#and I am Not repeating that with another straight boy

[nthspecialll]

Bill Williamson shaped by an army knife

(This post is a casual explanation(ish), not meant to defend but rather explore and discuss Bill Williamson's character and how it is shaped by the army, it has also been sensitivity and proof read by a native to ensure that I did not accidently word anything in a way that would hurt the native community)

As many knows, Bill Williamson was in the army, and if you look closer you can see the many different ways in which it formed him, the ways in which a constantly stressful envioment filled with death shaped the person he is.

I am going to mention the one thing that stood out to me first, racism. Now hang on when I say this, he isn't, he is not racist, but you know what he is? A parot who got fed words and repeats them. And why would I say that? Do I have evidence? Yes.

The two characters we see Bill go after is Javier and Lenny, he calls Lenny "boy" and says "come over here!" or "I don't like your attitude", meanwhile with Javier he straight up calls him a slur. But something to notice is that Bill praises both of those characters at other times. Bill calls Lenny "son" and yells to everyone about how amazing he is and the proud almost fatherly instrict is oozing. With Javier there is a similar interaction where he is drunk and he is yapping Sean's ear off about how amazing Javier is.

We do not see that with Micah (That I can find), the only possitive thing Micah says to either of them is "you aren't so bad, for a greaser". Another thing to point out is that Micah is constantly belittling both Lenny and Javier, saying things like "you can write and everything, unusual for one of you. Oh you know, hoodlums," Bill does not, he does not belittle them.

So why would he say such things? Because he was angry, and why would he say that because he is upset?

Bill was in the army, common knowledge, uncommon (or at least commonly forgotten) is the fact that he fought the American Indian War. He did not fight other white people, he fought the native americans, and they were scary. He tells that story himself in a camp interaction, talking about how scary it was, and I do think he was frightened and not just empty words as he at the end jumps at the sound of a neighing horse.

Bill saw people get murdered, he saw his friends get slaughtered and he was told by the army to turn that anger towards the natives. The army implimented racist ideologies to excuse the genocide they were making and to rile their armies.

I often think of the line between Bill and Dutch where Bill says "I saw things!" and Dutch says "I am sure you do! But I don't think you could understand it" and I think that is spot on. Bill saw his friends dying, he saw his comrades dying, people he was likely as close to as he was the VDL gang (I will return to that later) dying. All he saw were these people murdering his friends, not that those people were fighting for their right to exist, and for every body the army framed it all on the natives, that it was all their fault, without mentioning anything that the army was doing to the natives.

The only times Bill acts out in a racist manner is when he is angry and he is often angry at himself, but he has always been told that when he is angry he should direct it towards people of color by the army, so he does. He does not believe it, but he does it anyways. There are a few times, like in the camp interactions mentioned, where he is not angry, but that is simply the brainwash that the army put him under to justify killing. He is saying those things because he has been told to.

He says the words but they seem empty as his actions are more supportive of his friends than anything.

Another thing I noticed is how protective he is of the gang, not just of Dutch, but the gang, even though he is painted as lazy, many times he is not, especially when it comes to protection. I often see him standing at the edge of camp even when he is off guard, and in that one camp interaction where strangers find camp, he is there, he is watching over them, in the Valentine robbery he was also smart enough to know to bring backup, he knew that if things were to go wrong, he needed to have someone there, Arthur.

Now some people are going to come and say "Oh but he didn't realise the security job was a trick," no, he did not, do you know who also did not? Dutch, Lenny, Karen, characters whom it was mentioned in front of. The only ones who did realise were Arthur and Sean, and despite Bill trying to throw the blame off himself at first, he does blame himself, there are interactions of him saying he blames himself for Sean's death. Similarly when Angelo Bronte offers up money, he is not planning to take it, he is making sure no one else is, I got a whole post on that.

One of the other things about Bill, is that people say he did not care when Lenny died. I do think he did, he has so many camp interactions where he is calling Lenny son, being proud of him and so on, but I do think that the army got to him there too. When in battle people die, people die often and you cannot stop because they do, no matter how much you loved that person, if you are on an open battle field charging towards the enemy, you do not have time to stop.

When in the army you are expected to be a tough manly dude, in chapter six Arthur can ask if Bill is okay and he never gives a real answer, instead he shifts the convosation away. Bill believes he is not allowed to show weakness because doing so in the army was not allowed, anything unmanly was not allowed. I do also believe that is where he gets his fucked up realtionship with his sexuality (I am not even going to explain why I think of him as queer, I do believe others are able to see if, but also if anyone says "No he aint!" that is a fair opinion but the va does hc him to be queer), wanting to flirt (or at least befriend) Kieran but not knowing how to without coming off as unmanly.

Returning to how he would care for the army friends he made, is how he ended after he got thrown out. Bill says his biggest fear as a kid was to be an alcoholic and look at where he ended up. He even says he completely lost himself after the army, that Dutch "saved Bill Williamson."

Well even if it was not everyone whom he liked, there was at least one person. If we look at his letter from the army, he is thrown out for attempted murder and deviancy ("the fact or state of diverging from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behaviour." aka can be used for homosexuality). An interesting thing to note is that both of those alone is enough to throw someone out of the army, so why is both there unless they happened at the same time? I see it likely that Bill was discovered with a lover and either the person found them attacked Bill and lover or Bill attacked the person who found them to silence them. Either way, Bill did not succeed and instead he got thrown.

Tags: @cupidsbeartrap

[exopelagic]

God help me I may have another crush on a straight boy

[ssruis]

Trying to hammer out time loop au stuff (said like I’m going to do anything with it when I am so clearly not) but I’ve found a way to make both rui and tsukasa suffer (based)

[chuulyssa]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇳 ​​🇫​​ 🇪 ​​🇸​​ 🇸 ​​🇮 ​​🇴 ​​🇳​ ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

​ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 3 to Truth or Dare and Truth or Dare Part 2

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings:

Part 4: READ HERE

Lt. Riley storms out of the munitions depot seething with frustration as he searches for the private waiting to relay Price’s message to him. Of all the fucking times to be interrupted, why in the hell did it have to be this one time when he was so close to exploring the depths of what the connection sparked between you could bring. Now he is left with nothing but anger and a sizeable bulge in his pants that he has to discreetly readjust before anyone can catch him hard as a fucking rock.

That piercing brown gaze locates the private standing against the side of the building a few feet from the door, his face red, his jaw tense, brow wrinkled up as if he is deep in thought about his predicament at having seen something he shouldn’t. The poor boy has no time to react as heavy-booted steps quickly approach before the lieutenant grabs him by the shoulders and pins him to the wall, glaring at him intimidatingly down through the holes of his mask. 

“Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight, yeah? ‘Fore I let ya go ‘bout your business,” he says, his tone firm and menacing. “I’m only gonna say this once, so ya best listen up. Ya didn’t see a damn thing back there, nothin’ at all, got it private? It’s in your best interest to rid your mind of anything ya think ya might have misunderstood or there will be consequences that ya may not like. Is that clear?”

The private is visibly shaken by his threatening warning and struggles to speak. 

Dropping his voice, the lieutenant leans in. “Is. That. Clear?”

Quickly the private collects himself so that he can answer, if only to be released from the lieutenant’s fury. “Y-yes, s-sir,” he confirms. 

His answer seems satisfactory enough; Lt. Riley is sure his intimidation has done the trick to keep the boy quiet and he gives him a nod of approval. “Now,” the lieutenant says as he releases the scared private and sets him up straight before stepping back, “ya said Price is lookin’ for me? Did he mention what for?” 

“Y-yes sir,” he nods, his voice still shaky, but slowly calming down. “It’s about mission a-assignments.”

“Good man, you’re dismissed.”

With that the private scurries away as fast as he can to leave the lieutenant alone, ready to head towards Price’s office to see what this is all about. He gives one last, lingering glance back at the building, wishing he could just run back inside and pick up where he left off, but he steps off back across base back to where he had just been a little while before. 

As he walks he can’t help but wonder how much time is going to pass before he will get the chance to see you again. Who knows what this round of missions will hold; it could be weeks or months of being separated before you both get another opportunity like this.

With a sigh he heads into Captain Price’s office with no expectations other than the same routine that he is accustomed to: get in, get out, job well done. Yet as the lieutenant sits there listening to Price go into detail about the plans for what will be expected on this mission, he catches something that he thinks he’s misheard.

“Sir,” Lt. Riley cuts Price off in the middle of his thought, “can you repeat that last bit.”

Price raises an eyebrow; it isn’t like his lieutenant to interject like this. “Said since I’m wantin’ ya to take a group of the recruits out, I am sendin’ two sergeants with ya: Mactavish and our esteemed female sergeant that you just presumably saw. Help keep ‘em in line to make sure this isn’t a bust.”

The lieutenant’s heart skips a beat as the captain continues on with the brief synopsis of things that will get hashed out over the next days until departure, but Lt. Riley hears very little. Fuck, this is somehow both better and worse than being apart for any length of time. How the hell is he  supposed to stay sane when in such close proximity to you?

It’s a couple of hours before he is able to get away from under the discerning eyes of the captain, tasked with telling you about this new development in the morning. The thought alone of seeing you again keeps him up for most of the night as he runs over scenarios in his mind. You’re both soldiers highly trained in what you do, taught how to put things aside to focus on the task at hand; it should be fine, right? And yet… his skin still burns to feel yours against it.  

That doesn’t sound like he’ll be fine. He wonders if you’ll be just as miserable too?

The lieutenant decides that it is best to talk to you during your time training the recruits, hopeful that with so many people present it will keep you both tame. He makes his way to the range about midday and as he approaches he catches you in the middle of giving orders to a couple of recruits at the end of the range. Instead of announcing his presence immediately, he allows himself a few seconds just to watch you, his eyes following every curve of your body that he can catch even through your clothes. 

There’s no sign anything is amiss until you notice a few recruits are now distracted and no longer participating in the current activity and you follow their eyeline to see the lieutenant standing not far from the group. He nods his head to you in beckoning to come to him and immediately you can feel the heat in your cheeks blossoming until they are glowing warm. 

What could he want? you wonder to yourself.

Turning back to your bunch of recruits, you give your order so that you won’t be disturbed while you go see what’s up. “Continue on for a few rounds, switching partners every empty clip while I speak with Lt. Riley,” you bark and they immediately fall into line. “And I have my eyes on you so don’t fuck anything up. Got it?” 

A round of yes ma’ams trail behind you as you make your anxious way over to the lieutenant, the rapidly thudding beat of your heart making your steps brisk. Even from here you can see his hands gripping onto the straps of his tactical vest, knuckles almost white, as if he is struggling to stay composed. Your eyes meet as you near and all that intensity comes flooding right back into your body to leave you aching with a need to get closer, though you force yourself to stop with a bit of distance still between you. 

“Yes, sir?” you ask, pausing to swallow to keep your voice steady. “How can I help you?”

“Word from Price,” he answers as his eyes inadvertently begin to gravitate to your mouth before he forcefully guides them away. “Mission assignment for next week. You, Soap, and several of the more seasoned recruits will be with me on recon for a few weeks. Nothin’ too intense, should be an easy enough job.”

“Oh?” you say in stunned surprise as your breath hitches. This is the one thing you hadn’t accounted for being a problem so soon, being stuck together on a mission with all this built-up attraction still so hot and heavy between you. 

Things are about to get a lot harder and you hope you can make it through without incident.

You must be blushing something fierce now as you can feel it burning in your face the more you contemplate your predicament. In the middle of your thought you notice the lieutenant quickly glance at the group of recruits to your back to be sure they are occupied completely as he steps in towards you and reaches up to swiftly stroke his gloved fingers against the side of your cheek before anyone sees him do it. It takes everything in you not to turn into a puddle at his feet from the contact.

As he brings his hand away from your face, he steps in even more and leans his head down until his mouth is near your ear. “I swear I’m gonna remedy this fuckin’ thing between us soon as I can,” he says in a guttural, breathy whisper as he places a quick kiss to your face with his mask-covered lips. “Just hang on a bit longer. You can do that for me, yeah? Just a couple weeks and then you’re mine.”

He doesn’t know why he just did that, it’s too risky to pull off such a stunt in the open like this, but it seems to be an automatic reaction the way any part of his body simply wants to get closer to you. Though he enjoys it, it is a bit unnerving that he can’t seem to control himself when you are around. Clearing his throat, he shifts back into that detached facade to hide behind until he can put some distance between you.

“We will be ready to deploy Tuesday, 1300 hours. Price will send for you to brief on all necessaries,” he says as he stands back upright. “We’ll just have ta fuckin’ try and keep this under control, yeah?”

You nod silently.

Having finished relaying the information he hurriedly exits, leaving you alone to collect yourself so that you can get through the rest of your day, but that is a monumental task in itself now. If this is the reaction you both have whenever you’re near, what will the weeks you’ll be stuck together bring? You hope you can deflect your thoughts away from all this by staying even busier than usual.   

The days leading up to departure are a haze as you try to reconcile that you are going to have to share space with Simon. You fill every single second with any task you can pull, just trying to keep your mind away from the inevitable for as long as possible. Maybe if you never stop, you’ll never have the chance to pine for him; it’s not your best plan, but it works for a few days.

Departure day finally arrives and you immediately are put to the test. As the team loads onto the transport plane meant to take you most of the way, you find yourself the last to board and wouldn’t you know that the only seat available to you is right next to the lieutenant himself. Those brown eyes deep set into that skull mask lock on to you the minute you set foot on board and don’t leave until you take the spot next to him. His body stiffens against you as you get situated in the tight space, matching your body’s reaction. 

God, he wants to touch you so bad it physically hurts, but there isn’t a chance that someone wouldn’t see and so he grits his teeth to try and bear it until you land. Next to him, your heart is fluttering a mile a minute, though you aren’t handling it as well as he is. It is the longest flight you both have ever experienced and it cannot end fast enough. By the time you both exit, you feel like you’ve run a marathon just with how much you had been holding your breath through the whole thing.   

It is a short trek to the safehouse designated for your stay and the team reaches it a few hours before nightfall. A small, rundown house waits for you and that means you’ll be on top of each other, though there’s a shack out back that must have been a tool shed at some point now long since abandoned. Good, maybe you can hide away in there at points when things get too much. 

It’s routine at this point how things go in the field: clearing the area, setting up, breaking down rolls for who does what, which is lucky because your mind is not clear enough to focus on more detailed tasks. How can it be when you’ve spent the last several hours sitting beside the one man in the whole fucking taskforce that you want to screw until neither of you can move? 

You need to put some space between you and soon just to get him out of your head for a while to calm down. Even with how tight you’ll be packed together, it will still be farther than you want to be from him. But thoughts like this are dangerous, so when the time comes to discuss watch duty assignments for the night, you spring at the chance to get outside and speak up before anyone else can take that away from you.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you say just as Johnny poses the question. “I’m still wide awake, so I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Damn, ye sure did answer fast; wanna get away from us that bad, lass?” Johnny jokes, elbowing you in the side. 

You scrunch your nose and bob your head at him, the typical interaction helping you to get out of your thoughts. “Well, yeah, there’s enough b.o. to suffocate someone in here already,” you pick back, “gotta get some fresh air when I can. Now, fucking can it. Anyway, is that all good, sir?”

Turning your attention to your superior, you wait for his reply and see a strange spark flash through the pupils of his eyes. It’s almost too subtle to tell properly whether or not it’s something more than just the shadows cast by his mask playing tricks on your vision, but does it really matter? As much as you want something to happen between you, you are here to do a job and that is top priority for everyone, including and most of all Lt. Riley. 

“That’s fine,” he agrees while diverting his gaze even as he speaks to address the group about setting up for the night, though you can’t help feeling like that is not the real reason he can’t look at you. 

Making sure your area is set up how you want it, you double-check your vest and weapon to be sure you will have everything you need for your watch. You set a timer for the clock on your wrist so you’ll know when you should be relieved and then you decide to get a preliminary sweep of the area to be sure of the lay of the land before it gets completely dark. As you head outside, a flash of lightning ripples through the clouds approaching from the distance; it’s going to be an interesting night, that’s a given.

Lt. Riley secretly follows you with his eyes until he can see you move out of earshot and out the front door, only then does he make his way over to the young Scottish sergeant currently setting up his cot in the corner of the room. This is a fucking terrible idea that the lieutenant should immediately reconsider, but he cannot let this go. Bad idea or not, he is in it now no matter what.

Standing at his back until Soap turns around, the lieutenant doesn’t hesitate to speak up the moment the sergeant faces him. “Informin’ ya now, I’ll be the one takin’ second watch,” he says as flatly as he can, even though there is a pronounced pounding in his chest as he says it.

Soap raises an eyebrow before he crosses his arms with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so? Hmm…right after sergeant sass?” he questions curiously as his gaze drifts to the door.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrow into a glare behind the mask. “Ya got a fuckin’ problem with that, Mactavish?” he challenges. “Do I need ta make it more clear who’s in charge here?”

“No, no,” Soap says as he shakes his head, “but… ye know ye don’t have ta go to all this trouble; if ye want some alone time, all ye got ta do is say so.”

A distant rumble of thunder sounds from outside the house to add atmosphere to the death glare that Soap is currently receiving after just having said what he did. “Careful,” the lieutenant warns. Guess any picking is off the table for right now, at least if the sergeant doesn’t want to end up in his superior’s bad graces. 

“Alright, I hear ye. You’re on second watch, sir,” he agrees with a chuckle as another crack of thunder echoes through the darkening sky that can just barely be spotted through the window from where they are standing. Soap draws attention to it with his head and Lt. Riley’s eyeline follows. “Though ye might wanna bring an umbrella later, ye know on account a things possibly gettin’...wet.”

There is something in that last bit that doesn’t sound like Soap’s usual witty remarks, something about the emphasis he puts on the last word is a bit more on the nose, as if he wants to say something about things he shouldn’t, but the moment is gone as Soap continues with setting up his cot and Lt. Riley dismisses it as coincidence. Nothing has happened this far that would give anything away… right?

A few hours pass and everyone has finally hunkered down for the night… Well, everyone except the lieutenant. Try as he might, he cannot relax. His limbs feel jittery as he lays stirring in his cot, staring into the dark as distracting thoughts race through his mind. The more he focuses on them the warmer he gets until he has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows just to get some relief from it clinging stiflingly around his body. 

It’s still too early for the next watch change, but he can’t just lay here, not when he knows you are right outside the door all alone as everyone is asleep inside. What his plan is he doesn’t fully understand yet, all he can think about right at this moment is just to be near you again. And these types of moments might be the only small chances he will get to even just spend a minute in your company while you’re here.

He gets up and cautiously makes his way through the scattered sleeping team, quiet and careful with his movements until he can make it out the house and into the cooler weather of a gathering storm about to break. The rolls of quiet, distant thunder are more frequent now as he shuts the door behind him, the first drops of precipitation starting to sprinkle over the skin of his bare forearms as he goes in search of you.

Barely getting far, the crunching sound of boot steps are headed his way and he waits on baited breath as you round the corner from the back of the house to return to the spot that you’ve designated at the front for you to sit until your watch ends. Your sight catches a figure standing there in the darkness as you approach, silhouetted by the dim moonlight; by the size of the shadow you instantly know who it is and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“All clear?” he asks as you come to stop before him.

“Si..sir,” you go to address him, but a momentary lapse makes you stumble over his title as you almost say his name, though you quickly recover. 

Simon chuckles; by your reaction it seems like you’ve been thinking of distracting things as well. Guess that means he isn’t the only one suffering. “We’re alone,” he reassures. “Everyone else’s asleep.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “I was just checking the perimeter and the shed,” you say as you point to the small shack out back behind the house. “Still empty. I have a clear view of it from here so I’d know if anything got in there, but I like to be thorough. Everything else is all clear, though.” 

It feels like you are rambling just to stall asking the question you desperately want to ask: why is he out here right now. It couldn’t be that he wants…? No, it is already understood that anything between you is put on hold until later; this must be something else and you chastise yourself internally for getting so worked up over nothing. 

As nonchalantly as possible, you bring up your curiosity. “So, what’re you doing up right now? It’s not time for anyone to relieve me yet.”

His stance shifts. “I know,” he says plainly.

“I-is something wrong?” you continue your line of questions. “I haven’t heard anything inside or out.”

Simon pauses as another rumble of thunder fills the background through the light percussive sound of raindrops trickling around you. “Ya know why I’m out here,” he says quieter, unsure if he even should admit it. “I had ta see ya.” 

An ache slowly spreads through your chest at his words, your heartbeat pounding, the air not filling up your lungs as you watch him take a few steps so that he can reach out to you and take your hand in his gloved one. He leads you both back around the corner of the house a little further from the entrance to conceal you against the side and out away from any prying eyes. 

The light sprinkling picks up as a ripple of lightning flashes across the sky so that the shadows it causes dance across your features. Water begins to stream down over your bodies, coating you in a layer of dampness that soaks through your clothes, your hair, over your skin until everything is moist. It doesn’t take much for Simon’s balaclava to quickly collect too much water for him to stay comfortably underneath it and so without hesitation he takes it off to tuck it into the back pocket of his pants.

He doesn’t mind keeping it off, not around you.

There it is, that face that you have been longing to get a better look at: those beautifully distinct chiseled features with their slight imperfections caused from injuries past. He truly is a fantastic sight, though you may very well be biased now as it wouldn’t have mattered what he had hidden under there, the way you feel around him is attractive enough; this is only a bonus. 

You want to reach out and run your fingers along his cheek, but you know it’s risky. It’s been hard enough being here with him already without making contact; you know if you’re not careful with yourself you might not be able to stop and that could risk putting him in a position he doesn’t want to be in yet. 

But as you both stand there in the silent company of the other trying to find the words, he moves first.

His gloved fingers travel across the skin of your forearm, stroking it up and down as he holds your gaze captive. “Ya know, every single fuckin’ time someone’s said your name on the way out ‘ere, all I can think ‘bout is how I wanna feel ya against me again,” he confesses in hushed murmurs. “Been strugglin’ like hell to hold it all together for the sake of tha mission, but it’s only gettin’ worse. I can’t do it tonight.”

You swallow to coat your dry throat as his lustful words nearly choke you. “Simon,” you whisper in a dreamlike stupor. “What are you doing?”

The pads of his fingers glide determinedly across your palm and down to the sensitive tips of your own fingers.“I need ya,” he says through a heavy sigh. “I need ya so fuckin’ bad, luv.”

What’s breathing and how do you do it again? How in the hell are you meant to hold it together and do your job with desperate words like those being spoken to you in such an aching way? Is this all some sort of punishment? If Simon meant to come out here to torture you, then he has succeeded perfectly.  

“I need ya however I can get ya; I’ll fuck ya in the goddamn dirt if ya want,” he continues as his touch leaves your hand and moves to tease around the top edge of your belt situated between your vest and your shirt. “Just can’t stay away from ya a fuckin’ second more. Gotta make good on my promise ‘fore it eats me alive.”

Your eyes turn to the front of the safehouse as if expecting someone to come popping out at any moment to interrupt this clandestine meeting. “What about the others?” you question as your attention is turned back to him. “We could get caught. You know our track record.”

“I don’t care,” he says firmly as he leans in until his face is inches from your own. “We’ve fuckin’ waited long enough for this. I need ta be inside ya, sweetheart.” 

Being this close with all this moisture coating you both head to toe, blood pressure rising with the agony of his words, skin aching from the proximity of your bodies, it’s too much. You are burrowed into his mind completely now and try as he might to keep sane, your venom is already flowing through his veins. He cannot stand here and simply take it anymore. Those full lips that are so tempting from afar, are unbearable when within range; if you want this to stop you are going to have to be the one to leave because he won’t.

“But if ya don’t wanna do this, you’re gonna have ta walk right back inside that fuckin’ house this second ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to control myself for much longer,” he says, that gravelly voice overflowing with need. “Not with how your lips are callin’ my name.”

The overwhelming tension radiating between your bodies, that steamy, sticky, air that clings to you even through the rain suffocates your every sense until you can’t see straight. The darkness surrounds you like a curtain, concealing you from the world in its protective barrier that is only cut through by the pale moonlight drifting through the clouds to make the rain shimmer like 

crystals as it falls. 

At the back of the safehouse, there is only you and him. Everything else ceases to exist. 

You stare back up into his face, watching as droplets of rain cascade down one by one off the tips of his long eyelashes and the ends of his short, pale hair to fall onto his cheeks and through the dark stubble covering his jawline. The tension is so stifling that it feels like it will suffocate you under the pressure. You don’t want him to remove his fingertips from your frame; he knows just how to embrace your body in a way you have never felt before and you’ve never been more alive than you are under his touch.

With a little hesitation your subconscious makes the choice for you about what to do next and you lower your gaze as the overwhelming need to reach out to him causes you to extend your arm without thinking. Your fingers make contact with his damp clothes and run the lines along his hip bones as they explore the curvature of his body where the wet fabric clings to his form. 

A sharp, sudden exhale out of his nose is followed by a deep, bassy groan. Even over his clothes the electricity of your touch sends him into a tailspin. Your movements betray your innermost thoughts to him, but still he needs you to use your words and say it aloud. He watches as your eyes follow the path of your fingers over him and uses the opportunity to take off his gloves and stuff them away in his vest so that he can feel you as he goes in.

Your gaze drifts back up his body to look into his eyes as his balmy, moist palm is placed at the base of the back of your head, his thumb resting against your cheek. “Tell me what ya want,” he says.

Melting into his touch, your lips form the words effortlessly before you can even stop yourself. “Kiss me.” 

Oxygen disappears as he leans in so that there is barely any space left between you, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his breath make the skin of your lips tingle and suddenly every thought outside of the ecstasy of this moment evaporates. There is no mission, there are no other soldiers here mere feet from you, there are only the two of you in a world of your own. With a few deep, jagged breaths his gaze locks to your lips and you feel him hesitantly go in and pull back before his mouth closes the distance to overtake yours in a fierce kiss.

And your fate is sealed.

The cool precipitation runs down between your faces to make your mouths slick, causing your lips to glide across one another as Simon desperately overpowers your mouth. He is relentless in the way he consumes your kiss; no sooner has he broken the connection to quickly swallow down air then in the next second he is already back in as if he needs to feel you more than he needs to breathe. 

Wet strands of hair around your face stick to your cheeks as he presses his features into yours so hard that you can’t catch your breath and the skin around your jaw stings from the abrasion of his stubble. Yet all that moisture is doing nothing to dampen the way you are burning for him; you need to see what happens if given the chance to go all the way. 

“Say ya need me too,” he groans against your lips and into your open mouth. “I have ta hear it. Say ya need me ta fuck ya good, that you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout me all this time. Goddammit, say it.”

“I need you so fucking bad, Simon,” you whimper. “So bad it hurts. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your desperate words make him ache with an overwhelming ferocity that causes him to lose control. He shoves your back into the wall behind you and pins you to it as he bombards your mouth with his unrelenting passion, open-mouthed kisses overtaking your lips until you can feel them swell and burn from the pressure.

“Christ, I wanna make ya come so fuckin’ bad,” he growls. 

“Please,” you beg, giving into him completely. “I can’t wait. Not again.” 

You’re right, no waiting, not this time; he is not giving anything or anyone the chance to ruin this. The beast of his desire has him in a chokehold so agonizing that it will not let him go until he gets exactly what he needs, what you both need, until he completely loses himself in you. Some place hidden is what he desperately has to find now.

The shed is only a few yards away and his kiss-drunk mind makes the instant decision that it will have to do. At least you will have some privacy out of the rain; that is enough. As long as he gets inside you that is all he can ask for. 

“Come on,” Simon is able to get out as he grabs your hand tightly in his grip and starts to walk in long strides straight for the tiny shack just off the main house. You reach it in no time and he doesn’t stop as he flings open the door and pulls you inside behind him, leaving you to stand in the middle of the small space as he scrambles to block the door; there isn’t a chance in hell anyone is going to get to you both now.  

Not until he has had his way with you.

It physically pains him to be away from your lips for this long as he makes sure everything is secure, but it’s gotta be done. Once satisfied and not wanting to waste any more time away from your body, he moves right back into you and his mouth is crashing onto yours before you can blink. Its inherent, primal, a reaction as innate as breathing the way his lips know the exact way to embrace yours in that dance of back and forth as if you’ve done it for years.

To think he would have never gotten the chance to experience them had it not been for Mactavish’s idiotic game. Fuck, how could something so inconsequential lead to something so explosive that it is the only thing he craves above anything else?

Those determined hands of his paw blindly between your bodies, searching for the tabs at the sides of your tactical vest so that he can pull them to release it; there are more layers he has to get through this time. He breaks away from you so that he can flip the front of your vest over your head and throw it off your torso. Before it even hits the wooden floorboards he is hurriedly doing the same to himself, taking his shirt with it, before capturing your lips all over again; he will not stay away if he can help it and those pauses as he undresses you will be filled with him devouring your kiss.     

His fingers fill themselves with your shirt, clawing at it desperately trying to rip the wet fabric from your form without a care if he tears it to fucking shreds. The rough calluses on his hands create delicious friction along all that soft skin of your stomach as he goes up and under to rip both it and your bra off your head, making you gasp mutedly into his mouth. 

Pausing he can’t help staring at all this new, warm skin at his disposal. The nipples on your breasts are already hardening as they hit the cool atmosphere outside your clothes and he runs a greedy finger over the tiny rosebuds to feel them stiffen more from his touch. You are absolute in your perfection, a sight of sinfully decadent flesh that his mouth wants to get a hold of.

Strong arms wrap around your lower back to keep you locked to him as he bends his head down until his face reaches your breasts and he can bury himself against them so his lips can suck your nipple into his mouth. The moment his lips touch skin you arch your back with a shocked moan at how the suction sends waves of euphoria flooding through your limbs that only builds the longer he sucks. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead. 

Under his touch it feels just like heaven; there cannot be anything better than this. 

“Not this time, not till I fuckin’ make ya come,” he reassures in a husky, muted growl with his mouth full of you before he switches to the other breast, leaving neither out of their overdue pleasure. “You’re mine tonight. Ya hear me: mine.” 

The stubble on his chin pricks against the delicate skin of your breasts as he devours them, taking as much of the tissue into his mouth as he can hold as his tongue skillfully strokes around the areolas. All those contradicting sensations only add to the stimulation until your hips grind into him for the friction to relieve the pulsing in your clit. 

Heavy rain pelts down against the roof over your heads to drown out the sounds of your arousal; he needs to experience them all and so he has to get you closer. There are things he wants to say, dirty things he has fantasized about growling into your ear since that night when this whole fucking thing started and as his fingers itch to play with your pussy, he knows the way to make it all happen exactly as he wants.

Pulling his mouth from your chest, he moves from against you to situate himself sitting on the ground. Quickly he grabs onto your hips to spin you around so that he can promptly pull you down to sit in the middle of his lap. That throbbing bulge barely being contained by his pants is straining even harder now that there is pressure over it and you can feel it pulse into the muscle of your ass as your back molds into the contours of his broad chest and sparsely hair-covered abdomen.

You lean your head back against his shoulder as you enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in him and he takes that as an invitation to lay more of his claim to your skin. All that gorgeous flesh of your neck is ready to be sucked and bitten till he has branded it with his mark. Taking your chin in his hand, he moves your head out of the way and immediately pounces on it. 

“Goddammit sweetheart, I’ve been in fuckin’ hell since even before we got ‘ere,” he murmurs in anguish into your throat, his heat-filled words warming your skin as his breath drifts down your exposed chest. “Thought I was gonna rip myself apart bein’ forced to only look and not touch. I’ve never wanted to feel someone more in my whole goddamn life than I do ya.”

His hands slip down your chest, drawing goosebumps from your bare body everywhere his fingertips grace until your mind is so numb you can’t feel your limbs; your body only exists in the places where he decides to touch. The poetry of his fingers leaves all those unspoken desires he has yet to fully acknowledge across your skin, searing the flesh until it is branded for him and him alone. His roughness makes you whimper open-mouthed into the air. Down the sides of your waist his hands travel, over your hips to cross in front of your belly button and finally his hand reaches your pants. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout your body in the worst fuckin’ ways,” he says with a growl. “You’ve been in my goddamn head since that first kiss. Never thought I could crave somethin’ so fuckin’ bad that I can’t let it go and I want to make ya to feel the same. I want ya so out of your fuckin’ mind from me that ya can’t function.” 

Undoing the belt buckle and button, he pulls down the zipper of your pants with feverish speed until he creates an opening that he can slip his hand into. Once inside he keeps going all the way down to the elastic that he has to fiddle with to get inside your panties. You let your knees fall open to give him more access as he finally reaches that sensitive mound between your thighs. He can feel just how warm you are, the damp heat radiating off your cunt and into his palm as he cups his hand up against your sex.

Your back jolts into his chest at the intense pressure. “Fuck,” he gasps into the crook of your neck. “There ya are, pretty girl. Goddammit, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

His chest is tightening with his rapid breathing as he takes his middle finger to heavily drag over the slit of your cunt until he pushes through and it slips in between your silky petals right to your core. Again your body jolts into him as those thick fingers rub through the sensitive slit and then up so he can find what he is searching for: that small bundle he wants to stroke until you are dripping and grinding on his fingers. 

He can’t help himself once he gets his first real feel of how slick you are down there; it’s more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and brutishly he draws out concise circles with the pad of his finger on your clit. The heightened tension of this finally being the moment you have waited for, being with the man that has made you a mess without even trying, and the way his fingers work that tiny pleasure center like he owns it only makes the euphoria more intense. 

You are drowning in him.  

Your body writhes and squirms as his thick finger suddenly collects a friend to join it and they both travel together to your entrance to spread you open so they can slide up inside and stretch you out. Your hips start to roll over his hand in direct response to his stimulation, grinding so he has to keep an arm around your waist to keep you from bucking off his lap, but it is worth it just to feel the way your body moves against him.

“That’s it, ride ‘em, pretty thing,” he groans at the side of your head. You could almost hear it in his voice how much he is enjoying the sounds of you falling apart because of him.

That deep, permeating warmth gathering in your abdomen begins to spread throughout your entire form, its mind-numbing effects making it hard to speak, yet it isn’t enough. His fingers have taken you almost all the way, but you need him, need his cock filling you up and you need it now.

“Simon, fuck… please put it in,” you say breathlessly. “I want you in me. Now. God, I need it so fucking bad.”

Fucking hell, the desperate whine in your voice is enough to make him come. The moment is here and there is no chance that he is going to be able to do anything other than immediately grant your request after all the pining, all the tension you’ve had to struggle through. All of it comes to a head here and now.

“I’ve been fuckin’ dreamin’ of doin’ this,” he says as he helps you slip out of your boots and pants so that you sit there naked as you wait for him to do the same. “If we would’ve been alone in the rec that night… goddammit, your pussy would already know the way my cock feels, sweetheart.”

As soon as he’s done he pulls you back, turns you to face him, and helps you up onto your knees so you can straddle over his lap. Even through the haze of ecstasy, your sight catches the first glimpse of his body and you can’t stop the way your hands immediately splay over the sparse bit of hair covering his broad chest and stocky abdomen, trailing down towards his V line. Then you see it, what’s been prodding against you all this time; fuck, he’s big.

As your fingers run between the pectorals on his stomach, you can feel the moment his breath hitches. You will be the death of him and him you.

Your eyes meet again and he secures his hands around the curves of your hips. Here it is, the moment of no return. Time seems to stand still as you feel him position the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. 

“Breathe for me,” he says and with that he slowly shoves your hips down until the head is able to slip inside.

The girth of his phallus stretches you out as it fills you and the world falls away into nothingness as you cry out with the pleasure of his body as he keeps pressing down on your hips until the entirety of him rests inside you. It is overwhelming, the sensation that takes a hold of your soul and doesn’t let go, the one of finally having him. Try as you might to not let this get out of hand, you know it is already too late. Nothing, absolutely nothing in this whole fucking world can ever compare to the way your body feels wrapped around his cock: the glorious stretch, the fullness, the throbing that you can feel pulse inside you. 

And from the sounds Simon is now making, you know he feels the same.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck,” that deep agonized whimper echoes through the shed as Simon’s hands bear down hard into your hips so he can keep you still until he can steady himself. His head falls against your forehead where it rests. “…s-shit…so fuckin’ good, luv.”

As he moves your body slowly up and down over his lap, making you bounce on his cock, he realizes that he will not be the same after this. Christ, you are the worst type of addiction; no matter how much he gets he only wants more. Simon is inside of you and yet even that isn’t enough. He wants to fuck you to the point of ruin, so that you will be his and only his from this day forward because there is no coming out of this unscathed.

Even within the first few minutes of being inside you he is already pussy drunk off how beautifully your walls contour to his shape, holding him fixed in all that warmth and wetness, and that leaves him unable to take things slow. Without warning Simon tilts you both back slightly so that he can take over and fuck you even rougher now. 

His fingers grip into the muscles of your hips hard enough to leave purple fingerprints as he pounds up into you furiously. Your body shakes with each snap of his hips as he slams into you with a feral roughness that his brain forces on him as he can only think of one objective: for you both to come.

“Look at me,” he demands through ragged breaths as he grabs at your face with those large hands; he’s falling apart so fast now, “keep those pretty eyes on me. I need… shit…I need ta see what they look like the moment ya come. My fuckin’ pretty girl.”

The rain that had coated your bodies moments before almost turns into steam as the passion of his movements fill the air with so much heat. You are completely at his mercy, his hulking size overwhelming you so that he can do with you as he pleases, but the way he thrusts deeper and deeper only draws you closer to that razor’s edge; it’s approaching fast.

“Fuck, don’t stop Simon, please, I’m so close,” you plead through your panting, your toes curling into the floor as the stimulation makes your brain blank. It’s there, right there; just a bit more and you will fall over the precipice.

He pumps with everything in him and that is it; with a shudder your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp as you cry out and a loud clap of thunder rings through the heavens to drown out the sound. You try to fall against him, but he won’t let you. That firm grip keeps your head up so that his eyes can take in everything about the moment as it crosses your face and fuck is it beautiful.

God, it won’t stop, second after second your orgasm just keeps pulsing with relentless intensity and Simon isn’t letting up. He can’t, he’s so fucking close he can taste it. Shit, the way your engorged walls are fluttering something fierce he just needs a little more friction and he’ll come too.

Bringing your face in he takes your mouth with all the roughness he has left as he allows himself to let go and with a few more thrusts, that is it. At the last second he rips his cock out of you and nestles it between your bodies as he milks out all that warm cum along your stomach, coating you with all that pent up tension he has been holding on to all this time. His abdominal muscles contract hard, heart pounding out of his chest, body writhing as a shiver runs up his spine until his movements finally slow and he stops, completely spent. 

Rain slacks off as you both just sit there a moment, panting to catch your breath as he holds you securely wrapped in his arms, face still close as if he only ever wants to breathe the same air you breathe, his nose nuzzling against yours as his lips fight to stay off of you long enough that you can both settle. It takes a few minutes, but finally he can feel his limbs again.

Just then the alarm on your watch begins its high-pitched beeping to signal that your relief is meant to take your place on guard duty. You laugh under your breath as it seems it’s now your opportunity to say those fucking words that seem to be the signal of the end of your time together. 

“Times up,” you say quietly, but he just shakes his head.  

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart,” he replies firmly as his arms tighten around your form, “not yet. You’re still mine for now, I’ll deal with tha rest ‘a the shit later. I’m not lettin’ ya leave me.”

There’s no way you are going to fight him on it; you want to stay here with him a little while longer as well. Leaning in, you rest your head against his chest to listen to the beat of his heart as it continues to slow with each deep breath. As he sits there bundled up with you in that glowing euphoria as you both come down from the high, he knows this is only the beginning of something that he cannot stop. 

And maybe for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want it to.

Tagging: @kirewinter @spooky-pomegranate @heliumshorns @mudisgranapat @konigs-left-pec @dragonstoneshortcake @cum-tea-and-towels @scaleniusrm @cod-z @shadowydestinylover

[ttpdsargeant]

“slut!”

oscar piastri x singer!reader

in which she’s got a bad reputation, but she’s willing to deal with it if it means she gets to have him

this is my first fic on here so that’s why it’s super short and kinda bad😭😭

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 4,274,949 others

yourusername, always p1 in my heart🫶🫶

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user1, oh he hates her i can sense it

⤷ user2, yeah cause his smile definitely looks like one of hatred!!!!

user3, i’m so confused why don’t people like her

⤷ user4, cause she has a different bf every 10 minutes and now she’s managed to get oscar he’s just gonna be another one of her exes and he deserves sm better than that

⤷ user3, but they’ve been together for over a year… sounds like jealousy to me idk

oscarpiastri, love you🤍

⤷ yourusername, love u more💗

landonorris, disgusting!!!!

⤷ user5, lando saying what we’re all thinking

liked by taylorswift, logansargeant and 6,284,929 others

yourusername, surprise!! my new single “slut!” is out now💗💗

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user6, gagged, i am speechless in the best way possible

user7, and if they call me a SLUT you know it might be worth it for once???? I LOVE YOU

oscarpiastri, ok that wasn’t what i was expecting when you said you wrote a song called slut but i love it. might be my new favourite song, who knows

⤷ yourusername, lando told me you’ve been playing it on repeat, you can’t hide from me i have spies

⤷ landonorris, HE HAS, it’s the only thing he’s listened to all day and i’m not exactly complaining but jesus

user8, GOT LOVESTRUCK WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD

⤷ user9, GOT LOVESICK ALL OVER MY BED

user10, everyone wants him, that was my crime😭😭wrong place at the right time😭😭and i break down then he’s pulling me in😭😭in a world of boys he’s a gentleman😭😭

⤷ user11, don’t forget “the sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air” i think i ascended

this genuinely sucks i’m so sorry but at least i managed to write something for once

[amsznn]

Hey can you do one where the reader has a crush on Matt.She is very much giving heart eyes and tries to do anything to make him happy.Matt being oblivious complains to his brother about it.Nick and Chris smack some sense into him saying how lucky he is to have someone like us care about him.Matt disagrees and the reader hears this causing her to stop not wanting to make him uncomfortable.Matt misses the way things use to be and gets jealous when learning the reader is going out on a date.At the end they have an argument and he tells her how he really feels.Lots of angst in the beginning fluff towards the end please!!

OVERBEARING - m. sturniolo

warnings: slight cursing, angst at start, fluff at the end

-

you couldn’t deny it anymore. and you dont think it went unnoticed either.

the lingering gazes, to the more than normal laughter at his jokes, or the constant acts of service. how you were willing to do anything for him. just him.

matthew sturniolo.

you thought your constant need to be near him was just you wanting to be better friends. that was until your feelings started growing stronger.

“y/n, helloo.”

you brought your attention to the voice you found yourself loving so much.

“sorry, what?”

“i asked if you could pass the remote.” matt repeated while settling down beside you on the couch. you nodded and reached over to grab the remote to hand it to him. it was around 1 AM, and it was just the two of you. nick and chris had went to their rooms while you and matt decided to watch a movie.

“want me to get you a blanket?” you whispered as matt stared at the screen to the opening of the movie.

“no, im good.” matt says. you nodded and turned your head towards the movie. about five minutes or so passed when you asked another question.

“hungry?”

“nope.” matt responds, adding a ‘pop’ to the p to exaggerate his response. you mumbled an ‘okay’. a few beats of silence passed before once again, you asked.

“are you sure-”

“y/n, please m’ just trying to watch the movie in peace.” matt sighed. he was getting frustrated by the second. after a long day of filming with his relatively loud brothers, the only sounds he wanted to hear were the actors on the tv.

but this was only one example of your persistence. you were always clung to matt’s side. following him like a lost puppy at all times.

always there to cook him up a meal after his long day, willing to do any of his chores that he just didn’t feel like doing, even soothing him to sleep on those tough nights where everything went blank.

nick would sometimes make fun of matt. it almost seemed like you were his mother with the way you acted. but thats not what you were trying to come off as. you simply just had a lot of love for the boy that you weren’t really ready to confess yet.

but for matt? he didn’t see your clinginess as a good thing, in fact he began to hate it once nick pointed it out.

on one particular day matt decided to bring it up to his brothers while they were in nick’s room.

“i just don’t get it, like she’s just always there.” matt says while pacing around the room.

“is that a bad thing?” nick asks while organizing the clothes in his closet.

“i mean it wouldn’t be if she didn’t act like im some sort of child.” matt sighed while plopping down at the edge of the bed.

“i dunno, i’d love to have someone like y/n. she literally does everything for you bro.” chris laughs while slightly nudging matt.

“yeah..” nick yells from his closet. “don’t know why you’re bitchin’ bout it she’s literally helps you with like…” nick took a pause to think. “everything!”

matt scoffs before shaking his head. “yeah well it’s nice before it gets fucking unbearable.”

unbeknownst to matt, you could hear this whole conversation. you had came to drop off some food for the triplets, and since you had an extra key you went straight in. now you would’ve made yourself known until you realized you were the topic of their conversation.

to say you were hurt from matts words was an understatement. you quickly rushed out of the house, tears streaming down your face recounting every scenario where you were overbearing.

-

hours turned into days and days turned into weeks. matt hadn’t heard from you in a while. he expected to wake up to your daily morning texts, but nothing. after he shrugged that off he expected you to come over like you usually did. but once again, you didn’t.

he found himself longing for your presence more than he ever did.

you both went no contact until you came over, seeking nicks assistance since you had a date that night in hopes that your little crush on matt would subside.

you had went the whole time without speaking to the brunette. opting for a simple ‘hey’. matt was confused. why were you suddenly so distant? sure he wanted space at times but this is not what he had in mind.

matt finally snapped when you attempted rushing out their house, bidding matt goodbye with a meek ‘see ya’.

matt rose from his spot on the catch before making his way towards you. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or are you gonna keep avoiding me?” matt said while crossing his arms on his chest.

you could only roll your eyes before slipping your shoes on. “i dont know what you’re talking about, but i have to go.” you spat harshly before spinning on your heel.

“woah, what’s up with you?” matt yelled, shocked at your sudden anger towards him. he pulled you back by your wrist so you could face him.

“y’know if you found me ‘overbearing’ you could’ve just told me.”

thats when everything came back to matt. instant regret washed over him as he gazed upon your solemn expression. the same eyes that used to hold so much adoration for him now hollow.

“i’m so sorry y/n. i know theres no excuse to what i said but i was just being stupid.” matt sighed while running a hand down his face. “you’re far from overbearing, in fact i...i really miss you.”

“really?” you mumbled while your facial expression softened. matt nodded before embracing you in a tight hug to which you reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his waist. your date long forgotten.

“you’re amazing the way you are, and im sorry if i made it seem any other way.”

you smiled at matts words before leaning up to look at him. “just tell me next time, okay?” matt smiled and lightly pecked the side of your temple. happy to have finally gotten you back.

the version of you he loved.

and the version of you he would always cherish.

-

A/N: sorry this should’ve came out yesterday but i had to study for an exam. i have also been experiencing writers block but i have a new matt series in mind so stay on the look out for that!

tags:

@junnniiieee07 @tillies33ssss @whore4matt @stellarsturns @summerl986 @inveigledvex @beccaluvschris @stingerayyy2 @bunnysturns @braindead4l @vickyzloserz @sturnzsblog

[lancermylove]

Thank You (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: All x gn!Reader, minus Ortho.

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Heyo, finally made it when requests were open!!! May I request the twst boys reacting to a gn!reader accidentally saying "thank you!" When replying to an "I love you" because they happened to say it while the reader was distracted with something only for reader to notice a millisecond later and apologize??

A/N: Yay! Lol, that's funny. 😂 Poor guys.

———————————————

Leona

Leona raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your reaction. He finally confessed to you, and that's your response?

"Yeah? Well. Thanks to you, too," he said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Though initially annoyed, the prince realized it was an accident on your part. When you apologize, he quickly brushes the incident aside.

"Are ya sure? I can find another person to confess to."

Seeing your panicked reaction to his words made your mistake worthwhile.

Even though he doesn't hold a grudge against you, Leona teases you about it occasionally. Sometimes, when you say you love him, he replies with a 'thank you.'

Ruggie

Ruggie stared at you blankly for a second before laughing loudly. "You're welcome. But y'know I said I love ya, right?"

The hyena was content just by the fact that you didn't straight out reject him. It wasn't that he didn't think you were interested in him, but Ruggie wanted to be prepared for all outcomes.

When you apologized to him, he pinched your cheek. "Wanna try again? I love you."

Regardless of your answer, Ruggie teases you about this incident for a few months. He truly appreciates the humor of the situation.

Jack

The wolf was confused and froze. Did you not like him back...? Did he make a mistake? Jack's ears were slightly lowered when those thoughts were floating in his mind.

He cleared his throat. "Uh...you...are welcome?"

As soon as you apologized to him and explained that you were distracted, the wolf sighed in relief. For a second, he thought that was your way of rejecting him.

Jack won't be able to forget this moment for a long time. Next time he wants to say he loves you, Jack will make sure he has your undivided attention.

Malleus

The prince was stunned and speechless. However, he quickly regained his composure and found your response amusing.

"My pleasure. However, are you certain you heard my words, Child of Man?"

When your eyes widened, and you profusely apologized, Malleus chuckled. He teased you for a while, finding your red cheeks and embarrassment charming.

While he isn't the one to bring up past incidents repeatedly, this is one incident he will never forget and will tease you.

Lilia

Lilia burst into laughter, not expecting such a response from you. He thought you would blush, stutter, try to avoid meeting his gaze, but thank you?

"Well, what a unique response. But, my dear, I said I love you."

Your apologies, embarrassment, attempts to explain you were distracted - everything was entertaining to him.

Now that Lilia knows you can't focus on two things at once, he will use this to his advantage. He looks forward to seeing what kinds of reactions he can get out of you.

Silver

He was confused and thought he had misheard you. Silver neither attempted to correct you nor tried to repeat his words. He was just that embarrassed at the thought that you instantly rejected him.

"O-Oh, wait....I am so sorry!"

As soon as you said those words and gave him an explanation, Silver relaxed. He chuckled, accepting your apology.

Despite that, to this day, he still thinks you half rejected him but changed your mind at the last moment. However, he will never tell you this.

Sebek

Sebek turned red, mostly from embarrassment. But his mind was too jumbled to register anything other than your words.

"Human! I said I love you!" He yelled, thinking you didn't hear him correctly the first time.

Once you gave him an explanation, he lectured you to pay attention when someone speaks to you.

Though, Sebek didn't actually mean to lecture you; it was his way of hiding the fact that he almost got a heart attack. The half-fae honestly thought you rejected him.

Azul

Just like some others on this list, Azul thought your response was a plot to get out of the situation without straight-out rejecting him.

When you apologized profusely, he realized it was an honest mistake and nervously laughed. A part of him wanted to hide in his octopus pot for comfort.

In the end, though, he thinks the situation is humorous - at least you didn't reject him. But Azul will never bring this situation up again.

Jade

Jade smirked at your response and maintained his composure. He figured out from the blankness in your eyes that you didn't hear what he said.

"I believe you meant to say 'I love you,' not 'thank you'. Would you like to try again?"

Whatever response you give him after that, Jade will find it endearing. He doesn't take anything to hear and realizes you were too distracted to register his initial words correctly.

He will definitely tease you about this for months or until he can find another topic to tease you about.

Floyd

Initially, Floyd laughed, finding your response hilarious. But then, his mood quickly deflated.

"Heeeey, Shrimpy. Are you rejecting me?" He whined.

Even after you apologized to him and tried to explain the situation, Floyd's mood remained off. He refused to talk to you for the rest of the day, but Jade assured you he would come around soon.

The following day, Floyd teases you about your response. After all, who says thank you to I love you? Be prepared for his endless teasing. Oh, and everyone on campus will know what you said to him.

Kalim

Kalim grinned, thinking you were appreciating him for confessing to you. "You're welcome!"

Once your mind registered what he said, you quickly said sorry. This only lightened his mood even more. Reassuring you it was okay, Kalim continued to openly express his love for you.

But as soon as you tell him you love him back, Kalim completely forgot about what happened earlier. The only thing he remembered was you loved him, too.

Jamil

Jamil's jaw dropped, and he froze. At first, he thought you were politely rejecting him. Then, he thought you must have misheard him.

With a sigh, he touched his temple and repeated his words. "What exactly are you thanking me for?"

Then, it clicked with you. After your apology, he exhaled, relieved you didn't reject him. Jamil apologizes for confessing when you were distracted.

After that day, he never brings up the incident again. Sometimes, he has nightmares about you rejecting him by saying thank you.

Vil

He was taken aback and frowned. Being a man of logic, Vil figured you were not paying attention to his words. With a sigh, he regained his poise and repeated his words.

"Would you kindly pay attention to my words? Allow me to repeat my words. I love you."

Vil found your nervousness, apologies, and return confession endearing. Even though he was initially irritated, repeating his words made it worthwhile.

Considering your honesty, Vil doesn't make a big deal out of the incident and never brings it up again.

Rook

Rook was shocked and dramatically gasped, resting his hand on his chest.

"Ah, ma chèrie/mon chère, is that truly your response to my declaration of love? Are you perhaps rejecting Moi? Oh, mon coeur."

As he sulked, you quickly apologized. "That's not what...uh...I was distracted! Rook, I love you too!"

Once he heard your response, the hunter instantly switched from sulking to poetry mode.

(Spongebob narrator: An eternity later) Rook returned to his dorm. Now, everyone on campus knows the two of you love each other.

Epel

Epel was confused and didn't know what to think. He was also too embarrassed to repeat his words or ask if you heard what he said. He had spent the last few days practicing in front of the mirror and imagining your reactions, but thank you was not what he expected.

His cheeks resembled apples, but as soon as you said sorry, Epel relaxed slightly.

"It's...o-okay..."

Both of you were so embarrassed that he didn't wait for your response, and you didn't bother to give a response.

Next time, Epel is determined to get a proper response out of you...as soon as gathers enough courage to confess again.

Riddle

When he heard your response, Riddle went through an array of emotions. Shock - did you just thank him? Confusion - was that what you meant to say? Nervousness - did you politely reject him? Anger - why did he bother? Logic - hold on.

It took him a moment to realize you were distracted when he confessed. Mentally slapping himself, Riddle sighed quietly.

"My apologies. Please pay attention. I...I love you."

When you respond positively, Riddle can't contain his happiness, and his cheeks turn red. For the rest of the day, he skips around the dorm, scaring every student he passes. They all think he is possessed.

Trey

Trey maintained his calm because he noticed you were distracted. That was the reason why he confessed to you. It wasn't that he was nervous, but he thought it would be less of a shock to you if he said I love you while your mind was elsewhere.

"You're welcome. Just to make sure, you are not rejecting me, right?" He teased.

Seeing your flustered face and hearing your stuttering apology, he had the urge to kiss you right then and there but controlled.

At times, Trey brings up your nervousness as a way to tease you.

Cater

Despite his confusion at your response, he laughed.

He wasn't expecting that response, but the unexpected element made the experience all the more cute.

"I should have recorded your reaction," he chuckled after you apologized for your mistake. So, what do you have to say to me~? Do I have to put #Rejected or #CaterisDating on Magicam? My followers have to know."

Cater doesn't bring up this moment often, but when he does, he makes sure you are sulking and flustered.

Ace

He had a hard time processing your response and rubbed the back of his head. Once he analyzed your reply, Ace immediately thought you rejected him. He wanted to run away from there.

"Seriously? Aw, man," he mumbled.

"Thank you...did I just...wait, did you just...? ACE!"

Once you told him what happened and said sorry, he laughed. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

You would think Ace would tease you about your 'thank you,' but he doesn't. The feeling he had when he thought you rejected him caused him pain that he doesn't want to remember ever again, so he never brings it up.

Deuce

Deuce's mind short-circuited at your response. He was prepared for I love you or I don't feel the same way about you. But thank you?

"Uh...welcome...I g-guess...?" He stuttered.

"Wait!" The moment you realized he confessed, your world started to spin.

Somehow, you managed to give him an apology and explanation, which made Deuce all the more embarrassed. He didn't think you were distracted and mentally punched himself for not paying attention to where your mind was.

He never brings up this incident, even though you said you love him back. Remembering what happened makes him embarrassed all over again.

Idia

When Idia heard you thank him, he backed away. He wanted to run and hide under the bed.

The previous night, he discussed the possible outcomes of his confession, but thank you was not one of them. He even practiced how he would respond if you rejected him. However, Idia was at a loss.

Even when you apologized and told him your mind was elsewhere, Idia couldn't get over the initial shock. Both of you were embarrassed, and the two of you quietly stared at each other awkwardly.

It takes him a little time to get over what happened. But when he does, he tries to confess to you again, hoping you don't thank him. But in case you do, he practiced his reaction, so at least he won't freeze up.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[phantom-0-writer]

excerpt from my fic (bio wayne danny)

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Dick asked teasingly, slipping in next to Bruce. 

“I was just telling Danny how having a space station as a base of operation is a tactical call.” Bruce said, pointedly. 

“As if. It wasn’t a good idea when the JL was just the main seven, but after their expansion project, it’s a liability if not a straight out disadvantage.” Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How is it a liability?” Dick asked intrigued. 

“Whenever there’s a huge invasion or something, where do you think the evil aliens are going to attack first? The huge space satellite with at least a handful of heroes on it at all times, with state-of-the-art weapons and tech, full of information about literally everything worth having information on probably has no external defenses because no one would think to sneak into a space station, seems like a pretty good start.” Danny explained, Dick watched Bruce appraise his information. “I bet I could get in if I figured out how to get to space.” 

Bruce raised an amused brow at him, “You think you could break into the Watchtower?” 

“Easy.” Danny proclaimed, sporting a wicked grin. 

Before Dick could say anything, someone came up to their table. “Danny!” The boy, Dick recognized as Tucker, said with an exaggerated fake surprise, “What a surprise seeing you here. At the Nasty Burger. Around 6 o’clock. Today.” 

“Tucker? Why- What are you doing here?” Danny asked surprised. 

“I was just passing by,” Tucker said, shrugging dramatically. Danny gave him an accusing and disbelieving look. “My, my who are these people here with you, Danny?” Tucker asked, sliding into the seat next to Danny. 

“Tucker, you know who they are,” Danny said exasperated. 

But it seemed like they had more guests. “Danny! Wow, I wasn’t expecting you here. Small world, huh?” Sam (?) walked over preppi-ly which didn’t match her grunge aesthetic. Her hands hooked with Val’s as they walked together. 

“Small world,” Val repeated with a fake smile. The two of them sat down next to Danny and Tucker. 

Danny put his head in his hands, “I should’ve known.”

“You should’ve.” Sam nodded. 

“But you didn’t.” Val chastised jokingly. 

Next another boy comes dashing into the restaurant wearing a basketball jersey. 

“You’re late,” Val says, admonishingly. Tucker and Sam shake their heads, and Danny sighs in exasperation. 

“I literally ran here.” Wes said in between huffs of air, slumping in next to Val. 

The group of teens who had been teasing each other, in a very strange synchronous action, turn their heads to look at Bruce and Dick. Dick was really regretting watching Anabell last night. 

“I think we’ll need more food,” Bruce comments lightly. 

---

“So, dick.” Sam started, munching on a fry. “Tell us about yourself.” 

“Like what?” Dick asked

Valerie (“Do not call me Val.”) answered, “What do you do?”

“I’m a cop in Bludhaven.” Dick was met with four pairs of dubious eyes. Danny sent him a small-lipped look of disappointment, he wasn’t sure whether it was for him or at him. Maybe Dick should look into getting a new day job.

“Write that down.” Sam gestured to Tucker.

“Already on it,” Tucker reported, scribbling something with a stylus. 

“You guys are taking this very seriously,” Bruce commented, smiling. 

“It is serious.” Tucker responded. 

“What if you guys are in some child trafficking ring?” Wes commented, 

“Why would they be-” Danny started, before Wes turned to him and very seriously said, 

“That’s exactly the question, Danny. Why would they?” Wes thoughtfully turned to look at Bruce warily. 

“Y’know let’s just dive into the important questions shall we?” Sam asked her preppy attitude from before gone, replaced by a hard glare at the two of them. It reminded Dick of Titus. “What’s your opinion on the basements?”

“Basements?” Bruce repeated, confused. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first eccentric billionaire to insist Danny be their son. And we’ve noticed a few patterns.” Tucker informed them as if they were talking about something completely normal and mundane. Though, Dick couldn’t really argue. Bruce was also an eccentric billionaire with a secret basement. 

“Well, we have a basement,” Dick said hesitantly. “Does that dock us points?” He asked Tucker, half-joking, half-concerned. 

“Tentative.” 

“So what do you do in your basement?” Wes asked, sipping on a milkshake. 

“Normal basement things.” Dick lied. 

“Such as…” Valarie implored, eyes suspicious. 

Dick hesitated thinking about what to say. Bruce hadn’t said anything either. But Danny took the time to tell his friends, “Guys I really don’t think that should be a problem. I mean, would someone like Vlad really go for the ‘let’s have dinner so my family can meet your family and we can get to know each other’ approach when the ‘let me drug and kidnap you and stick you in a cloning pod’ approach was right there.” 

His friends seemed to consider this before they all nodded and agreed. 

“Vlad Masters drugged and kidnaped you to put you in a cloning pod?” Bruce asked, concerned. 

“No,” Danny said, offhandedly, not bothering to elaborate. Someone should really look into that guy. 

“O-M-G, is that Paulina?” Wes said pointedly, a menacing grin on his face as he looked at Danny, who in turn looked alarmed.

“Aw, Danny you should go say ‘Hi’.” Tucker cooed, teasingly, Danny groaned, his ears flushing in embarrassment.

“Guys, stop.” Sam said finally, “We wouldn’t want another spoon incident.” A grin cracked on her face. Danny buried his face in his hands. 

Dick looked over to see who they were talking about. There were two girls, one was a blond girl with her arms hooked around Kwan from The Mall, and the other was a darker skinned girl wearing a pink crop top. Dick wasn’t sure who Paulina was, but it didn’t really matter, as he took his chance to tease his brother. “You have a crush on Paulina?” He asked teasingly. Bruce is smiling next to him. 

“No.” Danny denied it fervently. “I mean- I did. Like forever ago. But not anymore.”

“He’s since moved on to more attainable targets.” Tucker nodded. Received a smack from Sam and a spoon to the face from Valerie. “Ow. What? It’s true.” 

“Y’know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Wes added with a snicker. 

“Wes,” Danny groaned at the same time as Sam and Valarie hissed his name. 

“I sense a story.” Bruce commented, sipping his drink. 

“It all started when we were fresh little freshmen. Danny had his little crush on Paulina. I was just trying to get by, y’know. Not all of us have Wayne genes.” Tucker started pointedly. 

“What- we didn’t know about that till this week.” Danny pointed out. 

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, dude.” Wes spoke up. Sam and Valerie stayed suspiciously quiet. Dick’s smirk only grew. 

“As I was saying, we’re just doing normal freshman things, when Sammy here,” Tucker points to Sam with his head, “starts crushing. Big time.”

“It was not that bad.” Sam points out. 

“It was, in fact, that bad.” Tucker said, looking at Bruce and Dick, “But at the same time Danny and Val have a little enemies-to-lovers thing and then they both start crushing on each other. And they dated for a while, but then they broke up cause Val had a lot on her plate at the time. Danny was all mopey and heartbroken. And then Sam swoops in like his little knight in glowing armor, then they start dating. And all the while I’m here single and alone.” Tucker shakes his head mournfully. 

“I was not all mopey and heartbroken.” Danny defends himself. 

“You so were dude.” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees. 

“But then Sam and Danny decide that they’re better off as friends because Danny kinda had a lot to deal with. And now we’re all best friends.”  Tucker concluded, cheerfully. 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh, Bruce.” Dick says slyly. Bruce huffs. 

“Then what about the spoon incident?” Bruce asked. 

“Oh, that was back when there were a lot of ghost attacks, and the school had my parents come in to run security. And this one time we were having lunch outside, and they just showed up out of nowhere. And I got kinda spooked and…” Danny’s voice trailed off into a mumble, and Dick couldn’t catch the last bit.

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“He said he swallowed a spoon.” Wes spoke up. 

“What?” Bruce asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I got it out.” Danny waved dismissively. 

“How?” Dick asked, confused.

“Uh, I just did.” He waved again. Before Dick could ask any more questions, someone else decided to show up.

“Oh good, I thought I missed you guys.” Another red-haired boy showed up. “Hi, I’m Adam, Wes’s brother.” Dick recognized the accent the boy had. He stuck out a hand for Dick to shake.

continue reading (ao3)

regular boy: daniel wayne - chap 9

[bl00dst41ned]

✧ ˚ · . just another love song . · ˚ ✧

pairing: jude bellingham x black singer!reader

summary: in which you and jude go public for the release of a special song

author’s note: since sza does not want to release the song i’ll do it myself (rumors said the song will be released tomorrow i can't wait) (the blue means the username is id'd)

faceclaim: @ronisia_mds (d’ailleurs qu’elle se mette vite avec Tiakola, j’en ai marre de leur jeu d’acteur)

yourusername

Liked by jobebellingham and 2,854,721 others

yourusername diamond boy, why you so shiny ?

yn.fan the studio pic AAAHHHHHHH

craigxmitch babe who is he ?? 🥺🥺

→ yourusername oop- nellarose your “man” is acting up

→ nellarose waowww so this what we doing craig

→ craigxmitch wait- NO

yn_news NEW MUSIC ALERT I REPEAT NEW MUSIC

user1 y/n it's my birthday yourusername

→ yourusername happy birthday love

→ user1 OMGGGGG

jorjasmith you look gorg

→ yourusername thx i love u 

judebellingham 😍

Liked by creator

yourbsf hey pretty girl

→ yourusername hey lover

judebells5 what is jude doing here ?

→ yntheonly that’s what i’m trying to figure out

judebellingham

Liked by harrypinero and 2,921,547 others

judebellingham Golden Boy 2023. Beyond grateful, thank you to everyone who’s supported my journey until this point, can’t fully express my appreciation!

vinijr Belligoooool

trentarnold66 Man of the year 👑

toniruediger JB5 🔥

madders Goldenballs 🤝

yourusername real life 💫boy

→ judebellingham i like 💎boy better though

[Y/N’s interview]

yourusername and adidaslondon

Liked by arilennox and 1,023,102 others

yourusername so happy to be part of the Adidas family

adidaslondon welcome superstar (caught the wordplay 😝)

judebellingham welcome to the family 💎girl

→ yourusername 🤭🤭

→ judefan22 not y’all flirting straight in the eyes of the public

user3 it's the face the hair the outfit it's everything

sza the face card never declined

→ yourusername thank you beautiful 🤎

jude.fan so now jude and her are both adidas partner 🤭🤭

user4 how can someone be so pretty

ynsmainbae

462 likes

ynsmainbae y/n and jude playing in their comments thinking I don’t see them 🙄🙄 i know what they’re hiding

📍ynsmainbae yourusername I KNOW WHAT Y'ALL ARE

Pinned by ynsmainbae

yn.fan they look so good together

→ ynsmainbae YESSS !!!!! they need to go public already

lovejb22 they don’t even hide it anymore

Liked by ynsmainbae

weloveyn HOLLON- GUYS Y/N IS AT A MADRID GAME

→ ynsmainbae WHAT ?!?!!

→ bell_egg_ham i used to pray for times like this 🥲

yourusername posted on their story

yourusername

Liked by judebellingham and 3,023,156

yourusername Baby, if it's OD, tell me, am I sayin' too much?

📍yourbsf guys it’s coming !!!!!!

Pinned by yourusername

hallebailey can’t wait for them to hear the song, it’s lovely 💕

→ yourusername i’m so glad you loved it babe 🥰

user5 not getting to excited, she might be lying

tyla can i be your diamond girl 👉🏽👈🏽

→ yourusername only if you make me water 😉

→ user6 AYOOOO

diesel stunning 😍😍

victoriamonet ooh she’s stunning

→ yourusername youuu 🥹🥹

user7 can't wait to be midnight

yourusername

Liked by champagnepapi and 3,541,017 others

yourusername this one is for my one and only diamond boy <3 DTM is out at mignight

sza ooh you ate that

→ yourusername thank you pookie 🤎

yourbsf fucking finally

→ yourusername girl shut up and stream

yn.and.co oh MOTHER ✨✨

jobebellingham congratulations sister 🤍

→ yourusername thank you brother 🥰

user8 she ate i fear

girliesloveyn THE VOCALS ARE VOCALIZINGGGG

judebellingham

judebellingham all i need in this life of sin 💎

📍yourusername hope you liked the song babe judebellingham

yourusername i look gorgeous damn

→ judebellingham stunning, astonishing, breath-taking

jobebellingham wide back boy

→ yourusername JOBE IJHDCDSK

→ judebellingham what you akekekeing for ??

comments have been limited

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it guys)

masterlist for more

[lonelywitchv2]

ink and blood (strawberries pt. 3)

hey guys! sorry it’s been so long, i finished the fic but then someone stole my laptop and phone (i had to get new ones) and i got locked out of my email!! it's totally giving ao3 writer but anyways. enjoy <3

summary: this time it was you who broke, not your ink pot.

content: violence, cursing, fluff, lowkey emotional crisis, i think that’s it? idk, sirius is an asshole in this (shocker….)

wc: 2.7k (there was more but i hated it all so i deleted it so expect a part 4 by the end of this year if you’re lucky)

Sirius stormed out of Gryffindor Tower, running right into Remus, who tried stopping him for an explanation. The act was pointless, of course, as Sirius shoved past him and went straight to James.

“Give me the map,” Sirius said.

“Why?” James asked, slightly hesitant.

“James. Give me the map,” Sirius repeated, anger rooted deep within his words.

James eyed the boy briefly, turning to look at Remus before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the folded piece of parchment. Before he could even say a word, Sirius snatched the map out of his hands and disappeared down the corridor, leaving his two friends behind.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Sirius muttered under his breath, his wand pointed to the now unfolded map. Just as always, ink appeared on the page and painted the familiar picture of the Marauder's Map, along with each and every corner of the school. Sirius’ dark eyes scanned across the parchment, looking for the name of his brother. Finding the name he was looking for, Sirius headed towards the Great Hall, watching on the map as his brother exited the hall and started walking his way. In a matter of minutes, Sirius and Regulus were just a corner away from running into each other.

Regulus had no time to process his brother's presence as he rounded the corner, failing to dodge Sirius’ swing at his jaw, the punch leaving him to stumble back roughly. The younger Black brother looked up, hand instinctively going up to the numb area of his face as he caught the eyes of his brother. 

Sirius was far from over, however, as he launched himself at Regulus, knocking him to the floor and landing punch after punch onto the body and face of his brother. Regulus struggled beneath his older brother, continuously trying and failing to get Sirius off of him. Sirius, blinded by rage, only hit Regulus harder the more he tried to push him away.

When Regulus was finally able to muster up the strength to shove Sirius off of him, he scrambled away from him, leaning against a wall as he struggled to stand.

“What the hell, Sirius?” Regulus exclaimed, a shake in his voice as the pain engulfed him.

“How could you? I saw the letter you wrote to her, Regulus, why can’t you just leave her alone?” Sirius shouted, his throat threatening to close up as he shook the letter at his brother.

“I- that was a private letter, Sirius,” Regulus said weakly, heart dropping to his stomach.

“If you don’t shut up, so help me Godric, I will kill you,” Sirius said darkly, pushing himself up from where Regulus had shoved him and walking towards him. 

Regulus was more prepared this time, albeit, significantly more bloody, and stumbled toward Sirius to defend himself. It was Sirius, again, who made the first swing, hitting Regulus square in the nose, followed by a crack. Regulus was surprisingly quick to respond, even with blood now gushing from his nose, and threw a punch that landed on Sirius’ cheek. 

“You little fucker-“ Sirius muttered, preparing to hit Regulus only to keel over when the younger Black brother hit him in the stomach.

It was then that Professor McGonagall appeared from around the corner, greeted by the sight of Regulus’ bloodied and bruised face and Sirius still hunched over from the hit to his gut, hair covering the bruise beginning to form on his cheek. She was quick to put herself between the brothers in case another fight started.

“What in Godric’s name is going on here?” She exclaimed, furious. 

After what felt like an hour of being chewed out by Professor McGonagall and losing their respective houses 100 points, they went their separate ways, Sirius going to the Gryffindor common room and Regulus going to the Slytherin common room. 

When Sirius entered the common room, he looked over to the couches where he saw you, Marlene, Lily, Remus, James, and Peter all sitting in silence. You noticed his presence first, jumping up when you saw his face.

“Good Godric, what the hell happened to you?” Your hands instinctively reached towards his face as you stepped towards him.

“Why don’t you fuss over your little boyfriend instead?” Sirius said hostilely, slapping your hand away from his face.

Your hands dropped to your sides, face falling as well.

“You guys fought?” You asked quietly.

Sirius didn’t answer, only turning around and walking up to his dorm, faithfully followed by James, Peter, and Remus. 

You still hadn’t moved, but you could feel your heart beating in your stomach, nauseous at the thought of Sirius and Regulus fighting because of you. Your chest heaved, trying to calm yourself before you ran out of Gryffindor tower, feet carrying you down to the dungeons and to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. You looked around, spotting a first-year in green robes walking past you, running up to him and pleading for the code.

Once you entered the Slytherin common rooms, you ran past the people scattered around the room and went straight up to Regulus’s dorm.

Regulus looked up from where he was sitting on his bed as you entered his dormitory and you couldn’t help the shocked gasp that escaped you when you saw his face. His jaw was bruised a dark purple, the skin around his eye slowly turning a similar shade of violet, blood still dripping from his nose, and more bruises across his body. Those, of course, were only the injuries you could see.

“Oh, Regulus,” You whispered, approaching his bed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you in between his legs so his head was against your chest and your hands gently combed through his curls. You stayed like that for a while, Regulus listening to the beating of your heart as you stroked his back, not caring about the blood stain that was certainly appearing on your jumper.

“Let’s clean you up, love,” You said, pulling away from the hug. You placed a brief kiss on his lips before entering the bathroom, grabbing and wetting a washcloth for the blood. 

Sitting next to him on his bed, you gently wiped the blood off Regulus’s face, apologizing profusely whenever he winced. The entire time you were cleaning his face off, his eyes were trained on your face, tracing over your features.

“You look really pretty,” Regulus whispered to you, holding back a grin upon seeing you blush and watching a small smile gracing your face.

“Reg, you should be focusing on yourself and not me,” You responded with a breathy laugh.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, making you pause. 

“I’m not mad at you Regulus,” You answered, cupping his face with your hand and stroking it gently with your thumb. Regulus leaned into your touch, eyes briefly fluttering shut. 

“Alright, don’t fall asleep on me, darling, I still have to check out your bruises,” You said softly, laughing when Regulus groaned, “I promise I’ll let you sleep after.”

You stood up from his bed, a bit reluctantly if you were being honest, and began helping him take off his jumper. Regulus’ light grey jumper, which you had gifted him for Christmas, keeping his neutral-colored closet in mind, was now decorated with droplets of his blood. Once his jumper and undershirt were removed, you let out a sigh. His stomach and chest were littered with bruises, some bigger and darker, others smaller and lighter.

“Damnit, you got beat, huh?” You muttered teasingly, “I’m sorry, Reg.”

“‘S alright, just come lay with me, dove,” Regulus mumbled as he tugged you down onto the bed with him, laying so that you were facing each other.

You tugged the dark green blankets over your bodies, settling back down on the bed, your head right next to his own, his dark curls falling onto the pillow as he turned onto his side to look at you.

“I love you,” You whispered, your nervous eyes looking into his gray ones. You relaxed, though, as you watched his bruised face spread into a smitten smile.

“I love you too,” Regulus whispered back, still grinning.

You lifted your head, just enough to move it an inch from Regulus’s, and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was slow and sweet, your noses gently nudging one another as your lips moved. Your hand gently reaching for his curls to pull him closer as you smiled into the kiss. After Regulus pulled away, he curled his body into yours, his head tucked in the crook of your shoulder, arm draped over your waist, while you let your hands travel along his warm back and through his dark, curly hair. In that position, it didn’t take long for Regulus to fall asleep, with you following soon after.

You and Regulus slept the afternoon away, cuddled together until Evan entered the dorm around 4 o’clock, interrupting your sleep. After the boy mentioned the time, you soon realized you had disappeared from Gryffindor Tower for six hours with no explanation.

“Do you have to go?” Regulus asked, trying to pull you back into bed with him as you sighed deeply.

“Yeah, I do. I’ll see you later, Reg, I love you,” You said, turning to pull him into a kiss.

“I love you too. Don’t let Sirius get to you too much,” Regulus said after pulling away from the kiss, watching in a lovesick daze as you left the room. When he turned to Evan, who was still in the room, he snapped out of it, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘I love you too.’ Since when did you start saying I love you and why haven’t I heard about it?” Evan questioned, imitating Regulus’s voice as he plopped down on his bed expectantly.

“You’re such a drama queen,” Regulus joked, earning an eye roll from his friend.

“Don’t you dare call me a drama queen,” Evan said, pointing a finger threateningly at the smirking boy.

When you entered the Gryffindor common room, you were met with the sight of a sulking Sirius holding a towel of ice to his cheek. You both looked at each other, entering a brief staring match before Sirius broke the silence.

“Did you have fun with my little brother?” Sirius asked bitterly, glaring.

“Dear Godric, Sirius, will you stop with that? I was cleaning him up after you almost broke his nose!” You exclaimed, anger rising by the moment.

“Oh, yeah, because wiping some blood off his face takes six hours,” Sirius remarked.

“You know what, Sirius? Fuck you. You went and beat up your own brother because he’s in love with your friend? It’s fucking sad,” You snapped, eyes narrowing on the black-haired boy.

“Oh, so you two are in love now? Regulus doesn’t love people, he’s playing you and you’re too fucking stupid to see it,” Sirius said, standing up so he was in front of you, ice left on the couch.

You said nothing, only letting your hand fly to his already bruised face and slap it, Sirius’ head turning to the side at the force of your hand. Slowly, he turned to face you once more, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t you dare say shit like that again, Sirius Black, or you’ll get a whole lot more than a slap,” You threatened, face hardened in a scowl as you pushed him back and away from you. 

You turned, shouldering past Marlene and Lily, who were standing on the staircase with wide eyes, and stalked up to your dormitory, slamming the wooden door shut behind you. You looked around the room and at the floor by your bed, where your belongings were still scattered and your ink pot was still broken. The dark ink had sunk into the floorboards, staining the wood black.

You began cleaning your part of the dorm, picking everything up by hand despite knowing you could easily use magic, knowing you needed to focus on something or else you would start bawling. The broken pieces of the inkpot, which were still dripping ink, were the last things you picked up off of the floor. A small piece of the glass, so small that you had almost missed it on the wood, sliced through the still-stinging skin of your palm, crimson rising to the surface. You didn’t move, eyes trained on the blood that was dripping from your hand and landing next to the black dots of ink on the floorboards.

You only broke out of your trance when you heard the door to your dorm opening, your roommate, Lana, entering. 

“You alright?” She asked, catching your eyes as you looked up from your hand, which she quickly noticed, “Merlin, what happened? Come on, let’s clean that.”

You dropped the shards of glass, which were now covered in both ink and blood, into the garbage and let Lana lead you into the bathroom to clean your cut. She rinsed your hand off before gently cleaning the cut. When Lana finished cleaning it, she wrapped it and bandaged it before turning to leave.

“Thank you, Lana,” You said gratefully, smiling softly at your roommate as she paused in the doorway.

“Always, it’s what friends are for,” Lana responded, returning your smile.

Lana was on her bed reading a book when you finally left the bathroom to return to cleaning. With your hand now bandaged, you waved your wand and watched the black and red spots disappear off of the mahogany wood.

It was then, as you lay on your bed, that you found yourself wishing your conscience could be wiped clean as easily as the wood was. Every time you shut your eyes, images of Regulus’s body covered in purple and blue marks plagued your mind, alongside the unforgettable sight of Sirius’ bruised face twisted in anger as you slapped him. 

Your eyes flew open, focusing on the ceiling while you tried to blink the images out of your mind. You turned your head to Lana, who was already looking at you with a perplexed gaze.

"Why is he like this? Sirius, I mean. I get that he's mad but, Lana, you should've seen the bruises Regulus had, Sirius hurt him so much," You whispered to your roommate.

“There never really is a good answer in situations like this, just that people get blinded by their anger and do bad things. I’m not excusing Sirius’s actions, Godric no, but he definitely wasn’t thinking straight,” Lana answered tentatively, placing her book on her nightstand.

“I just don’t know what to do now,” You whispered, eyes clouded with tears as you looked away from Lana, “Sirius and Regulus were already on bad enough terms as it was, but now they’re getting in fights and it’s all my fault.”

Lana said nothing, only getting up from her bed and moving to yours, pulling you into a hug. She kept her arms around you as your body shook with sobs, the harsh reality of the situation hitting you like a truck. 

Everything has changed.

So much had happened over the past week- everyone found out you and Regulus were dating, you got banned from seeing him, Sirius ransacked your room and then fought with Regulus, you slapped Sirius, and now you were here. Crying in your roommate’s arms.

“I feel like all I’m doing is hurting people. I hurt Sirius and betrayed his trust. I’m the reason Regulus and Sirius got in that fight. Bloody hell, I slapped Sirius,” You cried, your breath stuttering as you spoke.

“Listen to me, this isn’t all your fault. You aren’t doing this to hurt people. Sometimes, things don’t always go the way they should and that’s just a part of life. Regulus loves you and you love him, it’s only a matter of time before Sirius sees that and he’s just gonna have to learn to accept it,” Lana said firmly, “And he will accept it, trust me. He might be mad now but he’s not going to lose you over this.”

You couldn’t even respond at that point, your body shaking with tears and sobs as Lana hugged you.

[rizsu]

graduated delusional boys shoyo, kuroo, sunarin.

-> tokrev & jjk version

it's a simple night out with the hinata family. after another successful karasuno match, shoyo's mother suggested a restaurant dinner and well some shopping.

busy on his feet, shoyo walk-runs after his sister. she's certainly a little too fast on her feet—especially if you don't hold her hand or use a leash like their mom usually does. finally reaching her, he lifts her onto his hip before ending the mini race with a little scolding.

“natsu! don't speed off like that!”

“but the candies!!”

shaking his head, shoyo shuffles his way through the sea of people until he makes it back to his mother's position.

“sho', natsu, come here!” motioning to her kids, their mother takes hold of the five year old before pushing shoyo to walk in front of her, “stay in my vision, sho'. you're still young!”

well, shoyo would've done as she said without complaints but the last sentence made him turn his head back one hundred and eighty degrees. immediately warping his face into one that expresses confusion, shoyo raises a counterargument.

“but i'm already a third year! with a girlfriend too y'know.”

nodding her head to act as if she's paying attention to his words, shoyo's mother argues back, “yes, yes, but you still live with me so—wait.”

from the tone of her voice in the last word, shoyo tries to speed up his pace but a mother's hand is always faster.

“what do you mean by girlfriend, young man.”

“whoops..?”

turning around on his heel, he raises a hand behind his neck trying to think of a way to properly explain. it doesn't take long before he starts his own sign language while giving his mother the detailed lore of your relationship—which didn't last for long because natsu had other plans.

“sho's not a loser!” she juts in her opinion, looking at her older brother with an open mouth covered by her hand.

“NAT-SU,” feeling shocked, betrayed and offended, shoyo goes to press his palm over her hand to seal her mouth shut. as the color red diffuses to all of his ear, he feigns a limp as he takes baby steps away from his family.

kuroo is not kuroo if he doesn't bother kenma after twelve a.m during the weekend sleepover. if there's a sleeping kenma, there's a wide awake kuroo waiting for the right moment to strike.

“psst, kenma, wake up.”

“please shut up.”

“KENMA!”

“NO.”

covering both ears with his pillow, kenma turns around to block off kuroo and whatever he's got going on at 1:43 AM according to his watch. but oh no, don't get it twisted. kuroo is not one to forfeit that easily—persistent may as well be his middle name!

“i was going to show you my girl but i guess not!” changing his tone to a teasing one, kuroo backs off kenma's bed and goes to his futon.

as if it was an auto-response, kenma sits up straight, sharply turning his neck to kuroo, “pause.”

and with that, kuroo adds one point to himself on his imaginary scoreboard. snickering to himself, he turns his back to kenma, waving him off by repeating what he previously said, “you told me shut up.”

“wait i'm sorry,” kenma says. slouching off his bed, he uses his right foot to nudge at kuroo's “sleeping” figure. it takes about five nudges before he speaks again, “you know i love knowing people's business. please, kuroo.”

adding another point to himself on the scoreboard, kuroo turns on his back with a grin and a phone to his face. raising the phone to kenma's height, kuroo shows him a picture of a girl and kenma thinks kuroo's gone delusional. maybe he's just tired.

“whose daughter did you find on pinterest?”

“okay fuck you.”

snatching his phone back, kuroo actually feels quite offended. is kenma implying he's not attractive enough to pull a pretty girl!?

“I WAS NOT FINISHED LOOKING.”

“privileges REVOKED.”

shoving a middle finger in the air, kuroo pulls his blanket over his head to quietly sob in peace (this is an exaggeration).

kenma, tired of kuroo's antics, steals kuroo's phone to look at your picture and find proper evidence that you guys are indeed together.

“don't go through our chats by the way.”

“ew.”

three adults, three cushions and one bottle. in osamu's living room sits him, his brother and rintaro. how'd they get here? boredom. extreme boredom. when they were no longer entertained by the alcohol, atsumu brought up the idea of truth-or-dare with using a bottle.

spinning the bottle, osamu watches it land on rintaro and immediately asked him a question he's been dying to know, “rin, is it true you're seeing someone?”

throwing his head back, rintaro groans. he knew it'd come sooner or later but he still wants to be mysterious.

“nosy much?” and to that, both twins responded, “SAYS YOU!?”

dragging his palm over his face, rintaro laughs before confirming osamu's question. he's twenty-six with nothing to lose and he thinks he's sexy—so obviously he'd not be single..!

osamu's jaw drops. although he was the one who asked, he's still shocked. to his defense, rintaro's always seemed like the type to stay in the talking zone.

“oh, that poor woman. save her now before it's too late.” using a napkin, atsumu wipes his crocodile tears only to be kicked by no one other than suna rintaro. cackling at rintaro's reaction, atsumu defends himself, “'m just messing with ya!”

rintaro rolls his eyes. turning around to grab his phone, he proudly shows off his lockscreen that's a picture of you from your anniversary date, “isn't she pretty?” with a small smile on his face, he feels his pride emotion being activated.

“i dunno...i've seen better,” atsumu states his (unwanted) opinion. tapping a finger on his chin, he squints at the phone.

and as for rintaro? his heart dropped. looking directly at atsumu this time, he questions him, “such as..?”

“like myself duh.”

one.

two.

three.

and cue the fight scene with rintaro and atsumu while osamu tries to catch his breath from laughing.

“I AM SICK OF YOU.” stifling atsumu with his cushion, rintaro makes sure to smother his face with the fabric. he, atsumu, must feel the pain.

“hey—HEY. GO EASY ON THE HAIR.”

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

hi!! do you think you could write some fluff with soldier boy where he confesses to the reader that he’s in love with her ??

Suddenly

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

rating: PG-13

word count: 0.5k

warnings: language, major fluff, none

author’s note: fluffy soldier boy/ben is my favorite! thank you for the request anon! 🫶

gif source

Love.

That’s what he realized this was. The feeling he felt in his chest every time he saw you, every time he heard your voice, every time he thought of you.

Love!

Could it really be? Was he really capable of real, true, authentic love? He hadn’t felt like this before. He thought he’d felt it with Countess, but that was nowhere close to what he was feeling now. With Countess there was always a bit of a hesitation behind the feeling, an uneasy sense he couldn’t quite place.

But you? He wasn’t about to hesitate. He wanted to tell you, tell the world, shout it out the fucking windows as cheesy as that sounds.

He was in love!

Suddenly so much made sense to him; why he’d moved in with you when you asked, why he didn’t mind running errands with you, why he adored the sound of your laugh. He learned lyrics to songs he never imagined liking before because of you! He danced with you, he let himself cry near you, he was so happy with you! He couldn’t understand why it took him so damn long to figure it out, but he suddenly realized he was completely, utterly in love with you.

He watched as you typed away on your computer, taking a moment every so often to take a sip of coffee. He’d asked you what you were doing before and how you could possibly be at work when you were still at home. ‘The fuck is computer science?’ he had all but laughed, assuming it was a trademark sarcastic reply of yours. You did your best to explain it to him but he still didn’t really understand it.

He sure liked watching you work through. So focused; eyes glued to the screen, your nose scrunching adorably, your fingers typing away.

“I love you,” he stated, his gaze not wavering.

You stopped typing and looked over at him. You didn’t turn your head, just moved your eyes. You half expected to look up and see him eyeing your breasts but he was looking straight at you.

“What?” you asked.

“I love you,” he repeated. You turned in your swivel chair and hurried to where he was sitting on the couch at the other side of the room.

“What?” you asked again, standing in front of him.

“I love you, Y/n!”

“Really? You- What?”

“I am completely, hopelessly in love with you!” He laughed a little. “Oh my god, I fucking love you!”

You stared into his green eyes, searching for any hint he was messing with you, but you were met with nothing but honesty.

“Oh god,” you whispered. You jumped onto his lap, straddling his hips, and sloppily kissed him with everything in you.

He kissed you right back and for a few moments there were no words exchanged, just lips moving in sync with such love between them. Such deep affection.

You suddenly pulled away when you realized you hadn’t said it back. You put your hands on his cheeks and smiled.

“I love you, Ben,” you told him, looking into his eyes.

His smile only grew as he pulled you back into another kiss.

[littlesubbyflower]

Changing Locks

Toxic!Eddie Munson X AFAB!Reader

2.7K Words

TW: Angst, Toxic!Eddie, toxic relationship

A/N :: Hey y’all, here I am projecting again lmao. Enjoy! If you enjoyed, please like and reblog!

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Everyone always assumed your relationship with Eddie Munson was perfect. Resident freak turned nice for the good girl, but it was far from what everyone in the halls at school or in the isles at the grocery store. 

Sure, everyone saw you two cozied up in the cafeteria, or his arm thrown over your shoulders in the hallways, or his hand on your thigh when he sat next to you in shared classes, but no one saw the explosive arguments, they never saw the death glares or the pleading and begging, only to be met with false promises and disappointment. 

You woke up today thinking that everything would be okay, that you would have a good day. 

Today, Eddie was supposed to spend the day with you, after a busy week of gigs and an afternoon's long D&D session from the day before. The day had been planned out last week, it consisted of breakfast at your favorite spot, a day drive to Indianapolis to check out this new record shop and to stop by your favorite bookstore, grab lunch if you felt like, before coming home to spend the remainder of your day watching movies together.

Except none of that happened. After you showered, dried your hair and applied makeup, you still hadn’t heard from Eddie. Which seemed a bit unusual but you shrugged it off at first. Maybe he was still sleeping, maybe his phone was dead, or a last minute thing with his Uncle Wayne came up. 

You knew he had a bad habit of getting distracted most times due to his unmedicated adult ADHD, so you were crossing your fingers in hopes it was just that. To pass the time, you pick up one of your comfort books while you wait for him to message or call you. Before opening the book, you glance at the time on your watch which read 9:36 am

Sighing deeply and opening the book, you begin reading.  

After turning endless pages, tossing and turning to get comfortable, and a snack later, you close the novel, you glance at your watch again, this time, the time read 1:57 pm. 

Puzzled, you pick up your phone again to make sure you hadn’t missed any calls or messages and to your disdain, there were none. You decided to finally message Eddie.

You: Hey Eddie! I was just popping in to make sure that you were okay? Haven’t heard from you today and I’m starting to get worried. 

You press send, only to watch it go from ‘Delivered’  straight to ‘Read 1:58 PM’ Your heart pounded in your chest, hoping for some kind of reply, but it never came. Time ticked by for 15 agonizing minutes before you sent another message. 

You: We are still on for our plans today, right?

‘Delivered’ 

A nine letter word that has taunted you the last eight months of your relationship with Eddie. 

A nine letter word that has caused so many arguments, so many sleepless nights, and has seen so many empty promises and declarations to change, but they never happen. 

You roll your eyes and lock your phone, tossing it onto the bed next to you before looking up at the ceiling when the all too familiar feeling of tears starts pricking at your lash line. 

“This mascara is too expensive to cry off. This mascara is too expensive to cry off. This mascara is too expensive to cry off.” You repeat the mantra to yourself, fanning at your face with your hands. 

Closing your eyes and sighing deeply, you just sit, waiting for something. 

There’s a knock at your bedroom door. 

“ ‘s open.” You day in a monotone voice. 

“Steve, you said she was supposed to be out with Eddie!” Robin whisper shouted at the boy with her.

“I told you to check the circle before we even drove over here!” Steve whispered back. “We’re already here, might as well give it to her.” He says, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door slowly. 

Robin walked into your room first, carrying a gift bag adorned with ribbons and glittering tissue paper, quickly shuffling over to you, and extending her arms, thrusting the bag into your personal space before giving you her signature grin. 

“Happy birthday, gorgeous!” She nearly shouted. Steve walks into the room right behind her. “This is from Steve and I, obviously!” 

You take the gift out of her outstretched arms and smile meekly. “Birthday? It isn’t my birthday?” 

Steve scoffs. “Okay, sure. Your best friend only turns 19 once, so we got you something, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

You look between the two puzzled, before it dawns on you what today’s date was. They must’ve seen the realization on your face before they both looked panicked. 

“I thought you were supposed to be with Eddie today?” Robin asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was, he hasn’t been answering, and I figured he was just… busy?”

Steve excuses himself from the room and you set the gift down. 

Grabbing your phone again, dialing Eddie’s number this time instead of trying to text him, you waited for the line to ring, and it did, three times before someone said “Stop bothering us, we’re busy” and there was yelling in the background before hanging up. 

A white hot flash of pain flashes through your chest and your throat feels tight and like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. You look up at Robin in shock, her blue eyes looking back at you with the same expression. 

You try his number again, hand shaking while putting the phone on speaker, trying to catch your breath. The line rings twice before someone picks it up. 

“Hey! We’re kind of busy right now with a session? Everything okay?” Dustin Henderson speaks into the phone. 

“S-session? I thought that was yesterday..”

“Eddie said he didn’t have anything important to do today, so we just picked up where we left off.” The younger boy confirmed. ‘Henderson, come ON, hang up the phone!’ someone shouted. ‘Wait, I’m talking to—’ ‘We know! She’s been blowing my shit up all day, I don’t care what she has to say, hang up and come back and finish this game!’ 

You heard Dustin sigh into the phone before speaking. “Well, I guess I should go… I’ll tell Eddie you called. Oh! Happy birthday, by the way!” He said before hanging up. 

The air feels like it’s been knocked out of your lungs. Suddenly, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. The air feels sticky and heavy, and the room starts spinning. 

Is this what betrayal feels like? Is this what having your heart ripped out of your chest feels like? You drop your head to look into your lap. 

This doesn’t feel real, it’s all a horrible dream and you’re going to wake up soon and it’ll all just be a dream.  Pinching your arm, realizing it wasn’t a dream, a sob escaped your throat and tears began falling, makeup be damned. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, but part of you is. Eddie promised you would spend today together. Weeks of rain checks and forgotten plans were supposed to be made up today. 

He didn't care what you had to say? The statement and the thought alone made your chest ache. 

You shake your head and let the tears fall freely now. Not only had your boyfriend lied to you, he broke several promises and now didn’t care about what you had to say? 

Robin sits next to you on your bed, pulling you into an awkward hug with her long limbs. 

Steve peeks back into the room through the cracked door and sees Robin’s arms wrapped around you as your shoulders rise and fall with the body wracking sobs coming from your chest. The gift the duo had gotten you was quickly forgotten about.

After Robin and Steve had gotten you calmed down, they had convinced you to let them treat you for a milkshake at least. 

“I know it’s not your favorite Italian place, but I can't just leave you at home to cry that way over him, honey.” Steve said, reaching his hand across the table to place it comfortingly across yours while Robin ordered a basket of fries and three different milkshakes. “Things haven’t been okay for a while, have they?” 

You slowly look up at Steve, shaking your head before you drop your eyes back to the table. 

“Why haven’t you come to one of us? You know that we’re always here for you.” Robin spoke as she slid into the booth next to Steve, dropping the basket of fries onto the table and sliding your milkshake glass to you, propping a foot up next to your thigh in the seat next to you, a comforting action, giving you space, but still touching you. 

“I just… wanted to handle everything on my own.” You sniffed out. “I—”

You’re cut off by the voice of Dustin and Lucas arguing over a piece of the campaign with Mike and Will trailing and talking over each other, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Doug following behind them. You sink lower into the booth, not wanting to be seen, which almost works. Jeff and Gareth wave to you as they go to their usual back corner booth and politely, you wave back. 

Steve gently clears his throat. “I can’t just… sit and watch you cry over him.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and continues. “What’s been going on? Summarize and paraphrase if you have to.” 

“Oh gosh Steve,” you say sarcastically. “Hmm, where do I start? The lying? The broken promises or the declarations to change? Him blatantly ignoring me? The gaslighting? The manipulation? Or the fact that I know what he’s doing and I’m still stupid enough to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope that he’s actually going to do what he says?” You question, bringing your hands up to face to cover your eyes. 

Robin and Steve share a look. “If he’s hurting you this much, I see no point in staying.” Robin says carefully, shoving a few fries into her mouth and chewing. “It’s hurting you more to hold onto the broken pieces when all you need to do is just… let go.” 

“A-and I know that’s easier said than done, believe me.” Steve pipes up next. “This all has to be on your terms, honey. We can’t do this for you.” 

“I wish you could. Knowing myself, I would take it all back almost instantly. I would say how I didn't mean it, and that I’m the one who’s sorry.” You start crying into your hands. “Steve, what do they have that I don’t? Why can’t he just… pick me? What hobbies do I need to pick up? What things do I need to go out and buy for him to just want to be with me?” You cry harder, hiding your face in your hands. 

Steve nods and Robin slides out of the booth, allowing Steve to switch sides, pulling you into a protective hug as best as he could. Robin sits back down as Dustin leaves the hellfire table and slides in next to Robin, shoving a few fries into his mouth as he takes in the scene in front of him. 

“Henderson, get back over here!” Eddie called clear across the restaurant. Dustin’s eyes move back and forth between the Hellfire group and the sad scene happening right here. He silently gets up and goes back to the table where Eddie and the rest of the group was sitting. 

You hated this, it felt as if Eddie was forcing the younger boys to pick a side and that he may be holding their spots in the Hellfire Club over their heads. Taking a deep breath and uncovering your face, you slide your milkshake towards the center of the table. 

“Steve, can you take me back home?” You asked quietly. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” He said gently, unwrapping his arms from around you and slid out of the booth. He digs his wallet out and hands a $20 bill to Robin. 

“Meet you in the car, Robbie.” He says, holding his hand out to you so he can take you to the car. 

Robin thinks to herself for a moment, weighing the options out in her head. She could pay for their barely touched fries and wasted shakes and just leave, or she could give Eddie Munson a piece of her mind. She decides that the consequences might be worth it. She pays the meal ticket and grabs your untouched milkshake, making a beeline straight for the Hellfire table. 

Dustin and Lucas watch with wide eyes, Mike stops talking and turns to see the older girl stop right behind Eddie’s chair. 

“So Eddie, let me get this straight… not only have you been playing with my best friend’s feelings and breaking her heart, we’re suddenly ignoring birthdays and talking to people like they’re pieces of shit too?” Robin scoffs, Eddie completely turning around in his chair to look at her in shock. “Your girlfriend only turns 19 once and I refuse to let her sit and cry over.. over a worn out mophead like you!” Robin’s hands are shaking in anger. “You fumbled the best girl that has ever happened to you, and it’ll be such. sweet. revenge. seeing her with…” She trails off and smirks. “I’ll just save that for the polaroids.” 

Steve watches the scene unfold through the window of the diner while everyone inside watches with their jaws slack, not daring to speak up or even move to diffuse the situation. Steve knew Robin was a bit unpredictable so he decided to let her handle this her own way. 

Time slowed as Eddie tried to weakly defend himself, but the girl had already made up her mind. Robin took your untouched strawberry milkshake and dumped the entire cup over his head, its sugary contents streaking down his curls making them clump together and staining the white part of his shirt with streaks of red and pink. 

“By the way, your relationship with her, it’s. done. If I even see you so much as breathe in her direction, you’ll get more than a fucking milkshake over your head, got it?” 

The table’s collective gasps and Robin’s heavy breathing can be heard throughout the diner before she slams the cup down and stalks off, slinging the door open and stomping off to Steve’s car. 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Robin holds her hand up to silence him. 

“Do not start with me, Harrington.” Robin says. “Let’s just get her home.” 

Climbing into the back seat with you so you aren’t alone, Robin places her hand on your thigh in a comforting manner. 

“You didn’t have to dump the entire milkshake on him, Robbie.” You mumble quietly, leaning your head on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did though.” 

“Someone needs to put that asshole in his place, and Steve would’ve beaten him to a pulp… the milkshake was the next best thing.” 

“I still might.” Steve says, turning on the car and putting it into reverse and pulling out of the parking spot. “I’m debating.”

“I uh, also told him that your relationship is done. That was probably just a heat of the moment thing, but babe I cannot just-- just sit back and watch you cry over him like this.” Robin rambles, running her free hand up and down your side soothingly. 

“I know.” You mumble out. 

A silence falls over the car from the diner to your driveway, the occasional sound heard was a sniffle or two from you. 

Steve puts his car in park before turning around to look at you. 

“Are you going to be alright by yourself tonight?” He asks and you shrug. “We could stay if you wanted?” 

You shrug again. Robin and Steve share a look. “If you need us, you can always call.” Robin says. 

“Actually… Steve, you know how to change locks, right?” 

“Yeah I do, why?” 

You sit up a little straighter and take a deep breath. 

“I think I'm ready to find my inner peace, and it’ll start by changing the locks.” 

Steve looked at you and nodded. 

“Yeah honey, I’ll change the locks for you.”

Thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!

[waddingham]

oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

×

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision. 

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice. 

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it. 

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

×

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting. 

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?” 

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring. 

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder. 

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet. 

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea. 

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

×

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday. 

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again? 

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

×

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

×

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise! 

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter. 

It's well, well worth the extra step.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen. 

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.” 

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.” 

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him. 

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles. 

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters. 

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food. 

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it. 

“Yeah? That one a winner?” 

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles. 

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns. 

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls. 

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?” 

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him. 

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds. 

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated. 

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit. 

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin. 

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips. 

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink. 

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners. 

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile. 

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

×

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind. 

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen. 

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself. 

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him. 

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite. 

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening. 

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.” 

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips. 

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

Entanglement (2/2)

PAIRING: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Medic F!Reader 

WARNINGS: allusions to smut || MDNI

A/N: I promised a sober part 2 for the 141 challenge by @glitterypirateduck || but it's very late because I am physically unable to get my shit together || but I made it softer and sweeter than the first part to make up for it :')

Prompts used: Secluded beach, pursuit (used literally as in one person chasing another), “I need a ride”, “Here, I’ll show you”

Part 1 || Part 2 || 

____

He ships out for a tour that keeps extending for some stupid reason or another and you don’t see him for three months.    

You tell yourself that your position as one of the medical personnel on base means that you must be present at the landing pad when the 141 arrive, you must check that they’re all okay and that no one’s injured and that you must search desperately, panic clear on your face, neck craning this way and that until you see him.  Until Johnny’s face comes into view, laughing at something, because of course he is, and then you can start to convince yourself that your finally being able to breathe normally is attributable to none of the boys being injured.  

Except…except when Johnny sees you, his brows shoot up to his hairline, and the smile on his face is beautiful, with just the slightest amount of smug.  Such a horrible, annoying, perfect man.    

He jogs to cover the last few feet between you, and stands in front of you, eyes just drinking you in—smiling, but pointedly not saying a word.  

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.  Or anyone else,” you inform him quickly, eyes widening at your slip-up.  “It’s um…it’s why I’m here.”

“‘Course, luv.  No other reason, aye?”  His eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun, and glove-covered fingers lightly brush your cheek.  I can’t believe you’re here, his eyes tell you.

“Of course not!  Just wanted to make sure that no one needed emergency care,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.  Where else would I be?

“Thought about tha’ date yet, lass?” he says, and his attention is briefly drawn to Price rallying everyone to his office for the post-op debrief.

“Johnny,” you whisper, and his head whips around to look at you.  “I…I—”  You close your mouth quickly, too embarrassed to say anything when he stands there in front of you, looking like…well.  That.  

His brows are furrowed and concern floods the bright blue of his eyes.  “Wha’ is it?  I was only takin’ the piss, luv, dinna fash, it’s alrate if ye—,” 

“I have the next three weeks off.  I’m going to Scotland.  Edinburgh.”

“Edinburgh,” he repeats, his eyes wide and shocked.  And then his expression changes.  It’s subtle at first, but the smile that breaks over his face makes you feel like you’re looking straight at a sunrise, and you almost want to squint at its brilliance.  “Coincidence, lass.  I’m on leave m’self.  Might find myself in Edinburgh too, y’know?”

***

Johnny does finds himself in Edinburgh.  

And he finds himself equal parts impressed and happy and captivated when he learns of the hoops you had to jump through to arrange annual leave at the same time as him.�� “So ye lied, eh?”

“I—no!  I didn’t lie!  I just withheld information, that’s all.”  You pause and turn to him, gingerly reaching out to hold one of his hands in both of yours and looking down at your intertwined fingers.  “I really wanted to be here with you.”

Lazulite.  

When you look up into his eyes, you’re met with pure, warm, melted lazulite.  His eyes hold you captive and you find that you want to drown in them, a prisoner by choice.  

When he doesn’t look away and you feel warmed by his gaze, you turn to look at the horizon, taking a couple of steps away from him and towards the water.  

It’s cold, so very unbearably cold, the freezing water and the frigid breeze it incites doing their jobs of keeping people out of the outdoors.  You’re alone with him on the beach, the tiny shops in the beach-town in the distance calling your names with the promise of warm food and an ale for your troubles.  But, the time for that will come…just, not yet.  

You turn back to Johnny and find that he’s moved closer to you, standing at the edge of the water with you.  “Ah’m glad ye changed yer mind,” he says.  “Ah’ve been…looking forward to this.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, grinning.  “What specifically have you been looking forward to?”

He shrugs nonchalantly.  “Pussy from the 141’s medic, obviously.”

Your gasp is dramatic and your eyes bulge at his words, too shocked to respond with anything but a bewildered  “What?  What?!”

But when Johnny doesn’t respond to you, doubled over in laughter, wheezing at your expression, you know exactly how to get him back.  You’ve barely even considered the consequences in your mind before you bend down and use both hands to splash him with the Arctic-temperature water, and he splutters, looking back up at you in shock.

You’re both frozen for a moment, before his expression narrows—“Oh, yer’ in a world of trouble now, lass,” he growls—and you make a run for it.    

The only sounds on the beach are the gentle sounds of the water on the shore, your shrieking laughter on the beach and Johnny’s occasional taunts as he chases after you.  You know he only lets you run away from him because it’s fun—the chase, the sound of your laughter, the adrenaline warming you both despite the cold winter air.    The man was a beast in the gym and on the track, could’ve caught you in a second if he wanted to, but this is fun.

Everything about being with him is fun. 

When he finally catches you, his large arms go around you and he lifts you, chuckling in your ear while he spins you around.  Your heart is full at that moment, so completely overflowing with your infatuation for him, so completely joyous at his cheesy actions that make you feel like you’re in one of your guilty-pleasure movies.  Being on a date with him is exactly like what you’d imagined—he’s effortlessly charming, naturally funny, attentive to you, and most importantly, he’s enjoying himself too.

You can’t believe you’d been saying no to this for months, denying yourself the pleasure of being with him for months.   The thought boggles your mind a bit and you forget all your reasons for doing it in the first place. 

So overwhelmed are you by your inner turmoil that when he finally sets you down, you turn around to face him, promptly put your palms on his cheek and kiss him full on the mouth.  He’s shocked, frozen for a second but seems to snap out of it, and kisses you back.  One arm goes around your waist to pull him flush to you, the other winds around you to rest on the nape of your neck.  There’s no escape from the intensity of his kiss, even if you wanted it.    

And you don’t want to leave his embrace anytime soon.  

His body shields you from the bitter cold, pulling you into his warmth until you’re left feeling like your bodies have been fused together.  Johnny is just as playful while he’s kissing you as he is at any other time.  He’s all enthusiasm and exploration, sharp little nips on your bottom lip, soothed by gentle licks.  When you hungrily open your mouth for him, you’re rewarded by the taste of what you will come to learn is just Johnny.  

He grips you even tighter, not even enough space for air to pass in between you, gets carried away by the way you sigh and moan into his mouth, and when he grinds into you, you freeze because you can feel him.  Hard, against your thigh.

Johnny whines when you stop kissing him back, your lips motionless against his, but releases you in a second when he realises that you’ve frozen against him.  “Bonnie, y’okay?”

“Erm, yeah, I—” you cut yourself off, because your cheeks are starting to warm and you don’t know where to look right now.  Definitely not at him, but you also cannot look down because what if your eyes wander to his crotch, and you cannot and must not be caught looking at his crotch and—

“Hey…y’alright?  What’s wrong, luv?”

Hm, how do you diplomatically and politely tell him that grinding against his hard cock had jarred you for a second and made you flood your panties with your arousal the next?  “N-no nothing’s wrong, I uh.  I was wondering…” you say softly, looking up at him from underneath your lashes.   “Do you want to go back to the hotel?  If it’s alright, I need a ride.”

His pupils contract to pinpricks. “Ah’ll give you a ride, bonnie.”       

***

Of all the things you thought would happen between the two of you in your hotel room after the first time you fucked, this wasn’t it.

“Ye wanted to know what I was looking forward to?  Here, I’ll show you.”

He proceeds to demand that you stay in bed while he sneaks into the bathroom and shuts the door quietly behind him.  Ten minutes later, the man emerges, victorious, with pink cheeks and looking mighty proud of himself.  He leads you by the hand into the bathroom, and helps you take off the fluffy, indulgent bathrobe he’d put on you.

The bath’s running, steam swirls around the room, warming it pleasantly, and Johnny’s managed to find a candle, somehow.  

“Get in, lass, come on.”

“Only if you come in with me,” you say, smiling.

If you were any kind of artist, you know your masterpiece would be your recreation of Johnny’s face in that moment—blushing, eyes downcast shyly, the perfect contradiction to the man who’d brought you to ruin only a few minutes ago.

You both take turns sinking into the warmth of the water, and when you’re finally settled, your back to his chest, your head leaning on his shoulder, you sigh deeply.  He brings your hand up to his mouth and gives your knuckles a kiss.  In quiet, hushed words you both decide on a strategy for keeping this thing you’ve just discovered private, just for the two of you at the moment.   

“And so when you say we’re not telling anyone, that also means you’re not going to tell Gaz?” you ask, sceptically.  

 “Naw, bonnie, we agreed.  I didnae ken what ye mean.”

“...yeah, okay, Johnny.  How about…three dates?  Three successful dates, and then you can tell your boyfriend about me.”

You hear him sputter behind you and it makes you chuckle.  “We’re gonna ‘ave more than three dates in the next few weeks, bonnie.”

“Oh?”  You turn around slowly, mindful of the water splashing out the sides of the bathtub and shift so you’re straddling him.  His eyes widen slightly at the sight of your wet body against his, and his hands grip the flesh on your hips immediately.  “Is that so?  What makes you so confident you’re going to get a second date?”

“I’m no’ a betting man,” he says, conspiratorially.  “But if ah were…the way you sucked my cock, bonnie?”  He leans back with a contented sigh and a look of overconfidence on his face.  “I’d say ah’m gonna get a second date.”

“Hmm,” you say noncommittally, and he leans forward to kiss you.

“And a third,” he says, smiling against your mouth.  “And a fourth.”   

“Maybe you’re right,” you concede.  “You’ll have to work hard for a fifth, though, Johnny.”

And when Johnny’s fingers touch you between your thighs at the words, his expression even and not betraying his intentions whatsoever, you’re convinced he’s going to work hard and get that fifth date.