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lys1 · 3 years

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Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words.

Playing With Potions

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The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

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duskholland · 3 years

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Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

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

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

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

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom bites his lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom slows down the car.

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

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

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

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

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

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

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

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

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

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

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

“Step away from the door.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They reach the gym.

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

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

“Holland. Time to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

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

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

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, lovie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The visit is over far too soon.

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, man.”

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

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

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

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

The prison guards don’t agree.

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

It’s still worth it.

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

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

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

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

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

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

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N? Where are you?”

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

“In here, Sam.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When was this?” he whispers.

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

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

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

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

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

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

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

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

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

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

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

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

“I really don’t,” you agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The air between you shifts.

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

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

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

“What have you got planned?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

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

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

“Please do.”

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

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

“Say please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

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

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

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

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

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

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

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

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thebadboyfanclub · 3 years

Text

One Way To Find Out (Carlisle Cullen x Reader)

This was requested by anon, sorry it took so long for me to write this but I hope I fulfilled your expectations. Enjoy!

Having Carlisle in her life felt almost natural, like it was just what was meant to happen, (y/n) felt comfortable and safe around her, it brought her some tranquility and serenity in her everyday life. She recalled how she had met him, running in the forest as a form of exercise, she preferred running at dusk, those peaceful hours that a few people get to experience since most of the population is still fast asleep, enjoying the warmth of their covers and letting their minds rest. Of course they were days that she was one of those people and just decided to sleep in and let the blankets hug her body for a few more hours.

As she turned to look at something that had caught her eye, she seemed to miss the branch that was dangerously in front of her feet, before she could turn her gaze what was ahead, her legs got caught in the branch and forced her onto the ground, thankfully her reflexes had kicked in and she managed to break the fall with her hands, on the other hand she ended up scratching them and felt sharp pain to her knees and palms, she already could feel the material of her leggings being torn and probably the bleeding had already started.

“Miss, are you alright?”

She heard a male voice calling at her. Great, even running on the forest couldn’t save her from making a fool out of herself. What she did not know was that Carlisle was the reason she tripped, the thing that had caught her attention was his figure running past her as he was coming back from hunting. So when he saw her falling he couldn’t help but feel guilty, he could smell her blood from the cuts she had developed all because of him.

“Yes I’m fine thank you”

It was still quite dark, the sun had not fully set yet, so he was still able to walk around without fear of catching the sunlight on his skin. As he went to pull her up on her feet, she let out a small groan of discomfort and her face scrunched up.

“You are wounded, can you walk?”

“I think- nope”

As she went to put some pressure on her left leg her ankle gave up and made her stumble right on his arms. Carlisle caught her in a swift manner and got a gush of her scent, to him she smelt heavenly, her hair smelled like the best type of chamomile and a few dashes of citrus.

“I’m doctor Carlisle Cullen, I work at the hospital here, now I understand you won’t agree to coming to my house so let me take you to the hospital and patch you up, alright?”

“Okay that sounds fair”

“Young lady, if I didn’t know any better I would say you are anxious”

“Oh my gosh Sherlock Holmes, how did you figure that out? Of course I am”

Meeting his clan was nerve racking for her, it was his family and they knew each other for decades and now here she was, a human coming in his life so she felt the need to live up to their expectations. Especially Esme, she was the first one he turned and pretty much his right hand, everything about her had to be perfect for this first meeting.

“Oh come on darling it will be fine, worst case scenario they kill you but that hasn’t happened in a few years, Jasper promised to behave”

“I know you are joking but it doesn’t really help now, does it?”

Carlisle parked his car right outside and went to open her door, lending her his hand to help her get out of the vehicle. Before she could take a step towards the stairs Carlisle brought her closer to him, his torso touching hers and wrapping his one arm around her waist.

“Let’s take a deep breath now to relax..... that’s better, they will love you, I am 100% sure of it”

“Well, one way to find out”

They walked to the door together, as the gentleman that he was he let her walk in first and closed the door behind him. (Y/n) took in the minimalistic decoration, the walls were painted white and it had wooden accents of the furniture that gave this sophisticated vibe to the house, She saw all the glass windows that let in the gloomy light and gave the best view of the forest.

“The house is lovely”

“Esme is a great interior designer dear, come on they are probably at the kitchen”

“Kitchen?”

She questioned as she felt her coat slip off her shoulders. Carlisle took it in his arms and placed it neatly on the coat hanger, she was used to him doing those small little chivalry things, she enjoyed them a lot actually, she felt taken care of.

“Esme insisted in cooking a meal for you, come along now”

He guided her towards the kitchen are with his one hand on her waist, he was feeling confident about this, (y/n) was a wonderful person so there was nothing really to worry about. As soon as she could peek in the room, she felt eyes staring right at her, obviously they had heard- or smelled her she wasn’t quite sure- coming in.

Esme was behind the kitchen table that was made out of marble, hot pans around her and a big muscular guy next to her stirring up a pot. (Y/n) had recognized Esme immediately, Carlisle had spoken about her and she looked exactly what she imagined.

“Hello everyone”

Her voice had gone up a few octaves from the anxiety, she looked at each one of them in their eyes, trying to figure out who is who. Esme put down her knife and walked directly to (Y/n) and opened her arms for a hug, (y/n) felt bit more relaxed once she came in contact with Esme, she had this motherly vibe that made you feel welcome.

“Welcome home (Y/n), we’ve heard so much about you”

“Oh all good things I suppose”

“Of course, let me introduce you to the others. This is Emmett in the kitchen, Rosalie is setting up the table and Alice and Jasper on the fridge, actually now that we mentioned it, what kind of wine do you like?”

“I prefer Rose but anything will work, thank you”

They all had smiles on their faces as they looked at (Y/n). They were very happy when they heard about their mentor Carlisle finally having a partner besides Esme in his life, he had helped each one of them find their mate, it was his turn to be in that blissful state now.

“See I told them Rose would go great with the food but Alice was insisting on white wine”

“I thought it would bring out the taste of the chicken more for her. Hello (y/n), I am Alice it’s great to meet you”

“It’s great to meet you too, it’s really not a problem, whatever wine you have it’s okay for me”

“Oh now don’t be nervous, thankfully I convinced them to buy some rose just in case. So everything will be ready in a few minutes, Carlisle why don’t you take our lovely guest and show her around the house?”

“Great idea Esme, come on my sweet”

“Yes, ummm thank you guys”

She let out a breath of relief when she stepped away from the room. They were more welcoming than she expected, it was actually the best case scenario, still a tad bit of anxiety resonated in her mind.

“See? There was nothing to worry about”

“They were very nice, I just... you know me, I am not great with first meetings”

“That’s what makes you charming dear, you almost peeled your skin off your fingers in there. Now come on, let me show you around”

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle headcanon #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen oneshot #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x y/n #carlisle cullen x oc #carlisle cullen x you #twilight imagines #twilight headcanon #twilight one shot #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #twilight x reader #carlisle imagine #carlisle x reader #carlisle x you #carlisle x oc #team carlisle

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stressisakiller · 3 years

Text

As You Wish

Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU

(As you wish Part 2)

Summary: What happens when after moving into Stark Tower you run into a certain Captain

Warnings: None really, fluff, like one cussword a little bit of spice

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Fluffy chapter yay! Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!’

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Life working side by side with Tony was dangerous. When Killian attacked Tony it was you not Pepper who was taken and subjected to the Extremis serum. This caused you to heal crazy fast and gave you super strength, which was pretty cool but not very useful for someone who spent most of their time in a robotics lab trying not to crush something when it wasn't working.

You later discovered that Killian mistakenly believed that you were in fact Tony's soulmate, while you had always thought that it was Pepper. She quickly refuted your claim when you told her, pulling the back of her jeans down enough to show the smiley face that graced her butt cheek. Turns out that her soulmate was none other than Happy the head of security.

About six months after the battle of new york, after Tony and the whole Killian/Mandarin situation, Tony asked very nicely if you would move into the Avengers tower with him. He needed to get the Avengers tower going, and after everything that happened and his panic attacks, he really didn't want to live there alone. He was also hoping that if you lived in the tower that the avengers would be more willing to as well. By this point you had met and become friends with most of them save for Captain America, he hasn’t been around much. He was trying to find his place in this new world and taking as many missions as Shield will give him in order to feel needed

The tower was much different this time than the last time you had been there. There was less plastic film and dust everywhere and all of the construction work was done. Most notably, the wall on Stark's living room floor was no longer a gaping hole.

The top eight levels of the tower were for the avengers. The penthouse was where Tony stayed, no surprise there. The level directly below was his lab space which was restricted access for the most part and then there was the common level under that. The common level was composed of a large kitchen and dining area, as well as a massive living room with the biggest tv you had ever seen. This floor also houses a theater, and an arcade room equipped with pool tables and any other game you could think of. Tony is such a child sometimes, not that you were complaining you loved to play pool. The next three floors are where you and the rest of the Avengers would live. You would each get your own suite that you could arrange and decorate however you saw fit. Each suite includes a kitchenette, and small living room that was separate from the bedroom, and a massive ensuite bath. The lowest two levels were dedicated to the training room and medical ward, as well as a giant pool and sauna area, these floors allowed for outside access as long as they were vetted.

Six months later, life in the tower was going well. You, Tony and Bruce, were the main people living there. You could understand that though, Nat and Clint were constantly out on missions for shield and mainly stayed on base in DC. Tony told you that Steve was currently living in an apartment in DC. He didn't want to live on base but he was running missions for Shield on and off. Thor was off-world with Loki so life was pretty quiet.

Then there was a mission that the Captain went on that didn’t go the way he thought. He was wounded and brought back a captive. You were in the common area when the door was thrown open and a bloody Steve Rogers burst through carrying a soaking wet girl over his shoulder.

“The Medical wing, where is it?” He questioned voice hard from pain or fatigue or both.

“This way.” you hurried off, not looking behind you, you knew that he would follow.

When you arrived, you called for Dr. Cho and Steve told her what was going on and placed the girl on a stretcher. The nurses pushed her to a room to monitor her until she woke up. He was then shown to a separate room to be looked over and have the bullet removed.

That night Tony pulled you into the living room to watch your favorite movie, the princess bride. It was about halfway through when an exhausted Steve came through the door and flopped down on the couch beside the one that you and Tony were currently lounging on. It was coming to your favorite part, Buttercup was currently yelling at the Dread Pirate Roberts and about to push him down the hill.

“Oooh,” you said hitting Tony’s shoulder, “I love this part,” you spoke along with Wesley as he rolled down the hill, “As you Wiiiisssshhhh.” you clapped your hands together, “that will forever be the best reveal ever.”

You didn’t notice Steve’s stare as you said those words. Holy Shit he thought his tattoo finally made sense, and yet the girl that fate said was perfect for him had her legs thrown over Tony’s lap and was leaning against him while watching the movie. He stood quickly and stomped out of the room, today was just not his day.

You look over at Tony confused when Steve left.

“What the hell do you think that was about?” you asked, growing more confused as you noticed the smirk on Tony’s lips.

“Why are you smiling like that?” You had to stop yourself from slapping him when he started to laugh.

“What the hell, Stark, tell me what's going on?”

“I think that Capsicle just realized that you're his soulmate.” He said through chuckles.

“What the fuck do you mean he realized that I’m his soulmate?” you asked your whole body going still as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought you had realized this earlier,” he said looked genuinely confused, “The captain is your soulmate, I’ve known since we had that movie night after finding him in the ice. Your tattoo is his dog tags with the flower of his birth month and a phrase that I’ve heard him say multiple times while next to him in a fight.”

You just sat there frozen trying to comprehend what exactly the man sitting in front of you was saying.

“You know, he may be a little jealous that his soulmate was cuddling someone else since he probably doesn’t realize that you're like a sister to me. You should probably go after him.” His words seemed to break you from your trance as you threw yourself very clumsily from the couch to follow after him.

“Jarvis, where did Rogers go?”

“He is in the training room miss.”

“Thanks, J”

You ran all the way down, opening the door you were met by the scene of Steve hitting a punching bag so hard that it broke and flew off of its chain.

“You know, I’m not sure that those are made to withstand the punch of a super soldier, maybe I should design one that can,” you said leaning against the wall and trying not to show the fact that your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“And why would you feel the need to do that, I’m sure Stark has plenty of things that he needs you to design that are more important than a Steve-proof punching bag.” You could tell that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke, reaching for another bag. You step towards him slowly, making sure not to walk too quickly from fear of him leaving.

“Well I’m sure that the great Tony Stark can take care of himself, and anyways, I think creating something to make my soulmate's life easier is more important.”

He slowly pulled his eyes from the punching bag that he was hanging onto the hook to look at you, pain obvious in his eyes.

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty comfortable with him.” you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke, he had gone through so much already.

“Yes really, Tony is more like an annoying older brother than anything. I’ve been working around him for the past five or so years, trust me when I say that I have no desire to date him. You on the other hand.” You made sure that your voice turned teasing on the last words, you wanted to make him smile, you hadn’t gotten to see that yet.

“Well good, cause I think I may have to kick his ass if you did.” You could hear the teasing lilt in his voice and the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But as quickly as it came it was gone.

“How long have you known?” his voice cracked a little as he spoke. You let out a small huff of a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Tony had to tell me when I was confused as to why you left the room?” His eyes snapped to yours.

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“After not meeting my soulmate by the time I turned 25 I just pushed it to the back of my mind, I stopped trying to figure out what my tattoo meant and I focused on my work. Plus there were a couple of life-threatening instances that distracted me." You joked. You weren't 100% sure how to handle this situation, your main friend group consisted of a playboy philanthropist and a science nerd that turned into a giant green guy when angry, not really the best people to show you how to be vulnerable.

“I understand that," he said pausing before continuing, "part of my problem was that my tattoo didn’t show up until after I came out of the ice.” he looked down at his hands and you noticed that they were fidgeting, he must be just as nervous as you.

“I didn’t know that,” you murmured, deciding to ask the question that was begging to be asked.

“What is your tattoo, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” he stepped towards you and pulled up his sleeve, and turned out his arm so you could see the flesh just under his armpit. As soon as you saw the tattoo you burst out laughing.

“Of course that’s what my mark is, man I’m such a nerd.” You clutched your stomach as you laughed, tears coming to your eyes from the range of emotions that you are currently going through.

“Can I ask why I have this tattooed on me?” He questioned, clearly curious to the reasoning as to why he had a movie quote on his arm forever. You were finally able to pull yourself together and sober up from the surprise of his tattoo.

“That movie came out the year after I was born and it was my mom’s favorite movie to watch with me, we watched it at least 4 times a year. But we always made sure to watch it on my birthday as a family, it became an integral part of my life, plus it’s just sooo quotable.” you said with a smile, “Do you want to look at my tattoo?” you asked motioning at your arm with your head. He slowly nodded, not able to find the words.

You slowly pulled your sleeve up, showing him the inside of your forearm and the dog tags that graced your skin. He stepped forward gently taking your arm in his hand so that he could study the markings on your skin. Tracing the outline and the words that he could see before smiling.

“What does it mean?” you asked softly looking at him through your lashes.

“It’s um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s my dog tags or at least the lower one is, it says my name, then Captain America and the city I was born in, Brooklyn. The top one however is something that I always seem to say when I’m getting beat up in a fight in order to remind myself that I could do it. And the flower… I think it’s the flower from my birth month? I was born in July so I think it’s a reference to that.” You nodded at his explanation, his fingers still gently tracing over your skin, causing goosebumps to pop up from the feeling.

“So, would you like to watch the movie with me? We can start it over so that you won’t be lost. I know that you struggle with pop culture, old man.” You smirked at him as you spoke, he just rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, this old man could still show you a thing or two.”

You laughed out loud at that, your laugh changed to a squeal when you felt him wrap his arms around your legs and throw you over his shoulder.

“Ahh, let me down!!” you beat at his shoulders trying to get him to release you but he wouldn’t budge, he just continued to carry you until you ended back in the living room and he threw you down onto the couch. He wasn’t even breathing hard after carrying you up 2 flights of stairs, jerk.

Tony was nowhere to been seen as you restarted the movie. You ran and grabbed some more popcorn to share, pouring in some M&Ms before plopping back down next to Steve and pulling on your couch blanket. It didn't take long for you to cuddle into his side and for your eyes to droop.

Steve smiled at you when he realized that you had passed out before you even got to the part he had walked in on earlier. He didn't mind though, he just got comfortable and pulled you in closer before allowing himself to relax and fall asleep.

Tagged Users: @writerwrites

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #soulmate #soulmate au #soulmate tattoo #captain america imagine #captain america #captain america x reader

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Ringpops.

back to homepage pairing : gojo x gender neutral reader warnings : cursing, fluff. wordcount : 1688 a/n : i am so sorry for posting this late LOL, i’ve had a splitting headache all day and on top of that i had to make a buncha visually appealing aesthetic stuff for this so my poor brain is fried. welcome all new followers :) also this was rushed as usual... haha ████████████████ 100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

Valentines Day with Gojo was usually chaotic, but you didn’t blame him, it was apart of his personality after all. He didn’t take you to any particular establishment, really. You were curled up in your bed, exhausted from a long day of baking goods, watching sappy love movies, and overall shenanigans. You didn’t particularly mind this though, a soft lazy breeze preventing you from overheating, you sigh in relief. It’s like the weather knew exactly what you needed for a relaxing evening. Although, today seemed rather unusual. For the many years that you’ve dated Satoru, he never, ever dressed up. Usually he rolled out of bed, naked. A pair of grey sweatpants replaced what was usually his uniform pants. Just enough for you to see the start of his happy trail, in other words, a fruitful attempt of teasing you. He knew that he was attractive, and you didn’t mind fueling his ego. A toned body, almost like he had been specially picked by some divine being and gifted with society’s standards. But he had actually picked out an outfit for this particular Valentines Day, which you admitted was nice, but you also didn’t mind licking your lips at such a delicious physique. On the rare occasions that he picked out outfits, it wouldn’t be visually appealing, the guy only wore his work uniform or a casual t-shirt and a pair of shorts, or sweatpants. Yet, today? Weirdly different. Clad in a dark blue cashmere crewneck sweater paired with black jeans, he nervously picked at the clothing, fidgeting. You guessed he had gotten some fashion advice from one of his friends, as you also realized it was... Somewhat trendy. Chains dangling from his neck, a few from his pants as well, a designer belt... You had wondered who it was that was so gracious enough to make him hotter then he already was. The air of his usual carefree personality was gone, which was one of your favorite parts about him, and he had insisted this morning to take you to an actual diner, which you rejected. As soon as you turned your back to grab some more sugar, he pulled you back, hand on your shoulder. A determined look on his face that you could see even through his circular shades, clearing his throat. “Hey- just to be sure, pumpkin... You’re not denying because you think I’m poor or some shit like that, right? I’m financially stable as all hell, and I’ll buy you anything you set your eyes on, seriously. I need to spoil you sometimes, okay?” He spoke with a tone of nervousness, and you cocked your head to look at him, eyebrow slightly raised. “What’s with you today, babe? You never do this sorta shit.” Seemingly taken aback, he looked at you for a few seconds, unblinking. Wondering if it went one ear out the other, you’re about to repeat yourself before he shoves a hand on your mouth. “I just wanna try something new, that’s all. Carry on, sweets. Need more M&M’s? I can drive to the store and get them..” kissing your exposed neck a few times, suckling at the flesh, he snickered as you gasped, and that was the end of that. ‧₊˚✩彡. The thought never completely disappeared from your mind, instead it ran rampant. You were curious, after all. Why would perhaps the chillest and funniest guy you knew, be so scared and nerve-wrecked? “Hey, hey~!” you hear a familiar voice ring out, and you pick up your head from his pillow that you were laying on, adjusting your eyes so you could drink in his beauty fully. He wasn’t completely in the room, his head was poking out of the door just barely. “Finally, what were you doing? Took you a few years to come home.” casually getting up from your previous position, you hug your pillow, patiently waiting for his next sentence. “Ah... Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he shuffled closer into the room, but he never quite came into view, the atmosphere of awkwardness was growing. Rolling your eyes, you giggle, desperate to have the mood be carefree yet again. “You suck at hiding shit, come on, lemme see, what’d you get me?” “It was supposed to be a surprise!” he said, exasperated, but he does it anyways. A beautiful scent of roses wafted throughout the room, a trail of spare rose petals danced down as he strode over to the bed, a playful grin on his lips. You cover your mouth with your hands, squealing. “Satoru! These are so pretty!” you ecstatically grab at the bouquet, the crinkling of the plastic music to your ears. You sniffed at the roses, pleasantly surprised at just how sweet they smelled. Vibrant hues of pinks and reds, small and large, a loose ribbon holding the bouquet together. Your smile is so wide, you struggle to hide it. “Glad you like them, honey.” he grinned, taking his shades off and placing them on his nightstand. “Hold on tight, more to come, love.” He takes a quick jog to the hallway leading to you two’s room, quickly getting out of view. Coming back just 20 seconds later, a teddybear half the size of him now limp in his hands, another ribbon around the teddybear’s neck. “For you, my sweet.” he sings, setting the plush down onto the covers. You look at the teddybear, staring at you with beady eyes, and back up at Gojo. “But babe, you’re my teddybear.” you cooed, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him. You see his facial features soften, before he immediately plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead, “Wouldn’t hurt to have another one, would it?” You nod your head in agreement. The chill aura seemed to vanish into thin air as soon as you nod, the silence was almost deafening. He stared at you, and you stared back, you hear your heart steadily pound in your chest. Usually he would make some sort of joke right now and then, but he seemed unusually serious, to the point where you’d be concerned. “You’ve been acting weird all day, are you okay?-” you ask, but you’re immediately cut off. Gojo gets on one knee, and your heart races and you swear you see the light, playing with the hem of his jean pockets before pulling some sort of wrapper out. A wrapper? It’s a Ringpop, two flavors. Blue raspberry and watermelon, he hastily places the blue raspberry one into his pocket again, cursing as he struggled to do so, before finally repositioning. “Will you marry me, (Y/N)?” It takes a moment to register into your brain, for one, he was proposing with a Ringpop, but you guess that’s like him, his love of candy was absurd- but a Ringpop of all things? You feel your face fall, and you hope he doesn’t realize. The thought was good, but it felt strangely.. Tacky, in some ways. Nonetheless, your heart is still pounding rapidly inside of you, and you’re sweating bullets now. Skin burning to the touch, you look at him, heavily breathing. “Yes, oh my God, yes.” is all you can breathe out. His solemn face was now beaming, eyes bright and twinkling. He seems to scoff, like he doesn’t quite believe that you said yes to such a request, but he doesn’t want to give it another thought. Immediately diving headfirst into your face, your lips touch, and even though you had kissed him about a thousand times today, you still returned just as much passion. You felt like your whole body was about to give out, wobbling as he placed the Ringpop onto the covers. Forgotten, it sat idly, but you didn’t care, and nor did Gojo. Hand now at the back of your neck, the other on your hip, the sound of sloppy kisses filled the otherwise calm room. They were strangely chaste, nothing sexual about them, yet they felt so fulfilling you wonder how he does it. He was unusually good at kissing, but you don’t want to tell him that- the egotistical bastard. He pulls away from the kiss, and you whine, pulling at the collar of his sweater to come back- to please you- but he pays no mind to you. Instead, he rips open the wrapper, throwing it to the ground, pulling up your limp arm. With a confident toothy smile on his face, he slipped the translucent pink plastic ring onto your left middle finger. “That’s my middle.” you say, struggling to stifle your giggle. Who cared about getting a Ringpop? It was the thought that counted, right? You still felt horrible, for whatever reason. “I know that.” he doesn’t say it directly to your face, instead shuffling in his pockets once more, before he whips out what looks like a black cube. This time, you recognize an expensive label on it, a miniature velvety black box. “I just.. Wanted to make sure you were committed, and that you didn’t want me for my money or some bullshit like that.” he grinned, opening the box, he doesn’t give you a moment to eye it, instead plucking it out and slipping it onto your ring finger. Only then could you look at it, and you cover your mouth once more, tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. It was beautiful, truly, and you couldn’t explain it’s beauty with words. Glimmering diamonds, alongside a beautiful silvery frame- it was perfect. “...Do you like it?” he asks, once again an air of nervousness. Unable to speak, you hug him instead, now full on bawling. He laughs, rubbing your back, giving you another neck kiss. “Holy shit, you’re so cute, pumpkin. Or should I say, soon to be spouse?” he cooed. “Shut up.” you say, still sniffling, snot running down your nose. He chuckles dryly once again, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “If you’re not gonna eat that Ringpop, can I?” “Zip it, can’t you see I’m crying, dummy?” you respond, still ugly crying. It was the best Valentines day you had ever experienced, and nothing could quite conquer it.

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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Fighting For You

word count: 1530

request: Hi! Hello! Hey! I saw part of your conversation with the girl that is dating a cop and I was wondering if she’s okay with it of course, if you could use the “I’m fighting to come home to you” thing in a Steve x Reader thing?

a/n: this is part 1 of (undetermined) of me trying to finish requests that have been sent in ages ago. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND THE QUALITY. it’s been hard to write but hopefully these will do. this was originally at 100 words, so i added some random subplot to bring up the count and I tried to make it relevant to the story. anyways, this isn’t proofread much so please excuse any mistakes.

It had been weeks of radio silence that often left your mind pacing while you tried to go through the day. Everything was gonna be fine.

Those five words became a mantra for the time being since Steve left and while he had warned you that no communication was a possibility on this mission, you still couldn’t help but feel anxious that something had gone wrong. Steve was never one to give up.

It was a solo mission meaning Natasha, who you trusted to babysit Steve, was currently not with him. Instead she was playing babysitter for you and had now lured you into a personal “mission” at the orphanage. The redhead had recently divulged the secret that every Thursday afternoon when she disappeared for hours on end that she wasn’t out for a workout regime, but instead visiting the angels who so badly needed some adoration.

That night Steve left for his mission, Natasha had taken you out to dinner and a few drinks led to cries of sorrow and laughter. Tears pricked at her eyes and your own, when Natasha revealed that she didn’t want these kids to have an experience such as her years as an orphan. Somehow your conversation of the awful nachos on the bar counter had transferred into what your friend did when she disappeared midweek. When the words spilled from her mouth and she immediately apologized for oversharing, you were quick to reassure her with a fast and unexpected hug that almost knocked over the unsuspecting coffee mugs that had been sitting between you both. The mugs were empty from trying to sober you both up but they seemed to be doing nothing but getting in the way. Natasha never really opened up to you about her past despite almost knowing her longer than Steve, so this little exchange was a milestone in your friendship.

Since that crazy dinner, you have been spending your Thursdays with the kids and Nat, putting on a fake smile that would turn genuine just at the sight of the children getting excited to see you. It took your mind off Steve, albeit for a few hours, but that was better than none. The kids always seemed to know what to say to cheer you up and you did the same for them.

Last visit, you and Nat were given the privilege of speaking with the teens and this week you were given the opportunity to visit the little ones. More specifically, it was arts and crafts day and only seconds after walking in the door were you elbow deep in macaroni noodles and colorful string.

About ten kids clobbered to sit around Nat as she demonstrated the making of macaroni noodles when you noticed a young girl in the corner and a social worker crouched on the ground with her, a lollipop in hand to coax the child. You could see the fear in the young girl's eyes as she clutched the tattered blanket to her chest. Those sweet brown eyes were so sparkly you were sure you would’ve remembered her which drew you to the conclusion that she was new.

You directed two other children to Nat who was currently playing art teacher as you slowly approached the scene in the corner. The social worker looked up at you with a hopeful smile and held out his arms as if saying “all yours.” He handed you the lollipop and quickly explained that she was new before dashing off to help another worker.

“Hey girly, what’s your name?”

You opted to sit criss cross on the floor, showing the girl that you planned on staying. She didn’t speak but instead turned to the wall. Silence filled the corner and you decided to speak up once more.

“My name is (y/n), and I come here with my friend Nat. Today we were invited to make macaroni necklaces with you! Do you like crafts?”

Some progress was made when you said Nat’s name and pointed her out to the child who had now turned to see what you were talking about. She softly shook her head when asked about arts and crafts and you gave a soft smile. Her hand quickly reached up to brush back a strand of short, black hair and you noticed the bracelet on her hand. It was a simple multi colored beaded bracelet that spelt out “VERA✿”

You reached out to grab her wrist and she complied, placing his arm in your hand.

“Wow, this is so pretty! Did you make this, Vera?” She nodded her head and quietly began to speak. At this you internally jumped around with joy at such progress.

“I like to make bracelets. My mommy used to make them with me, but then she left. Now I’m all alone.”

Her happy tone had turned dismal and a few tears crawled out of her eyes. Words never seemed to mean much to you, but her story made you choke back a sob. It seemed that the young girl hadn’t intended to spill the information, but she did, and now she was vulnerable.

“Oh Vera, I understand it’s no fun to be alone,” You squeezed her hand lovingly and offered a comforting smile, “My friend, Steve, he had to leave a few weeks ago and I feel lonely, just like you, but you know what?”

She cocked her head at your question.

“I have other friends who take care of me and don’t make me feel lonely. So Vera, why don’t we go out and make necklaces. We can go make some friends who will always be for you, hon!”

She was apprehensive to agree but slowly stood and dragged behind you. Nat saw you come over and waved you and Vera to come join the little boy beside her who looked in need of a friend.

Macaroni necklaces were a success and so was getting Vera to socialize. She made friends with the little boy, Liam, and the two were the chattiest out of the whole bunch. In fact, they both talked so much they tuckered themselves out that you and Nat brought them back to their sleeping quarters with the rest of the children. Natasha stood in the hallway as Vera led you to her cot and proudly showed off her teddy bear that sat in the middle. From a distance Nat could see Vera placing her macaroni necklace around your neck as you crouched down. Vera stood back and proudly eyed her creation before giving you a tight hug.

“Don’t worry, your friend will come back.” This statement caused you to be taken aback and luckily Vera was too busy climbing into bed to notice your shocked expression. “You told me you will come back and you are my friend, so I think he will too.” Vera continued as she pulled her teddy bear close and you covered her scrawny shoulders with the same fleece blanket that was once used as a makeshift shield. Walking out the darkened room, Vera’s words left you wondering if Steve would ever really come back.

As you and Nat drove home, all thoughts of Steve had momentarily dissipated leaving you with a second of bliss.

Not even a moment after your laughter ceased at Nat’s story of Liam trying to eat raw noodles, the ringer designated for Steve rang and your shaky hand voluntarily went to answer.

“Steve?”

“Hey, love,” Steve’s voice came out in a hushed whisper but a rough chuckle tumbled out with it, “You sound surprised to be hearing from me?”

“I thought something had happened to you. I-”

You were at a loss of words and Steve seemed to know this.

“(y/n), I’m fighting to come home for you. Never doubt that.”

His words seemed so sweet yet cringe so you could help but make a joke, “Wow, I didn’t know you were a motivational speaker on the side.”

Steve’s familiar laugh came through the receiver, “See, that is another reason I want to come home, so I can listen to your terrible jokes!”

Playfully offended you added, “Hey! They aren’t as bad as yours. I mean dad jokes, c’mon you can do better than that Rogers.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can settle this debate when I see you tonight.” You could practically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice because he knew darn well that he had just shocked you with this revelation of information. Your silence confirmed this for Captain and he proudly continued on.

“Well, I gotta finish cleaning up here, so I’ll see you for dinner, doll. Love you!”

All you could do was return the affection before hanging up and allowing the enormous smile to finally take over your face as it had been waiting to do so for so long.

“So, what should I wear?” Natasha took her eyes off the road and looked at you with a cheesy grin of her own. For a majority of the ride home, the two of you babbled about Steve like middle school girls on a first date.

Steve never failed to keep a promise to you and he wasn’t planning to do so now.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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krillin-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Identity In Ink

Welp, I did a thing! Probably one of only two I’ll be able to do this month, but I DID IT! This one’s for the “Tattoo” prompt, and mostly 18-focused and a shortie, but it’s a concept I’ve discussed with people in the past: Basically, did Gero ever do anything to mark his creations, and if so, how would they deal with that. And this one just kinda flowed out. Feel free to show some love or leave feedback in the links too! FF.net link AO3 link Without further ado, here we go.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but let it bother her.

It was a small thing. Something hidden away, beneath clothing, able to be put out of sight, and thus out of mind. But since she'd moved here... since she'd spent more time with her husband on the beach... it was becoming harder to ignore.

"Hmm.." 18 stood in front of the bedroom mirror, her pajama shorts pulled down a bit as she gazed at her hip, fingers idly tracing the object of her discomfort. There, on her left hip, was a small tattoo of the Red Ribbon logo.

It really shouldn't have bothered her, she knew; she'd made her peace with that part of her life a couple of years ago, around the same time she'd finally allowed herself to accept she'd had feelings for her best friend. But still, it reminded her of a time when she hadn't been so free. Reminded her that everything she used to be had been stolen away from her. Reminded her of that twisted old man and his "experiments"...

"Hey babe, you ok?"

18 inhaled sharply and let go of the shorts, the elastic snapping back against her as she spun to face her questioner, her expression cool as ice. "Do I look like I'm in trouble, dear?"

Krillin frowned, tugging at the loose shirt that served as his pajama top. "Well... yes, honestly. You can fool a lot of other folks, 18, but I know when something's bothering you." He pointed at the mirror behind her. "Plus I kinda caught you staring at that for a while."

18 closed her icy blue eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose. "Picking up habits from the old man again, are we?"

"Hey now, come on," he protested. "You're my wife and the mother of my child, who is finally asleep, might I add. But I'm allowed to look in our bedroom."

18 crossed her arms and huffed. "Peeping tom."

Krillin laughed as he noticed the faintest hint of a smile on his wife's lips. "Okay, okay, my bad." He threw his hands up in mock despair. "Spare me, oh mighty goddess of Kame Island."

She opened one eye and peered at him. "Hmm... offer me tribute and I'll consider it."

Krillin took a step forward and stood on his tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Is that better, mistress?"

18 felt her face flush. "N-no... not good enough." Her blush deepened as she felt his hand cup her cheek and bring her face to meet his, her heart skipping a beat as he began to place feather-soft kisses on her lips. She loved this feeling. It was almost enough to make her forget-

She broke off the kisses and sighed deeply again. "Okay... okay yeah, there is something that's been bothering me."

"Ahhh, I figured." He took her hand in his. "What's bugging you, hon? Is it that... mark again?"

She nodded. "Mhm. Just seems so dumb. I know that's not who I am, I know I'm more than that, but sometimes when I see it, it just reminds me of before. Back when I really thought I'd lost my humanity. When I thought it was too late."

Krillin frowned. "Babe, if it bothers you that much, we can try to do something about it." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "We can always see about getting it removed."

18 snorted. "Like we can afford that? Those procedures aren't cheap, you know. Besides, I doubt there are any places that do that who have a laser remotely strong enough to work on my skin."

Krillin shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose." He rubbed his chin for a moment. "Have you considered covering it up with something else, then?"

18 rubbed her forehead. "Maybe... I dunno. I'm not sure what I'd put there even if I could, really." She sat silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "I think... I think I'm gonna go check on Marron real quick." She gave her husband a pat on the head as she headed out the door. "Back in a sec."

She tiptoed across the hall to her daughter's room, the door now adorned with letters spelling out the little one's name, turning the knob as quietly as she could. She only opened it wide enough to slip in, and shut the door behind her; no sense risking her baby girl waking up when she could see just fine in the dark, after all. She took the final two steps to the crib nestled in the middle of the room and smiled.

There lay her baby girl, sound asleep. Her blonde curls splayed out on her pillow, her tiny fist balled up on her chubby little cheek, little noseless face the picture of angelic calm as her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. 18 reached out and brushed her other cheek softly, and sighed with content.

Little Marron had only recently reached an age where they'd felt comfortable letting her have her own room, and even then it was reluctantly. But between needing a larger crib, and frankly no small amount of frustration, they'd decided it was time. Little Marron hadn't initially been a fan, being quite fussy the first few nights; her father had been as well, and 18 rather appreciated the irony of her husband wanting a return to their intimacy yet also being grumpy about not having Marron with them. She understood though. Marron was one of the only two people whose mere presence seemed to have a calming effect on her. She could be in the worst of moods, but the moment that baby girl cooed at her, it all seemed to drift away as she got lost in those big dark eyes.

18 rested her cheek on her arm as she watched her baby sleep. Her baby. The idea had felt so impossible not so long ago. She'd been sure, positive, that all the alterations to her body would have made her unable to conceive. Gero hadn't seemed the type to leave behind anything that didn't fit his uses, after all. And it's not as if she and Krillin had bothered with precautions for well over a year without consequence. 18 allowed herself an admittedly lecherous smirk at the memories.

But then, one day, it'd happened. The news had shocked both of them, and been a source of both happiness and fear for them as well. But the moment their little bundle of love had come into the world, all that fear seemed to vanish in an instant. She's been so very small, with her mother's soft blonde hair and her father's eyes and features. There was no doubt she was theirs, and Krillin opined that she was the physical manifestation of their love. She'd initially snorted derisively and called him sappy, but as she held their little bundle, she couldn't help but quietly agree.

The tiny form in front of her stretched and yawned, and her heart melted. She was so sweet and innocent... so much so that 18 could find it hard to believe she came from her. She'd been meant to be an assassin, a killer, but now all she wanted was to protect this little angel. 18 smiled and leaned down, placing a feather-soft kiss on her baby's head before quietly opening the door backing out into the hall, gently shutting it behind her.

"She really is amazing, huh?" 18 stiffened and turned to see Krillin leaning against their doorway, grinning.

"Amazing is an understatement. Sometimes I still can't believe that we... that I-"

Krillin straightened and stepped toward her, shushing her. "You best start believing it, 18. She's ours." He took her hand and kissed it softly and smiled as she sighed, contentedly. "You feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Feels kinda silly now, letting something like that get to me as much as it did."

He rubbed her back softly. "Nah, it's understandable hon, believe me. So... any ideas on what you might wanna cover that up with?"

18 glanced over at her daughter's door once more. She was her second chance, the ultimate proof of her humanity. The center of her world. Her eyes fell to the plaque on the door, taking in the letters of her daughter's name. 'M-A-R-R...'.

She smiled. "Yeah... I actually do." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once 18 had decided on her new design, Krillin had called up Bulma to see is she's had any ideas on how they could get this done; 18's skin was near-unbreakable, after all, and no normal needle was up to the task. Bulma had eagerly agreed to be of assistance and told them to come over the next day.

It had taken a moment for 18 to brace herself, going back into a sterile lab, laying down on a table, but the procedure had been shockingly swift, a matter of minutes, and it was over before she's realized. She handled it well, all things considered, though Krillin's hand was a bit sore by the time it was over. He smiled at her. "See? That wasn't too bad." He leaned over and gently pecked her nose. "I'm proud of you, babe."

18 nodded and hopped off the slab, walking over to the mirror to examine the new ink, as Krillin turned to speak to Bulma.

"Thanks for the assist, Bulma," Krillin said. "This really means a lot."

The blue-haired Capsule Corp heiress brushed her gloves off on her overalls and lifted her face shield. "Oh, no worries. I had a free day today, and I'd been meaning to test this puppy out." She patted the side of the machine. "I got a custom order from a dinosaur rancher asking for something capable of inking numbers into his livestock, but he never showed up with a test subject so I never got to see if it worked. Just a matter of coding in the design and letting the computer do its thing!"

Krillin blinked. "Wait, did you just use my wife as a guinea pig?"

The heiress chuckled and waved him off. "Don't think of it like that. I never would have offered to do this if I wasn't 100% sure it was safe."

"I gotta admit, I never knew there were dinosaur ranchers out there..."

"Oh... yeah." Bulma scratched her cheek. "I mean, there aren't anymore, but..."

He raised his eyebrows. Oh. I...oh."

"Yeeeeah." She laughed nervously. "Turns out there's probably a reason that profession isn't very common, huh?" She glanced over at 18. "So, whaddya think?"

18 gazed at the small tattoo in the mirror. The red ribbon had been altered to resemble a small red butterfly, and letters added in the same font to now read "MARRON". It was a minor change, but it suited her perfectly. Red Ribbon's mark had been a symbol of the humanity stolen from her; this would be a reminder of what had proven to her that they never had.

She felt Krillin's hand slip into hers and smiled, warmly.

"It's perfect."

#chestnutfest2k21 #chestnutisland #Krillin #Android 18 #K18 #Kuripachi #Android18 #Android Eighteen #Dragon Ball #Dragon Ball Z #Dragon Ball Super #DB #DBZ #DBS #Dragonball #Dragonball Z

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blancamz · 3 years

Text

“It’s Over Isn’t It” Reanimation progress

Honestly one of my favourite parts about animating is posting the WIPs online. Here’s the step-by-step of how I went about doing my reanimation for the end section of “It’s Over Isn’t It” from the Steven Universe episode Mr. Greg.

1) Idea and Prep

I was flicking through Steven Universe: Art & Origins. I think at the time I must’ve been between jobs or bored or something, because it came into my head to do a bit of animation based on the pilot style SU. I’ve always been quite fond of the pilot style, especially Pearl’s David Bowie / LaRoux look. The little tux design by Hellen Jo was quite snazzy as well, so I decided to have a go at doing a segment of “It’s Over Isn’t It”, using these designs.

I traced the turnaround from the book in Clip Studio Paint and approximated Jo’s design to it. At first I had the colour turnaround, but did the low-colour turnaround with the heads to give me a better idea of where the lines are and proportions of the body. I also get a clip of “It’s Over Isn’t It” and trim it down to the section I want to do.

This is a long one so strap in.

2) Sketch Pass

I’ll be using gifs that show the first 100-130 frames of the animation, because the full segment is 22 seconds long.

Very very loose animation of what I’m going to be doing with this segment, done in Adobe Animate. I have a video of the real segment in the corner of the stage and audio in the timeline, and closely reference them for layout and acting.

I’ve decided I want to go really nuts with the animation. Lots of angles on her face, smooth movement, secondary animation / follow-through on her various clothing elements. Technically her earring’s supposed to be on the other side but I want to animate that flailing around dangit, so I change it so it faces the camera.

3) Rough Pass

I tidy up the rough I did somewhat. It’s still very rough, but Pearl is better proportioned and the motion is more complete. I get a better idea of how she moves by focusing on drawing keys (the most important drawings) and breakdowns (drawings that help you figure out the motion a little bit, without full animation). I have Pearl, her suit, ruffles and earring on separate layers so I can turn things on and off or lower their opacity as needed.

4) Tiedowns

At some point between the rough and tie-down phase I realized that I’d been animating at 30fps instead of 25fps like I’d meant to, so I had to end up shifting all the roughs I’d been doing. Bad news: having to wrestle with getting the timings I’d so carefully planned out in the rough to still look good. Good news: I have to animate and clean up 5 fewer frames per second, so that’s 110 fewer drawings to worry about. Yussssss. For reference, the above clip has now gone from 132 frames to 107.

During the tiedown phase, I go over the roughs and more carefully try to match the proportions in the turnaround. I keep a flattened version of the first frame of animation to use as reference thoughout to prevent morphing. Sometimes when you’re animating, things will get bigger or small as you re-draw them, so it’s good to have a base drawing to refer back to and make the sizes stay consistent.

At this point I’m way more aware of reasons behind the big design change for Pearl between the pilot and the show. She’s so dang skinny and tall with that extra poof of hair up top that she’s really annoying to frame up. If you want to keep all of her in the frame, there’s going to be tons of empty space.

I also find that my turnaround isn’t enough reference for Pearl’s awkwardly-shaped head. I snap me a bunch of screenshots of pearl’s head from different angles and collate them into a big sheet.

5) Inbetweening

Inbetweening, aka filling out all the gaps in the timeline between the keys and breakdowns. If you’ve done your keys and BD’s well, inbetweening can be a pretty straight-forward.

But I’ve got like a million bits of secondary animation to content with, which means this still takes a significant amount of time. The hair and ruffles have to move a little later than the rest of the body, and some parts of the ruffles have to move at a different rate from the rest. I’m trying to animate like there’s wind since Pearl’s on top of a tall building. I keep animating until it feels good enough.

This is what my timeline and stage look like in Animate by this point. The animation is mostly on 2s, with some 1s, 3s and 4s thrown in when needed.

6) Cleanup and Colour

I did the cleanup in Toon Boom Harmony. As a program, I like it was more than Animate, even though it isn’t without it’s flaws. But it’s also really dang expensive. Fortunately, by this point I’d been working on the upcoming Deadendia series for Netflix. What with the pandemic, we were working from home and the studio gave me a license for Toon Boom. So I exported my frames from Animate, put ‘em in TB and started cleaning up.

I’ve found that cleanup is something that’s often offloaded to new or less experienced artists at studios because blah it’s just tracing the rough animation. But you’ve got good cleanup and bad cleanup, and a good cleanup artist will compensate for flaws in volume and have a good, clear and natural line.

I’m not terribly fond of doing cleanup myself. I feel I tend to end up rushing, which leads to sloppy work. I tried really hard to keep up a standard here.

7) Comping

a.k.a. Compositing, the final layering of the various elements before exporting a film. Another stage I don’t quite care for because of its nuances. Also drawing backgrounds.

I admit that I’m not very good at drawing backgrounds or environments. I tried to do the one for the second shot of this animation, since it was acutally really important. In shots 1 and 3, you don’t really see the ground or even the railing that Pearl is leaning on, but 2 is a wide shot. My first attempts at it were unfortunate. Fortunately my husband @joe-sparrow is both good at backgrounds and good at imitating the style and colour palette of the show. He volunteered to do the BGs and I accepted. See mine vs. his:

So yeah, get me some nice backgrounds, put the animation on top, then fiddle with a couple of elements in the comp to give things a little bit more depth. During this stage, errors that had happened during the animation progress that I hoped would just go away became annoyingly obvious, so there was a fair bit of going back to fix them.

So that’s how I done made this animation. I started April 2018 and posted in on January 1st 2021, so that’s over 1.5 years it took me to do these 22 seconds of animation. However, I wasn’t working on it continuously through that time. Sometimes I’d be working on it every day, other times I’d not touch it for weeks or months at a time. It really depended on how busy or whatever I was at the time. I think if I’d been working on it non-stop, it still would’ve taken me at least like 2-3 months to finish it.

If you made it to the end of this post, I hope you found all this information interesting.

Happy drawing.

It’s over, isn’t it.

#animation #wip #art #Flash #toon boom #fanart #steven universe #pearl

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popentertainment-interviews · 2 years

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Andy Samberg, Selena Gomez, Keegan-Michael Key, Fran Drescher & David Spade

Living in Transformania

by Jay S. Jacobs

It’s checkout time at Hotel Transylvania.

Ten years and four films into the popular animated series of films, Hotel Transylvania: Transformania will tell the final chapter of the resort that is run and visited by monsters and ghouls.

Of course change is in the air – and not just because the voice of the main character of Drac is no longer played by Adam Sandler in this chapter, instead taken on by YouTube phenomenon Brian Hull. In Transformania, the staff and guests of the place are affected by a laser which turns humans into monsters and monsters into humans.

About a month before Hotel Transylvania: Transformania was to be released exclusively on Amazon Prime, we were able to take part in a virtual press conference with stars Andy Samberg, Selena Gomez, Keegan-Michael Key, Fran Drescher and David Spade. Here is what they had to say about the fourth (and apparently last) film in the Hotel Transylvania series.

I love that this film really flips the script on a lot of fan favorite characters. How much were you all aware of what the new character designs would look like and what were your reactions?

Andy Samberg: I love the new design. Johnny becomes monsterficationIzed. I believe that's the correct word. He goes basically full birdy man backpacker meets Godzilla, which I think is something I dreamed about looking like as a child, anyhow. So, it was a dream come true for me.

David Spade: I play Griffin the invisible man, who is a bit of a scene stealer. I was a bit surprised because they put out some pictures of Griffin and I guess it wasn't what people thought. They wanted Griffin to be better looking like Bradley Cooper or something. I'm like, “Griffin's like this goofy dingdong that hangs out with the monsters. A little out of shape. Red hair.” They were looking for more of a Prince Harry or something. But I think it's funnier that Griffin looks funnier. It's for kids and families and I think cartoons should be funny looking. So, I'm 100% into my Griffin.

Keegan-Michael Key: I was surprised. I expected Murray to be bigger. To me it was like one revolution of wraps. I thought it'd be really this big kind of fat, corpulent guy. Then when all the wraps come off, and you see that first of all, he was super short, but he's really working the jowls. That was my favorite thing. Just got jowls for days. I like that. Yeah, it's really great because it helps inform you as to what you're going to what you want to do vocally, then.

Selena and Fran, you've brought these characters to life for nearly 10 years, and they're wonderful outsiders. What advice do you have for those who in real life are struggling to fit in?

Selena Gomez: Oh, man, that's a loaded question. Because I could give you the “believe in yourself” kind of answer. But I think it's a challenge, right? Every day you wake up. Sometimes you can't sit there and make a choice. Sometimes, you do feel those feelings. I think it's important to take moments and breaks from social media personally. It's just nice to be present and be with yourself for a bit. It doesn't mean that you need to have a lot of friends and a lot of people around you to be cool, because like, I have four friends and I think we're the coolest. We're definitely not.

Andy Samberg: Drac’s pack. We're back. We're back. Yeah. Yeah. (Everyone laughs.)

Fran Drescher: I think the most attractive thing you can be is yourself, and not give in to peer pressure. Not feel like you have to be like anybody else. Or you have to twist yourself into a pretzel because you think that's what somebody else expects you to be. Every single day, the more you practice self-confidence and loving exactly who you are and doing exactly what makes your heart sing and nothing else, then you're on the right path to living a really successful life. Successful in the sense of being happy both inside. Making kindness and compassion your compass is also something that brings value to your life and to those you touch.

David Spade: I've been doing it wrong. (Everyone laughs.)

Andy, what are the challenges in trying to bring comedic timing to an animated role?

Andy Samberg: I love talking about the craft. It's not particularly challenging. We're on the fourth one here. Not to deflect, but you've seen the style of animation they do, which in my opinion, is one of the greatest things about these movies. It's so fun and exaggerated. Obviously, kids love it. When I watch it, it makes me giggle just seeing the expressions and the gesticulations they give all the characters. So, this time around doing the recording, you pretty much know they want you to go huge and insane. Then they are going to push that even further with the way they animate it, which is very freeing. You know that you're not going to get like, “Whoa, buddy, come on. That's too much. Too much.”

Fran Drescher: (laughs) Never too much.

David Spade: Never bring it down.

Selena, we have loved watching Mavis grow and mature over the last three films. What can fans expect from her this time around?

Selena Gomez: It's been such a pleasure playing this character and also growing up. Because it was so long ago that [the series started]. I was in a different phase of my life. It's actually wonderful to be able to grow with this character. She's definitely just tough and she's not always demanded to be as big. She's just always worrying, and that matches my personality really well. (laughs) I just want things to run smoothly. I actually understand what it's like to have differences between family members and things like that. It's nice that we're touching on such a real thing, but in such a crazy way. It's fun.

David, we're going to get a little deep here. I'm going to warn you this is the first time that your character Griffin has actually been seen. What do you think that symbolizes? In a movie like this it's all about transformation.

David Spade: Selena, what's the answer on this one? (They laugh.) First of all I would like to say I love that I got to do these four movies with all these people. It was such a fun time. I get so many nice comments from so many different, older and younger people about watching them together. It's been a blast. I just wanted to get that out there because it was a really cool thing to be a part of. Having Griffin be not seen was interesting the whole time. I'm just floating glasses. It was nice to be a full-on character that was relating to other people. I think that's going to be really fun for kids. It was a great hooky fourth idea, because then it's a switcheroo. Everyone gets different. It's just a fun visual thing. Like Andy was saying, when you see these jokes, you see them written on the page. Then when they add the animation to it, the jokes are like three times better, because there's a joke behind you, there's a joke over here. It just flushes it out so much that the movie turns into just more and more fun. It's just so clever when you see what they can do. It's really not us. We're adding one layer. Then what they do to it makes it even better. They just really know what they're doing. That's why these are so fun and [I’m] proud to be a part of.

Fran, you certainly found that the secret to good live action comedy through The Nanny. What do you think is the secret to good comedy and animation?

Fran Drescher: I think physical comedy is very important. We did quite a bit of it on The Nanny. In animation, it's absolutely imperative. You can do so much because it's such a make-believe world. You can contort characters in ways that they could never really do in real life. Even the best stunt person couldn't get away with some of the stuff that animated characters can do. That's a big through theme of doing an animated movie: how far can we physically take these characters to do funny and surprising things?

Keegan, you've lent your voice to a number of animated movies, including several on the way. What has been the most rewarding part of the voice-acting animation experience?

Keegan-Michael Key: The most rewarding part – to actually go back to what Andy was saying – is that concept of not having any limitations. Especially in these movies, like we were saying, the look of these characters is so exaggerated that anything that you would have been busted for on a live action movie, you don't have to worry about. It reminds me of being a kid. When you were a kid and you play with the other friends, your imagination went everywhere. There would be times you're out at the field and playing and screaming and all of that abandon. You get to channel that again as an adult when you're doing animated films. It's not only not frowned upon, it is encouraged. That's my favorite thing about working in this space.

Andy Samberg: I love Keegan that you and I both are like “we just like that no one gives us the note that we're being too big.”

Keegan-Michael Key: (laughs) Exactly. Exactly. That's the answer to the question for me and Andy. It like no one's ever going to tell you take it down a notch. That's like the best.

Andy Samberg: A real peek inside at our process.

It's been nearly 10 years since the first film was released. Did you ever think this franchise would last this long would and would lead to three sequels like it has?

Andy Samberg: No. But I'm really glad it did. I think the reason is because kids love them so much. That's the real bottom line with these movies, which makes it such an easy call. They're just so infused with joy and positivity. Everyone grew up loving these classic monsters, and it's a new spin on it. It's really fun for families. That's why it's endured.

Fran Drescher: What I like about this movie also is that it's really written funny. Parents really enjoy it as much as kids. Similarly, certain jokes may go right over the kids’ heads, but the parents get it and see the humor in it.

David Spade: It is a good mix.

Fran Drescher: It’s very positive. And look at the talent, the roles. Very serious comic actors.

David Spade: Sometimes I'm too funny in the thing and they have to really bring me back.

Keegan-Michael Key: I've heard that many times. I've been giving that as an example during my sessions. The other thing I think is interesting is the way that they portray the family dynamics, like how spouses and loved ones and girlfriends and everybody is working off of each other. Those dynamics are really well observed in the movies. I think they're really well observed.

Fran Drescher: And relatable, right?

Keegan-Michael Key: Super relatable. Yeah, Fran. That sense where an adult can be laughing at a hard joke with a hard punch line. Also at the same time, there's this sense of like, “Oh, my God, we do that. Me and my wife do that.” Yeah, it's super deliciously relatable.

From all indications, this will be the final Hotel Transylvania installment. What would you each say that you will miss most about this series?

Fran Drescher: I’ll miss Eunice. I love her. I love the way they drew her. I love her look. I love that she is a bit of a matriarch to the monsters. She gets wound up and screams a lot. But for the most part, she really cares about Mavis and her family and her husband too, Frank. So I will miss my character, Eunice.

Keegan-Michael Key: I'm going to miss the final products that we always see. The movies are really done on such a high level. It's the rhythm of the movies and the spirit behind them that really moves me. In a way I'm saying I'm going to miss seeing them because if indeed this is the last, I'm going to miss seeing the new one if a new one comes out because they're always really well done.

David Spade: I do like when they come out. That's a good point. We always did one and you're waiting for it to come out and see if it worked. It's nice to be a part of something that works. When it worked, it was fun. Then you're there already talking about another one, so it's fun. People are like “is there going to be another one?” You go, “Yeah, yeah, we're working on it. It's coming out soon.” Then that comes out and you see it you go, “Oh good, it's funny again.” Then there's like. “Oh, there's going to be another one.” To have it stop is a bummer but seeing the fourth one I'm glad they all were good quality. If that's where they have to stop that's where they have to stop.

Andy Samberg: I don’t like to admit that it's over. If we say it's done, we're just caving to Sony.

David Spade: Wrap-a-phobia.

Andy Samberg: I'll miss it all. It's been such a fun thing to do. I'll miss the swag bags. I’ll miss the junkets. I'll miss Selena.

Selena Gomez: I didn't enjoy working with Andy at all, actually.

Andy Samberg: Aww, burn.

David Spade: That's all she wants to add.

Selena Gomez: But I did want to answer the question. I remember I was really excited to meet Andy because I watched all of SNL [Saturday Night Live], watching David too, and everyone growing up. So I would have to say the first time being able to sit down with them, he made it so fun and easy. If anything he's helped me relax more in interviews and just feel a bit a little bit normal. He also had my back. I will never forget because they asked me like a dating question or something and I don't do those. Andy answered for me. It was nice.

Fran Drescher: Remember when we all went to the Toronto Film Festival?

Selena Gomez: That was so fun.

Fran Drescher: Thanks to Amazon for taking it on so everybody can watch it from home.

Andy Samberg: For the record, Fran said that this movie is as good as Spinal Tap.

Keegan-Michael Key: Yes, we heard it. We all heard that.

#Andy Samberg #Selena Gomez #Keegan-Michael Key #Fran Drescher #David Spade #2022 #Hotel Transylvania: Transformania #Jay S. Jacobs

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iamtheblondestblonde · 3 years

Text

The Clark Kent Effect

Part Four

AN: I finally did it! I’m getting back into writing after weeks of no thoughts head empty yay!! I’d really love to hear your thoughts on this one, I’m really excited for you guys to read it. It’s kind of important, ya know. God I wish I could say more but I don’t want to take away from anything. Also I love this gif of Mat, thank you @gabelandeskog for blessing our timeline with it.

Song: Slow Hands - Niall Horan (spoiler sorry)

Word Count: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: explicit language, smut (also spoiler, sorry)

Masterlist / One / Two / Three

With the playoffs approaching January was a busy month. Time in between games was stretched thin but somehow that still didn’t stop Mat from showing up at your door from time to time, usually after an exhausting game or the end of a roadtrip. Despite the voice in your head telling you that this wasn’t a good idea you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn him away.

The two of you would watch nature documentaries together, sometimes talking about his games if he was in the mood and other times you’d simply do your best to take his mind off things. Not in the way one might think though.

The sexual tension between the two of you was palpable, but neither of you acted on it, choosing to bask in each other’s company instead of addressing the issue at hand. Nothing besides getting cuddled up on your couch ever happened but it was clear that neither of you were able to keep yourself from doing something stupid much longer.

Something was bound to happen sooner or later but for now the two of you managed to hold everything together. Sort of at least.

One night Mat had taken off his hoodie - not for obvious reasons - but because two people underneath a fluffy blanket generated a lot of heat and he’d simply gotten too hot. You honestly hadn’t even thought of it until Emily had stood next to your couch, said dark grey hoodie with Mat’s number and last name clearly visible on it in her hand.

“How did this get here?”, she’d asked and for one second you contemplated making up a bullshit excuse before conceding, knowing full well she’d be able to see through your lies either way. Maybe you’d even benefit from hearing a second opinion right now.

So you explained what had gone down in the weeks since New Year’s, leaving her speechless.

“I wanted to tell you about it, I promise, but I haven’t even figured for myself what it is. I wouldn’t even know where to start explaining”, you rambled further, taken aback by your friend’s silence following your confession.

Emily was many things, but quiet definitely wasn’t one of them. It only lasted a couple of minutes though, as she seemed to gather her words before speaking up:

“I don’t even know what to say to you.” That much was obvious. “All I know is that you’re bound to get hurt if you don’t talk to Tito about this. You like Mat and he likes you just as much I can tell. If Tito is as much of a good friend as you think he is he won’t stand in the way of your happiness, no matter who it is with.”

She had a point of course, but somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Tito, not yet at least. You weren’t even sure what you were holding out for, maybe some magical moment that would give you the clarity you desperately needed but for now you weren’t going to say anything.

It wasn’t like Mat had said anything either though and his role in this – whatever this was – was just as big as yours after all. Both of you would be risking an important friendship if you were to pursue each other, wasn’t it reasonable that you wanted to be 100% sure about things first?

However life as usual didn’t hold out for you, leaving you no choice but to finally make a decision after all.

Said decision came under the guise of a party invitation, an invitation you couldn’t possibly turn down. But first you had to attend a game, the last game before bye week and against the Rangers of all teams. Emily and Rafael were having dinner with Rafael’s parents so it was only Dana and Mariah who were able to join you for tonight.

The three of you had only been able to get some mediocre seats because you hadn’t started looking for tickets early enough, thus disappearing in between the masses of Islanders fans that had made it out to the Garden as well. This time Mat definitely wouldn’t be able to find you in the stands after scoring a goal, you were barely able to find him on the ice after all.

They came out on top though, something you were grateful for because a loss wouldn’t have set the right mood for tonight. This time you watched the masses pile out of the arena before getting up yourself because you’d have to wait for the boys either way so it wasn’t like you had to beat any traffic. The plan was to meet in front a back entrance and you were grateful that you’d grabbed a warm coat to protect yourself from the freezing January air as you and your friends waited for the rest of your group.

You could hear them long before they made their way through the door, Mat’s cackle bouncing off the walls and making you smile as well, his laugh nothing but infectious. Only four of them would go out with you tonight, the rest understandably either going home to their kids or flying out early the next morning. Greetings and congratulations were kept short, everyone too excited to finally get to said party to dwell on such trivial things.

Tito had met this fancy music producer a couple of weeks ago and because famous people apparently liked to associate with other famous people he’d been invited to his fancy housewarming party. Tito had then proceeded to snag invites for the rest of you as well and you for one couldn’t wait to see the promised freshly remodeled penthouse suite in Williamsburg. Having friends among New York’s elite certainly paid off.

After finally entering said building the lot of you piled into the elevator and Tito pressed the button at the very top, accompanied by oohs and aahs from Dana, Mariah and you. You’d thought that arriving at a party without ever meeting the host beforehand would be awkward but it turned out that Nick, said music producer, was actually a really nice guy who immediately introduced you to some people after showing you where the drinks were.

The guys got recognized almost immediately and while they were bombarded with hockey questions you grabbed Dana and Mariah so you could dip towards the bar, needing alcohol in your system. You grabbed some drinks for the boys as well, a rum and coke for Mat and beers for the rest of them, carefully dancing around intoxicated party guests so you wouldn’t spill anything on what you imagined to be a very expensive carpet.

As the hour got later and everyone inside proceeded to get plastered you stepped out on the terrace, wrapped tightly in your coat and enjoying the view of the East river, the Brooklyn Bridge to your left and the Manhattan Skyline in the distance. The apartment was beautiful, really, but not even the tasteful interior design could compete with the view it provided.

You could still hear the faint beat of the music thumping but besides that and the ever-present sound of the city that never sleeps it was quiet. Everyone else was inside, avoiding the cold like any reasonable person would and in turn giving you some time by yourself to sort your thoughts.

You were so lost in them that you didn’t even hear the glass sliding doors open and close, didn’t notice that someone had joined you outside until Mat stepped beside you, making you jump a little.

“Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry”, he just chuckled, taking another step closer until your shoulders almost brushed, resting his hands on the railing. He looked out to the city and you looked up at him, suddenly not interested in the twinkling lights in front of you any longer. It was hard not to after all, his soft expression and tousled hair practically demanding your attention. He looked good tonight, still dressed in his game day suit which was now covered by his jacket though.

“You’re not usually the kind of person to just disappear, why are you outside by yourself?”, he asked, his breath creating white clouds in the air.

“I’m not by myself right now, am I?”, you responded and he just smirked, eyes still focused on the skyline though. “It’s quiet out here, I came out so I could think.”

“And what is that pretty head of yours thinking about?” At this point you weren’t sure if your cheeks were this rosy because of the alcohol you’d consumed, the cold, his words or a combination of all three things. You did however blame the alcohol for your next words.

“You. Us, I guess.”

You could tell he stopped breathing for a moment, the steady rhythm of white clouds interrupted as he turned towards you.

“You are?”, he asked quietly, his eyes portraying a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in them before.

There it was, the cumulation of everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

There was no taking it back now, you were long past the point of no return here. Maybe it really was the alcohol in your system that had finally gotten you to admit your feelings to Mat but everyone knew that the drunk mind only speaks sober thoughts.

“Of course I am, you should have figured that out by now. I don’t watch nature documentaries with anyone after all.” That got a chuckle out of him but it did nothing to the look of absolute adoration that had taken over his features. Now it was your turn to hold your breath as you waited for his next words.

“Why thank you, I feel honored. But this certainly makes things easier, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, about us, either.”

This was real. This was the magical moment and while it didn’t exactly provide you with an omnipresent clarity it finally solidified where either of you stood in this situation. You only wished that it wasn’t happening on the terrace of some guy you still barely knew with your friends inside, able to walk in and ruin said moment.

“Don’t worry, Tito is too busy following Dana like a lost puppy to come out here”, Mat said, seemingly able to sense in which direction your thoughts were going.

“He knows she plays for the other team, right?” In fact, you were pretty sure that there was something going on between Mariah and her but you weren’t about to pressure either of them for answers before they were ready, especially with Mariah only being in straight relationships before.

“As long as it keeps him busy I won’t tell him if you don’t.” The accompanying wink made you snort a little but the sound quickly died in your throat when he placed his hands on your hips, carefully walking you backwards towards the edge of the terrace. Here you were hidden from the people inside, invisible to possible curious onlookers. He was shielding you with his body as well, the two of you practically pressed together from head to toe as he crowded you against the wall of the building.

He then reached up and placed one of his hands on your cheek, carefully tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. All you could do was stare up at him, frozen in place and unable to move. He looked at you with absolute reverence, like he’d never held anything this precious in his hands and you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your heart straight up decided to leave your body and be with him instead.

“Please tell me I can kiss you right now”, he whispered and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded, not a single doubt left about your decision.

He leaned down towards you, and after months of pining for each other your lips finally met.

It was sweet and soft, his lips still tasting like the rum you’d seen him drinking all night and yet it was perfect and right. His hand moved up into your hair, holding you close as the two of you explored each other for the very first time. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere though, not even an apocalypse would have gotten you to stop kissing Mat right now.

He pulled back eventually - after what could have been seconds, minutes or hours - both of you breathing heavily as you tried to fill your lungs with the oxygen they’d just been deprived of. Your heart was running a mile a minute, beating so hard against your ribs that you were convinced Mat could feel it as well, despite all the layers that currently separated you. You weren’t done with him though, so after catching your breath you pulled him down to you again.

This time there was more force behind the kiss, the initial phase of careful exploration over. One of his arms found its way underneath your coat, wrapping itself around your waist and pulling you even closer while the other one was still buried in your hair.

Mat licked along the seam of your lips asking for permission, which you gladly granted, allowing him to deepen the kiss. In a second the entire mood shifted. He dropped his hand then, tightly grabbing your ass and groaning when you rolled your hips against him. By now you weren’t feeling the effects of the alcohol anymore, instead intoxicated by his kisses. You could get lost in him forever.

As you slowly came back to your senses you realized that might not be the best idea however, as the two of you spending hours out on this terrace might raise suspicions, despite Tito apparently being distracted by Dana right now. So you pulled back, reluctantly, slightly pushing Mat off of you. He must have taken it as you rejecting him and his brows were knit together in confusion. You quickly spoke up before he could get a wrong idea of the situation:

“We should take this back to my place.”

His lips, those beautiful lips, swollen from all the making out formed a surprised ‘o’ and you almost laughed at his reaction.

“Unless you don’t want to, that’s totally fine as well”, you quickly continued, not wanting to push any boundaries. That seemed to finally get to him.

“Of course I do. I’ve been thinking about that for so long and now there’s no chance I’m leaving here without you”, he beamed at you, his smile so bright that the New York skyline behind him paled in comparison.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, he confirmed, leaning down for one last sweet kiss.

“Wait, before we go back inside though, your hair is a mess.”

“I wonder whose fault that is”, you responded, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He actually had the decency to blush, an adorable pink tinging his cheeks as he reached up to try his best at untangling your hair.

After he deemed your hair situation presentable again you followed him inside, instantly greeted by the party sounds again. It took a while until you managed to spot your friends and you had to stifle a laughter once you realized what was actually going on.

Tito was sprawled out on one end of the couch with Mariah and Dana on either side of him. By the looks of it Mariah was trying to get him to drink some water but he was just giggling up at Dana, who looked anything but amused by the situation.

“Oh my god”, Mat groaned, covering his face in embarrassment for his friend.

“What happened? He didn’t drink that much, did he?”

��No he didn’t but he took a space brownie from this random dude, saying something about how he needed to make the most of his week off. I don’t know how much was in there but he’s been like this for almost twenty minutes now”, Dana said with an eyeroll, Tito simply giggling again. You’d never seen him like this.

You knew that the reasonable thing would be to take him home with you since he didn’t live that far from your apartment, but you also knew that if you did that nothing else would happen with Mat tonight. Maybe you were being selfish, but just for this one night you allowed yourself to be.

“Could you guys take him home, please?”

“Oh come on, he lives way closer to your place”, Mariah protested immediately, obviously and understandably not wanting to be responsible for a greened out Tito.

You gave her a look, taking a step closer to Mat – who hadn’t said anything so far – and putting your hand on his shoulder. It only took a couple of seconds until realization dawned upon your friends and Mat just blushed, coughing awkwardly. You didn’t care that they knew now, it was only a matter of time anyway. Tito hadn’t noticed anything though because he’d closed his eyes and leaned his head back, blissed out and lost in his own world right now.

“You owe us”, Dana mouthed and Mariah nodded before motioning for the two of you to leave, which you gladly did. Mat called for an Uber as soon as the two of you stepped into the elevator and it was as if your streak of luck wasn’t over yet because the closest ride wasn’t even three minutes out.

Even traffic didn’t seem as bad as usual but maybe that was because Mat kept distracting you by rubbing small circles on your thigh. He’d pulled you close as soon as you’d settled into the backseat and was now making small talk with the driver, who was apparently an avid Islanders fan. On the one hand it was sweet to see him interact with a fan of his, on the other hand you’d rather kiss him senseless but apparently that part would have to wait.

“I can’t wait until I’m all alone with you”, he murmured in your ear when there was a break in the conversation, seemingly able to read your thoughts yet once again. The driver asked yet another question though before you even got the chance to respond, making you bury your face in Mat’s shoulder. He simply squeezed your hand, a lazy smile on his lips.

You’d never been so happy to see your apartment building before and you were even inclined to do a little happy dance when the car finally came to a stop in front of it. Despite all that you still thanked your driver, wishing him a good night and after Mat had taken a selfie with him you finally slid out of your seat. You were instantly greeted by the cold again but you barely even noticed it as Mat wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close once again.

“I swear I’m stabbing the next person who attempts to pull you into a conversation”, you grumbled as you made your way inside, leading Mat up the seemingly endless stairs until you finally reached your apartment door, unlocking it as fast as you could.

“But if you get arrested for attempted murder I wouldn’t be able to do this.” And with that he pulled you in for a kiss that was definitely worth being sentenced to prison. He pushed you up against the back of the door, the two of you instantly picking up where’d you left off on the terrace.

“I just wanna say that it’s cute you’d think I’d only get charged with attempted murder. This right here is a badass bitch”, you butted in after pulling away shortly but because you were still breathless it didn’t have the intended effect. He only giggled again, pushing your coat off your shoulders and then closing the distance between you once again instead of giving you a response. Not that you were complaining. Maybe you’d never be able to complain about anything ever again, not if he kept on kissing you like that.

It was a bit of a struggle to kick off your shoes with his lips distracting you but somehow you managed and he followed your lead before pulling you towards your bedroom. He knew the way by now, having changed in there many times after his games, which probably the only reason why neither of you smacked into any walls because it was pitch black in your apartment.

“Fuck, I can’t see shit”, he cursed upon entering your bedroom and you stifled a giggle, the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the night and his presence making you giddy.

“There’s a switch on the right side of the bed..”, you trailed off, pulling out your phone to illuminate the room with the dim display light and giggling even more when you could hear Mat rummaging around until suddenly soft lighting filled the room.

“Ahhh that’s better”, he sighed, softly looking up at you from his new position on the edge of the mattress.

“Nice to see you again”, you joked while placing your phone on the nightstand before softly brushing over his cheekbones with your thumb. He only hummed before wrapping his hands deftly around the back of your thighs, pulling you close until you were perched on his lap.

“Likewise. Wouldn’t want to miss seeing your beautiful face for the world.”

Your heart just about melted at his words but then he captured your lips again, your mind immediately going blank. For a minute or two the two of you made out like teenagers and Mat only abandoned your lips to trail kisses along your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You didn’t bring him home with you to make out however, so you climbed off his lap, suddenly impatient.

He whined in protest but the sound died in his throat when you pulled off your sweater, leaving you only in your bra and jeans.

“Fuck. Wouldn’t want to miss seeing this either”, he said, pulling you close again until you were standing between his thighs and press open-mouthed kisses all over your cleavage, making you bury your hands in his hair. You were so lost in the feeling that it took you a couple of seconds to notice his hands working your jeans, quickly pushing them down your hips.

He cursed again once you were only left in your underwear but you stopped him before he could pull you back into his lap.

“What?”

“I think it’s not really fair that I’m practically naked and you’re still fully dressed in your suit.”

“And whose fault is that babygirl?”

The pet name almost made you forget your mission but somehow you managed to pull yourself together, his suit jacked and shirt soon discarded in some corner of your bedroom. He groaned when you sank to your knees in front of him, now eye-to-eye with his very prominent bulge. With quick fingers you made work of his belt and he helped you pull off his pants.

The image of him sitting in front of you now, only in his boxers, chest heaving, face flushed and with his hair all messed up would probably forever burn itself into your mind.

You took your time, lowering your lips towards his cock and mouthing along it over his boxers teasingly, unable to stop yourself. Mat squirmed under your touch, his breathing growing even more ragged as he buried his hand in your hair once again. He only allowed himself to enjoy this for a couple of seconds though before pulling you up to stand again, getting up as well and spinning you around before throwing you onto the mattress. You were tempted to make a WWE joke but your thoughts were quickly elsewhere when he climbed up on your bed, lowering himself between your legs.

By now you were so keyed up that the friction of his clothed cock against you had you moaning instantly. Mat groaned as well, kissing you fiercely as he rocked against you. When you arched your back he took the chance to unhook your bra, quickly throwing the lacey fabric over his shoulder as if it had offended his mother. He made sure to appreciate every inch of exposed skin, leaving you breathless.

Kissing his way down your body he hooked his fingers into your panties, looking up to ask for permission to take them off. You quickly nodded, watching him as he discarded the last item of your clothing, leaving you fully exposed to him. You weren’t nervous though, not with the way Mat looked at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

“You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful.” Every word was accompanied by a slow kiss, each closer to where you needed him most. He didn’t do anything but stare at you though, making you whine impatiently.

“Don’t worry babygirl, I’ll give you what you deserve soon enough. I just want to take my time. We’ve got all night after all.”

And with that he finally lowered his mouth towards you.

Mat being an amazing kisser should have given away the fact that he’d be amazing at other things, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he was eating you out right now. You were putty in his hands, begging for more as he traced slow circles around your clit with his tongue. Your legs were already trembling, face flushed as you arched your back off the mattress over and over again. To keep you from moving too much Mat had wrapped one arm around your stomach, pressing you against him, while his other hand was busy trailing up your inner thigh. When he finally sunk one of his thick fingers into your heat you almost came then and there but Mat noticed, of course, and slowed his movement even more.

“Please Mat, I need..”

“You need what?” He asked when you didn’t continue, stopping to look up at you. His finger kept pushing in and out of you, making it hard to form a coherent thought.

“More. Please, please, give me more.”

“God I love hearing you beg”, he whispered before finally fulfilling your wish, pushing a second finger inside you before wrapping his lips around your clit once again. He picked up his pace then, every move of his fingers and every stroke of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge until your body snapped.

You were a writhing and moaning mess beneath him, your legs shaking as he brought you through your orgasm, moaning himself when you pulled at his hair a little harder than you’d intended.

As soon as you came down again you noticed Mat grinding against the mattress and you moaned softly at the sight. He only winked at you though before wiping his face against your thigh and climbing back over you to give you a searing kiss, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He willingly let you roll him over until you were on top, helping you take off his boxers as well but ultimately stopping you when you moved to take him in your mouth, wanting to return the favor. He looked so tempting, all thick and long and with droplets of precum leaking out. You’d never wanted to suck a dick so badly before.

“Babygirl I can’t.. Otherwise this is going to be over embarrassingly fast”, he groaned, pulling you up until you were face to face again.

“Next time then.”

“I promise.”

You smiled contently at him before reaching over to your bedside drawer, fishing for a condom. Sitting on his thighs you reached for his cock, unable to stop yourself from stroking him a couple of times before rolling down the condom. You’d take what you could get with him.

“Ride me”, was all he said next and you eagerly moved up to align yourself with him, abandoning his thighs. For now at least.

Both of you moaned once you finally sunk onto him, welcoming him into your tight heat. It was a bit of a stretch and you took a couple of seconds to adjust to his size, Mat immediately sitting up to pull you in for a passionate kiss. With his hands guiding your hips and your arms wrapped around his shoulders you began to move slowly, unable to stop the moans echoing off your bedroom walls.

It didn’t take long until you’d found your rhythm and pushed Mat back to rest against your pillows, his hands on your hips still guiding you.

“You feel so good Mat”, you moaned as you leaned backwards, placing your hands behind you on his knees. This angle had him brushing against your g-spot with every move and it didn’t take long until you could feel your next orgasm approaching. Mat noticed, again, and raised one of his hands to let you suck on his thumb for a second before moving it towards your clit, circling it expertly. The added sensation had you shaking in no time, moaning loudly as you clenched around him, the waves finally crashing. Your entire body was tingling, heat spreading through your veins as you all but collapsed on top of him.

“You’re mesmerizing to watch”, he whispered in your ear and you smiled softly, unable to respond at the moment. He flipped you around without ever pulling out, now kneeling between your legs. His thrusts were slow until he could tell that you’d come down from your high again, only picking up his pace once you wrapped your legs around him.

Mat was wrong though, he was the one who was mesmerizing to watch. His hair was falling into his face, his lower lip was pulled between his teeth and his chest was glistening in a sheen of sweat as he fucked you with deep stokes. Nothing else would ever matter again as long as you got to see him like this, absolutely and utterly losing himself in you.

You could feel him getting close, pulling him in for a kiss as you wrapped your legs even tighter around him. His thrusts were picking up speed and losing their rhythm until he buried himself into you one last time, shuddering as he reached his own high with a moan, spilling into the condom.

“Fuuck”, he groaned softly and you chuckled softly, your legs still wrapped around as he continued to twitch inside of you. For a couple of seconds the two of you stayed like this, basking in the feeling until he reluctantly and carefully pulled out, rolled off of you and discarded of the condom.

He pulled you close then and you curled up against his side, slow hands trailing over his body. The both of you were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. After a while you regretfully pushed yourself up into a sitting position.

“I should go pee, wouldn’t want to get a UTI or something.”

“Good idea”, he laughed and you smiled down at him. He looked so happy and blissed out, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning down and kiss him one more time before hopping off the bed.

After finishing your business and pulling on your silk robe you looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling at how incredibly happy you looked.

Surely Tito would see that as well.

Emily was right, he was too good of a friend to not want you to be happy. Even if happy meant being with his best friend. You’d ask him to talk tomorrow, unable and unwilling to hide your feelings any longer.

You splashed some water in your face, contemplating to run a brush through your messed up hair before ultimately deciding to fuck it. Mat wouldn’t mind, he was the one responsible for it after all.

“I’m grabbing some water, do you want-“

The words died on your lips just like your smile when you stepped out of the bathroom to see Mat hurriedly buttoning up his shirt. He’d already pulled on his pants, the suit jacked already thrown on your bed, where the sheets were still messed up from earlier.

“What’s going on?”, you asked with a shaky voice, unsure if you even wanted to hear his answer. He wasn’t meeting your eyes and in that moment you knew that you wouldn’t like his answer. He abandoned his quest of fiddling with the tiny buttons then, pulling on his jacket instead and looking like a gigolo with his shirt still halfway unbuttoned.

“I gotta go. I still have to pack for St. Louis. Early flight and all that.”

You knew this was bullshit.

He’d asked you to come over to his apartment yesterday after you got off work to help pick out the suits he should take to the All Star Games. Hell, you’d packed half of his suitcase yourself after having enough of watching him haphazardly throwing in his stuff.

Why would he lie like this?

Before you could call him out on his bullshit though he was already out your bedroom door. You were left speechless, frozen in your spot and unable to follow him. You heard him shuffle in your living room, probably pulling on his shoes, until your front door closed behind him with a resolute bang.

He hadn’t even bothered to said goodbye.

Tagging: @jamiedrysdales @matbarzyy @nazdaddy @itrocksmysocks @yeeehaw-hockey @whitesummerx @teenagekook

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal smut #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #hockey writing #nhl #my writing #new york islanders

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