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queenshelby · 9 months

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An Illicit Affair

Part Two: Jazz Bar

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

The jazz concert took place in a small bar, downtown Soho. It was a Thursday evening, at around 9 o'clock, when you arrived at the establishment with the view to meet your best friend and fellow student Lucy there. Lucy was two years older than you and you shared a dorm room with her on campus.

Just like you, Lucy was nerdy and focused on her studies, telling you years ago that you should not have gotten involved with Max but, of course, you did not listen to her at the time.

That evening, Lucy stood you down, not intentionally but out of necessity. She had an assignment due the following day and recognized that she had not spent enough time on its content.

So, at around nine that evening, you received a message from her saying that she had to bail on you, leaving you alone in the quirky bar which, by now, was filled with art students, middle aged men and women and a few musicians.

Still, you were determined to make the most of the night. After all, your favorite band was playing, and this alone encouraged you to order yourself a drink and take a seat close to the stage.

A few minutes later, the band started a lively tune, and soon everyone began dancing.

You found yourself swaying to the rhythm, feeling the energy of the crowd enveloping you and, just as you were starting to get lost in the music, you spotted a familiar face.

It was Cillian, Max's father, who was standing near the bar, nursing a glass of red wine.

The sight of him jolted you, sending a wave of mixed emotions coursing through your veins. You hadn't seen him since that fateful weekend in Dublin over fifteen months ago, and the memory of his captivating blue eyes and mesmerizing voice lingered within you. You watched him from afar, unable to tear your gaze away.

Cillian appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with a group of people, but every once in a while, he would glance around the room, scanning the faces of the attendees.

That's when his gaze landed on you and he excused himself from the group of people he was with.

Approaching you with purpose, he smiled warmly. "Y/N, hey...it's nice to see you again," he greeted you. "How have you been?" he wanted to know and, immediately, his deep voice resonated through your body, stirring a familiar spark within you.

"I'm doing well, thank you," you responded, trying to remain composed. "How about you?" you asked before asking "what brings you here tonight?" with some surprise.

"Oh, I saw that this band was performing and thought I'd check them out," Cillian explained casually with his thick Irish accent.

"Are you in London for work or to see Max?" you asked Cillian, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I am here for work, shooting a commercial, but I did catch up with Max yesterday for dinner," Cillian answered. "He seems to be doing well, even though he dropped out of medical school," he explained, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness knowing that you may have been the reason he quit his studies.

"I am sorry Cillian, I feel like I caused this," you admitted hesitantly, remembering the countless arguments you had with him about his lackadaisical attitude towards academics right before the break-up.

"No, you didn't. If anything, he hung in there as long as he did because of you," Cillian reassured you. "He is a good kid, but he lacks the discipline and commitment for such a difficult field of studies, and I must admit that, so did I, when I was his age," he chuckled before telling you that, at the age of twenty, he dropped out of law school.

"Well, fortunately for you, you discovered acting and that clearly turned out to be your calling," you said with a wink and Cillian laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"That's right, I guess," he agreed, sipping on his wine. "So, no doubt Max will find his way too, at least once he gets over you," he then added calmly before gesturing towards the chair next to yours, wanting to take a seat.

"I am sure he is over me. It's been a year already and I see him quite often on campus these days. He may have transferred to the Arts Faculty, but he is still chatting up and flirting with the medical students," you joked before indicating to Cillian to take the seat.

"He's a charmer, that's for sure," Cillian said with a hint of pride in his voice. "So, tell me," he leaned in closer, his scent intoxicating, "have you narrowed down your field of practice yet? Are you still interested in pediatrics?" Cillian asked you, his eyes sparkling with interest. "I mean, you mentioned it the last time we saw each other, but have you decided on anything yet?" Cillian pressed further, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I suppose that's accurate," you replied, feeling a surge of nervousness wash over you. "Pediatrics is definitely the direction I'm leaning towards, particularly oncology research."

"Oncology? That's fascinating," Cillian remarked, his eyes widening.

"Why oncology specifically?" he pressed, genuinely curious. "Is it because of your friend who battled leukemia? I remember you talking that," he went on to say and you were impressed by the fact that he remembered. Unlike Max, Cillian appeared to be a good listener and you appreciated that.

"Yes, that's right. Ever since visiting my friend in the hospital, I've been fascinated by the idea of using science to combat diseases. Research gives me the opportunity to contribute to the advancement of healthcare," you explained earnestly.

Cillian tilted his head, studying you closely. "Your dedication is admirable," he complimented, admiration glimmering in his eyes, and you blushed faintly, feeling flattered by his praise.

"Thank you, Cillian," you mumbled shyly before downing the rest of your drink.

"Would you like another drink?" Cillian thus asked, being observant, as he settled into the chair, his scent wafted over you, a mix of expensive cologne and freshly laundered linen. "My shout," he then went on to say as he noticed you hesitating and, immediately, you suppressed a shiver, suddenly aware of the intimate setting you'd created.

"Okay," you muttered nervously, gazing down at your empty glass. "Thank you," went on to say and, not long after that, Cillian walked off and instructed the bartender, handing over his credit card.

When he returned to the table, you both fell quiet again, awkwardly staring at the dance floor. The band played a slow, bluesy number, and couples danced intimately beneath the dim glow of the stage lights.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, you attempted to change the subject. "How is Danielle?" you asked, swirling the wine in your glass.

Cillian hesitated, his expression clouding over. "Alright, I suppose," he muttered, a hint of melancholy creeping into his voice.

"Alright, you suppose?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. The way he answered your question seemed absurd.

"Yeah, well, things aren't exactly smooth sailing with us," he admitted reluctantly. "We have been having problems for years," he confided in you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," you sympathized, genuine concern etching your features. "Max did mentioned about you fighting a lot," you commented cautiously, careful not to cross any boundaries.

Cillian exhaled deeply, his shoulders drooping slightly. "We've been trying to work things out but it hasn't been easy," he confessed, his voice laced with sorrow. "Sometimes it feels like we're stuck in a cycle of misunderstandings, accusations and resentment," he admitted.

"I may have heard about certain rumors, in the tabloids, concerning you and other actresses," you ventured delicately, "but I know that these gossip magazines tend to blow things out of proportion," you quickly added just as Cillian chuckled and interrupted you.

"I didn't take you to be the kind of person who reads these kinds of magazines Y/N. I am really disappointed in you," he mocked, giving you a sideways glance, which made you blush.

"I don't, unless I am at the hairdressers and my phone is running low on battery," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "And I know the press loves to feed on drama," you added defensively, trying to cover up the embarrassment.

"Well then, for what it's worth, I can assure you that I have never cheated on my wife," Cillian stated plainly, his eyes locked on yours. "Not that I haven't had the opportunity though," he admitted without hesitation, his honesty striking you speechless.

"I am sure you have had many opportunities," you commented lightly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

"Maybe not many, but I had some," Cillian laughed before changing the topic to something lighter.

"What about you?" he asked. "Have you met anyone new since you broke up with Max?" he wanted to know before apologizing for his question, telling you that you did not have to answer it if it made you uncomfortable.

You swallowed nervously, your pulse quickening at the mention of your former lover. "No, it's okay," you told him. "I haven't had much time for dating," you lied, fiddling with your napkin. "Med school takes up most of my time," you added, not wanting to reveal the truth that no one had caught your attention since Max, at least not yet.

Cillian nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine," he said, before pausing briefly, watching you sip your drink before continuing with caution. "So, besides med school, what keeps you busy?" he questioned, curiosity burning in his eyes.

You sighed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Not much, honestly," you confessed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, there's the occasional date with friends, dinners with family, and that's pretty much it," you admitted. "I can't lie though, it does get lonely sometimes," you revealed, peering down at your lap.

"I get like this when I am away filming for weeks," Cillian shared, nodding sympathetically. "When the loneliness creeps in, it makes you feel so isolated, doesn't it?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, absolutely," you agreed, your voice barely audible. "I've learned to appreciate moments like these, though, because they remind me how precious human connection truly is," you confided in him, reaching to clasp your hands together.

Cillian gazed at you, his gaze softening. "It must be tough, being so dedicated to your studies. How do you manage to balance everything?" he pondered aloud.

"I've developed strategies to cope. For instance, I set aside time for myself each day, whether it's going for a run or reading a book," you admitted, your voice trailing off and it was at this point that you learned that you shared even more common interests with Cillian.

He, too, liked to go for runs and read, and not just scripts for upcoming projects. He enjoyed historical fiction as well as thrillers, and his literary horizons were broad. You found this refreshing, considering how insular and self-involved actors could be.

After ordering more drinks, you and Cillian talked some more and shared some laughs. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, covering various subjects ranging from books you both loved to visit places you hoped to travel to someday. Cillian spoke passionately about the beauty of Ireland and its rich history, while you eagerly described your fascination with Italy, having taken a trip there during your gap year.

You exchanged stories, sharing experiences both past and present, discovering more similarities between the two of you. Cillian was intrigued by your intelligence and wit, while you admired his charm and charisma. The chemistry between you intensified, growing stronger with each passing moment.

By the time it was midnight, the group of people he had talked to earlier left and the music had stopped, which is when Cillian reached across the table to refill your glass from the bottle of wine he had ordered thirty minutes ago and, just as he did, his fingers brushed against yours, igniting a spark that neither of you could ignore.

An awkward silence ensued, but instead of dissipating quickly, it grew thicker with tension.

Cillian's intense gaze bore into you, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your arms. You glanced at the stage, searching for a distraction, but the band had packed up their instruments and left.

Cillian cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, time flies when you' are having fun," he murmured, his voice husky and seductive. "It is nice talking to you, but it is getting late," he added, checking his watch conspicuously. "And I should probably head back to the hotel," he concluded and you blinked twice.

"Where are you staying?" you blurted out impulsively, catching yourself off guard by your sudden curiosity.

"At the Hilton," Cillian replied simply, adjusting his posture in his seat. "It's not far from here, actually," he added, his voice drifting into a contemplative tone.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, contemplating your next move. "That's convenient," you murmured, attempting to sound casual. "I have heard that they have a decent bar downstairs," you stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "They do. So, perhaps we should grab a nightcap before you are heading home," he offered you almost nervously, causing your heart to race.

"I would like that," you said softly, offering him a gentle smile, hoping that he would interpret it correctly.

With a nod, Cillian rose from his seat, his frame casting a shadow over you. He extended his hand, helping you to your feet. You felt the warmth of his touch and the strength of his grip, and your knees weakened slightly.

As you followed him towards the exit, the crowd parted, making way for you two as if silently acknowledging the magnetic pull between you two.

Once outside, the cool air hit you, a stark contrast to the heat inside the bar.

The neon signs cast a hazy glow on the cobblestone streets, and the distant hum of traffic blended seamlessly with the whispers of passersby. A sense of excitement pulsed through you as you allowed your senses to heighten, embracing the intoxicating atmosphere.

You and Cillian headed for the Hilton, which was a five-minute walk from the jazz club.

As you approached the hotel lobby, the ambient lighting and plush furnishings provided a cozy refuge from the chilly night air but, much to your disappointment, you noticed that their bar was already closed.

"I suppose we won't be having that nightcap after all," you lamented, pouting your lips while Cillian contemplated whether or not to ask you to join him in his room.

He bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling before making a decision.

"We could always go to my room and order a bottle of wine," he then suggested, his voice trembling slightly. "If you want to, that is," he added hastily, turning his gaze onto you and, immediately, your heart skipped a beat, your breath hitching as you stared into his deep blue eyes.

"Okay, yeah, why not," you managed to utter, feeling a rush of nerves wash over you. "Just for one drink though," you insisted, hoping to ease your mounting anxiety while Cillian's piercing blue eyes lighted up.

"Sounds perfect," he agreed, leading you towards the elevator bank with a pang of guilt flooding his mind as he thought about the possibility of taking this further than his vows would permit. "Just one drink then," he thus reminded himself as he pushed the button for the top floor, hoping that his loyalty to Max and Danielle would prevail over the desire for you.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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newfoundstateof · 3 months

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but she fell in love with an english man | b.b. x reader

summary: Academy friends drag Benedict to a tavern to watch Irish fiddle player!reader perform. He buys her a drink. But who can play a fiddle and drink a pint at the same time?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: suggestive but none

a/n: definitely not inspired by those tiktoks of dirty talk bar maids at ren faires, who said that???

“They are spectacular,” Rupert Norton declared with an arm slung over Benedict’s shoulder.

The rest of the Royal Academy students hummed in agreement. Already drunk from the party they left minutes ago, a small group of them stumbled down the cobbled streets of Soho. Earlier that night, news broke that a band that visited a few weeks before Benedict enrolled at the Academy had returned to much anticipation. In an instant, pipes were dropped, coats were gathered, and boots were marching to The Intrepid Fox tavern.

“They’re from Ireland,” someone said.

“I’ve never danced so much in my life,” another added.

“And the fiddle player is quite easy on the eyes,” Rupert slurred into Benedict’s ear. “Try and buy her a drink if you can. That usually gets her attention.”

Benedict laughed. “I’m just here to enjoy the music. As should all of you scoundrels.”

Once inside the tavern, a few of the men beelined to the bar to order whiskey shots for the fiddle player despite the empty stage in the corner. Benedict simply took a seat at the bar, observing the growing crowd. The band’s reputation must have preceded them, as he was soon shoulder to shoulder with the eager fans. But for the next twenty minutes, only chatter filled the room.

“They always like to keep you waiting,” Rupert grumbled into his ale. “But it’s worth it, I promise.”

“I don’t mind,” Benedict smiled. “It’s good people watch-”

The room erupted into cheering, and he turned toward the stage. Sure enough, two men climbed the small wooden platform. One carried a fiddle, the other a flute. The room roared even louder when you emerged with your fiddle, waving a good-natured hand to the audience. Your smile was wide and disarming. Your gaze was equally piercing. Looking at the gleam in your eyes, Benedict knew just how aware you were of your control over the room. Soon the clapping died down, and every soul waited with bated breath to what you would say.

A scrawny kitchen hand hurried up to you and set a tray of shots down on a small barrel.

“Wow,” you breathed. “All this for little old me?”

Benedict found himself chuckling with everyone. As you threw a shot back, his stomach dropped. You were certainly not like the young ladies of the ton.

“This crowd is mighty impressive, isn’t it, boys?” you asked your bandmates as you all started tuning your instruments. “We appreciate you for coming out. If you don’t know us already, the lad on the flute is Johnny. My fellow friend on the fiddle is Patrick. And I’m Y/N. I have a favor to ask of you all… From now until the last of you sorry lot leave this building, I hereby decree this an Irish pub! That means we will be clapping along to the songs, singing if you know the words, and if you are so inclined, I would love to see some dancing tonight.”

Someone in the audience whistled, evoking more cheers.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” you grinned.

The trio launched into Seven Drunken Nights, a popular jig even Benedict knew. Though his classmates were rowdily singing along, he could only stare at you. Johnny and Patrick generally kept to their places on stage, but you swayed across, drawing your bow theatrically compared to Patrick’s controlled movements. He was the main vocalist, but during the wife’s lines in the song, you sang with the crowd.

“Ah, you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you silly ol’ fool. Still, you cannot see, that’s a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me!”

Benedict couldn’t decide if you were a better fiddle player or singer, you were impeccable at both. But without a doubt, you were the best at simply putting on a show. You encouraged people to dance along as you skipped across the stage. Benedict could only imagine how taxing it was for you. Dancing, singing, and playing an instrument all while not breaking a sweat. He eyed the tray of shots, turned to the nearest bartender, and ordered something more refreshing for you.

As you strung out the last note of Seven Drunken Nights, the same kitchen hand ran the mug of beer up to your tray. You sighed to yourself.

“Which one of you did this?” you cried out, lifting the mug high.

Heads spun every which way. Benedict froze. Was liquor the only appropriate drink to tip a musician? He wasn’t sure, he’d never been to something like this. Awkwardly, he coughed and raised his hand.

Your eyes found him in the sea of faces, and you smirked. “Don’t be shy, come here!”

Rupert clapped Benedict on the back. “Don’t screw this up, Bridgerton. She might go home with you tonight.”

Though he had been with many women and dangerously close with a few men, you still intimidated him somehow. Nothing intimate had been on his mind before Rupert’s comment, but now his heart skipped a few beats at just the thought of it. Benedict snaked through the crowd, trying to read the expression on your face. But all you looked was smug, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you poured the ale on his head.

“Finally,” you breathed as he stood before you. “One of you buys a lady a real drink!”

He exhaled in relief.

“I’m afraid I’m quite thirsty though,” you pout, getting down on one knee. The stage was barely a foot off the ground, putting your face directly in front of Benedict’s wide shoulders. “And we need to get on with the next song, but I don’t have enough hands. Would you help me, good sir?”

Without waiting for his response, you shoved the drink in his hands and looked up to the ceiling. Before Benedict could blink, you were poising your instrument and drawing out a note with your bandmates following suit.

“We’re lucky I don’t sing in this one,” you smile, giving him a pointed look. “Get on with it, now. I’m parched.”

Never one to argue with a lady, Benedict slowly tilted the rim of the glass to your lips and poured the liquid steadily down your throat. You looked up through your lashes at him, daring him to look away. But he didn’t. Only when some of the ale dripped down your chin and onto your bodice did his gaze break yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No,” as much as you could with your lips around the glass.

As you neared the last dregs, your head tilted back more and more to get it all. The eroticism of it all was not lost on Benedict, especially as you swallowed the last gulp and moaned audibly. The growing friction in the front of his pants was no help. But once the glass was finished, you rose to your feet and sent him off with a wink. As you spun to the other side of the stage, the hem of your skirt brushed his groin and he mindlessly reached for the fabric. But you were gone. In a trance, Benedict walked backward to his friends at the bar, adjusting himself.

“Has she done that before,” he coughed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Rupert crowed. “And I’ve seen them perform at least five times since I started at the Academy.”

“You’ve got to talk to her after, Bridgerton,” someone urged.

“Can I come along?” a voice teased.

“You’re the luckiest bastard on earth right now,” another sighed.

Across the room, you caught him starring and blew him a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Luckiest bastard on earth.”

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toomuchracket · 1 year

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sweet touches (ross x girlband gf!reader fluff)

soz this is late it's actually day 11 of promptober and not 12 oops!! but we move. it's cute, it's fun, and it's lowkey super trouper by abba coded. i might genuinely write a fic inspired by that song for these two at some point, but enjoy this for now! <3

the party is in full swing when you and your girls arrive. clinging to one of their hands, you slowly weave your way towards the bar through the throng of people, a lot of whom you suddenly recognise as the sporadic lights inset in the ceiling throw their faces into focus.

there's one face present in particular, though, that no amount of shitty soho house lighting could disguise from you; you clock it almost immediately when you step through the door. understandable, considering you've spent a fair few nights learning every contour of that face with your own body, and even more insomnia-ruined nights committing it to memory in near-darkness, the only light in the bedroom being the tiny crack that escapes the side of the roller blinds.

plus, the fact he's six foot four and a creature of habit also helps your recognition capabilities. of course ross would be standing at the bar itself, whisky in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket, face pensive in concentration on whoever's talking and generally just ridiculously handsome.

said face morphs into a sly smirk as he notices you walking in. like you, ross is all too familiar with what your face looks like in low lighting, the result of more than a couple of gin-soaked late nights in his house, and of an entire weekend spent bare(faced and elsewhere) in front of the fire in a cairngorms log cabin, so he quickly spots you, too.

you feel your own cheeks lift in response. fuck, he's hot.

and he's yours.

despite that fact, you don't drop your friend's hand and make a beeline for ross as soon as the two of you lock eyes. there's a part of you wishes you could, but you're both enjoying the privacy of your relationship right now - someday, you'll go public, you've discussed it, but it's nice to have one thing that escapes the usual scrutiny your respective bands are both under. once the hype over you and your girls and the controversy around your boyfriend's best friend dissipates a bit (although, nobody's sure which thing will happen first), there's less chance of the two of you being pestered by paparazzi and the public when you finally step out together on purpose.

besides, you can still have some fun with your boyfriend now, albeit discreetly. neither of you say anything as you go to walk past ross - his face stays locked on the person he's in conversation with, yours stays peering ahead of you so you don't lose your friends - but he almost imperceptibly takes his hand from his pocket before you reach him. it brushes against your free one quite deliberately, calloused fingers looping around your own as much as they can within the limited time you have to connect.

warmth seems to shoot through your body from your fingertips as soon as they meet ross's. you feel the cold set back in when the two of you slide apart again, and then the longing follows. suddenly, keeping the relationship contained in its own little bubble seems like an awful idea to you; if not for your friend's grasp on you, you'd probably run back to your boyfriend, cling to him, burrow into the crook of his neck and stay with him for the rest of the night.

but you stay somewhat composed, and merely chance a sneaky look back at ross, something neither of you tend to do on nights like these. after all, how many times have you bypassed each other at parties like you just did, and still ended up in his arms in one of your beds when the evening's over? it's a given. you both know it'll happen, trust that it will. there's no need to do an orpheus and turn back to double check. you know that, and your turning back to look at ross is less hadestown and more a star is born, anyway - you just don't want to stop looking at him, ever, can't resist one more peek.

you really miss him.

you're surprised to notice that ross is glancing back at you too, but his reasoning is clear; even in the poor lighting you can see the soft concern in his eyes. they soften, though, as he smiles at you and mouths "see you later", and you smile genuinely too. he really does know you so well, you think, to be able to tell from the shortest of touches that you're missing him. the warmth returns to your body with his little gesture, and your little bubble doesn't seem so bad anymore.

the glances don't continue past that point, and neither do the clandestine touches that fuel the two of you on nights like these. but it's alright - you have a nice enough time with your friends, mingling and sipping champagne, that you're fairly distracted from missing ross. that, and it takes a far shorter time for the two of you to "run into each other" than it has done before.

the routine is always the same; somebody, but never either one of you, inevitably pulls the two of you into a conversation huddle. tonight, it's the queen of pop herself, charli, with an "oh, have you seen george yet? and ross? they'll want to hear this, surely" amidst a breakaway chat about production that started when she sat down to gossip with you and her bandmates.

you smile to yourself as the words leave her mouth - just she and her boyfriend and you and ross together, and then they'll go off to dance or smoke or kiss as they so often do, and you'll be left alone with your man in a seemingly casual way. perfect. "no, i haven't seen them at all tonight, actually."

liar.

"yeah? let's go and annoy them, then," charli stands, waving and kissing your bandmates goodbye before looping her arm through yours and leading you back towards the bar. again, you spot ross first, even though george is the one facing you and his girlfriend. he winks at her and nudges ross, who turns to look at the two of you approaching. he smiles, cheeks dimpling deeper and deeper as charli practically shoves you into the boys with an excited "look who i found!"

"hiya," george says, pulling you into a long, friendly hug. "it's been too long, mate. where have you been? nobody's seen you! you're almost as bad as ross, cooped up producing 24/7 now."

that makes you giggle - you both use the same excuse, and nobody's any the wiser about it. "well, we can't all have hot girlfriends distracting us from it, can we?" you wink at charli, who tugs you into her side and kisses your temple. "must be nice, eh, ross?"

it's extremely cheeky of you, and you might get into a teensy bit of trouble with your boyfriend for it later, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. and, to be honest, ross is really sexy when he's a little bit irritated at you.

he's also really sexy now, smirking at you. "well, i can only imagine."

"yeah," you laugh, breaking free of charli's hold and opening your arms towards ross. "hi, by the way. s'good to see you."

it's not a lie - the relief in your body just from being close to him is palpable, and it increases to such a level when he hugs you that you almost audibly sigh. home at last.

"back at you," ross says into your hair. it's agonising when he pulls away from you, but your heart races when he accidentally-on-purpose presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead of your cheek. "whoops, sorry about that, love…"

(he's so not.)

"...must be drunker than i thought," ross gives the most convincing faux-embarrassed grin you've ever seen, while charli and george cackle like schoolkids behind you at his "mishap".

"oh, it's alright," you smile, wrapping an arm around his waist casually. "what are you drinking, anyway?"

"whisky. talisker."

"would i like it?"

ross shrugs. "i don't know. let me buy you one and we'll see."

you do like it, a fact you discovered when you and ross took a trip to skye and visited the distillery during the summer, but it's nice to pretend, to let ross discreetly spoil you the way he loves to do; nobody even considers it a romantic or flirty gesture, as evidenced by george's "you and your crusade to get everyone drinking whisky, honestly".

"it's good for you, mate," comes your boyfriend's reply, delivered over his shoulder as he waits for the barman to pour you a half.

"so's weed, but you don't see me trying to convince everyone to smoke. maybe i should, actually. i don't know why more people here don't."

charli takes george's face in her hands. "because it's illegal in the UK, babe."

"oh, right, so it is."

the two of them collapse into a fit of the giggles, kissing cutely before ordering their own drinks. amidst their funny little distraction, ross gently pushes the crystal glass of your whisky along the bar into your hand. his hand covers yours, briefly, and as it does he uses his middle finger to tap three times on the back of your hand - i love you.

your heart swells, and you smile as you look up at him. sliding your glass back and hand from under his, you respond by tapping four times on ross's finger - i love you too - before bringing the glass up to your lips and letting the amber liquid roll down your throat. it kind of makes you feel the same way ross does, actually; warm, cosy, content. "this is nice."

"it is," ross agrees, and you know he's also referencing both the moment and the drink like you are. his brow furrows slightly, and he brings his free hand up to your face. "you've got a little…"

with his thumb, he wipes a stray drop of whisky from the side of your mouth, then boldly drags it across your lips before bringing it to his own and smirking.

"ross," you glance around quickly to make sure you're not being watched, before scootching closer to your boyfriend. "what was that?!"

"irresistible, love," ross winks. "waste not, want not, and all."

you laugh, which seems to remind george and charli of your existence. they move to stand between the two of you, george's arm resting on his best friend's shoulder and charli's slung around your own. she lightly pokes your cheek. "what are you giggling at?"

"how tipsy ross is. i think he needs his bed."

the two of them cackle again, while ross smiles warmly at you. "you're right, actually. would love to be in bed right now."

"actually," george turns to his girlfriend. "i'm ready to go home, too, i think."

"yeah, this party's a bit dead, anyway," charli shrugs.

you scoff. "course it is. it's a soho house."

everyone laughs, and george reaches around charli to clap you on the back. "see, this is why we all love you - you tell it like it is. take it you're heading out with us, then?"

"if that's alright, yeah," you nod, sipping your drink.

"absolutely," charli squeezes you. "where are you staying tonight?"

you name the area, pointedly not looking at your boyfriend. george is the one to note the familiarity, but he still doesn't cotton on. "oh, like ross. well that works perfectly, then - we'll get out first, and then the two of you can share the taxi for the rest of the journey. cool?"

ross nods. "cool. shall we?"

you down the rest of your whisky, and he snorts. "let me run and say goodbye to the girls - i'll get you at the door."

"i'll come with you, actually," ross chips in. "matty'll kill me if i don't pass on the message that he loves the new album to the four of you."

"as he should," charli says. "we'll get you outside."

you nod, and the two couples part ways. with a "fucking finally", ross takes your hand, and you lead him towards your - visibly tipsy - friends. the feeling of your hand in his spurs you on, and you barely manage to shout a "bye, girlies!" to your bandmates before you're tugging ross towards the door. before you reach it, though, he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you into a darkened alcove; his lips are on yours immediately, and you moan at the feeling.

despite your public setting, you wish the kiss lasted longer; ross pulls away after only a couple of seconds, before you can open your mouth and instigate a full make-out session. you whine almost involuntarily as he does, which makes him chuckle.

"m'sorry, baby," ross says, kissing your forehead before pulling you back into the party. "i just couldn't hold it in any longer. was gasping for that the whole night, honestly."

"me too," you smile, weaving your way back through the crowds - ross has to hold your hips to stay close to you, which of course you don't complain about. "can't wait for more when we get home."

"same," a final squeeze of your body, then ross lets you go as you step outside. "oh, there they are."

your timing couldn't have been any better - you and ross reach charli and george just as the cab does. ross ends up sitting next to you after you've all clambered in, and he rests his head on your shoulder in what you hope is only fake tiredness as charli directs the driver and the car sets off.

george squints at you and ross. "you know, you two would actually be a really good couple."

"really?" ross cracks an eye open to stare at his bandmate in amusement.

"oh, you so would! i mean, you look great together," charli agrees. "like, that's an onlyfans channel i'd subscribe to right there."

ross turns his face into your shoulder to cringe, while george shakes his head and you laugh in slight disbelief. "thanks?"

"you do look hot together, to be fair," george grins. "but i've seen ross naked enough in life already, cheers."

not relatable to you whatsoever, but you laugh along with the rest of them all the same, and sigh in slight relief when the couple opposite you get out of the taxi (after charli kisses all over your face repeatedly and promises to text you to organise dinner, a girls' holiday, and a studio session, "in that order").

as soon as your friends disappear from view, ross presses a little kiss to your neck and rests his hand on your thigh; he traces the little hearts on your tights quite happily, smiling into your skin as you tell the driver you're happy for the next drop-off point to be the final one.

you slide your arm behind ross's neck, reaching up and round to stroke the side of his face. "do you want to shower when we get in? or just a brew then bed?"

"i don't mind. i get to hug you either way," ross murmurs, softly kissing your jaw.

"sap."

"only when it comes to you, love."

#mads muses #mads does writing #girlband gf #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #promptober75

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chelseachilly · 1 year

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how deep is your love

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: ben's drunk and can't stop telling you how much he loves you 🩵 warnings: none :) word count: 1.4k

author’s note: written based on this post from @benchilwellx bc it was such a cute concept, just a quick fluffy little one-shot to get the writing juices flowing :) sorry i haven't updated this love in a couple weeks but life has been crazy! hoping to get the next chapter posted in the next week but enjoy this in the meantime 💗

also for the sake of this fic let's pretend chelsea didn't have a game this weekend, tbh would rather forget the one they did play lol

In the two years you’ve known Ben, and just over a year since you’ve been a couple, you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen him truly drunk.

With the football season preventing him from indulging too much for most of the year, and fitness at the top of his mind even in the off-season, he rarely gets the opportunity. Usually, when you go out, he either drives or makes sure to get you home safely in an Uber, and if you’ve had a really fun night, he’ll help you take off your makeup or even hold your hair back if necessary.

So it’s an interesting turn of events when you show up a bit late to his best mate Harvey’s birthday celebration at a fancy club in Soho and find your boyfriend clearly tipsy already.

He’s sitting in a booth next to Tom and Harvey singing along to some 90s R&B song, a drink in hand that is definitely not his first, or even his second or third. He’s a bit of a sight to behold, as he so rarely drinks this much, but you can’t help but smile at the sight of him letting loose - you know how much pressure he’s been under lately with the captain duties.

“Babe!” Ben exclaims with wide eyes and an even wider grin as soon as he sees you, stumbling a bit as he gets up from the booth. “You’re here!”

He quickly makes his way to you and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, and you can taste the liquor on his tongue. You sink into him nonetheless, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms after a long day of work.

As soon as you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and takes a deep breath, his thumbs drawing circles on your waistline.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,“ you smile back at him warmly, enjoying this affection, no matter how much tequila is playing a part. “You pretty drunk?”

“Mhm,” Ben says with a slightly dazed expression, his eyes still focused on your lips. “The boys were making me take shots since there’s no game this week.”

You chuckle slightly, rolling your eyes at Ben’s - and by extension, your - good friends at the booth behind him, dancing and ordering another round of shots. You’re glad Harvey’s having a good birthday.

“I’m happy you’re having fun, baby, you deserve it,” you say sincerely, cupping his face with both hands before leaning in to kiss him again. “Now, it seems I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Go sit with the boys, I’ll get you a drink,” Ben offers, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek before heading to the bar.

You nod with a smile and go to sit next to Harvey, pulling him into a quick hug and wishing him a happy birthday.

“Now, which one of you is responsible for my drunk boyfriend?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow as you glance back at Ben, who is still smiling lovingly at you from the bar.

“That would be the birthday boy,” Tom chuckles. “He’s bloody entertaining though, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with him hungover tomorrow,” you joke.

The last time he was hungover, after one fun night on the yacht in Italy this summer, Ben had forced you to spend the whole day in bed cuddling with him. You pretended to be annoyed for about five minutes before giving in - partly because you can never turn down his cuddles, and partly because you were pretty hungover too.

Speaking of how adorable your boyfriend is, within minutes he’s headed back over to you with that same dopey grin on his face and two vodka sodas. It’s your favourite, and his go-to during the season when he’s watching his calories.

“For you, my darling,” Ben says in an overly posh accent as he hands you the glass, making you giggle.

He then practically shoves Tom over to make room for himself to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders protectively and kissing your cheek. You can feel yourself blushing from the unusually overt PDA, as he typically reserves this kind of affection for home, but you don’t mind.

“I love you,” Ben whispers once again against your temple, burying his nose in your hair. “So, so much. Missed you today.”

It’s amazing the way those three words still give you the same butterflies as the first time you heard them, making you smile like a lovestruck fool.

“I missed you too, baby,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make dinner. You know how crazy work has been.”

Ben and the boys had been a bit disappointed when you weren’t able to join them for dinner earlier, mainly because you’ve been so busy at work lately due to a recent promotion that your friends have hardly seen you. Even Ben’s time with you has been limited, especially with him also putting in extra time at Cobham as captain while Reece is out.

It’s been an exciting time for both of you career-wise, but it’s also meant spending less time together, which is probably why Ben is being so clingy right now and why you’re welcoming his clinginess.

“S’okay, I’m just glad you’re here now,” Ben says, kissing your cheek a few more times before returning the conversation with the boys.

You contently settle into Ben’s side, his arm still firmly wrapped around you, and sip your drink while they talk about football and the girl Anish is seeing. When Ben interrupts the other guys’ suggestions of playing it cool and waiting to text her back by telling his friend to be honest and just tell her how he feels, your heart swells with pride that your boyfriend is the most emotionally intelligent guy you know.

“Since Ben’s the only one successfully in a relationship, I’m gonna take his advice,” Anish laughs, raising his drink to you. “Unless he just got lucky with Y/N.”

“Nah, he won me over fair and square,” you say, turning your face to meet Ben’s eyes and smiling lovingly at him. “I’m the lucky one.”

The way Ben’s eyes shine and his lip quivers slightly at your words makes it impossible for you to resist leaning in to press a quick peck to his mouth. It’s not your fault he’s so adorable, nor is it your fault that Ben deepens the kiss and pulls you closer.

“Alright, we’re going to get more drinks, we’ll leave you to it,” Harvey says with an eye-roll as the rest of your group gets up and starts to walk over to the bar.

You pull back from Ben’s kisses, feeling a bit embarrassed by how touchy you’re being, but he only takes the opportunity to grab your waist and hoist you into his lap.

“Baby,” you sigh, really enjoying the warmth of his arms and the little kisses he’s leaving on your neck. “Don’t you think we should cool it a bit? It’s Harvey’s birthday, doubt he wants to watch us do this all night.”

“Can’t help it,” Ben mumbles into your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I just love you so much.”

Ben never shies away from reminding you of this fact, often the last three words he says to you before bed or when you’re leaving the house, but he tends to tell you how much he loves you even more than normal when he’s drinking. You’re not sure if he forgets that he already told you multiple times or just that he feels particularly lovey when intoxicated. Either way, you love it.

“I love you so much too, Benji,” you smile, kissing his forehead and adorning the way his eyes flutter shut in contentment. “Why don’t we stay for one more drink and then go home and have sex on the couch and fall asleep watching Love Island?”

His eyes light up like a child who’s just been offered ice cream before bed, and he nods eagerly.

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to let me off your lap, babe,” you chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Unless you wanna get roasted mercilessly.”

“Don’t care,” Ben grumbles into your hair, but when you pull back and give him a warning look, he sighs and gives in. “Fine, but we’re dancing.”

You squeal slightly as you’re lifted off your feet, Ben dragging you to the dance floor. You might be exhausted and ready to go home at this point, but you’re content to spend the next few minutes dancing to some Calvin Harris song in the arms of your drunk boyfriend, him whispering how much he loves you between the choruses.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

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tillthelandslide · 1 year

Text

Same For You: (3) The Deal

A/n: here's part 3 guys, I'm loving writing this series and trust me there's good stuff to come.... I'm so excited!!! I hope you're enjoying this so far :) let me know what you think ❤️- Lou

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

Series Masterlist

(2) Your Very Own Mirror

She sits in the Dirty Hit office, Jamie sat opposite her, Matty sitting next to Jamie, the pair looking at a bunch of stacked papers. The pair had been texting constantly since they met up for coffee, talking about music, speaking about their songs and their mutual interests in other artists. She explained how Fleetwood Mac was her favorite band, he informed her that they were one of Ross' favorites too. He spoke a lot about Ross, she was unsure what the intention was, she secretly hoped the bearded man asked Matty to slip him into conversation but the rational part of her brain told her it was more likely that it was just general chit chat. Mates supporting mates.

She liked how Matty and her were at the moment, despite not knowing each other for very long at all, he got her, she felt like he had very quickly become one of her best friends. Her favorite times were late at night, when he'd randomly call her and ask "have you heard of this thing love?" And began talking about some niche topic. She also loved when he'd call her to talk about music, to recommend a song he'd listened to and thought she'd like. Each call proved that she was at the forefront of his mind and she was becoming quite accustomed to the idea.

She was sat picking at her nails, only noticing the bad behavior when she feels blood being drawn from the skin, she rolls her hand up into a fist, hiding the abuse she'd given to herself, opting to pick at the varnish of the other hand.

"Are you okay love?" He asks, watching as he picked at her black nail varnish, small flecks falling somewhere unseen. He's by her side in the next second, a look of pure worry on his face. His presence near her, closer to her, made her feel calmer, he quietened her ever noisy brain.

"Yeah yeah... Sorry just a bit nervous I guess" she says making him nod but he can tell she's withholding the truth. He places his hand in hers and squeezes gently, before letting her go.

"Don't be... We're the ones that should be nervous" he says making her confused.

"How so?"

"You might say no" Jamie speaks, placing his phone down on the table.

"Let's get this started then shall we"

The three of them settle on a deal of sorts, a trial period, where Matty, George and Ross (all who agreed prior) would book in some studio time with Y/n and her band. The idea was, that after they had established some tracks, and worked with the boys, if she liked it and felt like the label offered what her and the band was looking for, she would then sign to it. Jamie explained that he hoped she would sign to the label and if they did, they could support the 1975 for a few shows. All of the talk was very exciting but she was also incredibly nervous.

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀ •°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

They all sit around the brown leather booth in a hipster looking bar in Soho, round the corner from where y/n and the band usually perform. She's dressed comfortably in a pair of black jeans and a black knitted sleeveless turtle neck, when she left the house earlier to attend the meeting, it was fairly warm. Outside was now far too chilly for her liking and she cursed herself for not bringing a jacket. Matty had walked with her to this particular bar, texting the rest of the band to join them.

"Cheers" Ross says, clinking his glass against hers and Matty's, George who was sitting across from her raising his glass to her and smiling widely.

"To the new recruit" Matty says making her chuckle and shake her head.

"Hey I haven't agreed yet!" Her words make everyone chuckle and she doesn't miss the way Matty raises his eyebrows at her, as if to say "sureeee"

"Yeah I heard all about your bargaining... Ballsy" George says, the word having been used to describe her far too many times now.

"Got to protect myself and the band haven't I?" She says and they all laugh again.

"So we start making this album with you and you'll consider letting the label sign you?" George asks and she nods.

"Wow... You really are cool... Charli was right" George says making everyone laugh.

"Speaking of' George says, standing up as the black haired girl strides towards him, he meets her in a hug and they share a quick peck, George murmuring a "hi baby" which makes y/n smile warmly, before she's turning towards y/n.

"Hey bitch!" She says, pulling y/n up and hugging her.

"Hi!" She's says, hugging Charli tightly. They weren't the closest but she always loved being around Charli and her friends and was very fond of her, wanting to be closer with her. The girls sit back down and they all talk amongst themselves. Matty talks to Charli and George as Ross speaks with Y/n.

Adam eventually joins and Y/n stops her conversation with Ross abruptly, looking at Adam who was now greeting Matty.

"Hann this is y/n, the artist we told you about. Y/n this is Adam" Matty says and she stands, reaching a hand out to him who shakes it with a smile.

"Great to finally meet you, the guys haven't shut up about you to be honest" he says and she smiles, mouth falling open and then shutting again, at a loss for words.

"You okay love?" Matty asks and she shakes her head, composing herself.

"I can't lie... I'm kind of freaking out, I'm a huge fan..." She says to Adam making everyone laugh.

"You're one of the reasons I started playing guitar, you're mad talented" she hates the way she sounds like a cliche fan but she couldn't help it. Matty raises his eyebrows at her and she sees the cogs turning in his brain, he looks at her and she knows he's mentally saying "Adam your fave then?" But she shakes her head at him.

"Wow, thank you, that means a lot. The guys showed me some videos of you and your band playing, you're sick!" She smiles and blushes at his words, sitting back down next to Ross and continuing their conversation.

"He's right you know... You're really talented, amazing really... How long have you been playing guitar?" The way he so casually compliments her had her heart fluttering and she nearly stutters over her words- nearly.

She feigns confidence as she says "since I was 15, the summer after I discovered your band... I tried bass but it wasn't for me" and he laughs.

"How so?" He asks.

"my hands are too small and I struggled to be honest"

"don't be silly, let me see" he says, lifting her hand and placing it against his. The sensation is instant for both of them, fire igniting, sparks flying, electric buzzing, hand against hand but it's as if their souls have been ripped open for the other to see.

Their mouths both fall open as they touch, neither look at their hands, too busy looking into each other's eyes, occasionally flicking down to each other's lips. She feels the warmth of his hand against her and she blushes.

"You're right... You've got tiny hands" he struggles to get the words out, having to swallow a few times before they even come out. She smiles at his teasing, fingers closing around his hand, tugging it towards her before she opens her hand again, inspecting it closer.

"Or you've just got giant hands Macdonald" he smirks at her then, eyes finally moving away from her lips and down at their hands. Her mouth sits slightly agape as she takes in his hand, eyes falling on the veins and callouses there.

Their moment is interrupted by the buzz of her phone which sits in her lap, her eyes flick down to look at it before she looks back up at Ross.

"Sorry' she says quietly, reluctantly letting go of his hand and reaching for her phone. His hand wraps back around his glass, bringing the liquid back up to his lips to take a sip.

He watches her over the rim of his glass, seeing the way her eyebrows furrow as she reads the text she received. He doesn't like the way she's huffing as she reads it, or the roll of her eyes before she's placing her phone face down onto table, drawing her attention back to him.

She seems almost withdrawn when her eyes find his again, and the smile she directs his way seems forced.

"Everything okay love?" Her stomach flutters at the nickname and she has to stop herself from gasping. She's worried her voice will fail her so she simply nods, but with one look from Ross, a raise of his eyebrows and a tilt of his head, she's spilling all.

"Sorry it's just the band... They didn't want to come to the meeting with me - said I can make the decision as I'm the 'frontman' which I already fucking hate... Which is just stupid anyway because we're a band, were supposed to make these decisions together, and now Jay, drummer, is lecturing me saying I should just sign the contract... That doing studio time with you guys before is a waste of time" she rants, her words are rushed but Ross manages to catch every single one without fail, she buffs at the end of her words, breath fast and shallow.

"Love" he says, her heart fluttering again, picking up tenfold when he takes her hand back in his "breathe for a second" he watches as she inhales deeply before exhaling, her shoulders slumping slightly after she does.

"Better?' she nods.

"Good... I'm sorry darling, that sucks... For what it's worth, I think it's really brave of you.. and super cool too" he says, a clear smirk resting against his lips as he speaks.

"Really?" she barely realises that her hand is still in his, only noticing when he follows his "yeah" with a squeeze of her hand.

"I think you're just trying to do what's best for your band and although they're putting all the pressure on you to make that decision, I think you're making the best one... Just looking out for them" he says and she's the one squeezing his hand now, silently thanking him.

"I'm glad you get it... Thank you Ross" she says, debating whether to pull her hand away from his despite not wanting to. It seemed like it was a matter of who would break first.

"You're welcome sweetheart... Anytime" her breath hitches again at the new nickname, this time not going unnoticed by the bassist, who raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything, which she feels grateful for, she really didn't want to feel mortified right now. Instead he surprises her with a question.

"Fancy going outside for a bit?" He asks, eyes never leaving hers, the intensity of his eye contact making her mouth fall open slightly. She nods as her eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth.

They stand from the table, thankfully everyone is too engrossed in their conversation to realise and they quietly slip outside the pub. The cold air immediately makes her skin prick up and goosebumps rise to the surface, she wraps her hands around herself, running them up and down her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm.

Wordlessly, Ross shrugs off his jacket, moving forward and draping it over her frame, the fabric almost immediately drowning her, but the warmth she feels (weather from the item of the clothing, or from the fact she's wearing his jacket) makes her smile. His hands don't leave the lapels straight away, tugging gently until she's standing closer to him.

Maybe it was because Ross was usually quiet, his actions this evening were taking her by surprises, pleasantly so.

"You look cute in my clothes" the confession makes her blush and she has to take a step back, sighing deeply. "Where are you going?" He says, pulling her towards him again. He notices her breath is heavy again.

"What's up, am I making you uncomfortable?" He goes to retreat but she stops him, shaking her head as she looks up at him

"No... Not at all... You're just surprising me is all" she admits and he smirks.

"How so?"

"The pet names, the- the touching... The forwardness... Just didn't expect it from you to be honest... You're usually quiet" she says and he nods.

"I'm not usually this forward to be honest..."

"What is it about me then?" She challenges.

"Everything" the one word answer has her breath hitching again and he notices, smirking and pulling her close to him again.

"I like that noise... Wouldn't mind hearing it in different circumstances" he says, as she laughs in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Jesus Christ" she murmurs "you're giving me whiplash".

"Sorry... I'm coming on too strong aren't I?" He says, stepping back again, this time she lets him. Not because she wanted him away from her (in fact she wanted exactly the opposite) but she allows it because she thinks it's best, she knew they'd get ahead of themselves if she allowed it to continue.

"You're not, don't apologise" she says, making him smile.

"Okay..." The tension seems to be lifted somewhat and she can breathe almost normally again. Her heart is still beating rapidly in her chest, almost soaring when she spots the dimples either side of his lips and the way his eyes are creasing as he smiles.

"I want to get to know you more... Seeing as we're going to be working together" he says and she smirks, sure that was the reason, she thinks.

"Id like that" he nods, stepping forward just slightly. He feels the need, the desire to just hug her but refrains from doing so, wondering what's coming over him. He was never like this usually.

"We should go inside... I'm freezing my tits off" he says making her laugh loudly. Oh god that laugh he thinks, he thinks it's the best noise he's ever heard and knew he'd do anything to hear it again.

"You didn't have to give me your jacket" she gazes up at him, one eyebrow raising, her eyes almost twinkle when she sees him smirk, accompanied with a slow shake of his head. His hand slowly reaches forward, just one hand, reaching for the edge of his jacket, smoothing the fabric between his fingers. She feels his knuckle graze her abdomen briefly before he pulls back.

"Don't be silly, I wanted to... Couldn't have you shivering out here whilst I'm all toasty" he explains, she stops her breath from hitching, sighing instead, trying to pull it off as a content one instead of a surprised one.

"And now it's the other way round" she says, raising her eyebrows as her arms cross over her chest, the fabric creasing under her hands, his scent escaping from the clothing, harassing her senses, making her skin rise in goosebumps again.

"oh shush' he says making her laugh. He places a hand at her back, leading her back inside. They make their way back over to their table, her still in his jacket and his hand still resting against her back, coming to rest against the back of her seat as they sit back down.

Her eyes find Matty's as she shrugs off Ross' coat, the curly haired man frowning at her.

"What's up?' she mouths, worried something was up with him. She couldn't quite explain it but she felt some sort of duty towards Matty already, knowing he was so similar to her and that alone had her wanting to protect him. She wasn't sure whether she liked how deeply she cared for him already, she felt like she knew him so well already and was a scared of getting hurt. Whilst on the other hand, the man who's jacket she was just wearing, she didn't know that well at all, seeing as in the years she had been following the band, he was more reserved than Matty.

"Later" he mouths back, making her frown. She picks up her phone that she left again the table, ignoring the texts from her bandmates and pulling him Mattys contact in her phone.

Ross draws his eyes away from the scene, not wanting to intrude but feels a pang of jealousy hit him. He sees the name light up her phone "Bestie ❤️" and somehow he knows its Matty.

"You'd tell me if something was up right?" She sends the message, hearing the ding of his phone before he's drawing it from his pocket, eyes flicking from the device to her as he reads it.

"Yeah love... Don't worry I'm fine x" she receives back in reply, placing her phone down and smiling at him, he smiles back. She makes a funny face at him for safe measure, just in case he was in fact lying, she hoped it would cheer up a little bit.

He chuckles and the sight makes her smile wide again, turning her attention back to Ross for a second, who smiles at her too.

"So y/n..." She looks to see who was talking to her, finding Adam smiling at her.

"How long have you and your band been together... What's the name again?" He asks and she smiles.

"The Love Of Thieves" she confirms, making him raise his eyebrows, muttering a "cool name".

"We've been together for almost 10 years now... Started when I was 15, the rest were around 18 then" she says.

"They're older than you?" Matty asks, her eyes flicking to him and she smiles, nodding at him.

"Yeah... Everyone thought it was really weird... Me hanging out with people who were older than me. But my brother played bass with our drummer's brother, and we all used to hang out... They didn't realise I was as young as I was until about 6 months in" she explains and everyone laughs. Ross can't help but like the fact her brother played bass, knowing it was a conversation they could have another time.

"Such a cool kid weren't you?' Matty jokes making her raise her middle finger at him.

"Shut up... I didn't get along with people my age to be honest. Besides I grew up around older people, so I just fit in with them" she explains and people around the table nod, seeming to understand.

"Where did the name come from?" George asks, sipping from his glass as his other hand held Charli's.

"We actually kind of stole it..." She says, making everyone laugh.

"My dad always used to play records around the house and I remember coming downstairs one day and this song was playing... Wasn't really my vibe like musically but there was this one lyric" she says, smiling as she looked at her fingers.

"Oh the tears that you weep, For the poor tortured souls, Who fall at your feet... I fucking loved that... So I asked my dad what the song was"

A chorus of "The Love Thieves" breaks out and she nods.

"We added a word obviously..." She laughs again "it was originally just a place holder but it kind of just..."

"Stuck' Matty finishes and she nods again.

"I think that's fucking sick" he then says and she smiles.

"Thanks..." She blushes as Matty smiles.

"Cool name for a cool band" Ross says and she smiles over at him.

Eventually people start filtering out, Adam leaves first, wanting to get home go his wife and child, which Y/n finds very sweet. Charli and George are then leaving next, Charli pulling her up from the table to hug her tightly.

"We'll have to go out soon, just the two of us" y/n confirms with a nod and Charli then kisses her cheek and bids her farewell.

Mumbling a "keep being a legend and if these lot get on your nerves, let me know"

Matty, Ross and Y/n stay until close, eventually being ushered out by one of the bar tenders.

She begins to shiver as soon as she steps outside, and it's a matter of which one shrugs their jacket off first, the winner being Matty, who drapes his coat over her shoulders. She says a thank you but her eyes find Ross' who looks down sadly at her.

"Sorry for being that idiot who didn't bring a jacket" she says making them both laugh.

"It's fine, I've got my cig to warm me up" Matty says and she nods.

"Want me to call you a cab?" Ross then speaks up, she smiles but ultimately shakes her head at him.

"No I'm good thank you, Abbie works around the corner and has just finished her shift so she's going to swing by and pick me up" she explains making the both of them nod.

"Abbie is your guitarist right?" Ross asks and she nods.

"The one and only... She likes to think she's Hann but she's really not" her words making the boys chuckle.

"She's a fan too?' Matty asks, cringing when he realises he just called her a 'fan'. But y/n doesn't mind, because she was one, and a huge one at that. She had their logo tattooed for Christ sake.

"She is" she confirms. They hear the beep of a car and y/n flicks her eyes towards it, seeing Abbie with her head out of her window, waving at them.

"Well that's me" she says, going to shrug off Mattys jacket but he stops her.

"Keep it" he says, pulling her towards him to hug her tightly.

"Lovely to see you again... I really look forward to working with you y/n' he says into her ear as they hug.

"You too Matty... Better text me" she says and he mumbles an 'of course, not getting rid of me now" they then pull away and she steps forward, closer to Ross.

"MacDonald" she says and he smirks down at her, hooking his arms around her waist and pulling her the rest of the way towards him.

"Y/L/N" he says back, sighing into her hair as they hug. It was the first hug they shared and he was already addicted. To the way she felt against him, in his arms, smaller than him, warm against him. The way he could feel her heart beat against his chest and the way she felt her warmth seep into him. The way he could smell her, more strongly now.

"Tonight was fun" he says and she nods against him. The pair realise they've been hugging for a little too long so reluctantly pull away.

"I'll text you" he says and she smiles, really hopeful that he does.

She pulls away and her eyes flick between the pair, heart beating and breath picking up. She then leaves them, walking to the guitarists car, opening the door and getting in.

She was fucked.

"Good night?" She asks as she begins driving.

"Amazing." She confirms.

"Who's jacket is that?'

"Mattys'

"Oh. Anything going on there?"

"No don't be silly"

Her phone buzzes as she looks at it, seeing one notification from an unknown number.

"Let me know when you're home please xx - Ross"

She quickly saved his number in her phone as "MacDonald" tempting to put a little heart next to his name but not wanting to get ahead of herself, when she recieves another message.

"Looked better in my jacket btw... Fancy grabbing a coffee sometime? Xx" it reads and it makes her gasp quietly again.

She thinks twice about sending what she wants to, deciding to just go for it and replying back with a "Yours was comfier... Smelt like you too 🤭... And would love to x"

Her phone pings far too quickly for it to be Ross so she looks again and sees another message, this firm from Matty, who had edited his contact name from the simple "Matty" to "Bestie ❤️" when they went for coffee with one another.

"I'm now realising the huge mistake I made when I gave you my jacket... You've got my house keys" it reads and she gasps.

"Fuck" she says, burring her hand into the pocket of his jacket, feeling the metal against her hands and pulling it out.

"What?" Abbie says.

"I've got Matty's keys" she says.

"Shit" Abbie says.

"Yeah. Shit"

"Text me your address please x" she sends, worrying when he doesn't reply "Matthew!" She then sends.

"I'm not letting you drive all the way here just to drop my keys off xx" - Matty.

"Well I'm not letting you roam the streets in the freezing cold Matthew. Send me your address xx" - Y/n.

He replies back almost immediately with his address.

"Do you mind dropping me off near by? I can get an Uber back if you need to be somewhere" she explains and Abbie nods.

"You sure? I can wait about a bit"

"No honestly it's fine"

They drive almost in silence to his house, pulling up close by.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do" she says making y/n shake her head.

"It's not like that.. I'm just going to give him his keys and then head home...besides you're literally gay"

"exactly"

Y/n walks the last bit towards his house, seeing him sitting on the curb.

"Oh thank fuck, I'm about to freeze to death here"

"Nice to see you too' she jokes.

"I'm so thankful you're here darling. Seriously, I could've crashed at someone's house" he says and she shakes her head, smiling when he pulls her into a tight hug.

"Wanna come up for a bit? I make a mean brew" he offers and despite knowing she should really say no, she's nodding.

"Sounds heavenly" and then she's handing him his keys and they're entering his house.

She's entering Matty Healy's house. Her phone buzzes in her (Mattys pocket) and if she had looked she would've seen a text from Ross that read "Home yet love? You've got me worried here xxx"

(4) No Need To Explain

A/n: AHHHHH what's going to happen next? Let me know what you think is going to happen!! If you're liking this please consider liking, leaving a comment and reblogging :) love youuuuu

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald x reader #the 1975 fan fiction #the 1975 fan fic #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fan fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fan fic #george daniel fanfiction #ross macdonald x oc #matty healy x oc #George daniel x oc #same for you the 1975 series

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

Note

hello! i was wondering if you have any more fallen aziraphale fics? thank you so much 💗

Hi! Here are some fics to add to our #fallen angel aziraphale tag...

Aziraphale falls from grace. by Pinkishrose (M)

After Aziraphale comes back from Heaven and reconnects with Crowley, leaving his Archangel days behind him, Heaven gets mad, and makes him fall. But Crowley is here to support him during this, torturous time.

Aziraphale Come Down by TheNapoleonOfCrime (T)

Crowley stared at the television with wide eyes, dropping the drink he held right on the floor and causing it to shatter. He watched the video that had been captured of the angel, his angel, Aziraphale, walk through the busy roads like nothing. Aziraphale, his friend who he always knew to be cautious, to be perfect, walking around as if he was drunk. And his wings, what had happened to them? What had they done to him? Without another thought, Crowley ran out of the bar he had been so comfortably situated in. “Angel-!”

"Angel" He Called Me by AislinRegin (M)

Crowley falls twice so Aziraphale never falls alone.

Well, that won't do as an ending (Let's try again, shall we?) by longdeadking (T)

"Aziraphale would never— Well, he simply wasn't— It just couldn't— Well. The point was, Aziraphale's feathers were… turning odd, these days." or: Aziraphale is having some growing pains as he gets used to his new role as Supreme Archangel. Crowley is being a pouty baby about being left on Earth. Everyone else seems to be doing just fine. or: fuck canon all my homies hate canon. they will be married if i have to officiate the wedding myself. (canon compliant, picks up a little bit after the end of the show)

requiem of a fallen angel by viperinz (T)

“Tomorrow, I might knock on your door again,” Aziraphale says, and it’s so quiet that Crowley has to strain to hear him. “I… I want you to read this before that happens. Should I not come, I want you to know why. A-and what I wanted to say tonight, you deserve to know it.” He schools his expression, bringing it back to his annoyed one he had on earlier. “I don’t want your apologies if you’re going to leave. S’useless, isn’t it?” he grits out, putting a hand on his hip. It’s only for a second, and Aziraphale looks back at him with a small smile. One that doesn’t reach his eyes, and one that is full of utter devastation. “You’ve always been the best of us, Crowley,” Aziraphale says quietly, and Crowley closes the door.

When Aziraphale falls from grace after stopping the Second Coming, it's a slow, painful process. Crowley picks up the pieces, and holds him together.

One Vision by goodoldfashioneddeliveryboy (M)

Something Big. Something Falling. Something falling that started Up, which Muriel had felt, and had descended Down, which Crowley was now feeling. This wasn’t sauntering vaguely downward, no, this was crashing and burning, a comet encased in the hottest of flames, exploding and coming back together in a warped wave of furious celestial intent. The surrounding BANG as it thudded from the mighty Above to the murky Below was felt by all supernatural entities, occult and ethereal. On a bustling street in Soho, the Bentley's alarm wailed. In a dusty bookshop on Whickber Street, the lights flickered. In a deep pit of hell, Aziraphale burned. -OR- Mr SuPrEmE ArChaNgEL falls Tremendously, the two ineffable idiots begin sorting their sh*t out, but the Second Coming appears to still be Coming much to everyone's utter annoyance.

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fallen angel aziraphale #hurt/comfort #mod d

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handyowlet · 8 months

Text

The definitive (as best as I could do after transcribing all of S2 myself) list of when Crowley calls Aziraphale by his name versus calling him Angel.

Aziraphale

- [ ] S1E1- 2007- phone booth, we need to talk about apocalypse

- [ ] S1E3- 3004 BC- Noah’s ark (crowd)

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Soho, bookshop fire, calling out to him to find him

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Bar, confirming it’s Aziraphale’s spirit after discorporation (background patrons)

- [ ] S1E5- 2018- Air Force base, greeting Aziraphale when he is possessing Madame Tracy (Shadwell, guard)

- [ ] S1E6- 2018- Walking in to AF base, lick/kick butt line (Tracy, Shadwell)

- [ ] S1E6- 2018- AF base, telling him to shoot Adam (Them, Tracy, Shadwell)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- in Bentley after Beelzebub tells him about extreme sanctions, talking to himself

- [ ] S2E3- 1827- Edinburgh, in the crypt to get Aziraphale’s attention when he’s babbling about saving Wee Morag (technically Elspeth is there but not paying attention to them)

- [ ] S6E6- present day- Bookshop, when angels and demons are talking about war because of the halo thing (Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, Muriel, Dagon, Shax, Furfur, Maggie, Nina)

3 private, 7 public, 2 in public but likely not overheard (so his name appears to be the more public option)

Angel

- [ ] S1E2-2018- Tadfield, dropping Anathema off at home (Anathema)

- [ ] S1E3- 1793- Bastille, time is frozen

- [ ] S1E3- 1862- St. James Park, holy water scene (background park-goers but they’re kind of whispering)

- [ ] S1E4- 2018- Soho outside bookshop, run away with me argument (background pedestrians)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- outside coffee shop after hearing Maggie call him an Angel (technically background pedestrians, Maggie has walked away by then)

- [ ] S2E1- present day- back room of bookshop trying to convince Aziraphale to abandon Gabriel

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Job’s palace, saying Aziraphale sounds jealous about having choice

- [ ] S2E2- 2600 BC- Job’s palace, asking if Aziraphale is sure he won’t kill the kids (Ennon, Keziah, Jemima)

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Uz, seeing God talking to Job (Job and God are there but not aware of A & C)

- [ ] S2E2- 2500 BC- Uz, when Aziraphale thinks he’s going to Hell

- [ ] S2E3- present day- In bookshop, pulling Aziraphale away from Muriel (Muriel)

- [ ] S2E3- present day, talking to Aziraphale through Bentley radio

- [ ] S2E3- 1827- Edinburgh, telling Aziraphale to give his money to Elspeth (Elspeth)

- [ ] S2E5- present day- Bookshop, during the ball, saying people will get hurt (technically the shopkeepers are in the background but they’re whispering)

- [ ] S6E6- present day- Bookshop, final 15, you’re better than that

6 private, 5 public, 4 in public but likely not overheard (so Angel seems to be the more private option)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 3 #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #crowley #ineffable idiots #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable spouses

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dontyouworrydaddy · 1 year

Note

I have a more dark ask for you, so feel free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable. How would TF 141, Konig and Los Vaqueros react when they realize their s/o is a wanted serial killer? They would probably be shocked that such a kind and sweet woman is hiding such a dark secret. To add to the moral ambiguity, she only targets child abusers and rap!sts. Thank you and sorry in advance if this request upsets you.

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧‘𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞?

Task Force 141 (+ König & Los Vaqueros) x fem! reader

Hi! First of all, I feel absolutely comfortable to write about dark themed stuff :) So it’s totally fine and I‘m actually excited to write this. This might take a bit longer than the others, since I think this is a very interesting and good idea.

Love you! 🩷

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

König

He usually never forgets where he puts his phone. But this time he didn’t know where he put it, so he took your phone to calm himself. But as he unlocks your phone he sees a text coming up and at first he tried to ignore it, since he respects your privacy. But one specific word and a name gained his attention…

Job- Josh Williams

What was this Job? You work as a nurse at the hospital. And who is Josh Williams? Is it someone you are treating? But he for sure would know if you told him about a Josh. Curiosity took over him and he clicked on the notification, wanting to find out what this Job is and who the hell Josh is.

Job- Josh Williams

Child abuser. Was on court, got away with it. Mother is scared he might do something to them. Current Location: England, London. Last seen in Bar Soho, alone. You know what to do Ashley. Send a picture of the body as soon as you’re finished. Good luck.

König was shocked. This got to be some sick Joke. Your name is not Ashley and you definitely wouldn’t harm someone. You can’t even kill a spider and start crying when König tells you to just do it. But he decided to swipe and he sees the conversation between you and this person. And then it clicks.

Ashley, the wanted serial killer in England and Austria, is you? That doesn’t make sense. No.

He lets the phone rest on the kitchen table and calls for you. You were in the bathroom, taking off your make up and getting ready for bed. You just got home from a long and exhausting shift. Or were you really at the hospital?

"Yes, love?“ you enter the room and you see him looking at you. But something was strange. Why is he wearing his mask? And why is he looking at you like you killed someone?

"You’re Ashley?" his voice cold and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Your smile quickly drops and you look at him completely baffled.

"How?" your voice low and you look down. How could this happen? You made sure that no one ever finds out your true identity. The only thing you let the world know is that your name is Ashley, which is not true, and that you’re fighting for justice, since the government is failing so many women and children. The person who is sending you all these details is your best friend. König likes her because he knows that she is a good influence and you grew up together. But you’re not gonna expose her. Your eyes land on your phone and you don’t know how to feel. Mad because he was on your phone. Or scared that König might tell on you now.

"I can explain" you tell him and he doesn’t break the gaze. You take a step forward but he takes one back. You stop at his reaction and you could swear you felt your heart drop.

"König. I swear I don’t kill innocent people. Only rapists and child abusers. And only then when the government is not doing anything. These women and children are scared and don’t dare to go out because they never know when they might get killed. I swear to you." you desperately explain and your body needs a reaction from him, but he doesn’t react at all. He looks to the side and you wish you could see how he feels now. But he decided to cover his face again, making it hard for you to know how he feels right now.

"Ashley, huh?" his voice is harsh. You don’t dare looking at him. The weight of disappointment settles upon you soul like a leaden cloak, suffocating and heavy, the jagged edges of their expectations carving deep grooves of remorse through the tender fabric of one's self-worth, leaving behind a bitter residue that stains the heart's delicate tapestry for eternity. It is a hollow ache, an echoing chasm where warmth once resided, as the realization of your inadequacy seeps through the cracks of shattered trust, forever haunting the corridors of the conscience with its haunting refrain of missed opportunities and shattered dreams.

“Leave, please" his frigid and callous voice erupted like an icy tempest, each word crystallizing into shards of anguish that pierced the very depths of your soul, leaving behind a lingering ache that whispered of betrayal and shattered trust. You look at him and you can feel the tears build up in the corner of your eyes. Please, no…

“Y/N. Please. I just need time to think” for a second, you hesitate. You don’t want to leave. You both know that what you’re doing is a good thing. Making Women and Children feel safe. But he can’t think straight right now. And you respect that. So without saying anything, you leave, hoping for him to call you as soon as possible. Because your heart can’t stay away from him.

Simon Riley

"Job is done. Payment should follow like usual. Don’t call me unless I call you." you whisper-tell you secret boss. Simon doesn’t know anything about your secret life. You were working as a secret assassin whenever Simon was deployed and when he was at home, you were a nurse.

As you turned around, you saw Simon leaning against the doorframe, looking at you like you were his enemy. At this sight, your heart dropped.

"Simon." you innocently spoke and hid your phone in your back. You smile at him and look at his cold and stony eyes. You felt your heart beat faster and you hope that he didn’t hear you talking about the mission.

"Where were you?" his voice deep and harsh, causing you to jump, since you’re not known to this side of Simon. He would never talk to you like that. He promised himself to be better for you. You gave him nothing but love and comfort so he promised you to be better than ever.

"At the hospital" after these words leave your lips, he starts laughing and shaking his head.

"stop lying" he suddenly yells at you. You take a step back and drop your phone, letting it crack against the cold and hard floor of your shared bedroom. "Where. Were. You. I saw you leave a house. Who was it?" he takes a few steps towards you, closing the distance between you and him.

"Simon. It’s not what you think about." you barely whisper and he lets out a deep chuckle. "Then what is is?" he softly grabs your face with one hand. He usually did this when you weren’t holding eye contact. And now you don’t know how to react. You are already exposed, so you can also just tell him what you did. But if you do, you need to leave tonight. The chances of him calling the cops is too high. Especially when he finds out you’re one of the most wanted female serial killer.

"I killed someone. Someone not innocent. Will Ricksen. He raped his wife and got away with it because he owns a company in the US. The wife got in contact with us because she got threatened by him and she doesn’t want to live with fear anymore. I didn’t cheat on you. I could never. I only kill child abusers and rapists that get away with it. I swear to you, I would never kill someone who is innocent." you close your eyes, afraid to look at him. You were waiting for him to yell at you, scream and tell you how much he is disappointed in you. You were waiting for him to do anything that would break you down, but it never happened. Instead, you felt his rough hands patt the top of your head. And then, the unexpected happens.

Simon pulls you in tight hug and kisses the back if your head. This reaction of him left you confused and baffled. You hesitantly hug him back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

"Don’t get caught." his voice was trembling and it felt like the inner child in him just spoke. You knew about his traumatic past and you understand his feelings. If you had the chance to kill his father, you would. When he told you his story, you cried. You hugged him so tightly, you were afraid to let go of him.

He didn’t let you go and he reassured you that he won’t tell anyone.

John MacTavish

”The fuck you mean?” you hear your boyfriends voice yell from behind you. You turn around and look at him and quickly end the call. You hope that he wasn’t talking to you but his facial expression and gesture are telling you otherwise.

“What do you mean Josh is dead? Why did this person called you Angela?“ his voice filled with anger, confusion and sadness. His face looks nothing like his usual one. Once, his countenance was a sanctuary of warmth and solace, a sanctuary where his eyes danced with affection and his lips bloomed with a sweet smile that embraced my every arrival. But now, that tender refuge has crumbled into a barren wasteland, where his gaze sears with icy disdain, casting shadows that echo a painful question: "How can I fix this? How do I tell him?"

“Johnny. Please let me explain…" you desperately beg him to let you explain what exactly is going on but it looks like that he has heard enough.

"Don’t call me Johnny. I loved you, Y/N. And now you’re lying to me? You’re a murderer? What exactly do you expect me to say? Oh yeah it’s okay it’s totally not quite the opposite of my Job. Funny, the guy that protects people is dating someone that harms them?" his frustration got the best of him and he doesn’t care if he is hurting you right now. He feels betrayed and hurt. And he wants you to feel the same things. You don’t mind. If your positions were swapped, you would have reacted the same way. But you wish he would let you explain now.

“John. Please. Let me explain. I‘m begg-" you were cut off by him smashing the class on the kitchen table against the wall next to him. You flinch and you feel your heart beat faster than usual. You could feel yourself getting pale.

“Why? I don’t get it. I don’t want to see you.” his cold voice spoke and you felt your heart stop beating. No.

"John, please" you took steps towards him, trying to fight for him, trying to show him that you’re not a bad guy.

"Stop." his harsh voice yelled at you and you stopped right where you are. "Don’t. I love you. But I need some time now. I won’t tell anyone. Just- leave me alone now" without looking back, he smashed the door behind him, making you flinch and leaving you there, heartbroken and angry at yourself. You don’t regret anything. You only regret letting him find it out like that.

John Price

In the dimly lit living room, tension crackled like static electricity between John Price and you, as the weight of unspoken grievances strained the fragile threads of your relationship. The air grew heavy with unspoken words, suffocating the room as your gazes clashed like opposing storms, each thunderous stare hinting at the brewing tempest within.

"John. I swear I‘m not betraying you. Give me a chance to explain! PLEASE! I swear on everything that is important to me, it’s not what you think" you beg him to let you explain your situation. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. He wasn’t supposed to know at all. Why couldn’t you talk a little quieter? Why did you even answer the phone, knowing John was at home.

"Shut up! Stop talking!" with a voice tinged with restrained anger, John's steely gaze bore into you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. It was as if the unspoken accusations hung like a heavy fog in the room, obscuring the truth and suffocating any chance for reconciliation.

As the argument escalated, voices rose, echoing off the walls like distant thunder, their words slicing through the air like sharpened blades. Frustration mingled with regret, staining the once sturdy foundation of trust that had held your relationship together. The silence that followed was deafening, a void filled with unanswered questions and shattered hopes.

"I‘m leaving" with a pained expression etched on his face, John turned away abruptly, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he left you behind, adrift in a sea of unanswered emotions. The weight of his absence settled heavily upon you, the room now filled with a haunting emptiness, leaving you yearning to fill the void and desperately longing for a chance to explain, to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

But for now, all that remained was the echo of an unfinished argument, the lingering ache of shattered camaraderie, and the unanswered plea to understand what had gone so horribly wrong.

You wish he let you explain.

Kyle Garrick

As the sun cast its warm glow upon the bustling city streets, you found yourself standing face-to-face with Kyle, a knot of tension coiling in your chest. Emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as the air crackled with the impending storm of their argument.

"You, Kyle…" you began, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and hurt, "cannot simply just not give me a chance to explain and expect me to accept it without question. You always let me explain. What’s happened now?"

Kyle's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and weariness. "You being a serial killer" he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "I- You‘re the complete opposite of me and god I don’t know what to say. You kill people? What if they find out? You could get into Jail."

"But Kyle," you pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into your voice, "I just want to understand that I need a chance to explain."

Silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words pressing upon them both. Kyle's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice filled with a mix of sincerity and vulnerability.

"Y/N" he murmured, his voice gentle yet laden with uncertainty, "I need some space. I need time to think, to sort through everything. I have to figure things out on my own."

A lump formed in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. The reality of the situation washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling adrift and uncertain. Nodding slowly, you whispered, "Kyle- I understand. Take the time you need. Just... promise me you'll come back."

He didn’t even look at you before he responded "Stop" he said, his voice filled with some kind of sadness and disbelief "Just give me a little time."

With those words, a bittersweet ache settled in your heart, as you watched Kyle retreat into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the hope that, in time, you would find your way back to each other again.

You wished he never found out. But you don’t regret any single thing.

Alejandro

The dusty wind whispered through the corridors of the hidden military base, carrying tension on its ethereal tendrils as Alejandro and you found yourselves embroiled in a heated argument. Snd this only because he went through your phone, for an unknown reason, and he found the photos of the people that got away with Rape. But he didn’t know who they were, so he thought you were hurting innocent people, which you could never do.

"I ONLY HURT PEOPLE WHO HURT PEOPLE" Your voice clashed, words laden with frustration and hurt. The walls trembled with the intensity of the exchange, the air thick with unspoken fears and unmet expectations. Alejandro's piercing gaze met yours, his jaw clenched with a mix of anger and concern. "Mi Amora" he growled, "your job is at the hospital. And now you‘re a serial killer and…"

But defiance burned in your eyes as you stood your ground, your voice trembling with determination. "This is what I do, Alejandro. I protect these people, just like you do. I can't sit idly by while others suffer. It's in my blood. And I will continue protecting these women and children who cry for help!"

Silence settled between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Alejandro's shoulders sagged, and his gaze softened, shimmering with unshed tears. "You're right," he conceded, his voice filled with both admiration and fear. "You're brave, stronger than anyone I know. I'm proud of you for fighting for what you believe in, for protecting those who can't protect themselves."

The words hung in the air, bridging the gap between you. Emotion washed over both of you, dissolving the anger and replacing it with a newfound understanding. Alejandro pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms a shield against the uncertainties of your chosen path.

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