guidance.” You sighed heavily. “Admiral Beau, if you’re there?” you paused for a second before removing your mask, holding it so your radio still picked up your voice. You just wanted everyone to see your smirk. Knowing that they couldn't say exactly what you were about to say.

“Eat my whole ass–”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You have put me in a difficult position Lieutenant.” It wasn't a position you wanted to be in, but nevertheless? You had put yourself there regardless. Standing before Admiral Beau as he stood looking out the window towards the airfield. “On the one hand, you have demonstrated that this mission can be flown, perhaps the only way it can be survived.” You took the compliment, it was probably the only good thing that was going to come out of this. “On the other hand, you did it by stealing a multimillion dollar military aircraft and flying it in such a manner that it may never be airworthy again.”

“In my defence, sir– it wasn't all that hard to steal–perhaps upgrading the security around here should be something on your to do list.” You retaliated, knowing holding back wasn't going to change any decision that wasn't already made. With a heavy sigh, Admiral Beau ran his hand down his face.

“Iceman is no longer here to protect you.”

“Its Commander Kazanksy, sir–” With gritted teeth, you stood with your shoulders squared. Watching as Admiral Beau crossed the room. His eyes trained on you. Anger prevalent.

“I have everything I need to have you court marshalled and dishonourably discharged.” He hissed, letting the silence linger for a moment as he held that threat before you. “So what do I do? risk the lives of my pilots and perhaps the success of the mission? Or–risk my career by appointing you team leader.”

“Sir–?” You questioned as you stepped forward. A hand coming to cup your shoulder, pulling you back in line with a soft shuckle.

“I think the Admiral was asking a rhetorical question, Lieutenant,” Warlock smirked as he held you back. Nodding his way you stepped back in line.

Damn, that wasn't the outcome of your actions you were expecting, if anything it was some quinesentail underdog shit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Opening the door, you were met with Jake Seresin standing across the hall. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Rolling your eyes—you made a quick exit down the hall. Hangman hot on your tail.

“You’re actually delusional if you thought that stunt was gonna get you anywhere—“ Hangman hissed as he caught up with you, walking directly beside you. Letting out a scoff you smirked, looking down at the ground you walked on. Finding comfort in the stable ground.

“Admiral Beau just gave me a death sentence, do you really think I give a damn if you think I’m some nepotism baby? At fault for Sam’s death? or fucking delusional?” Stopping in your tracks, Hangman looked at you confused. “I don't wanna lose it right now, because I’m tired of being psychotic—but I'm not getting through this.” Pausing, you cleared your throat. “I don’t get to come back from this one, Lieutenant.”

“Cyclone made you team lead did he?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I think I’d rather be discharged.”

“You told him to eat your ass though—“

“What happened!?” Turning, you saw Rooster racing towards you. His boots heavy against the floor as he came jogging up to you. Embracing you instantly. Warm and all consuming. Wrapping your arms around his torso as you were quick to hide your face in his chest. “What happened?”

“Little miss Chaos here is team lead—“ Hangman broke the news as Rooster pulled away to look at you, cupping your cheeks. “I mean I guess when you're the only one who’s crazy enough to pull that kinda stunt he didn’t really have a choice did he?”

“He made you team lead?” Panic in his eyes, Rooster begged you to say no. He didn’t want you going on this mission, not when he had a chance to fix things. “Y/n?”

“Captain Mitchell still has to choose my foxtrot teams—and my wingman.” Your voice too softly for it to even be heard by Hangman. “But I already told him not to choose you.” Rooster felt the knife you pressed into his heart as he stepped away.

“Oh damn—“ Hangman smirked as he watched on. He wished he had some popcorn handy.

“Why would you do that?” It wasn’t what Rooster asked that broke your heart, it was the way he asked. Defeated, broken, betrayed.

“Because I don’t think you’re ready, and I need to be able to put all my trust in my wingman.” It was the furthest thing from the truth as you held back tears. You didn’t think you had any more left to cry. But as it turns out you did. “It’s nothing personal—“

“Nothing personal!!?” It made you flinch the way Rooster raised his voice. “It’s nothing but personal!”

“Hey, easy—“ Jake reached out to place a hand on Rooster's shoulder. “Maverick still has final say.”

“You really are holding a grudge huh?” Beaming nothing but resentment for you, Rooster gritted his teeth. His jaw clenched as he stepped into your personal space, towering over you. “I thought I fucking loved you—turns out I just loved the person I thought I left behind.”

“Rooster—“ Reaching out, Rooster shrugged you off as he turned on his heels, walking away. Leaving you behind.

“You don’t mean any of that do you?” Hangman’s gaze remained on Rooster's back as he stood beside you. “You just don’t want him to be in danger—“

“You know, sometimes you can be really smart, Seresin.” You sighed as Rooster disappeared from your sight. “I wouldn’t trust any other person with my life, but I don’t want to die saving mine if things were to go wrong.”

“Could’ve just explained it you know?” Frowning you turned to Hangman. Shaking your head as you walked away.

“You managed three seconds.”

***~***~***~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers​ @katieshook02​ @thescarletknight2014​ @justanothermagicalsara​ @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever​ @puriini​ @luckylexie​ @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2​ @mizzzpink​ @unforgettwble​ @itzyogurl92​ @lemoonandlestars​ @mulletmcghee​ @redqueeen99​ @bucky-barmes​ @mak-32​ @fivsecondsflat​ @loveless-simp @bradleysgirl

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #chaos // bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun hangman #top gun bob #top gun bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n

[whatsnewalycat]

Passenger / Chapter 1

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter One: Vermont

[ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Series Summary: In her time tramping across the United States, Charlie Wanderlust has found life on the road to be challenging, but rewarding. When she makes enemies with a powerful figure, a bounty is put out for her capture. Din Djarin, a long-haul trucker and occasional bounty hunter, takes the job as a means to gain financial stability. Their paths cross, and as a result, the winding route of their lives are forever altered.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 3.3k+

Content / Warnings: modern-day au, alternating pov, second person pov, slow burn, vagabond ofc, dog grogu, enemies to lovers, bounty hunting, violence, swearing, truckers

Notes: Heeeeyyyy buddy. Rated explicit because the whole series is just gonna go under that umbrella, I don't care to get into nitty-gritty of rating systems with each chapter lmfao but it will eventually be explicit. I made a Spotify playlist for the series and cross-posted on AO3 (un: glitter_deity), links to both are on the masterlist! OK BIG KISSES HAVE FUN!

Charlie’s Rules for Living on the Road, RULE #3: Keep your wits about you. 

The tiny bar you’re in is shabby and crowded. All-American beer signs reflect red white and blue off the nicked-up mahogany bar top that’s so sticky and rich it reminds you of maple syrup. Fitting, considering you’re in Vermont, of all places. 

It reeks of expired hand sanitizer. A strange combination of rubbing alcohol and rotting fruit that your nose doesn’t really know how to sort, but you just know you hate it. Thought it would be worth gagging through, but apparently not. 

Despite how crowded the small dance floor was during your set, the tips were a fucking joke. Sixteen dollars. 

Anyway, Rule #3. 

The Paul Bunyan-esque bartender who agreed to let you play for tips must recognize that his patrons are cheapskates, because he approaches you from behind the bar and says, “Tough luck. Want me to make you a drink?” 

“I’ll take some water.” 

“Can make something harder if ya want. On the house,” he offers, pressing his wide palms against the bar.

“How about,” you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, then tilt your head at the hard plastic menu display standing erect between his splayed hands, “some mozzarella sticks?” 

He raises a thick reddish-brown eyebrow at you, “Sure.” 

A satisfied smile spreads across your face and you lean against the bar, propping your chin up on your fist, “You’re a lifesaver. What’s your name?” 

“Jim,” he scoops ice into a tall glass and sprays water into it. 

A man wearing tawny carhartt overalls and a blaze orange stocking cap approaches the bar. Jim tosses a cardboard coaster in front of you and sets your water glass down, then ambles over to take his order. He tends to a few more customers and you surreptitiously size up their wallets. 

Once the demand for his attention wanes, Jim slides a parchment paper-lined basket of sizzling mozzarella sticks across the bar to you. 

“You’re a fucking saint, Jim, thank you,” you crack one open, revealing the gooey, cream-colored innards. Steam bursts from the chasm and scalds your fingertips. 

When you hiss and drop it, Jim chuckles, “Careful, they’re hot.”

“Thanks for the warning,” you tease, flashing a playful smile. 

He pulls up the sleeves of his heavyweight green and black flannel, “So what’s your deal, where you from?”

“I’m from everywhere, and nowhere,” you sigh, then meet his unamused dark eyes and explain, “Kind of a roamer. I’ve been tramping around the country for a while.” 

“All by yourself?” Jim raises his eyebrows, and when you nod he frowns, “Ain’t that kinda dangerous?” 

“Nothin’ I can’t handle. Get to meet all kinds of people, see all kinds of places. Always an adventure. It’s real living.” 

“And how long you been doin’ this?” 

“A few years now,” you answer, poking at the busted mozzarella stick to test its warmth, “Are you from the area?” 

“Born ‘n’ raised,” he looks around the bar, surveying the faces he must have seen hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

“Do you like it?” you pinch off a piece of the fried food and pop it into your mouth. 

“Ain’t too bad,” he shrugs, “It’s familiar, ya know. It’s my home.” 

You hum in acknowledgment as you swallow your food, then press your elbows into the bar and lean forward, “Ever think of leaving it all behind? Seeing what’s out there?” 

Jim shakes his head and chuckles, “No ma’am, that’s not for me.” 

“Why not?”

“You’re just a curious thing, ain’t ya?”

Before you can retort, Jim is flagged down by another thirsty patron. You scarf down the greasy, scorching hot mozzarella sticks as he makes more drinks, then you push the bar stool out and call over to him, “Hey, can I leave my stuff here while I use the bathroom?” 

He glances up at you and nods in the affirmative. 

On your way back to the bar after your bathroom break, you stroll by a stack of heavy winter jackets sitting unattended at a table. It’s been on your radar since a group of four tossed them down about an hour ago. Since then, the jackets have only been revisited when their owners found their beer pitcher dry and in need of a refill. You couldn’t help but notice the sea of green inside one woman’s wallet before she returned it to its (terrible) hiding place. 

RULE #8: Take care of yourself. 

You squint up at a sign on the wall while your hand plunges into the pile of jackets. Your fingers brush up against the metal clasp of a wallet. You unfasten it and feel around for two bills, slipping them up your sleeve before walking away.

Adrenaline thuds through your heart, flooding your body with a weightless, buzzing energy. No matter how many times you’ve stolen, it’s still a rush. 

When you return to your seat, you heave your rucksack over your shoulders, then your guitar strap, adjusting it until the guitar is safely fastened at your back. 

“Taking off?” Jim asks as he clears your empty food basket from the bar. 

“I suppose,” you meet his gaze and flash him a cordial smile, “Gonna see if I can find a place to set up camp.” 

“You’re not sleeping outside, are ya?” he frowns, “Gonna drop below freezing overnight.” 

You shrug, “I’ll be fine.”

“Aww hell, I can’t let you do that,” he protests, then ushers you closer, “Tell ya what—There’s an empty apartment upstairs, why don’t you sleep up there? No furniture, but I figure you have a sleeping bag or something, yeah?” 

You search his face, trying to read his intentions and determine whether or not this is a safe offer to take. 

He must recognize your hesitation, because he adds, “I’ll give you the key, you can deadbolt it from the inside. Just leave it unlocked in the morning, ok?” 

“Really?” your eyebrows press together, “That would be… fucking amazing, actually.” 

He tugs a key ring from his front pocket and wrestles one of the keys off, then slides it across the bar to you, “First unit around the corner. Don’t make me regret it, ya hear?” 

Din slides his pen into the logbook’s spiraled spine and tosses it onto the empty passenger’s seat. He taps the tablet mounted on his dash and pulls up the load board, surveying available pickups in the area. 

After factoring in fuel prices and time on the road, he determines that none of them have a particularly high net gain. Not enough to take his 1999 Peterbilt 379 in for the repairs it so desperately needs, anyway. 

With a dissatisfied sigh, he pulls the cell phone from his pocket and dials Karga. 

“Din, my old friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the man’s jovial voice booms through the speaker. 

“Do you have anything in New England?”

Karga hums to himself. Din hears a few computer mouse clicks and the rapid clack clack clack of a keyboard, then Karga responds, “Let’s see here, I have a few bail jumpers, nonviolent offenses, in Maine, New Hampshire…”

“How much?”

“Five thousand for Maine, ten thousand for New Hampshire.”

“Anything bigger?” 

More humming, some clicks, then, “Ah! Look here, there’s a private bounty, last seen along I-89 in Vermont. Deliver dead or alive to Portland.”

“Portland, Maine?” 

“Oregon.”

“That’s too far.”

“It pays one-hundred fifty thousand.” 

Din raises his eyebrows. He’s silent as he considers this. His truck is in a tenuous state, but if he can make it there, he could get every repair needed. Hell, he could buy a whole new truck and still have excess money to donate to The Academy. 

“I’ll take it.” 

After hanging up, Din gets a new email notification on the mounted tablet. He leans forward and opens the message from Karga listing the details of the bounty.

Name: Charlie Wanderlust  DOB: Unknown, assumed to be aged mid-to-late twenties  Race: White Sex: Female Height: Estimated between 5’0” and 5’4” Weight: Estimated between 130 and 160 lbs Hair color: Blonde Eye color: Brown  Last known location: Near Williston, VT, Travel Plaza of I-89 10/14. Prior possible sightings: near Londonderry, NH, RMZ Truck Stop off I-93 10/12; near Newburgh, NY, Pilot Travel Center off I-84 10/8. 

Included are blurry CCTV stills of a petite woman, dressed head-to-toe in black, face mostly concealed by a bandana, stringy white blonde hair spilling down her back from beneath a beanie. The stills appear to be taken in some kind of warehouse, and show the subject pointing a handgun directly at a man whose hands are raised behind his head.

Another collection of photos, much clearer than the shoddy CCTV stills, show the target on her tiptoes, talking to a trucker through his rolled-down window. The snapshots depict them trading a plastic baggie and cash. A bloated dark green rucksack hangs off her back, and an acoustic guitar strap spans her chest, leaving the instrument hanging upside down, flush against one side of the sack. 

Din observes her profile and notes the pointed chin and hooked nose as distinguishing features that will make her easy to spot. He surmises that she’s using an alias, because there’s no way that’s a real name. Her posture and trigger discipline in the CCTV stills tells him that she boasts familiarity with gun safety, and is probably armed. She’s backpacking, likely hitching rides with, and selling drugs to, truckers.

When he pulls up a map on the tablet’s screen and traces the path between the sighting locations, he notices she’s trending north. Probably trying to cross the Canadian border, considering most bounty hunters won’t find the difficulties that would come with re-entering the United States worth it. Try explaining to the border patrol why a pretty blonde woman is being held against her will. That will go well. 

He zooms in on truck stops and gas stations further along I-89. The stretch of road he wants to search is approximately 200 miles away. It will take 3 hours to get there, maybe less. She doesn’t seem to be moving at a particularly fast rate, but her trajectory indicates she’s close to Canada. Probably only needs to hitch one or two more rides to get to the border. 

Din glances over his shoulder into the sleeper cab, at the wrinkly, white, satellite-eared French bulldog sitting at attention on his bed, “What do you think? Should we go catch a bad guy?” 

The dog tilts his head in response. 

“Come on, boy,” Din pats the passenger’s seat, then the dog hops off the bed in favor of the front seat. 

At 7 AM, just as you’re rolling your sleeping bag up, a knock sounds at the door, then the doorknob jiggles. 

You jump to your feet and approach the noise, hollering, “Yeah?” 

“It’s Jim.”

You unlock the door and swing it open to find the lumberjack bartender standing there with a steaming styrofoam cup in each hand. He’s wearing a new flavor of flannel long sleeve, this one checkered black and red, tucked into his dark blue jeans. His reddish brown hair is damp and slicked back, pale skin tinged pink by the cool air. Or rosacea. Or both. 

“Good morning,” you greet and step back to let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him. The thuds of his heavy leather boots echo across the barebones efficiency apartment. 

“I got you a coffee,” he says and sets one of the cups on the kitchen counter. 

“Thank you so much, Jim,” you smile and meet his eyes. In the bright light of morning, they gleam a rich golden brown that feels warm and inviting. You drop your gaze and tuck a long strand of blonde hair behind your ear, then clear your throat before returning to your sleeping bag. 

As you roll it up, he tells you, “Figured I’d stop by and make sure everything went ok last night. You takin’ off this morning, then?” 

“That’s what it looks like,” you tie your sleeping bag tight with practiced efficiency, shove it into your pack, then zip it closed while muttering, “On the road again.” 

“Need anything else before ya go?” 

This man’s kindness and generosity is almost overwhelming. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s smitten with you. A concept that curdles your heartstrings.   

“Um… well,” you sigh and raise your eyes to meet his, “If you’re offering, I could use a ride to the truck stop off I-89.”

“Sure thing,” he grins, the apples of his cheeks pushing his eyes into crescents, “Ready to go now, or you wanna get some breakfast first?” 

“I’m ready,” you stand with a grunt and pull on your coat. He watches you do this, and when you glance up at him, he looks away and strokes his bushy beard, then takes a sip of coffee. 

Jim insists on carrying your bag out to his black pickup truck. You follow behind him, coffee in one hand, neck of your guitar in the other. The ride to Jolley Truck Stop is accompanied by a Sunday morning country music segment dedicated to Christian songs of the genre. The trees are all ripe with autumn colors, their leaves a gorgeous array of reds and oranges. 

“It’s so beautiful this time of year,” you comment as you watch the scenery go by, “Look at that foliage.”

Jim chuckles, “We have a name for the types of folks comin’ around here to look at the trees in fall.” 

“What’s that?”

“Leaf lickers.”

You swing your head over to look at Jim, who’s sporting an amused grin, then start laughing, “Leaf? Lickers?”

He snorts and nods, “Yes ma’am.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” you shake your head and look out the window again, “Have any exciting plans for the rest of the day?”

“Church, then a Patriots game,” he answers, “Where do you think the day’ll take you, Miss Charlie?” 

“Hopefully to Canada,” you murmur, “But we’ll see. Rule number six of living on the road: Embrace change.” 

“Good rule to live by,” Jim responds, flicking on his blinker to turn into the truck stop, “I’ll have to try that out for myself.” 

“You should, Jim,” you cast a warm smile his way, “Really, I mean it. There’s more to life than Milton. I think you’d like it out there.” 

When his truck comes to a stop, he shifts into park, keeping an eye on you as you open the passenger’s side door and hop out. 

You grab your rucksack and guitar, then tell him, “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I wish you the best of luck on all your future journeys, Jim.” 

“It was nice meeting you, Charlie,” he nods and gives you a wistful smile. 

With this, you slam the door shut and approach the sidewalk next to the truck stop, then take a moment to organize your belongings. After verifying you have all the things you need in the most accessible locations, you secure your rucksack and guitar on your back. Jim’s truck rumbles in idle for a while, but you don’t turn around until you hear him pull away. 

RULE #9: Do not get attached. 

Din is 5 miles out from the last place on his list, Jolleys Truck Stop, when the CB radio crackles to life. 

A voice cuts through, “Anyone see that blondie wandering around at Jolleys? Rusty Crawler, Over.”

“With the guitar? Interstate Blackbeard, Over.” 

Din’s heart skips and his spine straightens. 

“Aye-firmative, Blackbeard. She a lot lizard er what?” 

“Negative, Rusty, she has party favors.” 

He picks up his mic and asks, “Do you have eyes on her, Rusty Crawler? 38-91, over.”

“Do I ever, 38-91, wheeew,” the man jests. 

Din looks over at the dog, who was jolted awake by the radio. He starts panting, his buggy black eyes darting around the cab, little nub of a tail wiggling with excitement. 

“Are you ready?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in question to his companion. 

“Boof.”

“Good,” Din chuckles in response, then turns his eyes back to the road.

You knock on the red Freightliner’s window and squint up at the driver as he rolls his window down, “Hey there. Are you looking for a west coast turnaround?” 

He grins and shakes his head, “No, darlin’, but I reckon I’m lookin for a friend if you’re offerin’ your company.” 

“Not on the table, I’m afraid,” you crinkle your nose and wave, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Same goes for you, pretty girl,” he hollers at your back as you walk further down the row of idling rigs. An intuitive shiver runs down your spine; you suspect the man’s foul vibes are at fault. 

There’s a newcomer in the lineup: an old, silver Peterbilt, shiny with chrome details. The driver is wearing a black baseball cap and aviator sunglasses, but seems to be looking in your direction, so you wave. 

He waves back. 

As you draw near, he opens the driver’s side door and hops out of the cab. He’s broad-shouldered and tall. The sleeves of his black crewneck sweater pull taut around his chest and biceps. His posture is impeccable, his steps metered, and you’re immediately struck by the assertive energy radiating off him in waves. 

Another shiver creeps along your backbone. And it’s just an off kind of feeling that gives you pause, but you stop in your tracks. 

RULE #2: Listen to your gut. 

He puts one palm up towards you in a gesture of peace and says, “Charlie Wanderlust—”

“How do you know my name?” 

Your eyes flick to your distorted reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. The hair back of your neck stands at attention. You take a cautious backwards step. 

“I can bring you in warm,” he slides a gloved hand to the back of his cargo pants, “or I can bring you in cold.” 

Static booms in your chest. Your stomach plummets to the asphalt beneath your feet, and you scoff, “Fuck you, man, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

He tilts his head, as if to mock your feigned ignorance. 

A dog barks.

It pulls his attention away for just a second, but it’s long enough for you to turn and bolt in the opposite direction. 

All you can hear is your ragged breath and blood whooshing behind your ears and boots pounding against the pavement. 

Not just your boots. 

His, too. 

They get closer with every beat. 

A tug on your rucksack makes your heart gallop. You yelp and duck between two semi-trucks, pushing yourself as hard and fast as your legs can go. You reach the end of the rumbling trailer corridor and glance over your shoulder, only to find he’s not there. 

That moment is enough to blind you. 

It’s like you hit a wall, he’s just that fucking solid. 

You bounce off of him, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s slamming your face against a trailer door. His thick fingers tangle in your hair and close into a fist. 

“Fuck, that fucking hurts! What the fuck is your problem?!” you wail, thrashing in resistance as he rips off your guitar and tosses it to the ground with a twangy thunk that breaks your heart.

“Hey!” you bellow, “Be fucking careful with that!” 

The man strips your rucksack off next, dropping it at your feet. He grabs one wrist, pinching a handcuff around it, then the other.

“Stay there,” he pants, then picks all your worldly possessions off the ground and slings them onto his shoulders. 

He yanks the chain of the handcuffs, sending you stumbling back a few steps. You steady yourself, only for him to push you forward and throw you off balance again. Your vision goes red with anger. 

“Fuck you,” you spit through gritted teeth, “Fucking asshole.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response, just presses his hand between your shoulder blades and prods you onward. 

Rage bubbles between the layers of your skin. Every single insult in the book simmers at the back of your throat, but all that comes out is a strained growl. 

Then you put one foot in front of the other and let him lead you to your fate. 

[ Next Chapter ]

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