#they are so because i knew who you were in your purest form | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilahisntsadanymore · 4 months

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Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?

Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader

Words count: 1.9k

Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!

Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Keep you safe

One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.

Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.

Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.

"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.

He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.

But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.

"What are you reading?"

When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.

"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.

"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."

"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.

Y/n put her homework on the table.

"Read it and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong, I just-"

"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."

"Right."

Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.

"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.

"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."

"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"

"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"

"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."

"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."

"You got yourself into this, could've said no."

"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.

"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."

"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"

Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.

Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──��─ ≪

Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.

Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.

Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."

"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."

And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.

"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."

"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"

"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."

He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."

"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."

"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."

"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."

"Care to share what happened?"

"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.

They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.

"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."

"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."

"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."

"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."

"And why's that?"

Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.

"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"

Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.

Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.

Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.

It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.

"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.

"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."

"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."

"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."

"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.

The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.

"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."

Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.

"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."

Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.

"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"

"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."

The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.

"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."

"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.

"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."

The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.

Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.

"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."

"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."

Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."

Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.

Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

#Theo Nott #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #theo nott fanfic #Lorenzo Zurzolo

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loveindefinitely · 4 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed.

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?”

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here?

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases.

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation.

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight.

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears.

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later.

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat.

You swallow, once, an unsure thing.

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,” Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation.

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end.

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own.

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence.

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room.

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right.

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone.

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading.

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all <3

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seneon · 21 days

Text

have you kissed before? ─── sae itoshi x fem! reader.

about. college roommate! au. ooc sae (just a bit), minor toxicity. fluff? romance? idk. wc of 700+

notes. for @hyoismbbg here's your sae fic ugh

two months of sharing, sleeping, and breathing in the same room as itoshi sae, star student of the college. and still, you have not gotten quite comfortable with him yet. i mean. who would?

a student with a different gender is doing all of that daily activities with you. how does he feel about it? does he care? is he comfortable? does he ever complain about it to the dorm prefects to beg for a change of rooms?

no. simply because, he has no other choice but to share, sleep, and breathe the same air as you, student of another course, and student of the opposite gender. all the itoshi could do was bare with until the end of the semester until the dorm rooms changed again.

however, it is quite uncomfortable to have someone with him always if he isn't in class, just sitting there either studying or on your laptop. in the purest of silence, you never spoke a word to him. not even if there is a bug or two that needs to be settled. all you ever did was point at it and expect him to flush it down the toilet.

so when you finally decided to speak to him, it was an odd question. out of everything you could have asked to get to know your roommate of two months. you simply asked the most ridiculous question ever and expect him to coolly reply.

“have you ever kissed before?”

itoshi sae tore his gaze away from the book of physics theory and locked his gaze on you. you who laid like a lifeless ragdoll with your sleepy gaze stuck on the ceiling with the dim lights.

it was always around this time where you would go to bed. there is no specific time to sleep, it ranges. but so far as sae knows, it was between 12-12:30am. his teal eyes then glanced at the digital clock beside the desk of his room side and it was already 12:38am. way past the time where you would already be silently sound asleep.

he looks back at you and raises a brow. “i haven't, to answer your question.”

you mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise. “woah, i overheard someone saying you've kissed quite an amount of girls.”

sae’s face twisted into a grimace. “do you just.. believe in random rumours around town?”

an unsure hum you let out, as you say up straight, kicking your blanket away. “i wanted to prove them wrong,” you said as the itoshi scoffed. “well then. have you ever kissed before?”

you shook your head and let out a sigh. “a shame, i know. i’ve gotta keep my lips pure and untouched until the man of my dreams kisses it and stains it dirty.”

“oh? and who's this man of your dreams?”

“you.”

the young redhead lets out a little laugh. a little mocking laugh at your answer. before he ceases the little entertainment and figures you are actually quite serious about it. “guess i’ll stop studying and grant you your wishes, yeah?”

your eyes watch as he comes closer than you and without a single thought or other words, ace student itoshi sae already has his lips locked onto yours.

how weird. the two of you barely talked. and now he's sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers gently holding your cheek, and his lips locking with yours. his lips taste like coffee for some odd reason. perhaps for the sole factor of staying up all night studying theories on physics.

for a fact that you've never had your first kiss before and it was so simply taken away by your roommate, you honestly have no idea how to react to it. you didn't know it'd worked so well, even if it was a little prank or a silly dare given to you by your friends to kiss the college's most popular boy.

you were unsure of it, but even if you've never had any feelings ever for this man, now you do. and oh dear, you wish this isn't another of itoshi sae's tricks to entice a woman.

only itoshi sae himself knew how much he wanted to put his lips on yours and discover all of your secrets and the story of your life through your lips. how selfish of the both of you. to be kissing without knowing each other's true motives.

#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#sae #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #blue lock #bllk #blue lock sae #bllk sae #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #sae imagines #sae fluff

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lilacjk · 5 months

Text

𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : jungkook x reader

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: yandere, best friend to lover, jungkook is a hotty, angst

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: oc is sad and lonely

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : He loves bieng my friend ,but he has girlfriend who he loves ....could this possibly change him from your close friend to a distant person .. And 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

𝗮/𝗻 :omg, this is my first fic here, I don't know how to feel.jungkook is kindy fucked up here but gonna be good soon.. Sorry english is not my first language so correct me if there is any mistake ,I hope you enjoy. , lob ❤

𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺... 𝘉y lovely @xonga ..

------------------☆♡☆♡☆♡☆---------------

The purest form of love is consideration.When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you

And as for jungkook , it was beyond clear that how much he loved you.. cause the way he considered you even in his own relationships. he loved you as a friend, a friend he cared for a lot. There was nothing more . Was it? No. You were convinced.

But today when you were staring at the ceiling considering about many possibilities. That was now making your best friend distant to you. Today was the seventh day since you last hanged out with him. He didn't cut you of completely , no would never. But the dry replies of him everyday when you wanted to know how his day was or is he doing well , made your heart twist in sadness and loneliness. The distance was uncomfortable as it was new. Never before did jungkook did anything like this. He was always communicative, always loved hanging out and being with you

And you felt empty . Yes you were his habit and he was your. Jungkook never went even two days without being in contact with you. He was touchy. It was his love language. He loved holding you close to him , keeping your legs on his laps when watching movies, keeping his hand on your knee or thighs when hanging out at your friends house ,holding hands when walking and He also had a habit ( more of obsession ) HE LOVED KISSING YOUR NECK WHEN LEAVING YOUR HOUSE, WHEN EVER HE FELT NERVOUS OR UNCOMFORTABLE. he did that literally every day without missing any day

But today was day seventh of him not touching you or kissing your neck. Your friends always used to tease you and jungkook that how you two were more intimate than friends. Some of your batchmates considered you two in relationship four years ago but now you two are not in college. You are two mature people who know their relationship is just friendship.

Jungkook had a quite few relationship back in college but no stayed more than few months because all his girlfriends were not able to take the close proximity of you two.. But with his current girlfriend. His relationship seemed quite serious. It's been a year now to relationship. His gf is pretty , nice, hot. She is all you can never be, she seems to get along with all yours and jungkook's friend. But with you case was different she rarely talked to you. Even didn't liked you being near jungkook. . And you knew one day this could be a reason for jungkook to choose between you two.... Well it looked like he chose! Not you but her.

Your eyes dart towards the mirror, hanging on the pale lilac wall of your bedroom. Photographs of the two of you are splattered around the mirror, many from childhood of just the two of you. He’s the one person who could read you like a book studied a thousand times over, edges folded from the constant turn of each page. Now it’s as if the book has lost its meaning, forgotten somewhere on a shelf in the corner, dust piled upon it as the sheets slowly deteriorate.. He turned cold .

. Back when you where teenagers. There was nothing more you wanted because you had it all good grades, a best friend and his constant comfort. So you never considered making more close friends of your. All friends you have now are all who jungkook usually hangs out with when not with you.

You never even had a boyfriend. Cause first you didn't think you needed a one, and second most of the boys liked staying alway from you as they found jungkook threatening. But now when you felt jungkook abandoning you. You somehow felt the need for a boyfriend , a lover, a partner who would be by your side and comfort you no matter what.

Okay., so now is the time for you to get laid and ignore all the emptiness you feel. Time for you to let go or even lose your virginity.......

( part 2 : -

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts #jeon jungguk #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fwb #jungkook x original character #bts ffs #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook yandere #jungkook angst #jungkook aesthetic #jungkook au #jungkook and reader

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babydollmarauders · 7 months

Text

TIMELESS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

surprise song! part (and final part) of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n writes she and Jack’s first dance song and it’s Jack’s first time hearing it

notes: Taylor doesn’t exist in this alternative universe, and you’ll understand why! (2.5k words)

“i want you to write our first dance song.”

when Jack had told me that just five months ago, i was at a loss for words.

i’m no pop star, by any means, and i’ve never desired to be one. i dabble in song writing as a way to release my anxiety and that’s it.

i’ve bounced lyrics off of Jack for as long as i can remember. we went from facetimes in high school, after practice, singing him verses i was unsure of, to sitting beside him in bed, my guitar in my hands as i tried to work out lyrics and having him put his two cents in.

he knew i never planned for anyone else to hear them. they were for he and i’s ears only. yet he still complimented my voice, my lyricism, the instrumentals i played out in the dead of night.

he told me i wrote like a poet. he called me the greatest storyteller who’s ever lived.

but the greatest compliment, and also the greatest challenge, he’s ever given me, was to write the song to which we’ll have our first dance as husband and wife. to write our love into the purest form of art.

it took me four months to write what our love felt like, into words. constant lyric changes, and multiple instances of scrapping a song altogether and starting anew. it took another month for me to get it all made in a rented studio. recorded and produced into the song it is now.

but as i took so long to perfect it to my liking, i took the greatest risk of my songwriting journey. i never once bounced lyrics off of Jack. i wrote only when he was on roadies, hiding my journal inside of an old blanket that sits on the high shelf in our closet when he was home.

i wanted this song to be a complete surprise once it was finished. i wanted him to only hear it once it was in its perfected form. and that would be today.

my leg bounces on the couch, my fingers playing with the fringed side of the decorative pillow that lies within my lap, as i wait for Jack to get home from practice.

my nerves are quickly rising, my anxiety getting the best of me. if he dislikes this song, then i only have one month to create an entirely new one.

i feel sick. like i could both pass out and lose my breakfast at any moment.

my head perks up as i hear the apartment door open, the un-hushed whispers of Jack and Luke reaching my ears, and when they step into the living room, the signature smile on Jack’s face brightens.

“hi, baby.” he grins, bounding forward to press a kiss to my forehead. “i didn’t think you would be awake already.”

“i got it.” i rush out, the monotonous small talk of the moment not appealing to me in the slightest.

“got what, doll?” Jack’s brows thread together in confusion, and i can hear Luke’s pots and pans clattering in the kitchen.

“the final demo of our first dance song.” my teeth sink into my bottom lip, watching realization settle over Jack’s face. “the producer sent it to me this morning.”

“that’s great, baby! why do you look like your gonna throw up?” he laughs, taking a seat beside me on the sofa.

“because i’m scared you’re gonna hate it.” i confess. “i spent so long on this one song, making it into something i’m proud of, but it all means nothing if you don’t think it’s good enough.”

“hey.” he coos softly, a gentle hand raising to cup my cheek. “i love everything you write. and i know that this song is gonna be no exception.”

his forehead rests against mine, my eyes fluttering shut as i take a deep breath.

“are you ready to hear it?” my words come out in a whisper and i can feel him nod against me.

“i’ve been ready since the day i asked you to write it.” i pull back to smile at my fiancé, heaving out a deep sigh.

“hey Luke?” he calls out, getting a distracted ‘yeah?’ in return. “you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

“uhh-” Luke peeks through kitchen entryway. “‘in my room’ alone? or ‘leave the apartment’ alone?”

“in your room is fine.” i assure him gently and he nods.

i watch as he turns the stove off before walking to his room. as soon as his door shuts, Jack is turning to me with an excited smile.

“okay, let’s listen!” my hand shakes as i lean forward, clicking on my laptop that rests on the coffee table, pressing play on the file.

the first notes echo throughout the living room, the gentle guitar strums causing Jack’s eyes to crinkle as he smiles softly, bobbing his head, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“Down the block, there's an antique shop

And something in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in

On the counter was a cardboard box

And the sign said, ‘Photos: twenty-five cents each’

Black and white, saw a '30s bride

And two lovers laughin' on the porch of their first house

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime

The kind you don't put down”

he looks over at me, confusion written across his face, but his eyes still shining with joy.

“And that's when i called you and it's so hard to explain

But in those photos, i saw us instead

And, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met”

his eyes grow softer, my cheeks heating up.

sure, i’ve written love songs about Jack in the past, but this one was special. this one speaks a truer and deeper meaning than any of my past songs.

“On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right”

his smile is gentler now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he snakes his hand over to hold mine, and i know he’s thinking about the same thing as me.

remembering the time early on in his NHL career, when i confessed to him that every time he went on a roadie, i had so much worry that he would get hurt and i wouldn’t be there for him. when i admitted that, regardless of me not being a highly religious individual, i prayed before every game that he would come out okay. that he would come home in the same condition as he left.

“And you would've been fine

We would have been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

salty tears roll down my cheeks at the sight of his, gathering on my chin and dripping down onto our conjoined hands, gripped tightly together in my lap.

“I had to smile when it caught my eye

There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway

Holdin' hands on the way to a dance

And the date on the back said 1958

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you

Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop”

he pulls me closer, until i’m practically sitting on his lap, pressing his lips to my cheek, and i wonder if he’s thinking back on when we first met too. but what he doesn’t know is that i saw him first. i’d never told him that bit.

how i silently pined after him for months until we really met. it’s written in my vows though.

junior year, when i first saw him in the school hallway and it felt like everything around me had frozen.

he had been standing at his locker, laughing about something that Trevor had said. i heard the laugh first, and my entire body felt warm. but then i turned and caught sight of him, and it felt like time had stopped. my heartbeat had sped up, everything around me drowning out until all i could focus on was him.

“I thought about it as i started lookin' 'round

At these precious things that time forgot

That's when i came upon a book covered in cobwebs

Story of a romance torn apart by fate

Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did

And i'd die for you in the same way, if i first saw your face”

our foreheads press against each other, my thumb wiping away his tears.

“In the 1500s off in a foreign land

And i was forced to marry another man

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

'Cause i believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless”

his lips slot against mine, perfectly placed in harmonious synchrony, our fallen tears mingling together upon the meeting.

“Time breaks down your mind and body

Don't you let it touch your soul

It was like an age-old classic

The first time that you saw me

The story started when you said, ‘Hello’

In a crowded room a few short years ago

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know

You're always gonna be mine

We're gonna be-

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made

And you'll say, ‘Oh my, we really were timeless’”

my thoughts drift back to the first time we really met.

it was on new year’s eve in our junior year. Cole was having a joint new years and birthday party.

*** DECEMBER 31ST, 2019 ***

Cole’s house is crowded. insanely so.

i didn’t originally plan to come. but Cole’s become a good friend of mine through our shared history class, and he’s been blowing up my phone all day, begging me all day to attend.

so now here i stand.

alone in the crowded living room of Cole Caufield’s billet residence, a red solo cup in my hand as i people watch.

i’m unsure of what to do. Cole currently sits on the couch with a few of his hockey friends from the US National Development Program, and i feel awkward going over there. but i don’t actually know anyone else here.

i tend to keep to myself more often than not, which results in the rest of my friends being fellow introverts that would never be at a party like this.

“y/n!” my eyes grow wide, my head snapping to find where the call of my name had originated from, and i’m slightly surprised to find Cole grinning over at me, his hand waving in the air and motioning me over.

my eyes flicker beside him to see Jack sat next to Alex, both paying no attention to anything going on around them.

with none of Jack’s attention on me, i figure it’s safe to go over and wish Cole a happy early birthday.

i push my shoulders back, standing up straighter, attempting to push my way through a horde of fellow high schoolers.

but my walk is a lot less confident once i witness Jack’s gaze drifts towards me. i stumble a little, crinkling my nose as a guy i share pre-calculus with bumps me in the back.

“hi Cole.” i force a smile on my surely red face, fidgeting under the gaze of all the boys, but especially anxious now that Jack’s attention is on me.

“hey! you came!” Cole rises from his seat, pulling me into a hug, recklessly causing my drink to slosh in its cup.

“well you were texting me all day. you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” i chuckle as he plops back down to the couch with a sigh.

“i couldn’t throw my birthday party and not have my favorite girl show up!” he shouts, my face heating up. “oh! guys, this is y/n! she’s my friend from history!”

the guys all mumble out distracted ‘hey’s, no longer paying any attention to me, more interested in their new conversations or, in Trevor’s case, trying to charm a girl.

except for Jack. his baby blues are still locked on me, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a small smile.

“hello.” it’s only one word, but my heart races in my chest. i’ve been pining after this exact boy from afar for months, and now he knows who i am. “i’m Jack.”

“hi Jack.” i shake his hand, his touch sending shivers down my body.

*** PRESENT ***

Jack’s hand rubs my thigh, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“We're gonna be timeless, timeless

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Down the block, there's an antique shop

And somethin' in my head said, ‘Stop,’ so i walked in”

*** ONE MONTH LATER ***

my arms wrap around my now-husband’s neck, my hands toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

our family and friends watch on from their seats, Ellen’s eyes catching mine, tears already threatening to pour over.

the first guitar chords stream out from the speakers as Jacks hand wrap around my waist, and we begin swaying around the dance floor.

Jack’s eyes gaze into mine, smiling as he whispers the lyrics back to me, relieving some of my anxiety from our guests hearing my song.

i grin back at him, craning my neck to press a kiss against his lips as the song nears its end.

i purposefully avoid looking anywhere near the crowd, laying my head on his chest as the song ends, the final chords strumming.

his heartbeat echoes in my ears, quickening as he presses a kiss against the top of my head.

his words are mumbled into my hair, his lips pressed to my scalp- “our love is timeless.”

#speak now fic list #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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bellamybellamyblake · 3 months

Text

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it.

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster?

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe.

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say.

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

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nightsadness · 19 days

Text

Tags: fem!reader, headcanons, angst?, treason, mistress!reader, mention of Nacha

Pairing: Francis Mosses x fem!reader

Warning: Francis was cheating on Nacha. The author's command of English is not very good, and there may be errors in the text

A/n: Guys, if you want a sequel, just post it in the comments. I've had this idea in my head for a long time and couldn't sleep well until I wrote it. I don't know what kind of ending to make: happy or sad? In the idea, does the girl get a job as a doorman or do she and Francis just happen to cross paths

Word: 444

2 years ago you had a secret affair with Francis, he was still married and you were his mistress. He came to you like a party, and it was for you that Mosses saved his charm, his smiles, his funny stories. At home, he's a dreary family servant, a slave to the garbage can and material calculations. At yours, he's a conqueror of the universe, a superman, a knight. You take him for what he wants to be in your eyes. Yes, you'll never see him in his house slippers in front of the TV or making excuses on the phone to his boss. And that's great!

Nacha can sleep well - you and Francis have so little in common: only love. Love in its purest form, not translated into material details, not relegated to the boring ritual of eating together or watching television programs. And let his wife cook her praised food, flavored with her irritation and fatigue, an apple from your hands will still taste better. Because all you need is love. Yes, one day that love will be gone...one fine day. Everything alive goes away sooner or later. And you don't have to try to pretend that your feeling is eternal, it won't make it come alive. You don't have to pretend and lie for years that you're experiencing something that has no return.

But as previously stated, love was gone. One fine day, it would seem, Nacha found out about her husband's adventures. It was like this: she just happened to see you together and it didn't take her not long to put the puzzle together, especially since she caught you kissing. Nacha immediately divorced Francis, who did not resist, they separated quite peacefully, although Nacha gave him a scandal. Francis wanted to find comfort in you, but you also left him, justifying yourself by saying that you were going to another country and would not be back soon, Mosses wanted to keep in touch with you, but you left suddenly, just disappeared at one moment.

No, you were never a bitch, certainly you knew your worth and were a confident girl, but you never crossed the line. You could say you had feelings for Francis, but you never saw yourself as a wife, it wasn't your thing, you were a free bird and family wasn't your thing. And the real reason you left was fear that Francis would leave Nacha and then you'd be in her shoes. You left to let your feelings fester.

The long move did help you, and you no longer felt anything for Francis, so you returned safely to your hometown to continue your life here....

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses #nacha mikaelys #that's not my neighbor #tnmn #tnmn milkman #milkman x reader #treason #thats not my neighbor

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yuu-kumeii · 6 months

Text

A/N : I swear this is just a Kiyoomi drabble, the set up just got a tiny bit too long

Ok so imagine the MSBY 4 having to make a 'day in the life of' type vlog for a promotion for an upcoming game, event, or collab. Where everyone can take turns holding the camera and vlog about their individual days and routines, so the whole video would be like a compilation vlog showcasing the team in their purest form.

Shoyo and Koutaro will absolutely just ramble on camera about every little thing that happened to them, often getting distracted when it's their turn with the camera. At times both are just going on about their mornings when either one of them holds the camera while the other 2 members just walk in silence behind them.

Being able to capture moments like Kou forgetting he's supposed to put the camera on the bench to get good enough shots of their practice, so the shots of their practice were from far away with a clear blur to it or when Shoyo accidentally dropped the handheld, picked it back up quickly and immediately apologized to the coach while offering to pay for it despite nothing being actually broken. All caught on camera, blurry figures and a lot of fast camera shakes.

Out of the 2, Kou is the one who most likely forgets the next thing he's going to talk about because he was focused on the current topic. He may be older but that doesn't mean he changed all that much, it's still ok though, the marketing department in charge of the editing said it makes him look all the more approachable.

Meanwhile, Shoyo is the 'golden boy' of this vlog. He's energetic, humble, kind, encouraging and he has just the type of face that screams 'We look forward to your support! I promise we won't let you down!'. He also does the same things Kou does, but he gets visibly flustered when he forgets. Everyone would find that cute, the marketing team just knew it.

He and Kou are on the same basis in terms of the 'pure and lovable one people just can't help but support' but they're on different wavelengths.

Kou appeals to the crowd that just craves this type of whimsy and fast paced energy, someone who forgets to think before he does most things but will be the most visibly sincere about apologizing that you can't help but forgive him.

While Shoyo appeals to a more mellowed out side, much like Kou but he's a bit more aware of his actions and surroundings. He does have his moments though and that paired with his pure hearted nature just makes it sweeter to watch.

On the other hand, you have Atsumu and Kiyoomi. Two very different players with very different appeals on camera, yet able to have some of the best back and forths throughout the vlog.

Atsumu, to no one's surprise, will try to capitalize every part of the screen. Whenever it's his turn to hold the camera, it's his turn. So much happens in such a short amount of time that it felt like he was on a multi-week reality show and not a one day vlog, he would go on and on about himself and his life story that it's hard not to feel like you've known the guy your whole life at that point.

Not to mention the amount of mishaps he tries to shake off is enough for his fans to make an entire compilation video. It's so much fun to see Atsumu trip, stagger that clearly shows he was caught off guard, then going back to vlogging on camera like nothing happened while the others laugh behind him. Other notable things were Kiyoomi 'accidentally' serving a ball straight into the back of Tsumu's head while he was explaining his routine on camera and Atsumu also accidentally dropping the camera but instead of admitting it he just pretends nothing happened.

Too bad the editing crew decided to keep that little moment in the video.

One last tidbit that showed Atsumu being just as caring as the sunshine pair was his 'attempt' at subtly promoting Onigiri Miya throughout his parts, emphasis on attempt. Because he would say things like,

"I like ta' go to Onigiri Miya sometimes, cause' I gotta brag to Samu' about another win ya' know? The food 's also good,"

"Is this an ad for Onigiri Miya?"

"...No"

Yeah, no one believes him. But it's so cute, watching him deny every accusation that he wants to brag about his twin's accomplishments as much as his own. Samu definitely put in extra fatty tuna in Tsumu's onigiri for that, don't tell him that though.

And lastly Kiyoomi, your boyfriend and very captivating volleyball player of the MSBY Black Jackals.

Every time he's on-screen, it's just a whole different energy. Calm and collected with minimal words, a drastic difference from the many life stories you get from the others, Kiyoomi prefers to be as vague and general as possible. However, even if his talking is minimal, he still manages to have some of the funniest shots in the video. Courtesy of the other members helping to fill Kiyoomi's segments.

Though the one moment you can say will stick with you, and him, til the day you probably get married (hopefully, fingers crossed). So, each of the boys have a little clip that encapsulates each of their characters and dynamics with each other. Those moments include Shoyo and Koutaro having a little game of rock-paper-scissors in the corner of the gym, everyone trying to imitate Kiyoomi's bendy wrist, 3/4 of the MSBY 4 getting reprimanded by Meian while the rest just watch with smug looks.

All the best moments that show how close they are in a little montage. The moment you're referring to, is this clip of the Jackal's gym. Empty and quiet, the lights are still on and everything is in its place. There, in the corner on a bench, is Kiyoomi sitting by himself. Munching on some dried plums from this little white packet, just sitting there.

It's not something you can explain but seeing him there alone, not to mention the way it was shot that made him look teeny tiny, just about did it for you. The second that clip was shown, you were gone, sent to the sky never to return.

He just looked so small and alone, it's so sad but it's so funny to you. It gives you the uncontrollable urge to coo at him and kick your feet a little, the b roll of the shot just slowly panning towards his little big figure on that bench minding his own business.

He's so little, so cute, so by himself in that gym and he's so going to be your fiance because you want that clip played in your guys' engagement party as one of your reasons to marry him.

#「★ It's showtime! ★」#haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu x female reader #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #This has been in my drafts for how long????#I have another one that's basically done but I just wanted to add more to it but I never did #Is she back??? I dunno 😍#I mean hopefully I am 😭

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itsonlydana · 2 months

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter one

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 2,9k

❱ summary: the chaotic mess of playing monopoly drunk with your best friends

❱ warnings: alcohol

❱ an: the first chapter.. excited for you to read this! This has been heavily edited from my ao3 post soo have fun <3

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER ONE: MONOPOLY

"Oh, would you look at that; you landed on my street. Again."

"What? No fucking way."

"Legolas"

"Gimli"

"Blondie, if I don't see my money in ten seconds I'm cutting your hair while you have your beauty sleep."

"No, you wouldn't dare!"

Across from Legolas, Gimli just flashed him a toothy grin, so wide and full of mischief, before leaning over the multitude of cards in front of him with a challenging tip of his head.

"Try me."

"Fine." Legolas drummed his fingers on the table, breaking the staring contest and waving it off like it had never bothered him. "Don't drag it out any further, Gimli, tell me what I owe you, and let me go my way."

For a moment Gimli pretended he had to look for them, but everyone at the table had noticed how his fingers had twitched for the green card as soon as Legolas had rolled the dice.

"You ended up on Oxford Street, which normally would've only cost you $26, but since I have not one, not two, but three houses, you now owe me a wonderful 900!"

And as in previous rounds, Legolas now quite unemotionally pulled two orange paper bills from his carefully sorted, rather tall, stack and received an already slightly worn 100 in exchange, which he accepted with a bitter grumble.

This exchange had happened so many times this evening that you now only rolled your eyes with a smile at the banter, sipping on your bottle of beer to avoid being drawn into the discussion in the first place.

The rivalry between Legolas and Gimli, playful in its purest form and with not an ounce of real bad blood, had become a permanent part of your life after you befriended the two of them.

Although it had slightly thrown you off at first how they went from harmless conversation to competition in seconds, you couldn't imagine your life without it.

In such a fast-paced modern world as this, you sometimes found it hard to hold on to friendships and avoid losing your grip in the swift whirl of time; in the case of many friendships that were strong at the time, you couldn't even remember if there had been a real goodbye, or if they had simply... disappeared - left behind or run ahead, who knew?

With Legolas and Gimli, however, it was different.

You met both of them on the first day of college, had run into both of them, literally, when you tried to get to your first class on time.

A class with a professor you'd only heard bad things about Visitor's Day. The hushed whispers of scared students, their eyes telling you more than what they actually dared to say on campus.

You were close to being punctual, wouldn't it have been for Legolas and Gimli. The duo stood in front of the closed lecture door, simply staring through the tiny window and looking like they would rather perish than actually open it.

Their looks of fear mirrored yours and it was clear that all three of you had heard the stories of students getting their heads ripped of by Professor Sauron. That man had strong feelings about tardiness– and it was only your first day.

You of course rushed to apologize, babbling that you hadn't seen Gimli, and no, it wasn't because of his size but rather due to your lack of attention, and please could they stay on your side when you go into the hell of public humiliation?

By some wonder the Professor had his back turned to the auditorium to fill the blackboard with the required reading list, as you snuck along the stairs and miraculously dropped into the last three empty seats without getting caught.

And when you had breathed a sigh of relief, the brunette who sat on your right passed you the attendance list he had kept with him a little while longer, as if he had suspected that someone else would be late.

That's how you met Aragorn. The ruggedly handsome brunette added to your trio and was conveniently organized enough to lend you and Gimli a pen for the first week.

From day one, you formed an inseparable unit, whether on campus, in the numerous bars you frequented, or in the parks where you often spent your free time - rarely were any of you seen without the others and you would never hear the others utter one single bad word about the other.

You practically did everything together, from classes, many of which you shared – often to the annoyance of professors and fellow students due to the vibrant and occasionally noisy atmosphere you created– to lunches lounging under the campus's shady trees, with Aragorn reading poems from his literature class, and you occupied with braiding Gimli's long-grown beard while Legolas dozed in the longing stares of bypassers, gossiping and flirting.

On weekdays before exams, you either barricaded yourselves in your tiny dorm room, for it was the closest to the library, quizzing each other up and down the subjects, writing flashcards, most of which you wrote, to give to Legolas and Gimli afterward, and after exams, you forced your way into bar after bar, leaving your marks in benches and stools, squeezing into cramped photo booths in brightly lit clubs.

The first trimester passed swiftly, much like the initial semesters of the second, which you were presently struggling to handle.

It was the college life that everyone probably dreamed of, that every movie romanticized, and even you sometimes couldn't believe how perfect everything was.

Certainly, not every exam resulted in a perfect score and not every day was adorned with rose-colored glasses of happiness perched on your nose.

Yet, be it a poorly performed test, a date lacking sparks, or a random low point, your boys stood steadfastly by your side, offering unwavering support.

Today was no different.

The day had started with you waking to the sun and not your alarm clock and getting your ass handed by Professor Sauron.

It continued with some pretty demotivating feedback on an essay you'd worked many late nights by your Herbology Professor Baggins.

He did offer you a pat on the back that probably meant to cheer you up but felt condescending considering the amount of red ink staining the essay you'd crumbled in sweaty hands.

Adding that to Professor Sauron's embarrassment of you in front of the entire class sank your already low spirits to the basement.

Not even Aragorn's consoling hand, which remained steadfastly by your side throughout the day, guiding you from one class to the next, mumbling soft words and trying to cheer you up with soft kisses to your forehead, could lift you out of this emotional abyss.

How you survived that day was a mystery but after eight hours of you pouring out bad energy like radioactive waves, Legolas must've had enough of your moping and the grim expressions you fired at anyone who shouldered you in the hallway.

With a determined, "We're going to my place," the blonde had put his pep talk plan consisting of a trip to the liquor section of the supermarket and an order from the delivery guy into action.

It was this very plan that had gotten you into your current situation.

Slightly drunk at the kitchen table of the House of Oropherion.

A Monopoly board in front of your nose, around it several empty beer bottles. Pizza boxes scattered on the countertops and bags of all sorts of sweet stuff that Legolas had sweepingly pushed from the shelves into the shopping cart, blowing pink bubble gum bubbles.

The guy seriously had a snack-problem and a spending habit that surely made for a good intervention.

Within a few hours, you had turned the otherwise pristine and tidy kitchen into a battlefield that looked a lot like the one in your dorm.

Whereas the one in the dorm was used by twenty young women and many of their partners, and this one just by four.

Just as in the dorm, loud laughter echoed through the entire house, accompanied by your shared playlist.

Legolas had set it playing on the expensive stereo while preparing his snack bowl.

It was a chaotic mix, Legolas pop music, Gimlis folk metal and Aragorns indie rock while you sprinkled in a few classical songs or added whatever else was missing.

Quietly, you hummed along to the hottest chart song of this summer.

Your spirits had risen by now, thanks to your best friends, even if it did look like they were about to go for each other's throats over a denied exchange of a road.

"My Lady," Aragorn interrupted the rising argument between Legolas and Gimli and held out his hand with the dice to you, "Please stop this madness and continue the round so we can finish this eventually.. hopefully today"

Grinning, you accepted the dice, "I will do my best, my lord," while Gimli muttered into his beard, "Not my fault Barbie isn't giving me what's rightfully mine."

As expected, the idiots fell silent as soon as you gave the dice a quick shake in your closed hands and then tossed them across the table with a clatter.

Of course, in the face of eventual earnings, everyone immediately calculated where you would end up and who might rip off what little money was left in front of you.

Two threes.

And everyone groaned in annoyance.

Only you grinned as you dragged your silver dog figure across the Park Lane and Mayfair field decorated with a few of Legolas hotels, right over GO and landed on your own field.

Another round where you survived on the 200 notes from pulling over GO, anxious not to land on one of the hotel fields from the others.

Because, unlike the others, greedy little hoarders who acquired your properties, swindling you with meager donations, you possessed only the two modest brown streets, yielding little profit.

With each move of yours, the others hoped you would finally end up on one of their plots and finally be eliminated, but as if fate would have it, you seemed to be avoiding it just fine.

"And she lives another round," Aragorn raised his beer bottle in your direction and winked "Any bets on how many more you'll survive?"

You snorted as you shook the dice in your hand again. "You're not getting rid of me that fast."

The dice clattered across the board, two ones and loud rumbling from the boys, you moved to the community chest square laughing.

Reaching across the board, you grabbed the top card of the cards and dramatically pulled it up to your chest.

To your left, Legolas drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, and even though Aragorn has so far stayed away from the competition between Legolas and Gimli, he too now nodded his chin questioningly at the card.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, you turned it over, keeping eye contact with your boys for a while, though, before looking down, skimming the printed text, and laughing out loud.

"What does it say?" Legolas inquired, trying to lean toward you, dark eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Geez, tell me it's a bad card."

"You can decide that for yourself, Gimli," chuckling, you held out your card in such a way that the three of them almost bumped heads, so fast were they bending to the center.

"You've got to be kidding me," Aragorn slumped back in his chair with a moan, and Gimli slammed his hands flat on his thighs, cursing a string of words that in their pure filthy form would make anyone else blush.

You were only spurred on by them, and laughter burst out of you, loud and full of glee.

"I'd like a hundred from each of you right now, it's my birthday after all," you smirked, holding out your hand.

Aragorn was the first to put a bill on it, and even Gimli, though he stressed that he would get it back before you ran out of laughter, handed over something from his well-guarded account.

"Laaas, what am I waiting for? A birthday song?" you asked.

Legolas raised a perfect eyebrow and slid you a bill looking so bored that you almost bought it, "You can wait a long time for a song."

"For the chance to hear your voice dedicate a song to me, I'd wait a thousand years," you sang, winking with a sugary smile on your lips.

"Or I'd just watch the recordings from last night's karaoke, I'd even get a love song from you as a gift," dramatically you grabbed your chest with both hands and threw your head back

"And wouldn't that be oh so romantic?"

"Please," he scoffed, "If I'd really tried you'd be on your knees in seconds. Babe, I have charm."

For a moment you manage to pulled yourself together, looking into Legolas' eyes, holding his challenging gaze from which you didn't know to interpret if he truly believed his statements himself.

Then you heard Gimli's dirty laugh.

The redhead hands hit the table so hard that several of the hotels flew in all directions, and with them your composure.

With a rather unfeminine snort, you threw yourself backward in your chair, your head craned back and your arms folded in front of your stomach; there was no saving you from the laughter that bubbled out of you like hot water on a stove.

"Your charm?" you gasped, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

Unsuccessfully, because when you saw Legolas stand up indignantly and toss his blond hair over his shoulder, the tears flew unstoppably down your cheeks.

Sure, you were aware of what a charming man Legolas could be; you were teasing, not blind.

It took nothing to perceive him for what he was, and that was a flawless beauty. That angelic face, long blond-gold hair flowing over his shoulder, and eyes ever so gentle, marked him a natural beauty and unfortunately, you couldn't deny that what came out of his mouth most of the time made most men and women's hearts swell.

You were friends with him, though, and the idea of being even remotely touched by his charm made you laugh beyond control.

And you heard all the bullshit the guy yapped about when there was no one around he wanted to impress.

"What?" Legolas asked, and in his voice, a challenge that, voiced by the beer, didn't bode well, "I don't want to sound too arrogant" –snickering from the three of you– "go fuck yourselves, I'm charming! I'm sure, oh I bet, that you would fall for it!"

And before you would have objected much, he took a big swig from his bottle and slid down from his chair.

Right in front of you.

Onto his knees.

It was the look of firm conviction in his eyes, the way he reached for your hand and gently held it like it was made of cracked glass against his chest, that made your laughter turn into a silly giggle.

Legolas, even though he was swaying a bit and his words were no longer flowing too loosely from his tongue, was a sight you wouldn't any time soon. "My darling friend, whose attention I do not deserve–"

"Now that's what I call true words," grunted Gimli, who had also leaned back in the meantime and received a punishing look from Legolas before the blond turned back to you.

"–whose attention I don't deserve and that yet has me blossoming, like the first flowers reaching out to the sun, for you are the light in my life. Everything that connects us tugs at my heart, it cries out for more and I'm afraid I can no longer remain silent about my feelings"

Ironically, at that very moment, he paused, seemed lost in thought and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

Not that it helped him really.

But you waited patiently nonetheless, letting Legolas continue to play the role of the poet.

He looked back at you from the far distance in which his gaze had become playfully entangled, and you saw the twitch of his lips, the sign of a cheeky grin he tried to keep down.

It didn't matter what words made him fight the grin, though, Legolas didn't get to say them.

Thanks to the music, which had faded into the background but still sounded through the sound system, as well as your group's silly fooling around and never-ending laughter, you hadn't heard the front door unlock, or the footsteps in the hallway.

It wasn't until an amused-sounding "Oh, am I interrupting?" rang out in a very familiar voice behind you that you became aware of the new presence in the room.

Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, the deep voice rolling over your entire body like sweet honey.

You heard Aragorn laugh, a murmured, "You've lost your girl, Las," and the blonde in front of you groaned as he struggled to his feet.

"Great, wow, I was literally so close to getting her around. Thank you so much, Ada," Legolas scoffed.

You followed his gaze, eyes falling onto the man casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

And your heart jumped inside your chest.

taglist: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #📁files: passenger princess

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creedslove · 10 months

Text

DESERVE IT - FINAL CHAPTER

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: The well deserved happy ending Javi and his beautiful wife waited for so long

• You can catch up on the rest of this wonderful story on my MASTERLIST

Warnings: fluff, happiness, happy ending and I don't wanna say anything else not to spoil it ❤️

A/N: I never thought I'd bring myself to actually finish this story, just like the rest of my series, it was meant to be a one shot nineteen chapters ago and it evolved into this beautiful romance ❤️‍🔥 I know it's just fiction but it felt so real sometimes when I was writing, there were times I was so deep into the story it felt Javi was right there talking to me, as I already told you, countless times I ended up writing my own name instead of Y/N because I was so deep into it and I thank you all for supporting me, for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting this story, if it weren't for you, this story wouldn't exist ❤️

4k words

It didn't matter to you if you were walking around the house with your hair and makeup done but still wearing a dress gown that covered your white lingerie before you could actually put on your wedding dress. Your heart was hammering your chest, making your breathing uneven and your anxiety kicking you in the ribs at every passing minute, you just needed to find Javi, your Javi, your soon-to-be husband Javi, because in just a matter of hours, you would get married, your dream would finally come true and after battling so long for your happiness, building up your relationship, and against all odds you and Javi were about to have your happy ending.

You knew a lot of people betted against the two of you; they were just so sure things wouldn't work out, and that you and Javier were bound to break up, they assumed he would fail you, he would just break your heart, take you for granted or cheat on you, and that couldn't be further from the truth, as Javier took care of you as if you were the most precious stone he'd ever seen. He was just hopelessly in love with you and there was nothing he could do. It was simply love at its purest form, and even if it came later into his life, making Javi think during countless nights he wasn't worthy of loving, of having a family, there it was, simply and wholeheartedly, meant to be with the girl of his dreams.

You still had a few hours until the wedding, as the bride you had to start getting ready early, but you needed to see Javier, even if he was busy, or if he was getting ready himself, you didn't know, you'd been separated from him when you woke up, under the excuse he couldn't see you before the ceremony, as it would be a sign of bad luck, though you didn't really care nor believe those popular myths, nothing could ruin your day.

Still, you needed to get to Javi, it was just a real necessity to see him, to look into his eyes, kiss his lips and tell him what you needed to tell him before you two tied the knot, you didn't care if your clothes weren't adequate, - if you could call them clothes at all, it was just a simple gown covering you barely, but you crossed the house, not caring if there was anyone else there.

"What are you doing, mijita?" Chucho frowned softly as he spotted you and placed his hand on his hips, he'd just left his room, the one Javier was using to get ready, just to check up on his son and see if he was really going all the way, after all, even if Chucho believed his son was really a happy man now, he still thought it was better be safe than sorry, not giving the destiny any chances of repeating itself.

"I need to talk to Javi, don Chucho, please… is he here?" You asked him, smiling nervously at him and that poor old man's heart couldn't take it. He loved you like a daughter already and he knew how happy you made his son, so he only nodded and pointed at the door, "go ahead mijita, he's as nervous as you are" the man who treated you like a father would cleared his throat and walked away, wanting to give you two privacy to talk - or do whatever that dirty mind of his son had planned.

You knocked on the door so Javi wouldn't be startled once you opened it, and with no more waiting you got inside. Your heart raced and you could swear you fell in love all over again with Javier. He was just so effortlessly handsome as he checked himself in front of the mirror, his jacket suit was still open, allowing anyone to take a good look at his silky white shirt. His tie lying on the bed as if he'd just discarded it, Javi had just shaved that morning, his cheeks were smooth and soft as his mustache was meticulously trimmed, he'd brushed his hair as well, wanting to look his best for you. He also knew there would be a crowd of people watching him, well, the two of you really, but the main focus was him, because their money would certainly be on Javier not showing up for his wedding again. At first he thought he would like to show them how wrong they were, rub on their faces that Javier Peña was a reliable, responsible man, not only that, he was a family man, the kind of man to have a loving wife and build a beautiful family with their lovely kids, but as the days went by and the wedding date got just around the corner, he realized none of that mattered to him; he didn't give a rat's ass if people from town, Lorraine, or even his dad believed he was capable of settling down or not, because the only thing that mattered to him was you. You were the one Javi wanted to please, to impress and to hold on to forever, you were the love of his life and he was the love of your life and the thought of spending the rest of his days with you was enough to bring peace into his heart. So at the end of day, he didn't care what people thought or said, he cared about you, about the family you would have together and about having the perfect wedding in order to make you happy.

"Javi?" You asked, snapping him out of his daydreams and immediately turned to you. He wasn't expecting seeing you before the ceremony but smiled as you walked to him, sensing something was off, as you rushed to him, wrapping your arms as tight as you could around his body and buried your face into his chest.

"Hey hermosa, did something happen?" Javi asked with a bit of worry as he felt you clinging to his shirt, the way you sniffed and looked up at him with your teary eyes. You shook your head, you didn't want to scare him or bother him at all just because you were anxious. He held your head gently between his hands, holding you in place and analyzing your makeup, how beautiful you looked

"You're gorgeous, you know that? I love your makeup, and your hair is looking very nice too, even if you don't have your dress on, I could marry you just know, because you're perfect" he smiled and took your hand, humming in approval as he saw you had your nails painted red, despite everyone else saying it should be white, you just ignored them and went with your future husband's favorite color "rojo te sale tan bien, mi amor" he took your hand to his mouth, kissing it very gently, like the gentleman he was.

"I'm sorry Javi, I was feeling so anxious, I have something to say…" you took a deep breath and stared into his beautiful brown eyes, the most beautiful pair you'd ever seen, because they belonged to him and you loved everything that had to do with your Javi.

"Go ahead cariño, tell me anything you want, except if it's to tell me you don't wanna marry me anymore, that I don't wanna hear it" he joked softly and pecked your lips once more, dragging his lips to your law and going down your neck. You groaned, he wasn't playing fair with you and he knew it. He was your weakness and you did take a risk by showing up in front of him with very little clothing and yet all dolled up for him, but you ached for him, for his presence and reassurance, maybe not in a sexual way, not at that moment at least, but you still needed him close. You opened your eyes again and your hands went to the side of his head, fingers sinking into his soft hair, feeling his scalp and massaging it, loving that feeling, not caring if Javi would have to fix his hair again, it didn't matter to you and it didn't matter to him either, because nothing was better than that affection. He closed his eyes and purred at how you played with his hair, his hands were tighter on your waist and sat onto the bed, pulling you to him and having you on his lap. He held you as if his life depended on it, resting his face on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, closing his eyes as he was taken back to Colombia and the night he got badly beat up and you took care of him, even after he was awful to you, after he was petty, rude, jealous and bitter all of that towards you, you still offered him love, comfort and warmth.

He didn't deserve you, and yet, he was gifted you. Something he would never understand, how good things happen to men like Javier, but he wasn't going to complain, quite the opposite, he was going to get on his knees and thank the heavens every single day of the rest of his life. He thought of that night in Colombia and how it changed your lives forever. Back then, you were dating Manu, and Javi had been connected with Los Pepes, after going out looking for trouble because he couldn't control his jealousy of you, he came back home bruised and bleeding, and you sat on his lap and wiped off the blood patiently, devotedly and if he weren't in love with you then, he would've fallen head over heels, but after that night, the way you simply held him, gave him love and comfort, without asking anything in return just made him love you even more. At that night, he allowed himself to dream of a future with you for the first time, he dreamed of you and him, back on the ranch, living a married life and having a family together and now that things were finally happening, he wanted to just hold you and cherish you forever, the same Javier that once thought the domesticity of a relationship just wasn't for him, now realized he couldn't live without it.

He chuckled at how things changed and you frowned, snapping out of your own thoughts and looked at him, he nuzzled your chest like a cat, you loved that about Javier, how he responded to touch and how he couldn't stay away from touching you.

"What's so funny Javi?" You questioned him and felt as he shrugged

"I was just thinking of that night in Colombia, when I asked you to sit on my lap and how hard I fell for you, even more than I had before, because you were so perfect to me and I said I want to have a family with you and you told me it was my fever talking" he laughed "I'm glad you saw I meant well" he said and kissed your cleavage gently, his arms wrapped a little more around you, showing how much he enjoyed having you in his embrace.

"I'm glad you're here, cariño" his strong hand held your neck gently as he kissed your lips

"I'm glad the two of you are here" his hand ran down your chest and rested on your belly, as you gasped and looked at him with anxiety and surprise. How could he even know?

"How?" You whispered and Javi smiled big at you "I saw the test in the trash can yesterday, amor… I was waiting for you to tell me, but you didn't so I waited" he caressed your womb gently "besides, I noticed your changes, I've had for a while now… your nausea, how emotional you are when we watch TV, and this baby girl…" Javi whispered against your lips as his hands went for your breasts, squeezing them so gently, making you moan softly at his touch "... Do you really think I wouldn't notice your beautiful sexy tits being fuller and more sensitive baby?" Javi purred against your skin "you know me" he said looking deeply into your eyes.

"I was scared, Javi… we are going to get married and I was hoping we would enjoy our married life before having the baby, bu-"

And Javi kissed you again, he wanted to shut your pretty mouth so you wouldn't overthink and worry about things, so the best way to do so was by tasting your lips, breaking the kiss only when he saw you'd calmed down a bit.

"Listen… things are perfect the way they are, we're getting married and our beautiful baby Peña is already here, there's nothing else I could ask for, I have a loving wife and a baby on the way, it's much more than I deserve it, but here it is and I couldn't be happier… are you happy, hermosa?"

"Yes, Javi…" you whispered "then let's get married, baby girl"

•••

You had returned to your room to finish getting ready while Javi stayed behind, there wasn't a lot he had to do to get ready as men usually had only to shower and show up to these kinds of celebrations. He knew his dad was busy welcoming the guests and checking on everything the catering people were setting, and there was no way he could knock on your door and ask to hang out. He sighed as a lot was on his mind, how you two would be an official couple in a matter of hours and you'd take his name, becoming officially Mrs.Peña and how in nine months you would have a baby, your kid, in your arms. It was too much for Javi, but in a good sense, he couldn't wait to finally do all those things, but he would be lying if at that moment he wasn't feeling slightly nervous.

"Ready to tie the knot Javi? Honestly, I didn't think I'd live long enough to see that happening…" Steve took off his aviators as he walked towards his friend and chuckled at Javi's surprised face, giving him a hug "what? Someone had to make sure you wouldn't escape your own wedding this time" Steve winked and Javi groaned, giving him the finger but tiny arms wrapped around his leg, making him look down, as Olivia smiled big at him, with her sweet face

"Avi!!!" She said excitedly still having a hard time pronouncing his name but being so happy to be picked and lifted her up, she giggled as Javier tickled her small tummy gently and his heart raced to think in a short while his very own little one would be able to run around and play with Olivia.

"Where's your beautiful mama?" Javi asked and Steve chuckled "she's helping your girl get into her wedding dress because apparently these are tricky as hell to put on" he explained "now come on, it's time for you to get married" he said.

Javi had faced drug dealers, murderers, psychopaths, and all kinds of criminals one could think of, he'd been inches from them, interrogating those types in a small room in a police station, but none of them made him sweat with nervousness as having to walk down the aisle and wait for you there, at the altar. He looked at his side, where he saw Steve standing up, nodding at him softly, reminding him everything was going to be okay. Javi watched the guests, recognizing many faces all over the rows, he could swear most of them were whispering about him under their breaths. Well, at least they could see Javier Peña wasn't leaving anyone at the altar anymore, if anything, you would be the one who would get the chance to leave the infamous Javier Peña at the altar.

He chuckled at his own nonsense and looked down at his shoes, the waiting was killing him.

And then, a song started playing and he could swear his heart skipped a beat. He immediately raised his head and licked his lips, seeing you from afar, his dad offering you his arm so you would walk down the aisle with him, as your family wasn't around, Chucho decided to step in and walk you to your husband, so proud and happy to see you and Javi were finally staying together.

And the moment you walked closer and Javi could see you in your wedding dress, he was head over heels for you, all over again, and he knew he would continue to do so for the rest of his life. You were gorgeous, flawless in your dress, and all the wait made perfect sense, it all led to that moment, it was meant to be.

When you got to the altar, Javi extended his hand to you, taking it and pulling you closer, stealing a peck on the lips before you two turned to the priest who agreed to bless your wedding - after a lot of Chucho's persuasion.

And after a brief ceremony, you and Javi got married in the green fields of your ranch, among family and friends, after fighting a lot for your love, you were wholeheartedly his, his wife, the mother of his baby and officially Y/N Peña.

And just as that night in Colombia when you two had your first fight and he stormed out, and when he returned, he fell onto his knees for you because he said he was 'a perro a tus pies', he got on his knees again, not giving one crap if it was in front of dozens of guests, he wrapped his arms around your body and kissed your womb, so there wasn't any doubt to anyone that Javier Peña was officially a family man.

•••

The months passed by faster than you ever thought they would, as your belly grew bigger and bigger, and your baby evolved healthy and strong, you were also surrounded by love. Chucho was all the time around you, so excited about his grandkid, he very often interrupted his work to check on you, ask if you needed anything or offer you drinks or something to nibble on. Every time he went to town he'd be damned if he didn't spend a good thirty minutes telling whoever he encounter about his grandkid. And he also kept a small ultrasound picture in his wallet too, willing to show people how cute the baby was - even if it was hard to distinguish something in the image.

Javi wasn't as talkative and outgoing as his dad, and he didn't like talking about his private life to the same people who very often spread gossip about himself and his pregnant wife, so he kept all his love and affection for you and your baby. Javi was the best dad in the world, and your baby wasn't even born yet, and yet, he made sure to come back from work and give you all the attention in the world. Javi wasn't really happy while working on the ranch anymore so when the opportunity of becoming chief of police showed up, he took it. It was just enough adrenaline for him to keep interested in the job - arresting drinks and thieves, break up fights between college boys - but safe enough to come back home to his family at the end of the day. He couldn't complain about being a small town sheriff and you would definitely not going to complain about the sexy uniform he wore - even if Javi hated wearing them - and you couldn't even get started on his tactical vest, but just the mere thought of him in one of those was enough for you to jump on him. He'd told you it was just your pregnancy hormones making you overly sensitive to it, but you knew it wasn't, it was him wearing that devilish vest, that was what made you sensitive.

Javi would get home from work and hold you tight, always stroking your belly and talking to the baby. He wanted the baby to know her daddy's voice, because from the moment you two learned you were having a baby girl, she had her dad wrapped around her tiny little finger. So he just nuzzled your womb, talked to it and very often fell asleep with his head on your lap, doing everything he could to be close to his princess. Chucho and Javi did all the heavy work when it came to set the baby's room, painting, dragging the furniture around and leaving to you the decoration part - though the two of them had so many ideas for it: Chucho thought his granddaughter should go with the classic ballerina room, and Javi liked something to do with butterflies after all, he was already calling his daughter mariposita.

You didn't want to take sides, so you decided your daughter's room would be bear themed, the two men agreed reluctantly, but Chucho always bought ballerina related small gifts and Javi did the same with butterflies.

The night you went on labor was one of the most chaotic of your life: Javi wasn't home, there was an occurrence and he was called to the station, so you asked for your father-in-law's help and you had never seen Chucho Peña that nervous. If you weren't in so much pain, you'd definitely taken the car keys and driven yourself to the hospital. When Javi was finally located and he received the news you were giving birth, he dropped everything he was doing, leaving the things for the other cops to solve. He didn't give a shit if all the criminals broke free at that moment, only you and your daughter mattered to him. He drove like a madman and he would've certainly got a ticket for exceeding the speed limit if he wasn't the chief of police after all, but he made it in time to follow the miracle of life, until the doctors decided it would be better if you had a C-section, so they asked him kindly to leave the room, after all it would be an operation. Javier paced the hallway, worry and fear running through his body, he couldn't lose you nor the baby, even if no one had said anything remotely related to that, that was definitely his biggest fear.

But everything went well, and at that same time, Analuz Peña was welcomed into this world. Ana because it was his mother's name, and Luz because she was the light in his life, the light that was brought in by you. He held his tiny little baby, a little afraid of hurting her, as he couldn't remember the last time he held an infant for the last time, but when she opened her tiny little eyes and looked at him, it felt natural, because that was his daughter.

And for the following months you and Javi met happiness in the purest form: you were happily married, each day more and more in love with each other, now free from all the envy, jealousy and the mean remarks about the two of you, your daughter was a beautiful and healthy baby, loved by everyone and you couldn't have asked for a better life. To think you had gone to Colombia to try and mend a heartbreak by diving into work and you met the love of your life, and that the love of your life didn't think he deserved it, to think he had pushed you away only to lose his shit when you tried to move on, which you both found out it was impossible because your love was too strong and too intense, only to be together and then separated by destiny. But you and Javi were meant to be and the proof of that was the beautiful family you built as you two lived the happy, quiet life you two deserved on the ranch.

Analuz was so lucky to have you as her mommy and Javi as her daddy, and her baby brother who was still a tiny little dot in your womb would also be very lucky, because you were all right for each other, and the happiness you all got, you deserved it.

The End

_____

A/N: oh my god besties, I'm crying for real now, I don't know why but ending the stories always makes me so emotional and especially this story in particular, I'll never forget how emotionally invested I was, how many shitty days I had and writing these chapters and Javi were the things that got my mind out of it. I hope you enjoy it, it was written with all my love ❤️‍🔥 I know it is just a story, but at the same time it isn't just another story, just as it made me happy, it has made several of you happy as well, judging by the amount of amazing feedback I got throughout the two months and twenty chapters of this fic. I know it hurts to say goodbye, but remember Javi is ours and he can always be back for another one 🥺💕

"Tu el aire que respiro yo

Y la luz de la luna en el mar

La garganta que ansio mojar

Que temo ahogar de amor"

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pumpk1n-writes · 10 months

Note

“Tell me about the dark places you hide” These are so good I’m just requesting part ten (I hop im not bothering you)

Oh you’re not bothering me at all!! I’d actually forgotten to post it and thought I had so thank you!!!!

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Ten (final part)

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Betrayal, murder, murder, blood, murder, more murder, more blood, did i mention murder?}

Part Nine || Word Count ~ 1.1k

Taglist ~ Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @katie-tibo @laurajmcmanus @sparklyphantom @minkyungseokie @misscaller06 @juda-the-simp @severuslovebot @asdorlia @billysbae @lilac-fangirl @bloody-delusion-expert @rubyroscoe1 @honeynicoole @ok-boke @thatonetallweirdo @ren-ni @fictionalcharacterslut @ennycutie @moneyoverl0v3 @lexasaurs634 @shady-the-simp @yourusername1 @zeldastag

“Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy. You really thought I cared about you? You really thought I give a damn what happens to you?” You cooed, the gun in your hand steady and firm despite how crazed your voice was. “I’m not who you think I am. I was never who you wanted me to be.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Sidney asked, although it came out as more of a sob. You stroked her cheek with the knife.

“I’ll deal with you later, darling.” You turned back towards the boys. “But she does ask a good question. My name was never Leers.”

Billy had a sinking feeling in his gut. “Who are you then?”

“Valerie.” You bowed deeply, sweeping your arms out to the sides. “Valerie Weary.”

Sidney sobbed again, and Billy’s heart dropped. “You fucking framed my father,” the gun moved to Stu’s forehead. “And you were all too happy to help. You sentenced him to life, then death.”

“Valerie, please,” Sidney wouldn’t stop crying. “I didn’t mean to—“

“And Sidney, darling, you fucking fell for it! You dumb bitch, you fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

“You knew all along didn’t you?” Billy asked. “You never had to figure it out.”

“Don’t interrupt me, baby boy,” you sneered, laughing when he blushed at your words. “But yes, there was no figuring out to be done, I knew since the moment Sidney’s mom was babysitting me and you forgot to check the closet.” You laughed, a high-pitched, maniacal, laugh. “You forgot to check the fucking closet. I saw everything.

“And Billy, baby, it was all too easy to gain your trust. All I had to do was kill my best friend and make you cum. That’s it!”

Billy flushed an even deeper red at that and backed away slightly.

“What? Billy?” Sidney’s sobs were getting on your nerves. Without looking, you shot her in the neck, laughing even harder when her blood stained the walls. She fell, the gargle of blood filling her lungs music to your ears

“Now for you boys,” you raised the gun towards them, stopping Billy’s retreat. “Billy, you never cared about Stu. You used him for your own wishes, never giving a damn about what he thought or how he felt.”

“Billy is that true?” You almost felt sorry for the desperation in his voice. Almost.

“I- No- What?” Billy was looking between the two of you with frantic eyes, the look of a wild animal.

“Don’t lie!” You sung, gesturing towards him with the knife.

“I would never! Why would I hurt Stu?”

“Because he was too much, he was never careful enough, he was always too eager, he was never good enough for you,” you suggested, filling in the blanks for him. The wounded expression on Stu’s face struck you through the heart. You might have been laying it on a little thick.

Billy was silent, confirming everything. Stu blinked rapidly, trying to dissolve tears. “I gave you everything, I gave up my life, I listened when you said killing Sid’s mom would help fix my anger. And this is what I get in return?” The playfulness was gone, and only betrayal, in its purest and rawest form, was left.

“Would you do the honors, baby?” You crooned, tossing the gun to Stu.

He glared coldly at who used to be his best friend. “Of course, dear.”

You tackled Billy to the ground, holding his arms in place and laying cheek to cheek. “Oh Billy, you really thought you’d win. You really thought you’d get away with this, kill me, and live happily ever after, didn’t you?”

The knife in your hand stroked his cheekbone, similar to what you’d done to Sidney mere minutes ago. “Once I told Stu the truth about you, he was only too willing to switch sides. Why do you think he wasn’t shocked at all when I killed Sidney? When I switched things up a bit?”

Stu grinned, his previous anger long since dissipated. “I just needed you to confirm everything. And by god you did.”

“It’s okay, Billy baby. We won’t hurt you too bad.”

“Lie!” Stu laughed maniacally, waving the gun in front of his face.

You smiled up at him. “Do whatever you need to, honey.”

Stu nodded and smiled back at you, firing the gun. The bullet lodged itself into Billy’s thigh, and he screamed out — “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Same thing that’s wrong with you, darling!” You giggled. “Watched a few movies, took a few notes, improved on them a bit.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“Aren’t we all?”

You heard police sirens and stood up, taking the gun from Stu and shooting Billy in the chest. “Here,” you said tightly, handing the knife to Stu.

He seemed to get the message and stabbed you in the side, waiting for the pain to leave your face before giving it back to you for his turn.

You collapsed into him and had him lead you, both of you limping, to the front, waiting for the police to get there.

“Please!” You cried, sobs racking your stricken body. “Anybody!”

An officer ran up to you, taking in the blood covering both of your shirts. He gestured for paramedics to put you both on gurneys, and followed you into the ambulance. Two of his buddies were checking on Dewey and Gale.

“It was Billy!” You gasped as soon as the doors slammed shut. “It was Billy, it was always Billy,” you echoed Sidney’s words, punctuating each of your words with sobs. They should give you an Oscar for this.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down. What happened?”

He grabbed a pen and pad of paper and you took it as your cue to begin your story. “I got drunk and passed out at the party,” you kept going despite the officer’s quirked eyebrow. “When I woke up there was. . . There was blood everywhere,” you paused, feigning a shaky breath. “And Gale and Dewey were— oh my god are they all right?”

“They’re going to be okay miss.”

Goddamnit. “Oh that’s great,” you took a deep breath. “Billy was in the kitchen with Sidney. He shot her before I could get to him and then he stabbed Stu,” you paused, letting your eyes fill with tears again. “I tried to stop him and he stabbed me too. I somehow managed to get his gun and shoot him, is he. . . Alive?”

“We won’t know for sure yet, ma’am. What’s your name?”

“Valerie Leers.”

#scream 1996 #billy loomis scream #scream #billy loomis #stu macher x billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stuilly #stu matcher x you #stu my beloved #stu matcher scream

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notyour-valentine · 8 months

Text

Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 13 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: Derby Day - what could go wrong?

If interested, you can check out this post for more about Charlotte

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5400 words

Part 13

“What does love feel like?”, she asked Sybil, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Why are you asking?”

Charlotte glanced down at her lap before answering, seeing her hands fidget on their own accord.

“I want to know.”

“Why are you asking me?”, Sybil wanted to know, as she sat down next to her.

“Because you love Tom Branson.”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact. And perhaps, after days of hearing how it was just a fancy, that she didn’t - couldn’t - really love him, seeing Charlotte accept her feelings was what made her answer.

“It’s strange, really.”, Sybil said. “You think about them even when you’re not thinking. You hear their voice in your head as if they were sitting right beside you. You knew what they would say or think or how they would react to something that is happening around you, but these thoughts come on their own.”

Her voice was so soft and dreamy as she spoke, almost as if she wanted to lull Charlotte to sleep.

“It’s not a conscious choice to be reminded of them, but everything somehow does, as if they were the sun and the world had begun to revolve around them.”

So Tom Branson is the sun?

“It sounds rather invasive.”, Charlotte mumbled. “But it’s not- at least it doesn’t feel that way.”, Sybil argued at once. “It’s comforting really, because sometimes the person you love feels like the only person who knows you.”

Hearing that hurt, after all Charlotte knew Sybil as much as anyone could, and Mary and Edith have known her since the day of her birth, as had Mama and Papa.

Surely Branson, no matter how Sybil liked or even loved him, couldn’t know her better than they did.

“They also inspire you to be the best version of yourself - the true version of yourself. The you without limitations, and maybe the you were trying to hide.”

Charlotte doubted Sir Richard was bringing out the ‘her’ Mary was trying to hide, nor exactly the best version of her. She was just Mary- the way she had been with the Duke and she hadn’t loved him.

Not that she was the best judge of love. Or any judge on anything remotely romantic unless it was taking place between the softly bound covers of a romance novel.

Then again, in these novels, especially the dangerously raunchy ones, weeks of pining, fo sleepless nights, fluttering stomachs and shaking hands all culminated in the purest and most devastating expression of love that was a kiss.

Or was supposed to be. It wasn’t like she had the experience to warrant a literary exploration of the subject on her own, but the last time she had shared a kiss with someone, she had felt so much, she thought she would combust - the thrill of the forbidden, the fear of being caught, the disbelief in the fact that someone actually wanted to kiss her, and that she wanted to kiss someone too.. And that were her thoughts alone, not the butterflies in her belly, not the softness of his lips and the smile they formed after, not the way his hand searched for the side of her face, as always as gentle as a butterfly’s wing, fleeting traces at first, and then the warmth of his palm that lingered after he had pulled away.

She hadn’t been sure that that was love, but it had taught her heartbreak.

This time there were no butterflies, no fear, no excitement, not even the knowledge she was doing something forbidden. It was beyond inappropriate, being seen kissing in broad daylight, and then a man she was neither engaged nor married to.

Instead, all her mind could summon was “Oh-”

A realisation of what he was doing, followed by the rather important question of “why?”.

Her own absence of emotion surprised her, especially since it seemed to be such a significant thing to him. She yet remembered how he leaned his forehead against hers, how his breath had shuddered, and his hands trembled.

For a moment he had held her such, his hands cradling the side of her face, before he had stroked his thumb over her cheekbones.

“I have to go now.”, he had told her, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t place, let alone hope to return. With another short kiss to her brow he had disappeared, something that filled her with immense gratitude since she had not the faintest idea of how to react to that.

In the days that passed between then and now, she had given the question of why people kiss great thought. Beyond her own experience, she had seen it in only a few examples. Of course, her Mama and her Papa kissed, but she mostly only saw it on greeting or departing, or in moments they stole when they thought no one was watching. On the lips that was, her father was quite fond of kissing her hand too. She had seen Sybil kiss Branson, but that wasn’t exactly an appropriate example, although there was a little Lady Marion and Robin Hood to it all. If Robin Hood’s friends set fire to Nottingham Castle and gave the money to the Irish.

Once when she had been little she had seen a maid kiss a footman, both long gone from their service, and once she had seen Anna and Mr Bates share an embrace from her window. Another greeting between those already certain of their feelings.

Why Tommy Shelby thought to kiss her was a mystery to him. It did make things a whole lot more complicated and left a bitter taste in her mouth, and it was especially harsh since she lacked Sybil’s advice. She was so far away.

And it wasn’t like she could ask her other sisters. Edith did not have a lucky hand in love, and Mary, well, whatever in love was, it certainly wasn’t a term to describe her and Sir Richard.

Although they both made a valiant effort, him especially, but she knew her sister well enough to know it was icy between them, even in the suffocating heat. Beside her, Edith groaned.

“I didn’t remember it being this hot.”, she complained, flapping air towards herself with her fan.

“I wouldn’t know.”, Charlotte said. This was her very first race season. Before the war, she had been too young and during the war, they hadn’t gone.

But since the season had resumed, so had the race attendance.

Edith was right, it was impossibly hot, and even in an all white dress, with a white hat and white shawl to cover her bare shoulders, she had to fight the heat with her fan - also white to match the rest. It was a colour scheme that was carried throughout their part of their enclosure. It was separate from the grand-stands, and only for guests with name or title.

There was so much to see - the race course, naturally, but also the many, many people who had come to watch and cheer, the betting stands and bars below. Not that they were allowed to go there. Hospitality took care of them.

“Charlotte, Edith, darlings,”, Mama said, gesturing them closer, “stay a little in the shade, will you? I don’t want you getting a headache.”

“Of course.”, she agreed.

Although that might save her from the planned meal at Sir Richard’s later. She had to be polite and kind for Mary’s sake, but that didn’t mean she had to like him.

Right now, he was bragging to Mary about all the bets he had laid on the horses. Charlotte didn’t know much about racehorses, how could she?

But she was looking forward to seeing them - so tall and proud and strong.

Only until the race started, there were a lot of greetings that had to be exchanged, a near endless list of people to be introduced to and an infinite number of courtesies to be exchanged.

The heat didn’t exactly help make that more durable. Everyone said the same things. Unfortunately for her, she was still a topic of interest, as a debutante and a fresh face, with Edith, who kept her company, sadly being unable to take much of it away from her.

“I just need a minute.”, she whispered softly, after one particularily keen Viscount had taken his leave.

“Do you want me to come with you?”, Edith asked, but she shook her head and took her absence with a squeeze of her hand.

She walked all the way to the edge of the balcony, to where the waiters were loading champagne glasses on a tray.

One drink will probably kill me in this weather, she thought, and instead opted to look down at the ring below.

People there looked to be far more excited, far more at ease than them up here.

There were so many of them - hundreds upon hundreds. Charlotte tried to think if she had ever been to an event with this many people crowded into one place. Each and every figure she saw had their own mind, their own name and family and fate, their own reasons for being here today and their own loved ones they could come home to.

It was rather overwhelming - so many, so very many and just one her.

But then she spotted something, a man, in a long dark coat, too far away for her to make out his face, but she didn’t have to. Why should she, if she noticed the walk?

Charlotte couldn’t help the wide smile that came to her lips at once.

Tommy.

He was headed in the direction of their hospitality, or close rather, and with every step he took, her heart began to beat faster. Then the memory of their last interaction came back and made her smile drop, taking with it the excitement of possibly introducing the man whose foundation she helped build to her family to finally get their approval for her work. It would be wise not to mention the kiss - and if she told Tommy that, he too may forget it ever happened and they would all be able to go on as they had, working together on a real project.

This was just the plan! Besides, she could introduce him to the other guests too. That wouldn’t hurt his business.

Glancing over her shoulder, she rushed towards the exit of the hospitality and began to rush down the stairs.

She passed four sets of security officers, who all gave her funny looks, but didn’t stop her. They weren’t allowed to talk to her after all.

Once she was down, she had to weave her way past a few race goers to reach him.

He didn’t seem to care for any of the surroundings, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on something ahead of him.

“Tommy!", She called once she came into earshot. “Tommy!”

His head piqued up, but there was no smile on his lips, no light in his eye- nothing.

Instead he just stared at her as if he didn’t recognise her.

"How wonderful to see you!”, she said, offering him a wide smile, in spite of the pit in her stomach. Perhaps she had miscalculated drastically. Then again, what reason would he have to wish to avoid her when he had been the initiator during their last encounter?

"You're here?", He asked breathlessly.

"Of course I am.", She said. "We all came, it’s the first race of the season and Papa said we could go.”

As she spoke, she looked up at the balcony of the enclosure.

"I could introduce you if you like.", she offered.

"Introduce me?", He asked as if he didn't understand a word she was saying, as if the language was foreign to him.

"Yes, my parents would surely be most interested in meeting you.”

He shook his head, swallowing hard.

"No, no, Charlotte.", He said under his breath, his pale blue eyes glancing around as if he was searching for something.

"But why not?”, she demanded to know, trying not to sound as disappointed as she was.

"This is not a good time. I have things to do."

"Aren’t you here to enjoy the race?”

What other things were there to do at a race track?

He didn’t say. Instead, his eyes danced around impatiently.

“Tommy are you quite alright?"

He didn't respond. Instead he licked his lips, took her by the arm and pulled her up the stairs.

"That's your family? Over there?", He said breathlessly, pointing at them.

"Yes, do you want me to introduce-"

"No!", He insisted sharply. "No, that blonde one? The tall one that's your cousin, yeah?"

His tone was rougher than she was used to, coming from him. “That’s your cousin, Captain Crawley”

She was surprised to hear him using his military title. He didn’t like anything to do with the military, and Matthew hadn’t been a Captain since the war ended, and hadn’t introduced himself as such. Why would he know his rank?

“Well, yes, Matthew.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His grip was uncommonly tight.

"You stay close to him, you hear me? Promise me you'll stay close to him."

His eyes were wider than usual, and although he didn't show more emotion than usual, there was something about his voice that made her skin crawl, something that made her heart skip a beat.

"Tommy, whatever's the matter?", She demanded to know.

He took a deep breath and came even closer, so close that she could smell the lingering scent of an already-smoked cigarette.

One of his hands found her cheek.

"Promise me you'll stay close to your Captain.”

“But-”

“Charlotte, I need you to promise me.”, he snarled. “I’ll try to find you after the race and if not, I’ll call you tonight.”

She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good. Now go, go!"

The police officers let her through without a word but with suspicious glances.

It was as if his uneasiness had washed over her, even once she was with her family once more.

"What has gotten you so pale, Poppet?", Mama asked, putting an arm on her back. “Is it the heat?”

She waved for a lemonade.

Sipping it, Charlotte’s eyes scanned the track below, trying to find something - anything - that would be amiss. He wasn’t like that for no reason. Something must have happened. Something must have him concerned. It couldn’t have been the kiss, surely?

Maybe something is wrong with his horse.

But she saw nothing, no one, and his horse was brought to the starting line.

Before the race started, she moved up next to Matthew, Tommy’s instructions ringing in her head.

He had been in quite a mood today, but didn’t seem to mind her company.

The gunshot rang through the air and the horses began to race, and yet she still couldn't look at them. Instead she looked at everything else, even as all around her the people cheered.

Then she felt commotion- it wasn't that she saw it, not at first, but she felt the shift of energy all around her as if someone had clicked a switch.

Soon after, Matthew noticed too, his head peeking up and his eyes dancing around the ring below.

Then, he suddenly stepped away from the balcony and towards the exit. Charlotte followed suit, but by the time she reached Matthew, he had already returned from speaking to the police officer.

"What is going on?", She asked him, taking his arm.

"Nothing.", He lied, and very poorly at that, guiding her back to the group. Charlotte, however, saw that only two policemen remained at the entrance of the group.

Stay close to him.

"Matthew, where have all the policemen gone?"

He swallowed hard and gave her arm a little squeeze. "Everything is fine."

It's not, she thought as her eyes darted over everything that was happening below. It's not fine.

She had no clue what was happening but she knew it had to do with Tommy. She just felt it deep down in her bones.

Absentmindedly, her fingers brushed against her dress, where Sybil’s pearl pendant lay beneath.

But the race went on, and the people, most people, even Mama and Papa, Edith and Sir Richard were watching and cheering. Only she knew she and Matthew and Mary who had caught them both looking and was now equally confused.

There was loud cheering as the race concluded, followed by celebratory drinks and the like, but Charlotte could only stand at the edge of the balcony, staring down at the ring.

She knew there was something she was missing, but even as the stands began to clear, she couldn’t say what it was.

“Charlotte?”, she heard a booming voice from below. “Oi, Charlotte, that’s you up there, eh?”

She recognised the voice at once, but it took her a while to find the person that spoke.

Only when she heard Arthur Shelby curse “Get the fuck off me!”, and saw the ring of commotion did she realise he was on the steps already.

They wouldn’t let him in, they wouldn’t let anyone in.

“Charlotte, come ‘ere love, we need your help!”, he said, gesturing at her to come down.

She glanced back at where her family was sitting and standing with drinks. “A moment’s all we need, come ‘ere”, Arthur Shelby repeated.

There was a burning in his eyes, that made her rush towards the exit.

“Ma’am, you shouldn’t leave the enclosure.”, the police officer warned. “It’s not safe out there.”

Arthur growled at the man as he took her arm.

“She’s safer with us than you!”

They were walking so swiftly, she had trouble keeping up. “What’s going on?”, she asked him breathlessly. “Is everything alright.? Has something happened with Tommy?”

“Wha- yeah, Tommy is Tommy, he’ll be fine.”, he growled. "Wherever the fuck he is."

That was not at all reassuring, especially given his use of profanities. They made her flinch each time.

He hurried her past tables and chairs with empty glasses and tipped over bottles until they reached the edge of the circut.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Arthur?”, the familiar voice of John Shelby asked. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s the only one who can go in there.”, he said. “The only woman here we know.” “Go where?”, Charlotte asked.

John spat on the floor. “What happened?”, she demanded to know, glancing at each of them in turn.

All of this made her skin crawl, from the distress in the crowd, the swearing and the fact that John was as keen as ever to be in her company.

For a moment, both Shelby brothers stared at each other, and she knew they were having a silent deliberation.

“Fine.”, John finally spat, beckoning her closer. Only now did she realise that they were close to the facilities.

“Lizzie’s in there and she won’t come out. Just get her to come out and don’t ask stupid questions.”

He had always been dismissive and rude to her but now he had an urgency in his voice.

“Miss Stark?”, she asked.

“Please.”, John sneered, although it was clear he didn’t like saying it.

This is why Arthur took me? For the emergency that Lizzie Stark wasn’t leaving the facilities? It almost sounded like a bad joke to her, but she was here now and so she nodded and walked towards the facilities, passing the security guard standing by to ensure order.

Charlotte walked inside. By now, it was nearly deserted, her heels echoing on the wooden ground.

The first door was open, as was the second, and the third and even the fourth. The fifth, the one furthest away from the door was the only one locked.

But behind it, there was silence.

Charlotte took a deep breath and stepped closer to the stall door. “Miss Stark?”, she asked softly. “It’s me, Charlotte Crawley.”

“Go away.”, she snapped. But it wasn’t an angry voice. It was strained and tense and Charlotte swore she heard a sniffle too.

“The Shelbys are outside. They are worried about you and they sent me to fetch you.” “Fuck them!”, she spat, her voice trembling, followed by a shuddering breath.

Charlotte flinched slightly, the palm of her hand against the door.

“Miss Stark? Is everything alright?”

The stall door was opened with such force, Charlotte jumped back. “Does it look fucking alright to you?”, she screamed at her in a tone that made her flinch worse than teh swearing had done.

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she saw the cut on her brow and the blood on her cheek. The top of her dress had been ripped and she had lost her hat, leaving her hair in a tangled mess.

Her eyes were red from crying, smudging the dark makeup around them.

A hand flew to her mouth. “I’ll call the nurses!”, she insisted and had already turned, when a bruising iron grip clasped her wrist, pulling her back. “No!”, she hissed. “No fucking nurses. And no fucking Shelbys!”

More tears spilled out of the corner of her eyes, spreading the dark makeup around her eyes further, and her voice cracked as she said their name. Then, in a split second, the fury seemed to abandon her, leaving her weak and hurting almost like a lost child.

“I just want to leave. I just want to fucking leave.”, she wept, clasping her hands over her face.

When the other woman began to sob, Charlotte did the only thing she could think of and that was stepping forward and pulling her into an embrace. To her own shock, Miss Stark clung to her with a strength she had not anticipated, her whole body trembling as her hands dug into her. “I just want to leave. I just want to leave. I just want to leave.”, she repeated again and again.

“Alright.”, Charlotte said, her own voice breathless, as she tried to think of what to do. Step by step, she thought. I’ll figure it out as we go.

“We can leave.”, she offered, allowing her request.

“But they are outside. I don’t want to look at them. I don’t want to speak to them!”, she insisted.

“You won’t have to.”, Charlotte said. “You can leave with me, We’ll find a way.”

She could put her in a car home, but this was so unlike the Miss Stark she had known and she felt responsible for her. Something told her that she shouldn’t leave her alone. “I can’t go out like this.”, Miss Stark whispered as she saw her reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck!”, she whispered, cursing her own reflection.

Charlotte draped her shawl over her shoulders. It hid her ripped dress. It left her own arms bare, but oh well. At least her dress wasn’t ripped.

Then she took her handkerchief and let water run over it before wiping her cheeks like she would do with those of a child, before smoothing down her hair.

“Better?”, she asked.

Miss Stark only nodded meekly.

“I can take you with me. To London.”, Charlotte offered. “You won’t have to go home with the Shelbys. Is that alright?”

The nod was barely there, but she took it as confirmation enough. One arm was around her waist, the other holding her arm.

Once outside, they were swarmed by Arthur and John and at once, she felt the other woman tense. “Miss Stark doesn’t wish to speak to you!”, she announced without stopping in her tracks, like Mary would, and they just kept walking.

For a while she feared that they might come after her, but thankfully her tone seemed to have stunned them into silence..

Charlotte walked over to their hospitality with Miss Stark, in front of which now six police officers stood.

“Sorry no access.”, he told them.

Charlotte scowled at him. “I am an invited guest!”

They exchanged a glance. “There were orders not to let anyone in, Miss.”

Charlotte spoke with all the authority the Crawley family history granted her, with the forcefulness that would put Mary’s to shame. “I am no Miss, Sir, I am Lady Charlotte Crawley, now I politely request you let us pass right this instant!”

Her tone was less polite, granted, but it did make them step aside.

Most people had moved away from the balcony and inside to the shade and the cooler drinks. “Would you like to come or wait here?”, she asked, but before Miss Stark could answer, she heard fast footsteps. “Charlotte, there you are!”, her mother scolded. “I was so worried. You can’t just disappear like that with no one knowing where you are.!”

“Apologies, Mama!”, she said quickly. “I-

Over her shoulder, she could see her looking at Miss Stark, her eyes wide.

“Mama, this is Miss Stark. She works for Mr. Shelby- the foundation, you remember?" At that mention, Miss Stark scoffed and seemed to shrink into herself.

“What happened?”, her mother demanded to know, concern written all over her face, and a recognition Charlotte knew she lacked. What confused her about Miss Stark’s state, seemed immediately obvious to her mother. “I fell, Milady.”, Miss Stark said without looking at her, the injured side of her face turned away. “The heat.”, Charlotte said at once. “Miss Stark lives quite far from here and so I was wondering if perhaps I could take her back to the house, to rest.”

“Of course.”, her mother said at once. “But I gave the staff the day off until dinner, so you’ll be on your own. Perhaps you take her to Rosamund’s?”

“We can manage, I think.”, Charlotte said, glancing at Miss Stark. “Well then, have the chauffeur take you.”

“But who will take you to the luncheon?”, she asked.

“I won’t have you two young women in a stranger's car. “, she said sternly, “Run along now. I’ll make your apologies to Sir Richard.”

“Thank you, Mama!”, she said, as a tension she didn’t know fell from her, as she kissed her goodbye.

The car ride was entirely silent, all the way from Epsom to St. James Square, with Miss Stark trembling beside her, and her not knowing which words to say.

Usually, in the absence of causes for conversation one could always turn for the weather or flowers of the season as topics, but both seemed hollow and useless to her now.

Inside, Paul, the hallboy opened the door. It was strange to return to such a deserted house without Carson or Mrs Hughes or anyone there, but she felt that Miss Stark might prefer it this way.

“I…I..”, Charlotte stammered, before relinquishing her attempt at sounding like the presentable and put together hostess. For that, she was just too unsettled and uncertain. “Just please tell what you need.” “Can I wash somewhere?”, she asked, speaking to the tips of her shoes.

“Of course.”, Charlotte said. She took Miss Stark by her hand and helped her up the stairs and down the corridor to the bathroom she shared with Edith and Mary.

With Miss Stark was just standing there, it was left to Charlotte to draw her a bath and lay out some towels for her. “Everything is here, I think. Just use whatever you want.”

With that, she left Miss Stark alone. Only once she was alone with the silence, Charlotte felt her hands tremble.

She didn’t claim to understand everything, but she understood enough to know that something truly horrid had happened to Miss Stark today, something so awful it made her mother throw out all their day’s plans and even end the scolding of her running off. And by chance it was her taking care of the woman now.

In he mother’s parting words was a charge, a task she would now fulfill to the best of her abilities.

Miss Stark was a great deal taller than her, more Mary’s size, but she couldn’t take her sister’s clothes and so she picked out some of the clothes she had brought which she thought Miss Stark might like to wear, and placed her robe over the fire Paul had lit in her bedroom.

Then she set about trying to find anything else that might be helpful.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

When she hadn’t heard a noise from the bathroom in over an hour, she knocked on the door. “Do you need anything, Miss Stark?”, she asked.

When she didn’t hear a response, she decided to try again. “I have a robe here, if you want to step out. It’s been warmed, I presume the water has turned cold by now.”

When once again, no response came, Charlotte decided to open the door and enter. Miss Stark had already stepped out of the bath and was sitting next to it on the floor, with towels wrapped around her body. Her hair was still dripping wet.

But she got up, when Charlotte came in and put on the robe she offered.

Her own clothes had been torn by her own hand and thrown on a pile.

“Do you…ah…have any clothes I could borrow?”, she asked.

Charlotte guided her back to her bedroom and showed her the pieces she had set out for her.

“I will let you change.”, she said softly and stepped out once more, going down to fetch what she had prepared earlier. Miss Stark looked confused when Charlotte returned with a tray.

“I brought tea and cakes. I would have cooked something, but I don’t know how and the staff has the day off.”, she admitted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She had also added a bowl of chocolates and some tarts from yesterday’s tea she could find.

“I hope that’s alright.”

Miss Stark stared at her with wide eyes. “I also found Mrs. Hughes medical kit. I think you might need some iodine or cream for…”

The fact that Miss Stark only stared at her made her increasingly uneasy.

“I could also have a doct-”

“No doctor!”, she insisted at once.

She nodded and raised her hands to soothe her. “Whatever you want. We have a telephone in the hall that you can use if you want to call someone.” “No one there to call.”, she whispered under her breath.

That felt like a punch to her gut.

“Miss Stark,”, she said softly, “I want to help you but I don’t know how.”

The woman’s dark eyes found her, staring right into her soul and making Charlotte feel as weak and foolish as a school girl. But for once, there was no malice in her gaze, just…sheer disbelief.

“Do you have a cigarette?”, she asked, shaking her head with resignation.

Charlotte wrung her hands. “I guess I could bring you one of Papa’s cigars.”, she offered. “They are kept in the Smoking room. He has South Americans which he is rather fond of.”

Miss Stark scoffed and shook her head.

Then she bit her lip and looked up at her.

“Why are you even helping me?”, she asked. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”, Charlotte argued, her voice softly, “we are not the best of friends, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.”

In all, she doubted she hated anyone. Except perhaps Fräulein Kelder, her old Nanny, with Sir Richard being a close second.

Lizzie Stark scoffed and shook her head, then another curse slipped her lips.

“I didn’t believe them when they said you didn’t know, but you really don’t, do you?”

Charlotte felt her chest tighten.

“Know what?”, she asked, her hands finding Sybil’s pearl.

“About Tommy.”

She said the name like a curse, as if each word was a glass shard stuck in her throat. “Who he is. What he does. What his family does.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and stared at her wide-eyed. "I don't understand- he's a businessman. He sells cars."

Miss Stark scoffed, pulling the borrowed scarf around her tighter, as the look she gave Charlotte, made a shudder crawl over her spine.

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

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#wtdms #welcome to downton mr shelby #charlotte crawley #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #downton abbey #peaky blinders crossover #peaky blinders downton abbey crossover

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

Text

Hellgate

[+18 | MDNI]

2!Dante × Reader

If someone asked you what kind of hints you were citing to him, you’d only blush and refuse to answer it. And you’re ready to bet that their innocent minds can only come up with the purest form of sex, while in reality, you really want to reduce your boyfriend into a sobbing mess.

It might be something that he discovered along the way, or how the evidence slowly mounted up and his brain finally made a connection. Either way, the hints that you’ve been dropping since God knows when were finally noticed.

Well, it’s not that you’re passive-aggressively sending him a signal, and sitting back hoping that he’d pick it up. You just don’t want to frighten him, because the idea of surrendering one’s control can be really scary. Especially for a tough guy like Dante. Oh, you're definitely going to use that nickname against him.

When he finally addresses the matter—or more like confronting you about your eagerness to take the lead, you just smile at him. Even a Devil can’t escape the conventional education of sex.

Now, if we pick his brain apart, you’ll see that he has every side of him arguing. His dismay would shout a hard ‘NO’ at him, while his poor confusion would try to make out the situation. Maybe his adventurous side would shrug and say why not?, and his ego would try to smother it with a pillow. But where’s the part of him that loves you? Well, he’s the one who silences them all.

“It’s just a suggestion.” You nonchalantly said, “I don’t mind sticking with our usual way, but why don’t you try it once and see if you like it or not?”

He didn’t answer right away, as you’d expect it. But give it 5 days maximum, and he’ll get down to it. But how can you be so sure? The answer is, you just know.

Call it a lover’s intuition, but you can see through his mind. And it’s a hell of wreckage.

An explanation might be offered, but you might as well write an essay about it. Let’s dive into the haywire thoughts of his. Dante is a traditional kind of lover, and he’d prioritize your pleasure before his. Even when you get on top of him, and straddling him with your hips, he’d still try to hold back. But you knew that he wanted to cum so bad.

He’s the perfect example of Gary Stu, because never in your life you see a little bit of his weakness. Well, you did, but they’re a lovable weakness so they didn’t count. This side of him might be some kind of a dream come true (for some people), but not in your case. You just hated it. Because if he doesn’t let you see the tender side of him, it means that he doesn’t trust you completely.

This man might have the biggest trust issue you ever encounter, even rivaling his enormous insecurities. Yes, yes, you know. He had his reason, but you had yours too. You don't want to always be on the receiving end, you want to take care of him as well. He always exceeds your expectations, and he keeps building a new wall every time he does it. As if he's afraid that you'd leave him, after you see what's past behind his strong facade.

It's exhausting, for both of you. He can't keep lying like this, and you can't always pretend that it's totally fine. You've tried to encourage him to open up before, but it's no success. So this time, you're going to push him beyond his limit instead. In short, you're going to teach him some lessons. And maybe, by some miracles, he'll finally realize that what he’s done would only hurt the two of you.

At first, you see the refrain in his eyes. He's afraid, and of course he's afraid. You literally asked him to hand you his control, and who knows what he'd do during the act. What if he whines, or even begging you to let him finish? That'd be so embarrassing.

Then, comes the curiosity. What's the worst that could happen? He's a tough guy after all (honestly, you're still laughing whenever you try to narrate his thoughts), he can handle it. You’ve promised him that you wouldn’t do anything that makes him uncomfortable. And as long as he remembers, you never made him feel that way.

But here comes the fear. It’s the shortest period, but it clearly leaves the most impact on him. What if, somehow, you lose your interest in him afterwards? What if he does something so shameful that you never want to speak of it? What if you find it disgusting? What if, what if, what if…

Thankfully, he manages to snap out of it.

Anyway, he goes through that cycle again and again. Days passed, and you waited patiently for him to decide. To be fair, you don’t mind if he refuses the proposal. But it’d feel like a step back in your relationship, and he’d end up putting another wall around him.

Day 4 after the initial discussion, he comes to you. It’s just past dinner, and you’re lounging on the sofa. He approaches you, with his hands in his pockets. You pretend to immerse yourself into your novel, before lifting your head up when he’s standing by the couch.

Of course, he’s having a second thought, and it reflects in his eyes. But he manages to muster up courage and asks you,

“If I say yes, what are you going to do to me?”

And you close your book, “Do you trust me?”

“I do, but I have to know—” He corrected himself when you lifted your novel again, “I do.”

“I want to try something new, and it’s gonna be all about you.” You told him, “But I think it’s wise to lay down some rules.”

“Tell me.”

“First, we have to choose a safeword. If it gets too much, you can stop it by saying the word.” You explained briefly, “Second, you have to be honest with me. When you don’t feel comfortable, or you don’t find it enjoyable anymore, you have to tell me, by using the word."

He didn't say anything, as he pressed his knuckles against his lips. He looks the other way, and you can figuratively hear the gears rolling in his head. "Alright." He muttered out, "But I can't think of any words yet."

"It should be specific, like something you wouldn't say during a normal conversation." You suggested, "You can use flowers, or anything really."

But knowing him for years, you know he wouldn't come up with such an easy word. He'd spend the whole day thinking of asking you a trivial thing, before he decided to do it tomorrow. This man would take anything too seriously, even when it's just a silly line. You really think he'd choose a rare word, like subrosa, lucent, or some sort of ancient epithet. Until you hear him say, "Hellgate."

You blinked in surprise. Hellgate. It didn't even cross your mind, how clever.

For most people, it might be just a term. But for both of you, it has developed from a simple shout to a warning. The two of you have used it, until it changed its meaning. It shifted from 'Beware, it’s a gate of hell!' to 'Absolute no go'. And when he said it to you, it conveys; It's not safe, we shouldn't go there.

"Hellgate." You repeated, "We'll use that." You push yourself up, before you extend your arm toward him, "Come, let's take it upstairs."

—

He didn't flinch when you fastened the rope, even when it dug into his skin. "Too tight?" You asked as you loosened the bind around his arms.

"You can go tighter."

"No, I don’t want to make your hands numb.”

You let out a huff as you redo the ties on his back. Not even a minute has passed, and you already run into the first problem. Dante doesn’t know his own limit or discomfort, and it’s making your guesswork harder.

“There we go.” You said as you tied the final knot.

Almost instinctively, he tries to tug his hand to test the strength. “You know I can easily break free from it right?”

“Try not to.”

He let out an amused snort, which tempted you to do the same. But you keep your facade and smile.

You touch his bare skin gently, and he sighs as he begins to relax. Your fingers trail from his chest, down to his stomach, and they pause right above his jeans. He draws a sharp breath when your hand slips under the underwear, “Do you mind?” You asked him, while fiddling with the button. He nods, just as impatient as the bulge inside his pants.

The zipper rustled down, and your hands quickly worked on his jeans. He looks away when you pull the pants down, along with his brief. Even when sex has been a part of the routine, he’s still somewhat shy when it comes to nudity.

“Lay down.” You told him as you gently pushed him to the bed. As he settles down, you begin to pile up the pillows behind him. “Look up for me.” You said as you raised his chin.

You reach into your pocket, and take a hold of the bundled piece of fabric. A look of surprise crosses his face as you unravel the blindfold, and you carefully wrap it around his head. “Is it really necessary?” He timidly asked, while you adjusted the cloth around his eyes.

“Yes." You press him against the pillows, "Like I said earlier, it's all about your pleasure."

He didn't protest further, even when you placed the earmuffs on his head. Although it's not going to prevent him from hearing your voice, as long as you keep quiet, he won't be able to tell where you are.

Climbing down the bed, you then walk to the nightstand. You rummage through the drawer, and find the plastic box beneath the magazines. Inside the case, there's a medium sized silver ring with adjustable width. Plus one remote control. Well, after knowing the exact size of his cock, the adjustable part surely comes in handy.

The bed dips as you return to his side, and he flinches when you touch his face. “Relax.” You assured him, and he slowly calmed down. Not for long though, as the clasp of the ring releases a clicky sound. Your hands work on adjusting the toy, before you wrap it around his cock.

“What did you put on me?”

“Vibrating cock ring.” You uttered with a smirk, “It’s going to keep your dick up until we’re done.”

He heaves a sigh, “Since when did you buy it?”

“Guess, tough boy.” You chuckled as you kissed his cheek. With the remote in your hand, you test the lowest setting on him.

He gasps when the ring starts to vibrate, which rouses his member up. You let it on for a half minute, before you turn it off.

“How was it?”

“... It’s fine.”

“Good.” You replied as you stepped away from the bed. You flop down on the chair by the bed, which gives you a full view of him. “Remember what we talked about before? Do you remember the safeword?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. If you’re uncomfortable, or you need to stop, just say it out loud.”

He nods.

You look at him once again, and observe how his chest rises and falls. He’s nervous, if it’s not so obvious already. You wanted to tease him a little more, but you didn't want to scare him. Fiddling with the controller, you flick the switch to number two.

Almost in an instant, his body jolts from the stimulation. Though it's more of the abruptness rather than the pleasure itself. But as the shock subdued, the feeling began to build up in the pit of his stomach. It starts slow, and you raise one more level.

He hisses when the toy's setting is getting higher, and his cock begins to swell. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his moan. Alas, you can hear it from his breath. Not sure if he can hear you smirking, but you're barely able to contain yourself. The sight of him is such a feast for your eyes. You finally get why he's eager to please you first, because the reaction from the receiver is worth watching.

You reach into your pants, but you hesitate. You're unsure if you should do it, as you might have missed some of the signs he's showing. The least thing you wanna do is ignoring his subtle stop.

After a short contemplation, you decide to watch him only. You lean back, and prop your head against your hand. You notice his legs tremble slightly, and you pick up the pace for one level. Which makes him throw his head to the back, and moans loudly. His toes start to curl, and his hips move in a jerking motion.

His first orgasm comes with quite an eruption, as his cum spurts out to his abdomen. The opaque liquid glistens on his skin, which makes him look even dirtier. You lean forward, while biting your nail. He looks absolutely ravishing, and you'd jump on him if not because of your self-control.

Helping him ride his orgasm down, you set the setting to three. It will help him recover from high, while keeping the rhythm going. He sighs heavily, before his breath hitches up when he feels the soft vibrations. "(Y/N)—" He called out, but you didn't answer.

Your quietness confuses him for a second, as he can't hear your breath. Not even a sound that can indicate your presence. But you didn't let him think too much, and you immediately hit the second highest setting.

The jump of the beat startles him, and it takes a moment before his numb member gains its sensitivity again. When it happens, the build-up pleasures hit him all at once. And he almost screams when the toy mercilessly pulses around his cock. "(Y/N) please—" He choked up, as his body went stiff.

He's gripping at the pillow, trying so hard not to break the rope. Every muscle in his body becomes prominent, and his dick is red and veiny from the strain. You press your hand against your lips, in an attempt to conceal your smile. The blindfold and the earmuffs really help to reduce his sensory function. Leaving him only with his sense of touch, and smell it seems.

The sight of him arouses you, as you feel yourself wet. He pauses when his nose picks up the scent of your arousal. You notice the cue, and immediately cross your leg. “How long are we going to do this?” He muttered out between the gasps. Still, you refrain yourself from speaking. But even when you didn’t say it out loud, you both already knew the answer.

His shout rips out from his throat when he feels the speed is increasing. Your thumb has set the remote to the highest setting, and you sat back, watching.

He calls out your name again, along with him begging you to speak. But you keep your voice still. You narrowed your eyes on him. The pleasure that he feels will soon turn into pain, and it’s going to be excruciating for him. One orgasm turns into two, and he’s unable to keep his position straight as time goes by.

It’s just one word, really. Hellgate. And you’d immediately stop. For some unknown reason, he didn’t say it. The thought of it just pops up in your mind, as you notice the discomfort in his manner. The buzz from the ring is slightly muffled by his thighs when he curls up. With his heightened sense, and constant stimulation, he’s soon coming with a loud groan.

This time, it’s more unforgiving as the pace stays the same. You didn’t turn down the level of vibration, as your eyes fixated on him. His body is glistening with sweat and his own release—both dried and sticky. Then he sinks into the fort of pillows, while he squirms and moans. But still, he doesn’t yield. Part of you—your inner detective—knows the reason, and it’s not good. He’s an attentive lover, and he could figure out what you want in a second. Yet this time, it’s completely wrong. Based on your reaction, he drew a conclusion that you like watching him in this state. It’s half-true, but it’s not your intention to set up such a play for a selfish reason.

On the seventh counts of his climax, he’s become barely coherent. His semen has stained his body and the bedsheet, and some of them even spewed out to the pillows. If he was certain that you’re there in the room with him before, he couldn’t be sure of it anymore. You kept everything just the same, no movement, no talk, and not even a sound.

Just how long is he gonna keep the act? He’s almost at his limit, even when he hasn’t broken the restraint. It’s pitiful to watch, as the blindfold becomes wet with both tears and sweats. Though you initially enjoyed the view—maybe your inner sadist still enjoys seeing that—it quickly got to the point where you’re more concerned than aroused.

Once again, his body convulses as another wave of pleasure hits him. His cock was in the shade of angry red, as it wept out his cum. The white string of fluid oozes out from the tip of his dick like a stream, dripping down on his inner thigh. You did it, you made him into a sobbing mess, just like he always did to you. But with your hand fidgeting nervously on the controller, you’re beginning to think if you should put it to stop.

“(Y/N), I can’t—” He cried out, “Turn it down.”

Just like that, he puts you in a dilemma. You don’t want to continue it any longer, and doing as he said can lead you to a longer playtime. That’s not your intention, because you just want him to understand, and you want him to say it—

His voice snaps you from your thoughts, and you blink as you realize that he’s repeating the same word. “Hellgate.” He quietly whimpers, as if he’s surrendering himself, “Hellgate.”

It takes two seconds for you to register it, before you’re fumbling with the remote to turn it off. The sigh of relief falls from his mouth, as he collapses on the bed. His breath is heavy, and every fiber in his body seems to shrivel, while exhaustion takes over him.

With caution, you make it to his side and touch his arm. His body jerks at the sudden contact, and you softly mutter to him.

“Shh, it’s just me.” You gently remove the earmuffs and the blindfold, “How are you feeling?”

His teary eyes search up your face, before your smile comes to his view. You roll him over, and begin to undo the bind that you put on him. It leaves a little bit of marks on him, but it’d probably disappear in a minute.

As you reach to pull the ring, he pushes you to the mattress before you can even touch it. Your eyes widen in surprise when he crushes his lips against you, and his hands frantically hold the side of your face. The kiss that you both share is almost hungry, as he presses his mouth closer without giving you a room to breathe.

The stains on the cover stick to your skin uncomfortably, but it slips from your mind when his kisses prove to be a hell of distraction. You regain your control after a while, and quickly work on getting the ring off his cock. He moans at the friction, but his lips are reluctant to part from you yet. He only pulls away from the kiss to murmurs against your lips, "It's awful." He frowned, "I don't want to do it again."

"Okay." You mused as you caressed his hair, "We won't do it again. But you should know that I did it for a reason."

His brows then furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I did it because I want you to know what I felt." You confessed, "You always gave me so much, but I never felt your presence at all. Only pleasures, but never you."

Your words seem to affect him as his face turns gloom, "So you didn't like the way we had sex?"

"God, no! That's not what I meant. It's just that… I want you to enjoy it as well. You're always trying to make sure that I'm satisfied, but you never even thought of yourself." You smile at him before you kiss his cheek, "I love you, alright? And I want to make you feel good as well."

It's something that has been said before, and you've told him several times. But in this particular moment, he finally understands what you're trying to express. He seems to be taken aback by the idea, and it makes him uneasy. "I'm sorry." It's all he could say.

"It's okay." You pull him to face you before he can turn away. His clear irises stare back into you, and you see guilt. "Just don't ignore me next time."

He nods, and he relents when you tug him closer to kiss him again. He doesn't even fight it when you roll him over, though you suspect it's more because of his exhaustion and muddled mind. But you trust him.

By the end of the day, as you both lay down side by side, completely spent but satisfied, he murmurs something to you. A smile blooms on your face as you peck his lips. Even if he felt compelled to say those words, there's no question that he meant what he said.

#repost from ao3 #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante x reader #devil may cry 2 #i remember writing it after I binged reading sunstone by stjepan #it's good shit I'm telling you

25 notes · View notes

forevercillianmurphy · 8 months

Text

im sorry, tommy shelby.

- warnings: death, swearing, violence.

- word count: 3.7k

- my own timeline since I haven’t watched past season 2 lol

- Tommy x oc sister !

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

rebecca was born on a cloudy day some December 1902, twelve years after the head of the family; thomas shelby was born. ever since that day (and finn's birth) he promised not only himself but his family that he'd take care of them. they were the most important thing in his life, and after the war that never changed. though, it grew harder with the night terrors and feeling as if the two had a bounty on their heads every time they stepped out into good ole birmingham. though, the family never once made it seem that way. the two younglings thought nothing much of it really, thinking that that was how everybody else lived. always having people following them around for protection especially if arthur, john or tommy could not be there. so when rebecca turned 20 in 1922, she did not understand why she couldn't come 'out' to society, like everybody else her age. she did not realize how dangerous it was. because again, her and finn had lived in a bubble; something that polly made sure of.

˚ · .·˚

the very night she returned home from school that spring, rebecca was fuming, teeth seething and hair falling out of her braided bun, "why on earth can i not take part in the event tom! how else am i supposed to be seen as an adult and not a child?" she demanded, hands on her hips. tommy had watched his youngest sister scream and shout, pull at her hair for the better part of the hour. once she had realized her name wasn't on the list of the debutant ball, she quickly came home to give a piece of her mind to the head of the family. he said nothing, just watching. she stopped her frantic movements, turned back towards tom and shrugged. she was simply giving up, something that she never did. because she was a shelby, fighting till the very last second. tom saw the defeatedness wash over her like a waterfall, and then saw the tears forming in her eyes. oh how he hated to see her or finn cry, especially at the expense of him. she shook her head, knowing he was about to stand up or say something, and she put her hand up. "you don't want me out there, fine. but just know that i will resent you for the rest of my life as i go leave for university this upcoming fall." she paused beginning to walk out. she took one last look at him, "and just know that i wont come back to this shitty hell hole." and with that she left. tom sat there for a few minutes finishing his whisky and freshly lit cigarette. he sighed, looking up at the ceiling knowing that polly was going to be giving him an earful right about - now.

"thomas michael shelby, what the hell is wrong with you?" she quipped, slamming his office door and shaking his now iced glass. "pol-" she cut him off, "don't poll me, boy." she stated promptly and he knew to shut up. "your sister is this close, this close!" she said emphasizing with her fingers. "to slipping away, and do you really want that? really want that boy?" she seethed, "i don't care what you have to say thomas but she is going to that ball whether you like it or not." she said standing her ground, and he knew it was golden. one to be left untouched. he sighed, "but its dangerous." he stated and she shook her head. "if its so dangerous, find a way to make it not dangerous! you have this whole empire, use it for something good." she stated before walking out. tommy rubbed his eyes, before standing up to go speak to arthur and john, who no doubt would be at the garrison. he knew deep down, he had to let rebecca do this and if he didn't he no longer would have a sister.

˚ · .·˚

rebecca brushed her hair as finn her little brother by 7 years, went on and on about his day at school. she giggled at naiveness and plain stupidness him and his little friends possessed. yet she adored it, and how they still saw life in the most purest form. rebecca on the other hand, her world slowly began cracking a year ago. she accidently walked into the garrison during a 'family meeting' that was in the back and therefore they hadn't heard her. then as they believed her to be sleeping, she heard more speaking and whispers late one night. the world she once saw was not what she saw now. she realized how dark, cruel and unforgiving it could be. so it came to no surprise when her name was not on the damn list but a huge part of her wish it had been. she wanted to be like every other university girl in this town, but she was afraid she'd never be. "alright fi, time to get to bed." she smiled turning around in her vanity chair. fi was a little nickname she gave to him one cold night during the war and it had stuck between the two since. "i don't want to." he huffed, crossing his arms. "you have to, it is quite late. don't let our big scary brother find out i let you stay up past your bedtime." she grinned, running over and tickling him. finn's laugh filled up the room, alerting the whole house he was still awake. francis smiled as she tidied up the kitchen. tommy stirred in his cat nap, feeling a ginormous headache coming on. but as he listened to the laughter and shrieks coming from upstairs his heart softened. his cold and locked heart, always swelled just a bit more when he heard finn's laugh. a contagious one at that.

rebecca shooed the boy after a minute, and wrapped her arms around the almost 13 year old boy. "i cant believe you're going to be 13 in a few days." she hummed, and he started to squirm in her arms. "oi don't become a teenager just yet." she giggled, and he stopped fidgeting. the two sat on her bed for a few minutes more before deciding it was time to get him to bed, "come on love, time to go to sleep." she said letting him get off of her lap. he yawned, and she grinned knowing full well he'd been trying to hide his exhaustion so the two could stay up just a bit more to talk. rebecca was truly all finn knew, he was only 8 when the boys went off to war and when they came back it was a shell of what they had been. rebecca cared for him like he was her own for as long as she could remember. just as tommy thought of her and finn as his own, sometimes. "come on." she whispered, taking ahold of his hand and walking towards the conjoined rooms that were separated by a thin wall and door.

tommy heard from his office the fight that finn was putting up and then it stopped, and he smiled softly knowing his exhaustion finally won. he'd always have trouble getting finn to sleep especially when everybody was over but rebecca - becs - always had a way with him. she was soft, kind, heart warming and gave the best hugs in the world. oh, and a cookie here and there. he looked at the grandfather clock in his office and decided it was late enough, and that he'd finish everything in the morning. he slowly walked upstairs, saying goodnight to francis and he stopped without knowing in front of rebecca's door. he heard her mingling about, getting ready for the next morning and trying to find her one book she'd hid without realizing. he knocked softly on her door, and she knew who it was. she walked over to her door, and opened it to reveal and tired and somewhat bothered tom shelby. she rolled her eyes, and walked towards her bed. he took that as a cue to walk in, and she faced him once she sat on her bed. she sat pretzel style, waiting for him to speak.

"becs, there are things-" she cut him off, "cut the bullshit tom. i don't want excuses." she said coldly and his eyebrows knit together in confusion and then in understanding. "you know?" he asked almost in disbelief and she rolled her eyes again, nodding. "when?" he asked, trying to figure out when she'd heard things. "the garrison last September, right before university started. then again over winter break, here at the house. and then last week when i woke up from a nap." she explained and he stood there processing it. "i know you've tried to keep me and finn safe but tommy." she paused, and he looked up at the nickname. "you cant keep my cooped up here forever. i cant live like this nor will you be able to when I've turned this house upside down." she said a bit lightheartedly. he grinned, "its not like you haven't don't that already." and she smirked. "i am the only female in this bloodline, it was to be expected." she smiled, a genuine smile. "and the only blonde and blue eyed one." he said and she pointed at him, in agreement. he looked down, and thoughts plagued his mind. "tommy...i need to do this. you need to let me do this, i cant stay in birmingham forever. i want a life outside of this place, i dream of faraway places. i dream of chicago or los angeles, i dream of a air so clean it hurts. i dream of a place where i don't fear to step out of my house, where i can be who i want to be, wild and free." she paused as tommy looked up. "i want the fairytales mum used to say and the one's aunt pol spoke about...i want my prince charming far, far away from here. you-you need to let me go tommy. or ill never escape this thing- this place." she said saying the words he'd longed to hear. just not the america part.

"okay." he simply stated, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "ok-ay?" she questioned, and he nodded. "okay." he repeated. she felt her heart flutter and butterflies grow with excitement. she jumped off the bed, and threw her arms around the usually stone cold brother. he froze for a second before chuckling, and wrapped his arms around his baby sister. "thankyou thankyou." she said genuinely, feeling as if she was on top of the world. until she wouldn't be.

˚ · .·˚

rebecca walked down the stairs to find michael and aunt polly waiting for her, at the bottom. because her brothers were out of the age frame, it was determined that michael would 'send her off' and accompany her that evening. she smiled at michael who truly was her brother, as the two had stuck with one another during the war. and being so close with aunt polly, cemented it further. finn shouted from the top steps as michael was about to walk out with her. "becca wait!" he screamed, and she turned around to see her kid brother rushing to hand her a single rose. she knew exactly where he got it from, mrs.hanovers front garden two blocks over. "oh bubba, thankyou." she smiled hugging him. "i hope you have a good time tonight, and break a lot of hearts." he joked and she giggled nodding. "i love you, don't forget that." finn said pulling her in one last time. she smiled, "i love you too fi." she said before kissing his cheek and michael retook her arm. he hooked his other arm on pollys and the three left finn with franics.

the shelby boys and their partners were already at the grand hall, polly walking in shortly before rebecca and michael would walk in after being announced. he looked down at his cousin who practically was his sister at this point, and he saw the nerves beginning to seep over. she could not shake the feeling of dread, and one of fear. she had woken up during the night in a terror, finn quickly running over to check on her. he'd found her in a cold sweat, heart and mind racing. he held her as she shook, not understanding what her mind was fighting. thoughts so unfathomable for her, and one's that would not be dared to be spoken. michael rubbed her arm, and that comforted the blonde. "thankyou michael again, for doing this." she smiled up at her younger cousin - by only a year he liked to joke. he nodded kissing her temple, and she held on tightly to the rose finn had given her.

polly on the other side of the curtain found the boys and their partners, nodding to tommy who stood just a little taller. grace at his side, smiled softly knowing polly had settled his nerves just a bit. the crowd turned their attention toward the debutants and their partners. the crowd gushed, oohed and ahhed over the affair. it was now rebecca's turn, and she felt butterflies flooding her body. michael winked at her and then they walked out. rebecca's champagne-colored dress dazzled the crowd, her blue stone necklace glinting just a tiny bit in the light. rebecca amelia shelby, the girl who shall not be named was finally being seen by many. the shelby girl kept in the shadows for most of her life, raised by her kid brother and so called addicted aunt, had barely seen the light of day for school. let alone, the slum of birmingham. she smiled widely as the crowd clapped for her like they did for every other young lady tonight. michael walked her over towards the family as he had spotted them rather quickly, while rebecca was lost in her own world. they turned towards the family, as the crowd murmured about the young girl. she would not be forgotten, not now and not ever.

they walked up to the group and john quickly hugged rebecca, then arthur and then tommy who only nodded at her. oh for the love of appearances, rebecca silently cursed. aunt polly gushed about her dress and entrance, to which grace and esme agreed. rebecca thanked the women and turned around to look at the two debutants who had just been introduced. she politely clapped, and quickly found her best friend, olivia who Michael had become quite fond of. "please excuse me." rebecca said to the group before walking over to her and brother. "if it isn't miss beauty-" olivia started, "miss grace-" rebecca giggled. the two had recently become quite fond over america and the idea of the west, and what it could possess. their interest peaked when they saw there was a miss america pagenet and olivia was smitten. "miss united states." olivia whispered the last part causing rebecca to laugh loudly. "so did you tell him?" olivia questioned, eyeing tommy who was also eyeing the two. rebecca shrugged, "you didn't tell him?" olivia eyes went wide. rebecca shook her head, "its not like you haven't talked about since the very day you turned 18 and we were roommates." olivia said as a matter of factly. rebecca sighed, "its not that easy you know him, you know them. they'll never let me go. besides i told him about it awhile ago but i know he hates the idea of me in chicago or los angeles without them." rebecca stated and olivia rolled her eyes. "if i didn't love you as much as a sister, i'd march right up to him and go ballistic. y'know that?" olivia smirked and rebecca nodded. she'd been keeping her best friend at bay for months now.

"besides i just got archie to come with us when we do hit the west." olivia said cheekily and rebecca's eyes went wide. it was true, rebecca was smitten the older boy of two years. she had been for years, and olivia loved to tease her about it. "he's going?" rebecca in a whisper and olivia nodded, "he said he couldn't let his little sister fend for herself without him." and rebecca laughed loudly and boldly at this. arthur and john looked over along with tommy who'd been eyeing her the whole conversation. "see shes having a great time, tommy boy." arthur said clapping a hand on his shoulder. to which, tommy shoved off.

"maybe ill have to get michael to come with or at least visit us until you see how madly in love he is with you." rebecca giggled like a little girl. "rebecca amelia." olivia prompted, and rebecca clicked her tongue. "you twisted girl." olivia said sipping her champagne fluke, and archie gave one to rebecca. she smiled at him and thanked the hazel eyed boy who smiled back at her. "whos the rose from?" olivia asked and rebecca smiled, "finn." she said and olivia gushed. "that's so cute where'd he steal it from?" she teased and rebecca laughed. "mrs hanouver two blocks east." and olivia gasped, "that little grifter." olivia said about finn, and rebecca rolled her eyes. she looked back to see her family dispersing just a bit, while tommy and grace stood in the same place talking to another older couple. "i should head back, but i will see you later...at the after party?" she whispered the last part, and olivia smirked. "don't you know it." she smirked, and then rebecca turned towards archie. "as always it is a pleasure." he smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing it. her cheeks turned crimson and she let it fall to her side before turning around and walking towards tommy and grace. he turned towards her, as she walked up to them. he stopped the conversation short, and grace went to go find polly. tommy gave his sister his full attention, and she smiled. "see? that wasn't so bad." she teased, taking his outstretched arm. he chuckled, knowing that the threat of life was not over and done for the evening.

"so what do you think of the idea of a trip out west this winter?" she said gaging his response. "i heard al capone is a great guy." she teased and he chuckled briefly. he'd been in contact with guys in new york and new jersey and knew just how great of a guy he was. somebody just like tommy but even worse. "tell me why you know who capone is?" he questioned softly and she shrugged, and tommy rolled his eyes now. "oi! don't be rolling your eyes at me." she playfully joked and tommy could not help but crack a little bit more. he just laughed, as the crowd began to disperse into the bigger ballroom to have dinner and have some dancing. tommy and rebecca stood their for a brief moment, looking at one another. he pulled a piece of stray blonde hair behind her ear and questioned softly, "when did you grow up?" and she blushed. "i did a long time ago tommy..you just didn't want to notice." she smiled softly. despite all of the rules and regulations he imposed on her once he came back from the war, she wouldn't have had it any other way. the amount of nights in she received with finn from tommy, and her brothers were ones she was going to cherish. "tommy." she said just as he was about to take another step towards the grander ballroom. he looked back and saw nerves and anxiety plagueing her features. he tried searching her eyes but came up short, "i wanted to let you know that i wasn't joking when i was talking about going west." she began and he felt her slipping, slipping from his fingers. "i am going west once i graduate this spring, olivia and i will be going together." she said not sure of his response. but she never got it. as soon as tommy opened his mouth, he looked forward and saw the commotion that he had worried about. an italian mobster outstretched his hand with a silver weapon, pointing it at tommy. for it to only hit rebecca instead as arthur pushed him over.

chaos rose throughout the hall, as tommy screamed. rebecca fell in his arms as he had tried to push her back behind him. her champagne dress now crimson red. she looked up at tommy, as he cradled her in his arms. she could not hear a thing, as she looked up at him. as he yelled for an ambulance, for somebody to help. she pulled his face to look towards her's, eyes swelling with tears in her blue eyes. she knew these were her last moments, and she did not want them to be filled with the ceiling but on somebody she loved. could of been arthur, michael, finn- anybody. her hand finally unclutched the single rose as polly kneeled down. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry!" tommy cried looking down at rebecca. he cried, as she was losing her grasp on this world. arthur was the first one to look back at his sister, then john and then michael. it was as if time was frozen, as the four men in her life watched her breathing her last few breathes. "im sorry." tommy whispered again, words spitting with salty tears. rebecca shook her head, "you did-did everything you thought was right. i-i-i could never fault you for that tommy." she said slowly and brokenly. "i love you so much, tommy." she cried out, and that made tommy cry even harder. "i love you too, blondie." he sobbed. arthur fell to his knees, as rebecca slowly took one last breathe; fighting gravity as her chest weighed down. once tommy realized she'd stop breathing, he lost it. his sister was not supposed to leave this world at the hands of his doings. she was supposed to live a long beautiful life somewhere far away from here, with her two kids, dog and husband she'd long to have. she was supposed to get out of this place and never look back. she was never meant to have her demise be here in birmingham.

tommy cluthed his sister's lifeless body as his world was breaking. polly clung to michael who'd now kneeled beside her. arthur sobbed face down and john grabbed ahold of olivia as she tried to see where her best friend was.

rebecca amelia shelby, the long lost daughter of the shelby clan, the one who shall not be named would be named forever in this town of birmingham.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

oh my goodness!!!!! i hope you all enjoyed, and if you did so please like, comment and repost-- i will love u forever xx

also not me playing the titanic suite medley and crying at the end lol

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #peaky blinders #John shelby #Tommy Shelby x oc #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders x sister!reader #Michael gray #polly gray #aunt polly #cillian muprhy #finn cole #I have no idea what to tag now lol

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captain19cb97 · 1 year

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Hi 👋 could I request a cute fluffy fic of girl y/n caring for sick Jungkook who caught a bad cold because he was playing with bam in the rain . Fluff and comfort. Please 🥹🙏please

Hi, Anon! 👋🏻

Oh my gosh, thank you so much😭 for being my first request, and sending this. I hope I was able to do your request justice and that you like it, but if I didn't, I'm so sorry! And feel free to send in another one.

Requests are open!

-Em

I'll Always Take Care of You :: JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader, side Jungkook x Bam (our boy has to have a moment with his puppy. he's such a great dog daddy🥰 ofc)

Word Count: 2770

Genre: Fluff/Comfort.

Warnings: Use of the term medicine, but I don't technically specify what kind. Other than that, I don't think there is anything. If there is, though, let me know and I will tag it!

You’d always loved the rain- thunderstorms, light drizzles, downpours, you name it. Most times when it would rain, you would turn on soft music, letting the sound fill your apartment before you’d make yourself a cup of hot tea, or hot chocolate if you were in the mood for something sweeter, before grabbing your fluffiest blanket and whatever book you were reading at the time and sit yourself in your little window seat in your living room and letting the day waste away while the rain fell outside.

Of course, occasionally, you’d forego all the set up and instead, you’d pull on a sturdy pair of shoes and maybe a jacket if you weren’t feeling like getting too wet, before running outside to enjoy the rain in the purest way.

When you met Jungkook, and you both realized that you shared the same love, and appreciation, for the rain, running around outside together and getting soaked to the bone became a much more common activity. And it only became more fun when you guys moved in together and Jungkook would let his dog, Bam, come outside with you both.

Now, usually, you were really good about not doing that when the weather was turning colder, though, never wanting to run the risk of you or Jungkook catching a cold. But sometimes, Jungkook’s childish nature got the best of him, and even if you wouldn’t join them, the two of them would still go and run around in the grass outside the apartment. Jungkook’s laugh always carried enough for you to hear inside, and it always brought a smile to your face, hearing him having so much fun, like he didn’t have a care in the world, and like he hadn’t been buried up to his neck in work at the company only hours before coming home to you and Bam.

Tonight, had been one of those nights. You’d told Jungkook you didn’t think it was a good idea because it had been decently cold the last week and even though today was warmer, the second the rain started, you knew it’d be better to sit it out and watch from the window, while dinner simmered in the kitchen.

“But baby,” Jungkook pouted at you, standing with his legs straddling Bam’s standing form, his hands clutching the sides of the poor, confused dog’s face. “He just wants to go run in the rain! Look at this face, are you really going to tell our son, no?”

Not even looking up from the open pages of your book at your boyfriend’s face, you had to resist the urge to smile at what you knew would be his best pout. It worked on you too often, so much so that all of your guys’ friends would tease you for being too soft when it came to Jungkook. “It’s raining too much for him to go outside right now, and it’s cold.” You said, finally raising your eyes enough to actually meet Jungkook’s. “And you could get sick. You hate being sick.”

Jungkook let out a quiet whine, finally letting Bam’s face go, only to hold him still with a gentle hand on his collar as he leaned down towards him, “Bam, go tell mom we want to go outside. Go tell her you wanna go.” He told the dog in an excited voice, knowing full well what it was going to do to him. “Go, go, go.”

You groaned, halfheartedly, as Bam bounded towards you- shoving his face into your hands, and pushing your book out of the way before he looked up at you with a look Jungkook was attempting to mirror from his same spot by the couch.

You sighed, petting Bam’s head, “Bam, it’s cold, baby, and your puppy rain jacket hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Awe, baby, come on! Please.” Jungkook whined again, “We won’t even stay out there for very long. 5 minutes, I promise. Just 5 minutes, and then we’ll come in and get dry and then we can have dinner.”

You met your boyfriend’s eyes, and sighed, finally letting the corner of your mouth curl up, “5 minutes, Jeon Jungkook, and then your booties better be back inside this apartment and drying off.”

Before you even finished getting the words out, Jungkook was throwing an excited fist into the air, before rushing towards you to quickly press his lips to the top of your head as he all but yelled out, “Thank you, baby!” before he was running towards the door to pull his shoes on, “Bam! Let’s go, buddy!”

He grinned widely at you once more, a moment later, as you held up 5 fingers with a knowing look, at which he shot a quick nod back at you as he let Bam pull him out of the front door. You couldn’t stop the little laugh the bubbled out of your chest at just how endearing you found that man as you quickly headed down to your shared bedroom for a change of clothes and two towels for when they came back in.

It was, of course, longer than 5 minutes, but you took one look at your boyfriend’s excited and smiling face when the door shut behind them and knew you couldn’t be upset about it- not really. Even as he shivered, standing in front of you as you draped one of the towels around his shoulders, before you dropped down to Bam’s level to start drying him off, you knew that they’d had enough fun that Jungkook didn’t care about being cold.

The next morning, you both had gotten up and gone about your morning routines like always. You gave him a quick kiss before you left for work, knowing that he was supposed to be home late tonight because he was busy at the company. Which is why, when you’d finally come home that night, and noticed a lump- the shape of your boyfriend, fast asleep on the couch, you were more than a little confused.

Your brow furrowed, “Baby?”

But he didn’t even move, just continued to sleep away, so you shrugged, and let it go long enough to get Bam leashed and outside for a couple minutes before you were back in the living room, crossing the floor to stand behind the couch, and reaching down to run your hand through Jungkook’s hair to carefully wake him up.

“Kookie?” You said softly, your breath hitching slightly when your fingers made contact with his skin. “Jungkook? Baby, you’re burning up, are you okay? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly, gently shaking him awake.

He groaned, burying his face further into the couch cushion for a moment, before he turned his head enough to look up at you, “I got sent home this morning.” He pouted.

You frowned, “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good, baby?”

“Because- “, He started coughing, so much that you quickly went and got him something to help soothe his throat. He took the bottle of water as you settled on your knees in front of him, your hand lovingly rubbing at his knee while he downed almost half the bottle. “Because you said you were going to be really busy today.”

You cooed softly, cupping his flushed cheek in one hand, “If I’d known you were sick, my love, I would’ve stopped to pick you up some stuff before I came home.” You slowly stood back up, brushing his hair away from his face as you looked down at him, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, “Do you want me to go get you some medicine? Or some soup?”

He leaned forward, pressing his already hot forehead against your stomach as he shook his head.

You sighed, lightly wrapping your arms around his shoulder, twirling the hair at the base of his neck a little, trying to think of what the best thing would be to do first. “Okay, well we need to get your fever to break, so can you go take a cool shower for me, and while you do that, I’ll make you some soup to help your throat?”

He whined softly, and his shoulders slumped even more, “I don’t think I can stand for that long, baby.”

You cupped both of his cheeks and smiled softly, “Then I’ll run you a bath, okay?”

He nodded slowly, his lips pursing a little from your hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You could see it in his eyes, just how bad he felt- both for not saying anything to you, but also just in general. His skin was flushed, and sweat had begun to bead along his hairline from the fever, his eyes didn’t have the same shine to them as usual, and the tip of his nose was red from all the sniffling and wiping that you knew he’d been doing.

You still smiled down at him, leaning down enough to press your lips to his warm forehead, “Don’t think on it for another second, baby. It’s okay. Just let me take care of you, now that I know, yeah?”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he nodded again, before you helped pull him from the couch and led him down the hall to the bathroom. You had him sit down on the toilet so you could get the bath started, making sure the temperature was cold enough to help bring his fever down, but still warm enough that he wouldn’t freeze sitting in there.

While the tub filled, you quickly put in a few drops of a couple different oils to help with his stuffy nose, the headache you knew he had, and his throat, before you went and grabbed him a change of clothes, and one of the fluffiest towels you guys owned for when he got out of the bath.

“Alright, my love, into the bath, please.” You told him softly.

He pouted at you, “It’s gonna be cold though.”

You nodded, “A little bit, yeah. But you’re running too warm, baby. You can’t take a hot bath right now. I’m sorry.” You cupped his cheek, “It’ll help, I promise.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your palm, “Will you stay in here with me?” He asked before he finally started to undress. “I know you said you were going to make me something to eat, but I don’t know if I can actually eat anything right now- not with how bad of a headache I have.”

You hummed softly, “What about just some hot tea for now, then?” You suggested instead, reaching out to stabilize him before he fell into the wall. “And some crackers, at least?”

He sighed tiredly, but nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

You smiled at him, watching him as he slowly got into the tub before he sank into the water with a shaky breath at the temperature. “I know, baby.” You told him, “You’ll get used to it in a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He didn’t even have time to miss you, before you were walking through the doorway again, a steaming mug of hot tea in one hand, and a plate covered in a handful of crackers in the other. He watched, with an affectionate yet tired smile, as you sank to the floor next to the tub and held out the mug to him.

He was shivering a little bit as he wrapped his hands around the hot glass, relishing in the warmth it offered his cold fingers. “Have I told you lately, how lucky I am to have you?”

His voice was scratchy, and quiet, yet you heard every word and couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you held a cracker up towards his mouth for him to bite. You just shyly shook your head at him, playfully rolling your eyes at the same time.

“I mean it.” He mumbled, mouth half full of cracker. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life. You take such great care of me, and Bam, I’d be lost without you.” You could feel your heart fluttering at his words, and at the look in his eyes, as you offered him the rest of that first cracker, still not saying anything back. “I love you, baby.” He whispered, an adoring smile on his slightly chapped lips before he took another drink of his tea- made to perfection, like you always do for him.

You let out a soft sigh, “And I love you.” You told him, without any hesitation in your voice as you smiled at him.

Both of you had been keeping your voices soft, not wanting to disrupt the atmosphere of the dimly lit bathroom, as you kept him company, occasionally feeding him another cracker as he slowly sipped away at his tea, the water in the tub slowly losing what little warmth it had been harboring for him.

You reached up, brushing his bangs from his face before you held your hand to his forehead, then the back of his neck. “You’ve cooled down a lot. Feeling better?”

He nodded gently, “Headache’s almost completely gone. Can I get out now?”

You giggled softly, nodding as you stood up and grabbed the towel, you’d set aside for him. “Come on.”

After a long few minutes, Jungkook was nice and dry, sitting on the couch under a light blanket with some random movie playing on the tv, while you mulled around the kitchen to make you guys something small to eat, before you both retreated into your room so you could try to get him to bed.

It was easy to see that Jungkook was completely miserable still. You’d agreed to lay in bed with him, at least until he fell asleep, so that you could pick up the apartment a little bit, before you finally went to bed, too. But sleep was the last thing on his body’s mind- even if it was the one thing it needed the most.

He’d started coughing more, and no matter how he seemed to lay- on his back, on his right side, on his left side, sitting up a little bit with his back pressed into your chest- his nose was plugged and making it near impossible for him to breathe.

Finally, after getting him into a position that made it somewhat easier, you’d disappeared into the bathroom in search of cold medicine. When he heard you come back into the room, having had his back to the door and not wanting to move after spending so long just trying to get comfortable, he whined when he saw what you were holding in your hand.

“Baby, no, please.”

You gave him a look, “I know you don’t like it, but it’s all we’ve got right now, and you need to take something.”

“It makes me feel yucky the next morning, though.” He pouted.

“My love, I don’t think you’re going to feel any yuckier than you do right now.” You pointed out, handing him the recommended amount of the medicine, and holding the water bottle low enough that he could take the straw into his mouth.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Kookie, please, just take the medicine.” You sighed, “I promise you, that it’s going to help you feel better, and it’ll help you sleep.” He looked up at you, still pouting, but took the medicine finally, taking a big drink of water right after. “Thank you, baby.”

“Are you still staying until I fall asleep?” He asked, watching you put the water back down.

You glanced back down at him, “Yeah, I told you that I would.”

He hummed just loud enough for you to hear it as you rounded the bed again and climbed in behind him, moving close enough that you could run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp to help lull him to sleep a little faster.

Neither one of you said anything as you laid there, the darkness of the room enveloping the both of you in a comfortable atmosphere, with only the sounds of your breathing bouncing off the walls- with the occasional cough, too, of course. Until finally, it seemed like Jungkook was almost completely asleep.

You leaned over enough to glimpse at his face and smiled, carefully moving to get out of the bed to go do your few chores for the night, and just as you had wrapped your hand around the bedroom door handle, Jungkook’s voice quietly sounded from the bed.

“Thank you, for taking care of me.”

You smiled at his back, “I’ll always take care of you, baby.”

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