#and the “What could've been - should've been - Do you still wonder?” did too

[lightlycareless]

Need a moment we're Naoki Is just straight jealous of naoya, of his relationship with y/n, and how he feels that should've been him. How he tried to play it off as him hating naoya, but deep down he's just hurt because he thought that maybe, there could've been some part of y/n that wanted him too .

OOF this ask... I know most of my readers hate Naoaki rn but I gotta say I still have a special place for him in my heart hahahah I don't know what to call it, there's just... something about him that doesn't allow me to let go.

Anyways, this inspired the following :) I hope you enjoy it!

warnings: none. just a naoaki that realizes he gravely miscalculated everything. (he's my interpretation of naoya's brother from over here... proceed with caution)

Naoaki becoming jealous, or more like completely desolate would finally happen the moment he sees you happily receive Naoya back home.

Up to that point, he’d always seen you cower, doing your best to avoid the abuse of your husband, using him as cover even if Naoaki wasn’t all too enthusiastic about it. He had other plans involving you, after all.

Yet, as much as he disliked being used that way, he was glad to see that the rupture in your relationship was so deep, there seemed no possibility you’d ever find your way back to your estranged husband. Ever!

It was simply impossible. He’d done so much to hurt you—a miracle would be needed to mend his mistakes; for you to believe in his so-called redemption.

…

Nonetheless, that’s exactly what happened. As if by God’s decree, Naoya just… began to change. One morning he simply acknowledged all of his wrongful doings, subsequently growing regretful and wanting to mend them—starting apparently caring for you, ha! Now, isn’t that hilarious??

Even then, Naoaki still believed you couldn’t be so naïve to be tempted by Naoya’s blatant manipulation: it was obvious that his brother was trying to pull you back to him, fearing he might’ve been losing his grasp on you! Much to his personal delight.

That would only prove, however, how gravely he’s miscalculated your nature, the same one he took great advantage of for his own purposes, now directed onto his own brother.

You were just to… stupid for your own good, Naoaki regretfully mused, too gullible to believe that people could change; dangerous to be left alone.

But isn’t that what he expected from you, though? What he wanted for himself?

Certainly, for a part of him, buried deep beneath the anger he harbored against his brother and clan… hoped that you’d see good in him too?

Longing that the time you’ve spent together provided something more than just a haven for you to seek solace in, or reasons for him to exploit against his brother…?

Genuienly, perhaps innocently, Naoaki thought you’d grown affectionate of him through these moments— like he had become, unable to remember the last time he approached you out of benefit for his ulterior motives.

Yet, he seemed to be the only one to think so, for as time went on, days becoming nothing but a blur, his presence in your mind slowly disappeared, redirected instead to your dreadful husband—

Your warm welcomes, your joyful jests, the eagerness to know of his day accompanied by a tasty meal, enrichened by your bright, wide eyes filled with excitement at every word he said…

All those wonderful things… weren’t his anymore. No. All of them belonged to Naoya now.

Or perhaps they never did; just like everything regarding him and his brother, the heir always took priority.

And such, Naoaki eventually accepted the fact that out of the two, only he was foolish enough to want more than what he initially anticipated; to desire something intimate, for the sake of his own happiness, or perhaps just wanting to seek validation through the only person he believed would be kind enough to do so…

But you moved on. Using him as a steppingstone to make amends with your husband, the so-called love of your life as your blushing face and meek demeanor would declare soon enough.

…

Naoaki should be gravely hurt by these admittances, but another part of him reminded him this wasn’t the first time he’s ever been betrayed. Delegated to second place against the beloved heir, the prodigious sorcerer everyone seems to venerate, you included.

Leaving him to endure the rest of his dreadful life on his own.

Guess his father was right when saying he wasn’t meant for anything beyond failure, a lost cause that ought to give up before he brought long any more shame to the clan.

Just as he claimed you to be as well, though Naoaki would now have to disagree, because after all that happened between you, him, and Naoya…

He can finally assess the painful truth:

You were always like them—you just needed… the right motivation to accept so.

[starzzmissthesun]

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁

[restinslices]

Believe Me

Gwayne Hightower X Female!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Summary: Gwayne bumps into an old flame and smut ensues (from his pov)

Content Warning: Smut (so minors dni), fingering, handjob, cheating, light hair pulling, light degrading and praising, vaginal sex, public sex (I hate this but we move on😭)

Gwayne Hightower was only human, and as a show of this, he had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime. “It is not worth the stress to beat yourself over what could have been” he'd always remind himself. “What could've been if you chose the right card, woke up earlier, listened more, aimed a little to the left, ate breakfast…”. 

The list went on and on because humans make mistakes all the time. He had vowed to himself that he would never stress over these mistakes. What good would it do? The mistake was already made. 

That's the thought process he tried to keep as he made his way inside the Sept. He was not afraid of the gods deciding to punish him for the sins he was sure he had committed, or of the building crumbling down and burying him underneath. The current war going on wasn't even on his mind. 

What was on his mind was a singular person. And as he got closer and closer to the room he knew they'd be in, the thick fog covering their face in his memories started to move to the side. 

Further. 

Further. 

His steps began to falter when he finally saw them. When he finally saw you. 

You were sitting on the bench, back to him, candles aplenty in front of you. Just as he thought about turning around and leaving, you took off your cloak and set it next to you, revealing the open back to your dress. 

You were inviting him. Discarding your defenses and showing that you were open to being around him again. Or mayhaps he was delusional. Either way, he found himself sitting on the other side of you soon enough. 

“Is that really a dress appropriate for the Sept?” he tried to joke with you as he lit a candle. If it was a different time, you would've lightly shoved him and said something like “oh fuck off” while laughing. Unfortunately, that time had been long forgotten. 

You looked over at him at once, and he wondered if for a moment you thought all this was a dream. You looked him up and down, and must've realized this was all real. “Gwayne…” how could you say his name in such a delightful way? 

The surprise from your eyes soon fell, and instead it filled with resentment. “Gwayne” you said more lifeless. “Anyone is welcome here. A common whore could come, wearing hardly any clothes and she'd be welcomed”. 

“I'm sure common whores do lots of cumming”. 

You simply rolled your eyes at him and looked in front of you. “A jest, dear friend-”

“We are not friends”. 

He had known it, but fuck did it hurt to hear. It was said so coldly and cruel, like you wanted it to sting. It definitely had, though he wouldn't show it. 

“We have not talked in some time” he said with his eyes still trained on you. How could you sit there and be so beautiful? Even with a scowl and pinched eyebrows, you looked marvelous. “When I heard my sister had summoned you here as well, I admit I was a bit surprised”. 

“Why? Alicent is in need of a friend. And I am her friend”. 

Well you really knew how to rub something in, didn't you? “I tried writing to you-”

“Years too late” 

You snapped, eyes glancing over at him. Okay, mayhaps you were right. Mayhaps he should've wrote to you sooner, but he eventually did! That had to be worth something! “Why are you here?”. 

“I thought anyone was allowed here”

“It is the gods you should be speaking to. Not I”

“It is not the gods I crave” he spoke honestly. You simply scoffed in return and looked away again, causing him to sigh. “I should have wrote to you sooner, but I did eventually. And I am here now-”

“To do your knightly duties” you said dismissively. “Not to speak with me”. 

“I can do both!” his hand found your arm and he pulled you close to him, making your legs press against each other. He could hear how your breath hitched. He could see the way your chest rose and fell as a reaction to his touch. 

His fingers inched closer to your chest. “What are you-” you began to say, but the words got caught in your throat when he wrapped his fingers around the long necklace that fell in the long V neck of your dress, right in between your breasts. 

“You've kept this?”. 

Years ago, Gwayne gifted you a necklace with a large green pendant, and while the chain was completely different, the pendant was still the same. “Did the chain break?”. 

You shook your head. “No. My husband gave me a new chain. Said gold fit better”. 

He frowned. 

Your husband. Some boring guy with brown hair, brown eyes, patches in his beard and a voice that was far too high for a man. He had no real talents or skill, besides money and luck. That's how he landed you after all. 

“It is best for both of us that you do your praying and then leave. I imagine I will not be ready to leave anytime soon”. 

The moment his hand fell from your arm, he felt cold. He forced himself to look away from you and focus on the candle in front of him. So what was he to do now? Just let you go? Go off to war and accept that he'd likely never see you again? Accept you'd hate him forever?

“No” he answered himself out loud. “No. I am to just accept that your husband messed with a gift I gave you?”. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked in disbelief. “That is what you are focusing on? That your gift was ruined?” You scoffed again and rubbed your temples. “Selfish as always. Nevermind to ask how I feel or how I have been. No. It is just stupid jokes and being offended. Did my gift put a dent in your pocket? Here then!”. You unclipped the necklace, grabbed his hand and shoved the necklace on his palm. “Take it!”. 

His chuckle afterwards was filled with bitterness. Here he was, trying to patch things up, and you kept making it difficult. “This resentment you hold towards me is ridiculous. I took too long to write to you after your marriage, but I'm here now. And this-” he set the necklace on the table. “This is a gift I gave to you”. 

“My husband gives me plenty of gifts. I do not need anything from you”. 

As if his gifts were anything special. Probably cheap and terrible material. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than some husband that probably couldn't even make you laugh the way Gwayne had. 

“Husband this. Husband that. Does shoving him in my face excite you?”. Maybe he had no right to be angry, but he was anyway. 

“I wouldn't be able to if you vied for my hand when you had the chance!” You snapped. For once, Gwayne had no response. No witty comeback or complaint. He just watched you as you realized what you said. You huffed, grabbed your cloak and got to your feet. “Good day Gwayne”. 

You managed to make it a few feet away before he finally spoke. “I should have”. Regret had gnawed at him for years now. He let you slip away. Why? Because he wasn't sure he could be committed. Did he love you? Yes. Was he a young man that wasn't fond of becoming a husband and a father? Also yes. 

“You have to understand,” he began as he rose to his feet. “Marriage was not something I wanted at the time”. 

“And you think I did?” You asked in disbelief. “Marriage was not something I wanted either. It was forced upon me. Marriage terrified me, but I knew that if I was married to you, marriage wouldn't be that bad. You were my best friend and lover. And what did you do, Gwayne?”. He couldn't make the answer leave his lips. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat and refused to go anywhere. “You left me” you answered for him. “And once I was married, you avoided me. Then years later you decided you wanted to speak again. What were you too busy doing? Drinking and fucking whores?”. 

That made him laugh. Drinking? Maybe a little. Fucking whores? It's not like he truly wanted to. It made time pass and got an orgasm out the way, but he didn't want painted whores. He wanted you to be under him. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to hear his name pass your sweet lips over and over again until that was all he heard. 

“I made mistakes-”

“Mistakes?!”

“I made terrible choices” he corrected. “Awful ones. But you and I both know that I have always wanted and will always want you”. Those words seem to catch you off guard, which he assumed because you didn't push him away when his hands found their way to your hips. 

His face inched closer and closer to yours until your lips just barely brushed against each other. Unbeknownst to the both of you, your hearts beat as one in that moment. Both hearts erratic but somehow managing to be erratic together. 

“I want you desperately. And I know you want me…”. 

The remaining bit of space was broken and your lips finally met. Your lips responded to each other immediately and your arms wrapped around his neck. Finally… after so long you both were able to taste each other again. 

Reality came crashing down faster than he wanted it to. 

You shoved him away, making him stumble. You breathed heavily and wiped at your lips. “Won't change what happened” he said to your displeasure. 

“You are selfish” you spoke through gritted teeth. “You are an asshole” you shoved him again. “And a liar” another shove. 

Each insult you gave was followed by shove, and instead of feeling insulted, he felt something else. 

Desire. 

That desire is what led to him grabbing you, switching your positions and pushing you onto the table where no candles were. 

Your expression was full of shock, but not disgust or fear. Good. He never wanted to frighten you. What frightened him a little bit though, was his growing erection. Something that made no sense since all you had done recently was insult him. Gods, he was way more desperate than he realized. 

“Get all your insults out” he said as his thumb traced your lower lip, “tell me how much you hate me”. 

A request you had no problem fulfilling. 

“You are a vile man. Seducing a married woman in a Sept. Is there a line you're not willing to cross?”. 

There it was. Just like that. 

He began leaving open mouth kisses down your neck, eagerly awaiting what you'd say next. 

“You are a defiler full of sin”

“I am, aren't I?”. He held you in place as he bit and sucked at a particular spot on your neck, and a small smirk formed on his face when he heard you moan in response. “It seems you enjoy my sins” he taunted. 

“I hate you. No. I despise you. Even that word can't describe how I feel for you”. 

Gwayne untied your dress strap and unbuttoned the buttons in the front, allowing him to free your breasts. 

“I loathe you”. 

“I'm sure” his words dripped in sarcasm. Loathe him yet you allow him to undress you. Loathe him, yet you allowed him to fondle your breasts, then lick and suck at one of your nipples. That's how your little game continued. You'd throw insults at him in between your gasps, and he'd lick and suck harder at each breast, showing them both proper attention. His erection pressed against his trousers, it becoming almost painful. 

You lifted your leg up in response to him twisting your nipple, and your knee brushed right against his erection. He moaned around your breast before he even realized what had happened. His own eagerness being exposed only dawned on him when he felt your palm fully press against him. 

Your other hand pulled his head back by his hair, causing a sharp but welcomed pain to burn at his roots. “I always knew you were pathetic Gwayne, but this?”, a soft breath slipped past his lips when you pressed harder against him. “You like when I insult you?”. He nodded. No point in lying. Still though, he didn't just wanna hand you all the power in your game. 

He hiked the bottom of your dress up and kept eye contact with you as his fingers pushed your undergarments to the side and made contact with your soaked cunt for the first time tonight. He watched you try to keep a stone face, but you couldn't hide the sharp inhale you did. “Seems like you've enjoyed our little game too. What does that say about you?”. 

“What does it say about you that you like being called pathetic?”. 

Gwayne chuckled. He looked you over, watching as you tried not to react to his fingers sliding in between your folds. “You're marvelous…” he said almost as if in a dream. 

You yanked on his hair again and pushed his trousers down, freeing his erection. “Is this when I say you're disgusting?” You taunted. Your hand wrapped around him and shamefully he almost came from that minor touch alone. 

“If it pleases you”. 

His middle and ring finger slowly but surely made their way inside you, all while he whispered praises in your ear. 

“You're so pretty like this”

“You're taking my fingers so well”

“Open up for me. Just like that. Good girl”. 

Your head fell on his shoulder and his fell on yours. The Sept filled with both of your noises as you both continued to pleasure each other with your hands. It was clear that that wouldn't be enough. The question was just who would bend first. 

“I've got you” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss under your ear. You lifted your head off his shoulder to meet his eyes, and while there was still lust behind them, there was clearly something more. 

Longing. 

“Do you really?” You asked. 

He answered at once, “yes. I swear to you on all the gods in every religion that I'm never leaving you again”. 

You swiped at his hands and pulled him closer to you until his tip was lined up with your entrance. “And what about my husband?”. 

Damn your husband. He'd cause an “accident” to happen if he had to. He wouldn't let a man like him keep him away from the one person who truly wanted in this whole world. “I will deal with your husband and I swear you will never be able to get rid of me. Do you believe me?”. 

He asked his question as he began to push inside you. Your answer got stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded in response. Your nod wasn't enough for him, but he'd address that later. For now, he kept whispering encouraging words to you to soothe the stretching he knew you'd feel. He kept telling you that he had you, that you were okay, that you were safe with him and always would be. 

When you finally seemed adjusted, he spoke again. “Do you believe me?”. You nodded. “Out loud”. 

“I believe you”. 

That was all he needed hear. Once he got confirmation, his lips found yours and he moved inside you. Was this an all around terrible idea? Absolutely. Was there a chance of getting caught? Yes. But neither of you could care less about that. How could that possibly be at the forefront of your minds when you were finally feeling each other in the way you both craved?

You both enjoyed each other, ultimately hitting your peaks while you were still connected, mouths swallowing each sound the other made, and foreheads pressed against each other so you could catch your breath. 

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a softer kiss to your lips. Of course there was still that sexual desire there, but he wanted more than to just fuck and be rid of you. He wanted to hold you forever. He wanted to tell you about his tales of knighthood over dinner, and hold your hand as you went on walks in the garden. 

“I swear-”

“I believe you”. 

You believed him. That was all he needed. 

For you to believe him and for you to give him another chance.

Bitch I hate this shit but I haven’t posted in awhile soooooo here we are😭😭. Also the way I forgot about that necklace-

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 30: something wrong

NOTES: this took longer than i thought 💀 anw it was more tamed than i imagined omg yay!! ^^

Scaramouche thought the car ride home was plenty suffocating, but nothing could compare to how heavy the air was once he got home with his mother.

An extensive home that is reasonably far from other neighboring houses, with a spacious lot surrounding the house itself. It could've been such a perfect home — if not for the two broken people living in it.

As his mother remained silent while the two of them exited the car, Scaramouche thought he had at least the whole night to prepare for his mother's outburst. Alas, they haven't even made it to the front door yet, and he had already started hearing something.

"Kunikuzushi."

He merely turned to her, not even saying a word.

"Just what happened?" Scaramouche could not get something from his mother's voice at all. She wasn't yelling — it would be out of character for her to do so anyway. But she obviously wasn't happy either. But at least it wasn't that cold, too?

At a loss for words, the young man forced himself to focus his gaze on one random thing, perhaps the grass peacefully lying on their front yard.

'I'll just have to let her say anything and everything she wants to say, and I'll say nothing. And then tomorrow, we'll just continue like nothing happened,' he thought.

And so he did, letting his mother's words pass through one ear to the other. 'How can you let yourself play like that', 'how can you allow people to see you like that', 'just what would they say about you now', 'this isn't what we trained for'... Nothing he wasn't used to. It was all alright. He can go through another sermon session just fine.

Until he was knocked out of his stupor by a certain statement from his mother.

"Perhaps I should've gotten between you and that companion of yours I saw in the freedom wall. I think she is distracting you, maybe you should stay away from her."

A sudden surge of rage came over him, prompting him to finally meet eyes with his own mother. Ei was slightly taken aback, not used to receiving such a hateful look from her one and only son.

"What?"

The woman could not utter a response, still in shock at the state her son is in. She was so used to him being so indifferent whenever they talk, making it seem as if her advices and sermons have no effect at the slightest.

Meanwhile, Scaramouche, at the lack of response from his mother, could not stop himself anymore.

Scaramouche felt like a balloon — thinned, worn out, and keeping too much inside.

Much more than he could handle.

And his mother's words that night felt like a sharpened needle.

"Why the fuck do I always have to do what you tell me?" He finally snapped.

"What?"

"Can't you see that I'm trying?! And yet you always see something!" Scaramouche gritted his teeth.

"You always see something to criticize! You always see something like a flaw! You always see something wrong!" He yelled, shortly followed by a bitter laugh. "Heck, maybe you even consider my birth to be something wrong."

A swift slap cut him off.

Somehow, the physical pain inflicted by his mother got him out of his continuous outbursts, replacing his seething anger with shock. No matter how cold and strict his mother was, she had never gotten physical with him.

Refusing to believe what just happened, a wondering Scaramouche looked back up to his mother's face — only to see her eyes dripping and her cheeks stained.

'Are those tears?'

'My mother... crying?'

"How could you say something like that Kunikuzushi?"

"How can you treat your life so lightly like that?" Ei sobbed. "Your birth wasn't something wrong — it was the most beautiful thing that happened to me."

The young man just stared at her, probably in disbelief.

"You are my son, a part of me, something even more important than myself —"

"— and that's why I never wish to see you hurt."

"Hah," Scaramouche scoffed. "Really?"

The man could not do anything but laugh ironically. She doesn't want to see him hurt, she says?

'I hate to break it to you mom, but you've been doing that for so long.'

How many lies would she feed him tonight?

"I don't want you to suddenly commit a mistake while playing, put yourself to shame, and be unnecessarily criticized and judged heavily." The purple-haired woman said. "And if that happens? Then what? You'll be so affected by all the backlash, and then you'll finally lose yourself?"

Scaramouche swore he never expected to see his mother cry so hard. In fact, crying was one of the things he thought his mother was incapable of doing. But what was she saying?

Where is she getting all this from?

"What?"

"I don't want anyone precious to me to ever experience that again."

"What the heck are you talking about, mom?"

It was a slip of the tongue, unconsciously going back to what he once used to call the woman in front of him. A slip of the tongue that he failed to catch, but did not go past his own mother, whose memories of the days when he used to call her 'mom' flashed by her eyes.

But before she could even explain herself, someone else made their presence known.

"Your mother had a sister, you see."

It was Yae.

His mother's old friend.

“Have you ever heard of Makoto?” The pink-haired lady asked. Scaramouche could not see the relevance of her question, but he decided to humor her nonetheless. “Who?”

“My twin sister.”

“You had a sister?!”

Scaramouche thought he knew a lot about his mother. But really, is he even qualified to say that he knew her if he knew nothing about her past before having him? Everything he knew about Ei were memories of them together. Her being a loving mother to him when he was little, her having Yae as her only friend, her suddenly changing her parental practices once he started his soccer career — all of them were memories of her after his existence.

Only now did he realize he never knew anything about his mother’s past.

Yae sighed. “How is he ever going to understand if you never told him about Makoto, Ei?”

“It’s too dark of a story. He might not be able to handle it.”

“And you think he can handle your coldness and strictness forever?”

“What, do you want me to discourage my son from his dreams of being a top soccer player by telling him that my twin sister fucked up on a game just once, got so many backlash and became the people’s punching bag, went depressed up to the point that she couldn’t handle it anymore and eventually lost herself?” Ei spat out. “I don’t want to scare him off from achieving his dreams, but I can’t also risk the possibility of him having the same experience as my sister.”

What the fuck?

Merely processing the things he was hearing already required so much from the young man. He could not bear to disturb the conversation between the two ladies, lest there are still some things he should hear.

“So you set high expectations for him?”

“It was the only way I thought of.”

“Have you ever considered the thought that you yourself may actually be ruining his dreams for him?”

“What?” Ei turned her gaze to Scaramouche for a moment, allowing her to once again notice the state that her son was in. Trembling hands clenched into fists, focused yet glossy eyes, and brows furrowed — she couldn’t tell if they were out of fury or confusion. Perhaps it was both.

“You are making your son hate that dream of his that you sought to protect with the way you are treating him, Ei.” Yae walked towards the young man and lightly tapped his shoulder. “What this kid wants is to have fun playing, not play under constant expectations and strictness from his mother.”

Scaramouche looked up at her, who only smiled at him in return. “Isn’t that right, Kunikuzushi?”

He turned his face away from her and immediately swatted her hand from his shoulder. “What would you know about what I want?”

“Oh? But was I wrong?” She grinned. “No response? I must’ve been right then.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re just salty I’m right.”

“I am not?” The guy scowled. “Stop making things up you annoying hag —“

“Uh, excuse me?! What hag?!”

A certain purple-haired woman remained all throughout the banter between her son and her friend. When was the last time her son spoke to her without reservations like that? No, when was the last time they even had a proper conversation, one where he isn’t replying with words not even amounting to a handful?

“Ei, I want to ask you something.” A voice brought her out of her trance. “How do the other players on your team look whenever they practice and play?”

“Tired.” Ei described exactly how the boys on the team looked whenever they were on the field. Their whole beings drenched in sweat, their limbs trembling, their breaths hurried.

But despite everything, she remembered that they were having fun.

“But were they having fun?”

“They were.”

“And how does your own son look whenever he’s on the field?”

For the first time that night, absolute silence reigned over their abode’s front yard.

“See?” The pink-haired woman smiled. “Don’t you want Kunikuzushi to have the same experience as everybody else on your team?”

For the first time, Scaramouche heard the two words he thought he would never ever hear coming out from his mother’s mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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TAGLIST I (closed)

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[avatar-anna]

Pale Green Stripes

The Professor Masterlist

this takes place during The Professor Series!

"Did you know you're the only person who never tries to interrupt me?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry and Y/n lay on the carpeted floor of her townhouse. Their shoulders touched, but that was about it. Even so, Harry could feel that tiny bit of contact throughout his entire body. The professor probably had a word for that, a scientific term to explain why just the slightest graze—not even skin against skin—sent him into a tailspin that made him have to focus extra hard on what she said.

Y/n's hands knotted together on her lap, a thing she did when she held herself back. It was as if she had to physically restrain herself some way to keep her from speaking out of turn. Harry personally never thought she did, from their first meeting at the bookstore, he'd been fascinated by her, by the things she said.

"I don't mean to...impart information on people the way that I do. It just happens sometimes," she said, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

Harry knew he probably should've too, but he couldn't help but look at the professor instead. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, she wore a string of pearls around her neck and earrings made to look like Salvador Dalí's melting clocks in her ears. Her jewelry was always a mix of something professional and a little quirky, Harry came to realize, as if even at work as a professor at Cambridge University she couldn't help but have a little fun.

Her wardrobe consisted of patterned socks and cherry red Adidas shoes and fun knitted sweaters and vests. Today she merely wore a cozy navy blue sweater and a flowy white skirt, her red shoes were on a rack by the door, but she still wore her ruffled socks with embroidered roses on them.

"I don't mind it at all," he replied honestly.

Y/n blinked a couple times, then said, "I know. I was surprised at first because everyone usually cuts me off. Or walks away."

Harry frowned. He couldn't help but notice how clinically the professor spoke about the hurtful things that had been done to her. By her family, so-called colleagues, the few friends she had at work. He couldn't fathom anyone finding Y/n anything less than wonderful. She was brilliant, yes, but funny, and charismatic, and had a knack for storytelling. Harry never wanted her to stop talking. Ever.

"I like listening to you," he told her, shrugging as best he could given his current prone position.

"That's probably because you never finished school and are trying to make up for lost time."

From anyone else, that would've been a joke, a jab, but Y/n took education seriously, had mentioned it numerous times since they met.

Still, Harry chuckled. "Maybe I just like the sound of your voice. Maybe I just like hearing what you have to say. Maybe I find your lectures highly arousing."

"Edward!"

Even as he laughed with her, Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew he should tell her, he should've told her months ago. His middle name fired out of his mouth before he could think the first time Y/n asked him for his name. A desire for anonymity, that was all it was. He didn't think he'd see her again outside the one time, so he thought it would be harmless. Then they did keep meeting, and he didn't have the guts to tell her, and now he was too deep in the lie to find a way out.

"What?"

Harry had never been shy about his attraction to the professor, even if he'd only seen half of her face due to the mask she wore. There was so much to appreciate about her, so much to admire, and he let his own imagination do the rest. He could've, of course, looked her up online. Y/n had mentioned something about posting educational videos online, but he thought it was only fair that if she didn't know what his entire face looked like that he didn't either.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" she asked, and even without the mask, Harry could tell she was blushing.

"Like what?"

"About me. About—about your attraction to me and how you find me—or think I'm a—"

"Yes?" Harry encouraged. He could tell there was a word or phrase she had in mind but was too embarrassed to use.

"In the 16th Century, the word bellibone was first used. It's derived from French etymology using the words belle and bonne to describe a woman who excels in both beauty and goodness. There's really only one known use in the late 1500s. A poet named Edmund Spenser, though he was from Ireland. It's fascinating how a word can be used once then ceases to exist, don't you think?"

Harry blinked, not totally prepared for the tangent, though perhaps he should've been. Grinning beneath his mask, he said, "I think it describes you perfectly."

"Edward," Y/n said, now her neck was flushed too.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked. "The compliments? The—" He might as well call it what it was—"flirting?"

"N—No."

"Because I'll stop if it does," he promised. "I just think you should know how devastating you are."

One of the professor's eyebrows quirked up in confusion. "That was an interesting choice in adjective."

But it was the perfect one. Harry knew he couldn't be with Y/n the way he wanted when she didn't know the truth about who he was, and he couldn't risk losing her if he finally told her. Perhaps it was unfair to play at something he knew he couldn't have, but part of him wanted Y/n to know that she was desirable, that she was more than what her intellect offered. Sure, Harry found her intelligence sexy as all get out, but she was also beautiful, and funny, and kind, and he didn't think anyone had ever complimented more than just her brain.

He would spend an entire day complimenting her if he had the time, or if she let him.

But while Y/n was confident in many things, romantic feelings weren't one of them. Despite the obstacles he put in his own way, Harry didn't think the professor was quite ready to hear how much he really liked her.

"Tell me something."

"Like what?" Y/n asked.

"Anything," Harry said, facing her and propping his head in his hand. "A book you read, something that fascinates you, your least favorite student, anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she positioned her body to face his. "I don't have a least favorite student."

"I don't believe you," he replied, narrowing his eyes back playfully.

Y/n scanned his face, then up and down his body. It was casual, though Harry noticed that her gaze lingered in places—his arms, his shoulders, his face. He wore a mask, but he tried to suppress his grin anyway. Then, before he could tease her more, her eyes lit up.

"Did you know the stripe pattern originated in the Middle Ages?"

He never knew, but she always prefaced her information the same way. "Did it?"

Nodding to the green striped shirt Harry wore, she said, "Stripes were used to identify social outcasts. Prostitutes, criminals, hangmen, clowns and jugglers; they all had to wear stripes so they were easily recognizable in regular society."

"Clowns?"

"Outcasts and people who were...not society's favorites, like court jesters and such. European governments even legalized the requirement of certain citizens to wear stripes. Though now, of course, stripes are popular due to Coco Chanel wearing a striped shirt similar to French sailor uniforms, which, you know, sailors were also usually the lowest rank of the French navy. Then stripes began appearing in women's activewear in the 1920s, Al Capone began wearing pinstriped suits, and the rest is history. A long, brutal history, obviously, seeing as prisoners were later forced to wear striped uniforms, and prisoners in concentration camps during World War Two, but—there you have it. A brief, slightly detailed history of the stripe."

Harry looked down at his long sleeved shirt, the thin pale green and white striped that lined his arms and torso. "Not sure if I'll be able to wear stripes again, but... that's really fascinating."

"Thought you might like that," Y/n said with a shrug.

Harry tilted his head questioningly. "Why do you say that?"

"You like clothes."

He didn't question how she knew that. With her background, Y/n seemed to know things about him that she just happened to observe. It was a little disconcerting at first, but he came to appreciate that he didn't have to pretend around her. No airs, no personas, none of the things he'd become so accustomed to in recent years. The professor might not have known about Harry's career, but she knew him in ways no one else did.

"Well," he said, playfully sighing at his shirt. "Guess I'm never wearing stripes again."

Y/n's eyes squinted and her mask scrunched a little, the way they always did when she smiled. With an unmistakable glint in her eye, the adorable one she always got when Harry indulged in her. "Wait until you hear about polka dots!"

Harry sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement making him chuckle a little. "Tell me more, love."

[mouseymilkovich]

Speechless | Carmy x Reader | Chapter Four

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Chapter Summary: You find yourself once again volunteering at The Beef while Carmy and Richie cater a party for Cicero, you make more connections with The Beef staff, but you miss him. Sydney is suspicious that something is up with you, big time, it's becoming increasingly difficult to hide things from her. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? | Carmy Berzatto x fem/afab reader (using they/them pronouns)

Content Tags: the "incident" from s01e04 (xanax mentioned multiple times), secret relationship/fwb, smut btc, unprotected sex, pregnancy worry + mentions of plan B pill

Important Info: the usual, when texting pink = reader, green = Sydney, blue = Carmy!

Chapter Four: I Just Wanna Know You Better

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: did i basically just post chapter 3? yes. do i care? no! enjoy chapter 4 <3 on a serious note, thank you for showing this fic so much love, i'm genuinely enjoying writing it and so ready to surprise you guys with what's to come!

You'd been invited back to help out at The Beef once more - but not because they were swamped, because Carmy and Richie were catering a kid's birthday party. So, you wouldn't get to see Carmy this time... though, maybe that would help you keep your cool around Sydney.

"I'm assuming I'll just be on register again?" You asked curiously as you put your things in the locker beside Sydney's.

"Yeah, you already have the experience there so that might be the best way to go." Syd agreed, patting you on the back. "Just hang around while we do prep."

"Oh! Speaking of prep, I brought the recipe booklet I made for Marcus. Should I just put it in his locker?" You asked.

"Yeah, he's been too busy trying to perfect donuts lately." Syd muttered with a soft laugh. She pointed out Marcus's locker to you, and you slipped the booklet in for him to find later.

Carmy and Richie had already gone by this point, so you just tried to stay out of the way of the kitchen staff while you had nothing else to do. Ebra was making family today, so you thought about maybe giving him a hand if he needed it. Of course, when you offered your help, he eagerly responded.

"I accept!" He said, then directed you on what he needed.

You really thought Ebra was sweet, he sort of reminded you of a grandfather in a way.

Everyone got seated for family, excited to indulge in the meal Ebra had prepared. He was an excellent chef too, he didn't have any formal culinary school training, but that didn't seem to matter, he was talented regardless. You were still somewhat hanging around, out of the way for a moment while everyone sat.

You looked down when you felt your phone buzz - and surprised to see it was Carmy.

you are never gonna believe what just happened

what??

You cracked a smile, wondering what could've possibly happened to make him text you amidst his catering job.

dropped richie's xanax in the fucking ecto-cooler and all the kids are passed out on the lawn

WHAT?????

You had to stifle a laugh, going into the bathroom to hide for a moment to keep talking to Carmy.

okay how the fuck did that even happen??

i have no idea. at least all the kids are fuckin quiet i guess?

yeah i guess lol

i should've brought you with me instead of richie. he's trying to fight uncle at every turn

is that your way of saying you miss me?

maybe

You smiled a little, letting out a soft sigh. Sure, your little... whatever this was, with Carmy, was a secret... but, you enjoyed it. Him. His company. Though, not telling Sydney was killing you.

okay i gotta go, family's up. you're missing out tho, ebra made a killer stew

damn. save some for me?

if there's any left haha

So, you left the bathroom, and immediately jumped to find Sydney waiting by the door.

"You've been awfully smiley today, what's going on with you?" She asked with a soft laugh. "I haven't seen you like this since you were with... what the fuck was his name again?"

"Oh my god, shut up. I just read something funny while I was going pee." You lied. Sydney knew you better than that, but obviously whatever it was, you didn't wanna talk about it, so she wasn't gonna push.

"Alright, well, family's up, let's go!" She told you, bringing you to the dining room where Ebra's stew was dished out for everybody.

"Out of curiosity, um, are we saving any for Carmy?" You asked. "And Richie- I'm sure they'd both love to try this."

Smooth, real smooth.

"I think I will." Ebra nodded, bringing what was left in the pot back to the kitchen to set aside for Carmy and Richie later.

The meal was delicious, and Marcus surprised everyone with a batch of donuts he'd finished.

"Dude, these are fuckin' killer. Seriously, you've got talent." You praised, smiling at Marcus brightly.

"Thank you, I've been working really hard, I kinda wanna make a special donut for The Beef - like a signature donut, if that makes sense?" Marcus told you with a light laugh.

"Totally. Thank sounds awesome. I'd love to taste test sometime." You said happily, patting Marcus' shoulder.

You helped clean up afterwards - normally, this would be the time you'd leave The Beef, but you were on register duty today. For some reason, you were both more nervous and less nervous without Carmy around. On one hand, if you messed up, he wouldn't be around to see it, but on the other hand, there were less staff on duty today, including no Richie to help you.

But, you had to toughen up, it was time to open.

During the entire first part of service, your mind kept drifting back to Carmy. Was he having a good time catering? How did Cicero react to the accidental drugging of all the children? Was Richie still on him about the desk?

"Hello? Dingus, I said go for your break." Sydney snapped you right out of your thoughts. Fuck.

"Sorry, spaced out. Thanks." You smiled, then slipped out to the alley.

You heard Syd audibly sigh as you walked away, and she mumbled something that you didn't quite catch... there was no way she wasn't somewhat onto you.

It was lonesome. The setting sun, the chill of the autumn air, and the absence of Carmy's secondhand smoke, it all made your body feel cold. You wondered if you could worm your way into spending the night with Carmy... you shouldn't, you knew that. There was no way you could get away with that and Syd not finding out. If you were too excited for Carmy's return after catering the party, Sydney would 100% know something was up between you two.

You sighed, and headed back inside.

Thankfully, it wasn't too ridiculously busy the rest of the night. Just after closing, Carmy and Richie came back and unpacked the car. You took it upon yourself to reheat the stew that Ebra had left for both of them.

"Here y'go, boys." You smiled, setting the dishes in front of them. "Ebra made some incredible shit. You're lucky you're getting any, Manny and Angel almost downed yours."

Carmy and Richie both laughed before they dug in, and you sat down at the table. You tried not to let your gaze linger on Carmy, especially as Sydney and Marcus joined you at the table.

"So how'd it go?" Syd asked curiously.

"Accidentally drugged a buncha kids. Xanax in the ecto-cooler." Richie said casually between mouthfuls of stew.

You stifled a giggle while Syd and Marcus looked absolutely horrified. Syd looked at you, almost as if to say, you find this fucking funny?

"They're all fine, don' worry." Carmy reassured, noticing the mortified looks on their faces across the table. He couldn't hide a smile though, from seeing you laughing.

Syd glanced at Carmy, then back at you. She nudged you, making you jump a little.

"What's up?" You asked.

"You and Carmy speaking telepathically or something?" Syd asked with a bit of a laugh, genuinely wondering what in the hell was going on.

You laughed a little - you tried not to sound nervous, but fuck, of course Sydney knew something was up. She knew you better than that.

"Of course not! I just thought it was funny, cus like... how does that even happen, yknow?" You responded. Suddenly you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, you felt your palms getting a little sweaty - something, something, mom's spaghetti.

Syd was just barely buying it, that much was apparent.

"Well! I should probably... go home." You nodded, getting up quickly and going to get your things from your locker. Before anybody had a chance to say anything else, you left, calling out, "G'night everyone!"

Jesus fucking Christ, that was too close. You were truly caught between a rock and a hard place at this point, because what the hell were you supposed to do? Stop seeing Carmy? No. Tell Sydney? Also no.

As you got back to your apartment and crashed onto your couch, you noticed a text from a few minutes ago that you'd missed. Well, two. One from Sydney...

are you okay?? i'm kinda worried about you, you've been acting weird lately

And one from Carmy.

i missed you today. bummed you turned tail and left so early.

Fucking... shit! Okay. You inhaled a deep breath, messaging back Sydney first. You could do this - you could do this.

i'm okay, i promise!! you have nothing to worry about

You weren't okay. You were lying to her about so many things. Crushing on Carmy, sleeping with him, (barely) getting to know him... that was her fucking boss, and you being her best friend, you were worried this could potentially jeopardize her career.

But, for a moment you shoved that down to answer Carmy.

i missed you too haha...

wanna come over?

yes.

Before you knew it, you were sending Carmy your address. What were you doing?

There was no going back now though, the knock on your door told you as much. And there he was. The moment you opened up the door, your lips locked, and your fate was sealed.

You two definitely weren't going to make it to your bedroom, you hardly even made it to your couch. Carmy sat and greedily pulled you into his lap. It amazed you how needy he was when you were alone in comparison to how aloof and independent he was at The Beef. Though, it was a side of him you enjoyed, there was no doubt about that.

A sigh fell from your lips as Carmy kissed at your neck, your hands slid up his white t-shirt and caressed his abs. Fuck.

"You're s'fuckin' pretty." He muttered against your skin. "Want you t'ride me, pretty girl."

You whined softly at his words. How could you possibly say no? You reluctantly got off his lap moment so you could both strip, but the second you were both free of your bottoms, you were back straddling his lap and lining yourself up over his hard cock.

"Fuck..." Carmy breathed out as you sank down onto him, the familiar warmth of your walls around him.

Your head tilted back as you rocked your hips, the angle had your head spinning. His tatted up hands held your hips to help you, but his mouth latched onto one of your tits. He marked up your skin, and had you sobbing out his name between his dick being deep inside you and him sucking on your nipples.

"Carm- fuck- 'm close!" You whined, then bit your lip harshly.

"Fuck, me too, feels s'good-" He moaned into your flesh.

Seconds after you squeezed around him and came, he followed, filling you up. The realization hit you that this time there was no condom... but frankly, you were too blissed out to worry about that right now. You'd worry about a plan B pill in the morning.

You went with Carmy to your bedroom, so you didn't just fall asleep on the couch. Carmy laid back and, to his surprise, you cuddled up to him.

"G'night, Carm." You muttered softly.

"Night."

In the early morning, you felt Carmy sneak out of bed so he could go for early prep at The Beef. You weren't too offended, you knew he was an early riser. Plus... he left you a little note.

"Thanks for a nice night, definitely needed it. Text me when you get up?

-Carm"

It was such a simple note - why did it make you fucking swoon?

But, before you sent a text to Carmy, you remembered you needed to run to the nearest pharmacy ASAP for a plan B. You started to get ready, and went to text Carmy, but a text from Sydney appeared first.

hey!! i don't have to go in til later, do you wanna grab some breakfast?

sounds nice! text me where you wanna meet

You smiled a little, it'd been a bit since you'd gone out for breakfast with Sydney. All you had to do was act like you didn't just have Carmy fucking your brains out a few hours prior.

On your way to the pharmacy, you finally texted Carmy.

hey, i'm up and headed to meet syd for breakfast :) i'll text you later tho, maybe come with her before she starts for the day

You sighed a little to yourself, hoping you weren't sounding too desperate. You also hoped Syd wouldn't think you wanting to join her on her way to work was suspicious.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tags ; @maggiesarchives @carmenberzattosgf

wanna be tagged in any future speechless trilogy updates? leave 🫢 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

[wordsarelife]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲)

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: the line between lust and hate is awfully slim between theo and you, resulting in something that changes everything between the two of you

warnings: (like massive) spoilers for the great gatsby, mentions of sex, cursing, let me know if i missed anything else

notes: i’m just gonna quickly leave this here hehe

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monday felt like you had woken up in a different world. cursed legacy had made it their personal task to spend their time with you, much to yours and theo’s dismay.

they treated you like you were their friend again and while you had to admit that you didn't hate that, you still hated theo and being their friend meant being in his presence the entire time.

it started during math-, when enzo and mattheo decided to sit down in between april and you. leaving no other option but for their friends to follow behind them,- and reached it’s peak during english.

it was the only class that mattered to you, like really mattered to you. you knew it did to theo too, so you couldn’t understand how he had to ruin everything. atleast all had gone great, until the end. then all hell had broken loose.

"okay, we don't have too much time left" mrs walker said with a look to the clock "but i do have one last question: do you think daisy and mr gatsby should've ended up together?"

you raised your hand and mrs walker nodded. "yes, y/n?"

"i don't think so" you said honestly "i don't think they should've been involved with each other in the first place. i get that she had a shitty husband and she should've definitely left him, but she was at fault for everything that went wrong in gatsby's life and her loved her too much to realize that"

"thank you" mrs walker nodded before she gave the word to theo.

you turned your head in surprise. you hadn't even noticed him raising his hand. honstely, you had thought that he didn't even read the book in the first place.

"i disagree" he said.

"what a wonder" you muttered under you breath.

"daisy was everything he always wanted. she was the green light at the end of the peer and he might've been blinded by love, but isn't that what love is about? being so blinded that you would do anything for your person?"

you raised your eyebrows and send a look in theo's direction. you noticed that draco was wearing a similiar look as his eyes glided back and fourth between theo and the book in his hands, probably wondering if they had read the same story.

"sorry" you raised your arm "you could be right, but your're not"

mattheo beside you snorted.

"gatsby threw everything away for a woman that loved him for a short while before she went back to another man. he could've easily found someone better"

"maybe he didn't want to" theo was talking to you directly now "maybe it was enough for him to love her from afar"

"then he could've stayed on his fucking side of the lake" you argued "instead he threw these gigantic parties, just hoping for one single person to show up. is that what it is to you? having an unhealthy obsession with something that could lead to your death and calling it love?"

theo's chair scrapped over the floor when he stood up. you could see the anger in his eyes and stood up from your chair as well.

"you don't know what you're talking about" theo was not far from screaming "he loved her because she wasn't easy. he loved because being with her meant not knowing what's to come, because being with her meant to never grow bored"

"that's what you took from this story?" you laughed in disbelief "did we read the same book?" you caught blaise and draco hecticly turning pages as if they were asking themselves the same thing. enzo and april exchanged glances and the smirk on mattheo's face died.

"because i read a book in which a foolish man spends his entire time obsessing over a woman who doesn't love him, atleast not as much as he loves her and later he dies, because he wants to save her and she doesn't even bat an eye, before she goes back to her husband"

"she had no other choice" theo screamed.

"she had plenty of choices, theo" you screamed back.

"stop! the both of you!" mrs walker screamed.

all eyes turned to her. theo and you sank down in your seats defeated.

"both of you, detention" mrs walker said, right before the bell rang out.

you sighed as you packed up your things and grabbed the detention slip from her, before you left the room.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

detention was not the kind of activity you would normally choose to do during your day, but here you were, holding a cleaning cloth and a bucket, while theo was holding the broom. you were standing in one of the classrooms, that hadn’t been used for these past few years.

"alright" mr platt clapped his hands. he was a bit too excited about your detention, particulary because he had a one sided feud with theo, who was always a bit too sassy in the janitors eyes. "you're gonna clean this entire room. you have two hours-" he was interrupted by his ringing phone, which he picked up as he walked away from the both of you.

"this is all your fault" you whispered.

theo huffed. “that’s rich”

“is it?” you wondered “because it’s always you that has to ruin everything”

“calm down, pixie” theo shook his head “i thought you were smarter than this”

“i have to admit i thought you were too, but then you proved me wrong in english and here we are”

“shut the fuck-“

mr platt turned back around and both you and theo put on an innocent smile.

“i have to get a few things for the school banket next week. do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” he looked more in your direction than in theo’s.

“of course, don’t worry, mr platt” you smiled and the janitor nodded relieved.

“alright, i will be back in two hours” he walked out of the room and theo turned his head to you.

“don’t worry, mr platt” he mocked in a high pitched voice. you rolled your eyes, before you slapped him with your cloth.

“come on, just start sweeping already”

to your annoyance and ultimately not to your surprise, theo sat down on one of the tables. “i’m not cleaning anything”

“mr platt just said—“

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, pixie” he smiled “but i don’t really listen to the things mr pratt says”

you were ready to start fighting, until you remembered how you had gotten into this situation in the first place. this was your first detention and you would make sure that it would also stay the last.

you mindlessly started cleaning the tables around the room. when you were done with that, you filled the bucket with fresh water and cleaned the cloth in the sink until it was spotless again. then you walked across the room to take the broom.

"what are you doing?" theo pulled the broom away from you, when you tried to grab it.

"i'm doing what you should've done" you crossed your arms "i'm not gonna get in more trouble, because of you"

"i'm not giving it to you" theo said and you raised your brows.

"why do you even care? you're not gonna do it? okay, fine" you shrugged "but someone has to"

"it's not your fucking problem, pixie" theo pulled the broom further back "you did your task"

"why are you always so stubborn?" you tried to reach around him, but he pushed you back with his other hand "just give it to me"

"no" the bratty smile on his face made your blood boil.

in a few seconds of uncontrollable anger, you took the bucket, ready to drench him in the cold water you had just filled it up with. "give me the broom" you said once again, as if to give him a last chance.

"you wouldn't dare"

"oh i would" you nodded.

theo stayed unmoving and you raised the bucket from the ground, so that it was now hanging in the air between you. but theo was faster than you. he let go of the broom (which fell to the ground with a thud) before he ripped the bucket out of your hands, making water slip over the edge and directly onto your shirt.

"you fucking idiot!" you screamed, and turned away from the boy, once theo had put the bucket down on the table behind him.

"i actually did not mean to do that" he laughed "but it's pretty fucking funny"

"shut up" you started patting your chest with the cloth in an attempt to dry the water stain on your shirt. you did only make it worse.

you could hear theo giggle behind your back and swerved around, before you threw the cloth in his face. he was not as happy anymore when he took the cloth off his face and let it fall to the ground.

"what did you just do?"

you shrugged your shoulders "not like you didn't deserve that"

he stepped slowly closer "repeat that. i dare you"

you stepped back and he followed. your back hit the wall and he came closer.

"you deserved that" you muttered as you looked up at him. you could feel his hot breath on your cheek and thought about just pushing him back and slipping away, but you honestly doubted that you were stronger than him.

"you're very brave sweetheart" he smiled sarcastically.

you laughed humorless. "i fucking hate you"

theo smiled and the eye contact intensified.

"looks like you're having the hots for me now"

"fuck you, theo"

your breath hitched when he quickly pushed his lips against yours. it took you a second, but then you pulled him closer by his shirt, deepening the kiss.

theo's lips brushed against yours and you melted into his kiss, surrendering to the passion that consumed you both.

the kiss was like a storm, fierce and consuming, yet filled with a tenderness that left you breathless.

you had only kissed him once before, back when you were children. back when kissing was something disgusting and didn't make you feel the things you were feeling right now.

you whimpered when he pulled your head to the side with his hand and started kissing your neck.

"i loathe you" he muttered between kisses "but you look so fucking hot in that wet shirt"

you smiled triumphantly and saw your opportunity to push him backwards, away from the wall and to the teachers table. you connected your lips again, as you turned around and climbed on to the table. he stepped between your opened legs and rested his hands on your thighs as he moaned.

you gripped the hem of his shirt, he stepped back and helped you to pull it off, before you repeated the same process with your shirt. your hands pressed to his chest, while he kissed you and unhooked your bra.

you weren't proud of the things that happened next. and especially not of where it had happened.

when it was over, theo looked almost as regretful as you did.

"this was a mistake" you muttered, as he pulled down your shirt and gently fixed your hair. you weren't used to this side of him, not anymore. but even if you said the exact opposite, your were yearning for him.

"yeah" he nodded and then he frowned "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"-no, it's alright" you shook your head. this was worse than before, it was uncomfortable and awkward. you would've preferred him yelling at you, but the room grew silent as neither o you said a word.

"we can never do this again" he whispered, but it sounded more like he was telling it to himself.

"i know"

"and we can't tell anyone about this"

"i know"

"we're not good for each other" he said finally.

you wanted to say something, anything. it was like everything between you had just died with a simple touch. you almost missed the tension, because now there was just nothing. you tried to reach for his arm, but before you could do or say anything else, the door opened and theo stepped back from you.

"looks alright" mr platt nodded, once he had given the room a look. "you can go" he held the door open so you could walk through.

"bye" you said and mr platt nodded. "theo" you called, but the boy only quickened his step and left you standing alone in the entryhall of the school.

you sighed, before you decided that theo was right, you should just forget about everything that had happened. your relationship with him had not been anything else than hate lately and you had to admit he was right, it would never work, you weren't good for each other.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

the shift in atmosphere did not go unnoticed by april or the rest of the boys. atleast not until the next saturday when she was spending the day with enzo and matt, chilling in their parent's basement before they head to the rehearsal later.

"have you noticed that theo and y/n have been acting weird lately?" april asked "i mean y/n's been totally denying it, but it's weird right?"

"for sure" mattheo nodded with big eyes "i'm glad you said something, i was dying to ask you"

"isn't that kind of normal?" enzo wondered "i mean for them to be weird?"

"you're not getting it the way we are!" mattheo criticized.

"okay, sorry" enzo raised his hands laughing until mattheo and april send him a look.

"i honestly always thought they would end up together" april admitted "and of course i hated the way their friendship evolved to constantly fighting with each other, but at least that was something. now they aren't even talking to each other"

"right?" mattheo pointed at the red-head "i always thought they were in love with each other, but then she dated that scumbag and leo, well" he left the sentence unfinished and the mood shifted.

"i thought the same" april patted mattheos shoulder. “i think what they have yet to realize is that everything that is between them is not hate, it’s sadness”

mattheo nodded and april could see that he was getting sad too. they both felt helpless, like they couldn’t do what they were supposed to do as best friends to theo and you.

all while enzo found it a bit weird how serious mattheo and april were talking about your relationship with theo. it didn't even concern them, yet they were so... concerned.

"it's not really our problem is it?" enzo tried gently.

the looks he received made him shut up immediately.

"they belong together, enz" his brother exclaimed with a roll of his eyes "they just don't know it yet"

"yeah" april nodded "that's what they have us for" she pointed between her and mattheo.

"but you still like me more than him, right?" enzo joked.

april and mattheo started laughing and enzo joined in hesitantly. "not right now, though"

enzo's laughter died down as he send his soon-to-be-girlfriend a betrayed look.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

when the three arrived at the rehearsal, theo and you were already there, setting up the instrument and sorting notes.

"woah" blaise said when he and draco entered the garage after mattheo, april and enzo. "it's cold in here"

you send him an aggravated look, before you just rolled your eyes and continued to turn the pages of your notes.

"did something happen?" draco whispered in the direction of april.

the girl shook her head, before mattheo took it upon himself to inform draco about the newest form of relationship between theo and you.

"haven't you noticed?" he muttered not exactly quiet, but you acted like you couldn't hear him. "they've been acting like this all week"

"really?" blaise asked surprised, before he thought for a second "wait, no, now that you say it, it has been a really peaceful week." his eyes fell upon you "too peaceful"

"hey, y/n" draco called and you looked up "i think theo put down the wrong cable for you again"

"oh" you looked down to confirm that he was right "that not a problem, i'll just quickly change it" you walked around theo, without even acknowledging him and draco looked like he had lost his mind.

april elbowed enzo, who shrieked, but then quickly caught the hint. "theo, ehh" he thought for a second "did you talk to y/n about those notes she needs to play differently in cheap wine?"

theo shook his head, before he turned around to look at you. "you have to play two c-chords and then the a-chord"

"got it" you nodded.

enzo and april exchanged a look. enzo looked to his older brother helplessly, who looked as lost as he rest of his friends. he had no idea what else to say, before it quickly dawned on him. he had to force a reaction out of theo and what better way to do that than compliment you? an insult from theo wouldn't be far.

"you look really good today" mattheo said "i like the way you styles your hair"

"thank you" you smiled.

"theo?" blaise asked as the boy didn't react.

"huh?" theo looked up from the cables he had been sorting "eh, yeah i agree"

both you and theo returned to your respective work while the rest of your friends exchanged looks without you noticing.

"theo, i said y/n looks good today"

"i'm aware" theo nodded "i can hear you, you know?"

"we would love to hear your input" mattheo further encouraged.

"you're acting fucking weird today" and to all their shock, you and theo were now exchanging glances as if they were the ones behaving weirdly.

blaise huffed and mattheo and april crossed their arms silmutaneously.

draco seemed to have had enough of the way you were acting. "stop fucking acting this way! can't you just make up or something? or at least get back to hating each other?" he was close to tears.

blaise rubbed draco's shoulder. "see, what you're doing to him. his parents are divorced"

"okay?" you asked confused "i don't see what that has to do with us, though"

"what's going on?" april asked gently "did something happen? you had this until someone cries mentally, well, did someone cry?"

"no" you shook your head "theo and i are just mature enough, that we decided to stop fighting"

"bullshit" draco screamed from blaise's arms. "you're always fighting, even before you hated each other."

you looked in the direction of theo and thought about what he had said to you in that classroom. he had been right, you weren't good to each other, even before you had been at each other's throats constantly. all of it had been so obvious that even your friends had noticed it.

"would you rather have us fighting again?" theo asked with raised brows "we were going nowhere with this"

"you're not even talking to each other" mattheo muttered.

"we are" you shook your head as if you couldn't believe what he was saying "we just did it like a minute ago"

"can we please start rehearsing now?" theo asked and all of you could feel the annoyance radiating off his body. the boys nodded, giving in without further discussion.

you could still feel april's eyes lingering on you. she didn't believe a word you had said.

even if you tried to ignore it, what your friends had said stuck with you. you knew that theo was thinking about it too.

after the rehearsal you stayed longer.

"we have to stop acting his way" you said as soon as the two of you were alone. "they will find out if we don't"

"i know" theo sighed and it was the biggest reaction you had gotten from him all week. it kind of pained you to admit that you missed your fighting, but something in you clearly did.

"can't you just fight with me? just do something so we go back to normal"

"i can't" theo admitted "i can’t still scream at you, after-"

"after we had sex" you interrupted. he had been dancing around what happened all week, you were tired of not calling it what it was.

"it should've never happened"

"i know!" you said loudly "and i agree, but this is not the solution we need. we can't go back in time, theo, we can do nothing to change it."

"yeah, but i can do as much as possible to make sure it won't ever happen again"

"why are you so bothered by all of this?" you asked frustrated "it was just sex, it was a one time thing, what makes it different? it's just like any other one night stand"

"no it's not"

"then tell me what it is!" you were screaming now "because i'm tired of playing a game i don't want to be a part of! you confuse me"

"can i kiss you?" theo asked and you had almost screamed from shock.

"what?" you asked instead. "theo!"

"i'm- sorry, i just-"

"okay, kiss me" he did not wait for you to tell him twice, before he had already walked closer and pressed his lips against yours.

you really had to stop doing this. well, after this time.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

you continued to come to the rehearsal three times a week over the following weeks. the more time you spent in the old loft, the more it felt like everything was slowly going back to normal.

your friends couldn't explain what had happened, but theo and you had started interacting normally again, having your occasional fight, but being friendlier than ever.

even if they found it weird, they accepted it. they were just happy you were talking to each other again.

april had tried to find out what had been going and between you and the boy, but you had stayed strong, not revealing your secret to her, even if she was your best friend.

you were joking with the boys, the forced friendly gestures you used to exchange were long gone and it was no longer uncomfortable to just sit around when you were taking a break.

mattheo told stories of enzo and their vacation in spain, how they had gone snorkeling and how enzo had lost his trunks in the water, making all of you break out into loud laughter.

each of you shared memories of a time where you had not spoken to the others, as if you had to catch up. and it felt good.

even theo had to admit it did. it had been easier than he thought to be civil. he had been sure he was having a stroke, but as soon as he started to act nice, you did too and after everything that had happened between you both these past few days he was honestly just glad.

it was another saturday when you were once again rehearsing. you had gone through the entire setlist (except for daddy issues, theo had said that it was way too slow to play) and now only had to play eight pack of cigarettes, which was one of your favorite tracks to play, especially because it had a guitar solo in it.

you had spent much time learning the solo and enzo had been of great help, teaching you like a proud parent, even if he was younger than you.

the song began slow, theo started singing as the guitar played slow, while the other instruments stayed silent.

in the glow of street lights, underneath the city's haze, you found me in the darkest nights, lost in a nicotine haze.

the drums set in just a second after, making the heavy rock of the song shine through clearly. shortly after that followed mattheo, strumming the bass. draco only joined at the chorus.

eight packs of cigarettes, burned through these lonely nights, trying to drown out regrets, but you're still in my head.

the solo came just after the brige and both enzo and april watches excitedly how you plaed it so effortlessly. theo watched you and he couldn't help the proud smile settling on his face.

in the haze of smoke and dreams, i'll keep searching for some reprieve, but until then, I'll keep the smoke, eight packs of cigarettes full of hope.

the song ended with the last note of draco's keyboard. you admired how they could go from a full on rock song, to a slow and almost sad outro.

you helped theo to unplug the instruments. draco and blaise said their goodbyes pretty soon, walking out of the garage mumbling something about a new videogame, mattheo was close behind them.

enzo and april exchanged a look, before he threw his not broken arm around her shoulder.

"we're going to the cinema" enzo exclaimed when he noticed your questioning gaze.

"okay" you smiled as you send april a look. 'call me later' you mouthed, before you watched them walk out to april's car.

"y/n" theo said to gain your attention "thank you for helping us, really, i appreciate it"

"it's not a problem" you smiled "just, why did you ask me? i know that you can play, you didn't need me"

"you're way better" he smiled "my heart also belongs to the acoustic guitar and it's way more fun to move freely on stage"

you rolled your eyes laughing at his dumb reasons, but nodded understandingly anyway. "can i also ask you something?"

theo raised his brows "sure"

"did you write daddy issues to hurt me?"

"i understand why you might think i did" theo muttered "but back then, no" he admitted "i wrote it for you to listen to whenever you felt like that. i thought about not putting it on the album after everything that happened, but i wrote it for both of you and leo had made me promise"

"typical" you laughed "he demands something and once he leaves everything goes to shit"

"i'm sorry i made you play it" theo muttered.

"it's alright" you took the acoustic guitar from the couch and held it in his direction. "can you do something else for me? could you play it for me? the way you intended it to be played?"

he nodded and took the guitar from your hand before he sat down across from you. he softly stroked the chords and the words that were coming out of his mouth didn't feel like they were supposed to hurt you, they felt gentle, like a hug.

gentle, like the days you had spent up in the treehouse, crying in his lap as he stroked your hair the same way he was now stroking the chords.

go ahead and cry, little girl nobody does it like you do i know how much it matters to you i know that you got daddy issues and if you were my little girl i'd do whatever I could do i'd run away and hide with you i know that you got daddy issues

he played softly, almost cautious, as if he wanted to fix you with his singing alone. he ended the song and you couldn't help but smile at him, even if tears were running over yours cheeks. he put the guitar down and sat next to you on the couch.

"why did you ask me to do that?"

"because i don't want to think of the song as something bad…not anymore" you explained as you wiped your tears away. "not when leo didn't intend it to be"

"he loved it" theo said softly "made him cry like a baby"

"because you're so good at writing" you laughed.

"no" theo shook his head "he cried because of you, because i think for the first time he could really understand how you felt"

"thank you" you said.

"nothing to thank me for" theo smiled softly.

"do you want to hear a secret?" you asked. you knew not everything between you was normal again, but you trusted him enough and right now, there in the garage, was a time where safety was all around you.

"sure" theo nodded and watched you expectingly. you turned your head to look at him.

"i haven't spoken to my dad in a year" you admitted.

"oh" theo breathed surprised. "why not?"

"i don't really know" you shrugged, it wasn't the whole truth, but you were not at the point of telling whole truths yet "but i think it's alright, i don't think there's anything we could still say to each other"

"i'm sorry"

you shrugged "it is what it is, right?" you tried to smile, but theo shook his head.

"it shouldn't be like this"

"it's not like i can miss anything" you shrugged and theo frowned.

"it's just unfair. i'm sorry, y/n"

"where did pixie go?"

"i thought you hated when i called you that"

"i did" you smiled lopsided "but now i kinda miss her"

"do you ever know what you want?" theo laughed and you shrugged, while you shook your head. he looked at his phone, to check the time. "are you free tonight?"

"sure, why?"

"a friend of mine is throwing a party and his band is playing, i promised to come, do you maybe want to accompany me?"

you shrugged "it's not like i have anything better to do, so why not?"

"i feel honored that you spend time with me nonetheless, pixie" theo smiled and you mirrored his expression. for the first time in a while his nickname for you did not sound malicious.

taglist:

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[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.1

Cynthia and John are worse and crazier for admitting what they admitted in the bio. But Jane and Paul are not exempt.

Will forever love this pic of Paul and Julian. He does not look like the fun uncle. He looks tired and dependable. Just stepped out of the womb as a father, didn't he? The sperm that fertilized his egg probably passed some fatherly advice and hair tussles to the other sperm as it passed them. 

They should've bought the fucking island.

They never look more like a couple than when the women they're actually dating are right next to them. 

The India footage actually looks so beautiful. Obviously it's a beautiful place, but they all genuinely look so free and at peace there. It really could've been so good for them. Getting enlightened, getting soberish, growing closer as a band, taking a much-needed rest. It should've been good. 

The music choices in this documentary! The drastic shift from, “all you need is love” and “the dream I had was true” and “I don't need much to set me free.” to Paul leaving to “yes I'm lonely. Wanna die.” “I'm going insane.” “Look at me. Who am I supposed to be?” 8d8 psychic damage. And the thing is it's real. John really did flip a switch, just like that.

Smashing my head into a wall. It's the same as Yoko's quote about how ‘nobody hurt John more than Paul.’ Really Pete? Worse than after his mum died? Really Yoko? More than that drunk cop? Paul, what the fuck did you do to him in India, seriously, because at this point in the doc I can't accept the theory that it was just some lack of communication, I just can't. 

It's also telling to me that when John's losing it, everyone's solution is some time alone with Paul. Nobody panic. Paul can fix him. Little do they know Paul's the one that broke him. Or maybe they do know and that's only another reason they know Paul's the only man for the job?

Old-fashioned ad voice: You liked Protective Jesus Scandal Paul? You'll love Protective LSD Scandal John! Really. Before the question is even out, he's making fun of it. I think he cuts off the interviewer at least three times with jokes before he can get the sentence out, and by the time he is, Paul's giggling too hard to feel bad about his little PR fuck-up.

Then he lets Paul talk a bit before jumping back in, this time with his Hard Man suit on. It's just so good. A testament to their unconditional love, really. Because, clearly, Paul's just hurt John pretty bad. And yet, here John is. Using every trick he's got to defend his friend. 

But actually, though John is supposedly the one everyone's worried about, Paul's doing a pretty shit job of being the “stable” one. This entire press tour he's either fucking blazed and laughing at everything or disassociated and not contributing.

(((except during that political discussion – again! Paul secretly has actual thoughts on actual things?!)))

But for the most part, John's absolutely holding down the fort. I wonder if this is another case of everyone – all their friends and business associates, just like we as a fandom still do now – assuming John is the problem child, and Paul's the strong one, but actually they're both both. 

Back to the political interview. They're just so in sync. Finishing each other's sentences when you're talking about the weather or your shared work is one thing. Finishing each other's sentences on complex topics like why poor whites often vote bigots in or the cause of rampant misinformation is quite another. 

“Letting his dad cut his hair at sixteen, seventeen.” You all know that John hates Jim quote. 

John: so there's war, and vegetables. There's relativity and absolute.  Paul (absolutely smitten): that's great Johnny. Int: that's rather hard for people to interpret. John: well if they can't interpret it now, maybe they will later..... 1. John really was extremely intelligent. 2. That last statement sums up Beatles historiography.

Paul really just Won't be alone with John, will he? Well, two can play at that game, Paul, and John's going to win, let me tell you. 

But he's going to do one last panic grab for attention first.

I really do think if John had done something like that *before* Paul would've given him that attention. Told him he's being insane and taken him home to splash some cold water on him or something and then given him whatever softness Paul was capable of. But not anymore. 

I wonder if Paul could go back to 1966 if he just wouldn't have taken John to that Indica show where he met Yoko. If he would've just said “okay John, sure, let's just stay home and trip on the couch tonight.” I don't know.

Anyway, Yoko gets an A+ for persistence. Imagine being Paul, George, or Ringo, though, and John is suddenly madly in love with this woman whose been begging you all (and then him specifically) for a platform for over a year? It would be weird to say the least. 

John: don't you hate me? I'm crazy, you know. Paul: no I don't hate you. John: aren't you pissed at me now, Paul? Even a little bit? Paul: I'm very proud of you. It's the unstoppable force (“Don't ‘nore me, Mimi!”) vs the immovable object (“I learned to put a shell around me”.) Someone get them some professional help before they nuke the whole world. 

“There is, however, a desire to get power in order to use it for good.” One of those quotes that just really lets you see a person, you know? Benevolent dictator Paul. 

Yoko, why are you talking about how bad your boy doesn't want to fuck you right in front of all his closest friends and on record for posterity? If you have to be talking about your sex life, shouldn't you be lying about how insanely horny he is for you? Oh, right, she will think of that, just not yet. 

And then she waxes poetic about how turned on John is when he's working on music with Paul. Cool. Smart. Thanks for that, though, genuinely.

And Then (gosh, Yoko is such an asset to Beatles history when she's not actively spreading misinformation. Everyone give her a hand) she goes on about how Paul goes out of his way to make her feel respected and even valued. Compare that to John and Linda, anyone? And I want to be clear, I'm not saying this means John cares too much and Paul doesn't care at all, which might be the surface read. I just think John's reaction was to scream in everyone's face that he was in pain and Paul's was to insist ad nauseam that he was fine. You know?

[blingblong55]

This town -Simon "Ghost" Riley

pic credits: @ave661 (middle and right)

Based on a request: (Its a long as so I'll link it so you can read the anons idea) Link here ---- F!Reader, childhood!friends, hidden feelings, angst, friends to strangers ---- A/N: Songs that also fit: Too Young- Louis Tomlinson, This Town- Niall Horan, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, Always you-Louis Tomlinson

It's a story to tell over at the old pub you and he used to hang around on the weekends. But how can a man begin to tell the sorrowful story? How can he explain in his bruised hands he holds the locket you gave him when you two were kids? He will maybe ask if this was a curse, the only curse an old soul like his has. 

It could've been something, it would've been something, it should've been beautiful. 

In this world, it was always he and you. Scraping your knees when jumping off the rocks near his home. Playing tag in the street until the moon greeted you and his mother would call his name. It's the kind of beginning all beautiful loves start with. Friends since childhood, went through life together and by 28, he would have proposed to the girl he had loved his whole life, 40s would be of dropping the kids at school, 50s of early retirement and 60s were for the potential grandkids, 70s would've been the stories shared of their early lives.

Would've...what a shit word that became in his life. 

In the teenage years, after you had some glow-up, you became the girl everyone knew. The pretty, popular and funny girl the school knew of. He was the friend of the popular girl, the one people barely noticed or cared for. Simon was the same kid who always had a scar or bruise on his face, compliments from his father. One thing Simon hated more than the bastard of his father was the guy you were with. Bloke knows nothing but how to wank and fuck any living thing, he recalls.

Why were you with such a guy? It was a must. Like those cheesy movies where the pretty girl stays with the popular guy, all for the status of each other. Your feelings weren't real for that guy. He wasn't funny, wasn't smart and he wasn't Simon. The boy you shared a kiss with at age 7 because of an accidental bump whilst running through the grass. 

It was during a small break between classes that you found him drinking water. You smile. He always did look good, even the stupid bruise on his jaw made him look so good. 

"Y/N," he straightens up. "Simon," you smile cheekily. "Oh no, what's that smile for?" He crosses his arms over his chest and you can't help but get lost in his honey eyes. "Well...I was wondering if maybe we can...talk?" You say, unsure of how to word this confession. "Did my mum put you up to this?" 

"No, this is...me just wanting to talk." 

"Go on," his voice softens. Does he always do this for you?

You hesitate, but what is life without words? You breathe in and say, "I like you...there I said it and... don't stay quiet because you know I get nervous and I will continue to just talk and talk and talk and-"

He cuts you off by saying, "I'm sorry, Y/N, I... don't..think..this..well I just don't feel that way for you. We're friends, nothing more," he ends his part of the conversation, pats your back as he walks away and you are left in the corridor of the school alone. 

As Simon walks to his classroom, his heart and mind fight the words that he had just said to you. Why was that mean? Did I even mean to say them? He thinks. 

Graduation happens. You and he never talked after that day. Not even a congrats or a hug, life went on without him in your life. Throughout those last months in school, he felt a feeling of regret when he'd see you with that guys arm around you. He would occasionally walk around the old park just to see if you would still go on your daily walks. 

By the time he was about to leave town, he found himself at the old house. He heard your parents moved to a new part of town, so if this was the last time he heard of you, it better be on his terms. And as he walks through the pavement, he finds himself looking at your window. He leans over a car, lights a cigarette and just waits to see if maybe you or some ghost roamed the home. 

Was it the feeling of losing a friend that hurt or losing his one chance to feel something other than pain and hatred? Maybe it's just nervous, after all, he leaves tomorrow. 

You were both just 16, it was puppy love, nothing would've lasted if he reciprocated those feelings, right?

And if it was, why does he feel some kind of hurt as he packs his bags? Why does he want to run to your new home and call your name? Is there a reason why? It's not love, it can't be love, he thinks. I'm not worthy of that, you've heard my dad, he says out loud. "Simon?" Tommy opens the door. "Tommy, not today," he looks back at his bag. "...Fuck" he whispers. 

It's been a long nineteen years since he last saw you and heard your precious voice laugh at a cheesy joke of his. Nineteen years and the feeling in his chest is still there when he arrives home. Manchester was always home for him, it was the only place he knew best when he came back. 

One day, as he was cleaning his closet, looking for his dog's leash, something fell and hit his head. "What the fu-" he looked down and there it was. 

"Why give me this?" A thirteen-year-old Simon asked you. You smile, "You said you wish you could always be near me so you can feel safe...and since I'm going to my nans for the week, have this locket on you, and I swear I'll be there. Keep it safe, okay?" you kiss his forehead before entering the car. He nods and waves, "Call me, Y/N, please!" he calls out and you nod. "Every day!" you scream out as the car drives further away. 

A smile falls on his silent lips, "...Y/N..." his thumb caresses the design. Once he opens it, he feels as if he is that young again. "Are you still there, Y/N?" He whispers and then, realisation hits. It was never nerves or whatever bullshit he told himself back then, it was love, always has. 

All the dots are connecting. For the past nineteen years, he always had some love or whatever all those hookups and awful relationships were, but never did they stick around. Never did he feel more for them than what he has always felt for you. His cold heart still beating warm when he thinks of you. You are all he has ever known, the smiles, the late-night confessions, stories, the silly inside jokes, the feeling in his chest today. 

He hasn't seen you in years, what if you don't remember him? What if when you see him, your heart doesn't call his name when he screams yours? Will you ever even forgive him? Will you wrap your arms around him and call him home like he has called you? 

He must find you, so he calls and looks for you in every corner of this place. He finds nothing, just more lost hope at every corner he looks into. His heart and mind excited each other at the thought this would be some sappy romance moment. His mind creating a script, all truths, just finding better words to tell you he loves you, loved you the moment you kissed the similar scar on the knee at the park when he cried over the pain. He's loved you from the day he learned to say your name. 

Why does he miss you so much today?

Why must you be the drug his body needs? God does he miss you and your addictive heart. 

He has been around the world, where he could've found a good woman who made him happy but no, his heart has always belonged to one girl. You. 

By the time he gets the street right, he finds you sitting down and as he smiles and nearly runs to you, he stops when he sees this image of you. 

Sitting by the fountain, he sees you and a man. His arms wrap around your body, giving you darling kisses as you chuckle. It was then that Simon Riley knew this was it. He will spend his entire life wandering earth, looking for another soul like yours. You didn't see him of course, your fiance capturing all your attention. Simon was close to not caring and pulling you away from that man, but that would be cruel. And as he tries to make up excuses for this man being near you, he sees the ring. 

Oh...oh you fool, he thinks. 

His heart is near death. It screams your name, trying to find you so it can keep beating but when you don't whisper, Simon nods and lets his heart die. Let it rot, so it can learn its lesson, he thinks. 

It would've never bloomed, Simon and you...right?

It's no use to even go and say hi. The locket that contained your picture was still in his fist. It'll be the last reminder of what was meant to be a life romancing in dark streets through town. 

In his head, the home you dreamed of will forever be just a dream. No four kids, no library, no big kitchen so you and he can dance around at midnight. No you...no him...it'll all be stuck and dead in this town. 

He crossed rivers, mountains, and enemies and survived wounds soldiers like him get, all to come home to you. And all this was for nothing. In his world, he would've married you, given you chubby babies and late Saturday mornings. No gun, no bomb and no other man would've kept him away from you. 

In his mind, he is with you. In his dead heart, he sits by and watches that chubby baby learn to walk. He would've adored seeing you in a white dress, walking to him as he wiped tears away when he d his dream of a perfect life was minutes away from being real. 

What a mess he is as he asks for another drink. A mess he never should have been if he had told you that your name is carved all over his body. 

It was this town that saw him live and it'll be this town that sees him die because if he can't have you, at least he has this place. 

A/N: Remember, I collect tears for potions, so please drop them by for collection, thank you. - The place of tears co.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[thefandomenchantress]

So everyone's talking about the new episode right now. Understandably so, since it had so much new evidence! In fact, I'm going to talk about it as well. However, instead of focusing on the bombshells David dropped or Levi's secret, I'm going to do what I do best: Focus on Ace and ignore literally everything else. /hj

(Spoilers for Chapter 2, Episode 12!)

All joking aside, I'm sure you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Ace literally said, like, five lines of dialogue this episode. And yeah, you're right. Actually, that sort of ties into what I'm talking about.

Okay, time to explain. The thing I want to talk about is this: Ace is weirdly...Not as confrontational as usual this episode? Let me show what I mean through examples.

What's so special about this moment? Well, strangely enough, it's what comes after it.

Now, when I first watched the episode I laughed and thought, "Oh, someone insulted Ace, now Ace is going to be angry" and then they never cut back to him being angry. They just said that (admittedly very funny) line and moved on.

And after it happened, I didn't think too much of it. I was far too consumed by the episode's greatness to care too much, and Ace's reaction wasn't necessary for the scene anyway.

These two lines aren't as strong for what I'm trying to say, so I'll lump them together.

But I thought it was worth mentioning that in the first photo, Ace joins in with Nico and Levi on saying Arturo should've been better at his job. But after Arturo scolds the three of them, as well as everyone else by extension, it only cuts back to Nico and Levi. Which is fine, it can be assumed that since Ace's comment was a late addition, shorter, and didn't have too much substance, him not getting a reaction makes sense (I mean he's not the one who got called a whore like Jesus Christ Arturo--).

In the second photo, Hu tells Ace to stop blaming Nico because they have an airtight alibi, and Ace...Just shuts up. Nico complains about being interrupted and they move on to other people's alibis (or more like the lack thereof). Which sorta makes sense, Ace can't really refute her point because he can't prove she didn't have breakfast with Nico. Then again, he could've made a point to say no one can prove they did have breakfast together, since they were in private, but still. Maybe Ace is too scared to seriously argue with Hu after that slap, haha.

It's this last example that actually made me notice that there may be anything resembling a pattern here:

During this part of the episode, I was immediately reminded of J's line about Ace being incapable of being quiet and expected Ace to refute her point. After all, it's basically the same as refuting her earlier point. He just has to say that he's not always spontaneously combusting every 5 seconds like she thinks again. He's not a grenade launcher in a glass house. More like a small batch of fireworks, thank you very much.

But Ace doesn't say anything. This is only made more obvious by Charles immediately cutting off the conversation there.

And this moment made me think something. Keep in mind I could be totally overthinking this an unnecessary amount, but that's what most of theories end up being anyway.

Since the conversation is immediately ended by Charles, DRDTdev could've ended J and Ace's interaction off with Ace trying to insult her back, maybe him going "Listen here, you--" before Charles cuts them off because they have a trial they need to finish. But DRDTdev decided to not make Ace have any reaction whatsoever to this insult, at least not one the audience can see. And based on how loud and opinionated Ace is, I'm guessing that if the comment did make him have an extreme reaction, we definitely would have heard him say as much. But we don't.

I think what makes all this so weird to me is that whenever someone is condescending to Ace, usually he's very upset and it shows. In trial 1, we see him be one of the few to cave pretty quick to the idea that they were wrong and that Teruko isn't the culprit. Yet when Whit says Charles isn't the culprit, Ace suddenly feels very strongly about it, because Whit actively talked down to him about it, (I think Whit said something like "use your big boy words" but I'm too lazy to rewatch the whole trial to find it) and now Ace doesn't want to agree with him (Or at least that was how I interpreted it, he's so petty I love him). So you'd think he'd be more resistant against those who kept making comments about his intelligence or demeanor, but so far, he hasn't.

That could mean two things. One, he's the culprit and is trying to at least vaguely avoid unnecessary confrontation and bringing attention to himself. But honestly, I doubt even that would stop Ace from impulsively insulting people back.

The second option is this:

My first thought and explanation in my head for this connects to Ace's overall arc. Let's recall Ace's secret quote:

"I don't know what to do with myself anymore"

This line gives off a sense of hopelessness. Like Ace has completely given up on everything.

And for some reason, a couple of the moments above made me feel, at least slightly, the same thing. If Charles says Ace is so stupid he's never seen anyone more stupid ever before in his life and didn't think it scientifically possible for anyone to be that stupid? Ace has no response. If J says another line about Ace's explosive demeanor? Ace has no response.

I don't know, something about Ace just not bothering to refute them makes me feel that something is off. He complains that everyone sees him as an idiot and how he hates it earlier in the chapter. He seems so distressed as he does it, it's a full-on break down.

And yet, when people do exactly what he was talking about here, he can no longer muster up a response. It's like he's given up on changing their minds. He knows they think he's stupid, and impulsive, and intolerable, and he thinks there's nothing he can do about it anymore. Blowing up at them will only make them think they're right. So he's given up on doing anything at all.

I suppose my line of reasoning is that maybe small details like this will pile up over time, as Ace, unnoticeably at first, loses some of his fire bit by bit, until inside he's just...Empty. He doesn't know what to do. He's so tired, and he doesn't know anything that can help or distract him from his situation. And seeing as the secret quotes seem to embody a character's mindset at death...That seems to be the place Ace might die at. Perhaps even at his own hands, who knows.

Is that an overreaction on my part? Possibly. Am I overanalyzing microscopic details? Yes. But that's my job.

So anyways I really enjoyed this episode and Ace was great too! Yippee for the return of DRDT, and my Eden culprit idea not being completely debunked yet!

[baw-sixteen]

would've could've should've - dr3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x op81 social media manager! reader

they could've been so much more

July 9, 2023

You stared at the picture in the darkness of your hotel room. You should've known. Everyone was talking about it.

Nyck has had a terrible rookie year so far. Knowing Marko, knowing Red Bull they needed more. More points, more perfection.

You couldn't say you weren't happy. You were happy. For him. You were elated.

Daniel loved racing. He had told you that before. You had felt it - every time he got into that Mclaren, every time he had done a better score than before.

He wasn't jobless. No. He could never be. Not till the day Christian Horner was still alive. You knew that.

You see the news yet?

You sat up on the bed. That empty feeling inside you shifted at the text.

The last few weeks were bad. Bad for Oscar. Bad for Mclaren.

Bad for you.

But who cared about that?

Oscar was good. He was very easy to handle. He was less trouble than Daniel.

The few people who cared about the fans' backlash had suddenly dropped to one. You were just a social media manager.

I would've stayed on my knees.

And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil

But he wasn't Daniel.

He could never be what you two were.

Yeah.

You did.

You had seen the news.

___________________________________________

"I'm sorry"

A very tired Michael stared at you.

"What's there to be sorry about, yn?"

You laughed. You actually laughed.

The fans were incredibly intelligent you'd give them that. The theories that you, Michael, Yuki and Lando had read on the internet were crazy.

All this time, both you and Michael had got a lot of backlash from the fans. All because you loved your job more than him. All because Mike wanted to share a bit about him to the fans.

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

Believable. But crazy.

They said you were draining him off his money. That Michael starved him. Gave him severe training. Just to make him perfect.

There was not a single bone in his body you wanted to change. For the better or for the worse. It's what made you fall in love with him.

How you wished sometimes you could just scream it at the world that he already was perfect.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

His smile. His charm. His stupidity. His laugh.

That scar on his knee. Or that cut on his chin.

You loved all of him.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do when I see him."

You always had.

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

He was tired too.

"I heard he didnt ask Pyry for training?"

"No. Says he doesn't need it. Doesn't need anyone. A lone wolf."

"Lone wolf, my ass."

A small smile graces both of your faces. No matter what he said. You knew him better.

Memories feel like weapons.

The moment you walked into the hotel your eyes caught him. Head thrown back with a laugh louder than the fans outside. Smile brighter than the Hungarian morning.

"Yn!"

All eyes fell on you as Lando waved you over from where he was sitting among the drivers in the lobby.

The world felt like it stopped as honey coloured irises met yours.

The eyes that once spoke forever to you, were cold, dark - they were trying to drown you in them, choke you with your own guilt.

You heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces as he looked away from you and turned back to where Max was sitting.

And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

You could hear Lando saying something but you felt dizzy. Tears started to blur your eyes as that pounding in your chest grew louder and louder.

"I'll speak to you later Lando."

You forced your shaky voice to speak as your feet carried yourself to the elevator as fast as they could. But what your retreating figure could notice was the way he shivered.

Your voice still had an effect on him.

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be.

The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind

A sob erupted from your throat the moment the elevator door closed. Hot, steaming tears rolled down your face.

The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

As long as Daniel Ricciardo was going to be around, you would never be the same.

I regret you all the time

Oh Daniel, we could've been so much more.

Could've, Would've, Should've.

____________________________________________

author's note: hi everyone!! well here it is!! since you wanted a part 2!!

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

[copinghex]

Lie | T.S

Summary: The end of vendetta brings the crisis in Tommy's marriage to light. When his attempts of conciliation fail he refuses to face the truth, finding much more comfort in a lie.

Tommy felt his heart gripping on his chest hearing his wife's laugh from across the living room. Not exactly melodic or exemplary from a lady, but genuine and deprived of worries, something he hadn't heard in months.

The end of the vendetta didn't bring the relief he thought it would, with John's death and a crisis in his marriage, he didn't have much to celebrate.

Nevertheless, the party went on, Arthur talked to Bonnie with the same excitement a father would to a son, Ada and Finn seemed to be rebounding after so long apart, Lizzie and Polly had their own internal jokes going on, Linda seemed to have a hard time socializing and at last, Tommy's wife chatted with Aberama while he stood alone in a corner.

He bit his inner cheek, jealousy taking over his most rational side, he used to make her laugh, even after the war killed his youngful sense of humor, his ironic or critical remarks rarely failed in putting a smile on her face. However, he was well aware of the space growing between them, if he didn't do anything the chances of losing her were huge. Clearing his throat, he raised a toast, distracting her from Aberama and initiating his plan to get her back.

As the night fell on, the guests naturally collected themselves. Finally, Tommy was alone with her, the bedroom felt as tense as a battlefield, a step wrong and he's out of the game. 

Sitting on the edge of bed while she removed her jewelry on the dressing table, he tried to start a conversation.

"It's over," he referred to the vendetta.

"...it is," she sized him up through the mirror, "the children are happy to go back to school," 

"Yeah," Tommy breathed out, surely the months every Shelby had to be recluse affected their learning process, he couldn't help but to feel guilty, his babies doing well in school was one of his biggest prides since he didn't have this privilege, still, at least they were alive and everything would go back to normal, "could've been worse," 

"Yeah, I wish John's children could go back too," she pursed her lips hesitantly, "y'know, sometimes I-"

"Yeah?" Tommy encouraged, surprised by the cold way she brought John up.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if none of this happened, it started with the guns and we never had peace after," she looked down at her own hands, "sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been easier if Polly, Martha and I still ran the business and you- you and Arthur-" 

She gulped, getting completely silent. Tommy felt his lips dry staring at her, did she just admit she wished he was dead? Taking a drag of his cigarette, he preferred to believe his paranoia got the best of him. He had to believe it or he'd go mad, if one of the few things keeping him alive wished he was dead, there was no point in everything he'd done for him, her and their family.

"Anyways, I- hm," she continued, "I think I'll take a shower before bed," 

"C'here," Tommy reached for her arm, what should've been an affectionate gesture of pulling her to his lap felt awkward and forced.

Her body was rigid in his embrace, seeming to avoid touching him more than necessary. His arms locked around her waist and his lips rested on her shoulder, at the same time she held his forearms with certain pressure, as if she could push him away at any moment.

The sweet scent of her perfume intoxicated Tommy's senses, he barely remembered the last time they intimately touched each other and by then, feeling her soft skin and her comforting weight on his thigh, he craved her badly.

"I love you," he whispered, still focused on putting their marriage back on the tracks, uncomfortable silence started with her lack of answer, he had no other option but to continue, "I know I pushed you away in the last months, I was-"

"Scared," she cut him off, "I know," 

"...and it's over now," Tommy completed, "now we have all the time in the fucking world," 

"To do what?" 

"Well, for me personally," he changed his tone, sounding hopeful, "to take care of you," 

She sighed, pushing his arms away from her waist and cupping his cheeks, a pout showed on her lips as if she'd just been asked to do a long, boring task. 

His eyes fell to her lips darkening with lust, he was the one to initiate a kiss, slow and full of desire. An unfamiliar, complaint-like sound left her lungs as he laid her on the bed, trailing the way down to her neck and collarbones.

Usually, Tommy's passionate acts would've ignited her fire, giving her shivers and the overwhelming urge of being close to him. That night wasn't the case, she laid down in silence, watching him lift her dress and massage her thighs in a pathetic attempt to turn her on.

When he removed her underwear and put his head in between her legs, she struggled to keep quiet, regardless of everything his tongue was still skilled, licking circles on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entry.

Soon, she came undone, a tiny smile crawled into Tommy's face, that was a good sign. However, as soon as she closed her legs, pushing herself up into the mattress, far from him, he realized an orgasm wouldn't be enough to win her favor back.

He kissed the exposed part of her thigh and smacked her arse before heading to the bathroom. Tomorrow would be a new day and with some luck, she'd recognise his efforts.

The morning arrived suspiciously quiet in the Shelby household, Tommy sat alone in the large dining room, the table was already set for breakfast but his family was nowhere to be seen.

The scene looked like a joke of poor taste for those close to the family, Thomas Shelby, known for skipping meals, was the first to get on the table. 

He peeked at the clock, frowning as he realized everyone was terribly late, the children would miss some classes and his wife usually didn't stay in bed until late hours.

After two or three cigarettes, the food went cold and he was ready to go search for them. It wasn't necessary when his babies ran through the door and grabbed bread from the table.

"I'm gonna miss three more classes today, daddy," Florence, the youngest, started.

"Mama said she'll call the principal to explain what happened later," Anthony, his firstborn, completed.

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy asked, "And what happened, my boy?" 

"I don't know," he shrugged off.

"She forgot to wake me up," the daughter explained, "the driver will go real fast so I'll get the french class!" 

"That's a rhyme!" Anthony pointed out.

As they giggled to themselves, the worried mother showed up wearing pajamas covered by an expensive robe.

"I told you to go straight to the car!" she scolded.

"We wanted to talk to daddy!" Florence argued.

"Well, I suppose you just did," 

With the mother's final words, the children lowered their heads and walked out, leaving her and Tommy alone.

"Flora said you forgot to wake her up," he commented.

"Tommy, I-" she whined, annoyed by his tone, "I got an important call, alright?" 

"Whose call?" 

"From the institute!" she took the seat beside him, "What the hell was I supposed to say? Call later, I have to get my children ready for school? The maids are here to help with this too!" 

Something was deeply wrong, from her defensive tone to the said institute call at early hours in the morning. As much as it hurted to realize, Tommy knew she was lying to him, he only had to find out why.

"At least we'll have fucking breakfast together," he ironically spat.

"Oh, isn't that great?" she retaliated, filling her mouth with a piece of cake and avoiding looking at him.

The minimum appetite he had earlier was completely gone with the conflict. All he wanted was to have breakfast with his family, mainly with her, so she'd warm up to him again.

Everything went absolutely wrong and as a matter of fact, felt worse than yesterday.

"Look, I just-" Tommy started, "I just wanted to have breakfast with my family after a fucking vendetta ended, can I do that?" 

"I don't know, can you?" pouring herself a cup of tea, she stood up from the table and headed out, "I'll change off these pajamas," 

Watching her leave, Tommy squinted, thinking of what else he could do for her to go back to herself, because that wasn't her, that cold, dismissive woman surely wasn't the one he married. As a last shot, he decided to offer what his kin seemed to like the most about him - his money.

Another day went by and they didn't have much contact. Still, when nighttime came, they were unavoidably reunited in their shared bedroom. With the children in bed, the house was quiet, if it weren't for the lights on, anyone watching from outside would think it was empty.

"Did you speak to the principal?" he asked.

"Did," she sat on the end of bed, putting moisturizer on her arms.

"And?" 

"They'll have some extra homework, he said they're smart children, they'll recover soon," she explained, "and about those months they missed, they'll stay until later hours twice a week," 

"And the institute?" 

"What about it?" she gulped.

"Someone called at fucking sunrise," Tommy questioned, "I imagine it must've be something important," 

"Yeah, hm-" she stuttered, "someone wanted to make an anonymous donation," 

"Oh, there's no registers in the book," 

"Because I haven't made any yet," she argued, "what is it, Tommy?"

"Just curious," 

She scoffed, turning her focus to herself.

"I've got something for you," he continued.

Her eyes slightly widened, it had been a long time since he surprised her, "For me?" 

Opening the wardrobe's drawer, Tommy took a black velvet box, he stood in front of her and revealed a diamond necklace sparkling in its expensive glory.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she quietly asked, "It's not even my birthday," 

"Does a man need a reason to gift his wife?" 

"I suppose," she allowed him to clasp the jewel around her neck.

"Well, what do you think?" 

"It's beautiful," she pouted, "thank you, Tom," 

His shoulders dropped with her carelessness, she not only didn't seem excited, she seemed sad, tense about something he couldn't guess. Caressing her shoulder, he tried to get something out of her, "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," 

"So what's with that face?" his hands traveled from her shoulder to her cheek.

"Nothing, I just had a long day," she removed his hand from her. 

Tommy watched her take the necklace off, get a blanket and make herself comfortable in bed, as if he wasn't even there, as if both he and the diamond were irrelevant. Then she peeked at him, silently asking if he wouldn't lay down.

Turning off the lights, he went back to his office, it wasn't an invitation to lay down with her, she only wanted him to stop demanding her attention. Tommy felt like he ran out of options, there was nothing to do but wait until the situation reached its peak.

Two months went by, time in which they practically lived alone, the others presence didn't add anything, few words were spoken and physical touch seemed forbidden. 

No words could express how much Tommy missed his wife, to have her greeting him when he got home, to hear her excitedly dumping news from the institute on him, to feel her neediness in kisses that were meant to be a simple goodnight peck.

Frustrated and irritable, he decided to go home earlier on a cold Friday evening, he'd never expected the scene that welcomed him home. She happily talked to someone on the phone, laughing like she hadn't for long, realizing he was home, she put the phone down.

"You're early," she greeted.

"Who was that?" Tommy was quick in asking.

"Oh, just a friend of mine," 

"Friend," he nodded, "he must be really fucking funny, right?" 

"Her," she corrected, "and yes, she's really funny," 

"You should invite her over, maybe she can bring some fucking happiness to this house!" 

"What the hell are you talking about, Tommy?" she shrunk her shoulders, intimidated by his loud tone.

"I'm talking about you talking on the fucking phone like everything is alright," he pointed out, "as if you hadn't fucking ignored me for two fucking months!' 

Sucking the air between her teeth, she whimpered, "I'm sorry," 

"What?" he froze, he expected anything from her except tears and an apology.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she cried out, "I just- I didn't know what to do with everything we went through, I didn't know how to deal with it, I didn't know what to tell the children- I-

"Hey, hey-" he interrupted, guiding her into his embrace, "you could've said something," 

"Say what, Tommy? It 's pathetic!" she hid her teary face on his neck.

"I know, love," he soothed, "should've told me earlier" 

"I'm sorry,"

"I know," 

Holding her tightly against him, his most selfish side feasted on their closeness, she went back to him even if she had to fall apart for it.

"Let me make it up to you," she whispered, hands moving to his waist.

"Hm?" 

"I've been such a terrible wife," she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, "and you kept up with me, let me thank you," 

"Thank me, eh?" he teased, "and how would you do that?" 

"However you want me to, sir," 

Tommy gently held her neck, bringing her face closer to his. In this circumstance, he could have her in any way he wanted, she wouldn't argue. Nevertheless, he didn't want roughness, he wasn't even mad at her anymore, all he wanted was to be desired by her.

"Take me upstairs, hm?" she continued, brushing the tip of their noses together.

Three hours later, they laid together in bed, while Tommy stared at the ceiling trying to find out what exactly went wrong, she was in deep slumber. Considering her tone and apologies, he expected some passionate love making or at least something that wasn't her just laying there, uninterested.

Peeking at her, he didn't know what else to do, perhaps he was the one getting mad after all, missing a sort of relationship that only happened in his head. Officially, there was nothing else to do.

The only thing to change in her behavior was from then on, she had her eyes on Tommy all the time, observing, seeming to wait for the perfect moment to something.

After another four long weeks, he learned what she was waiting for. On a warm evening, Tommy took some time away from the business and sat under a tree, enjoying the sun rays on his skin.

"Can we talk?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Arching his eyebrows in surprise, he positively nodded.

"Tommy, I don't know how to tell you this," she hesitantly started, "I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing by telling you this," 

He felt his body tense with her tone, as if it was a bomb about to shell.

"I've been avoiding it for the last months because I thought it'd be temporary, I thought it'd be something that'd end soon and I'd go back to you but- ugh-" she sighed, "There's someone else," 

Tommy's throat burnt, he couldn't even believe his first reaction was the urge to cry. Still, his face remained blank, he looked away from her and frowned, as secondary emotion, rage came in a wave.

"Who is he?" was all he managed to ask.

"It doesn't matter," 

"Yes, it does," he threateningly drawled, "I wanna know who you consider a better fuck than me," 

"It's not about the sex, Tommy," 

"What is it about then? The dresses and jewels I filled your wardrobe with? Or perhaps the driver I picked wasn't of your liking-"

"I'm not going to fight you," she cut him off, "I've said what I had to say and now there's this, he wants me to move with him," 

Tommy gulped, some fucker had been planning to take away his wife right under his nose and he hadn't done anything about it.

"And I think I will but only if I take the children with me," 

"Oh," he scoffed, "and what makes you think I'll allow that?" he challenged, in any other circumstance he would, knowing how much children usually were attached to their mothers but his ego was hurt.

"The judge will decide that," she calmly answered, "he might not let a cheater have them but he certainly wouldn't let a gangster either," 

"...you wouldn't," Tommy argued, perplexed by her coldness. His beloved wife just threatened to snitch on him.

"I don't want to, so don't force me," 

Tense, dangerous silence fell between them, both looked away from each other, without any words left to speak, they could hear the laughs of their children playing in the garden.

Few minutes passed, the longest in Tommy's life, he often had moments like this, in which his life course could be permanently altered in a matter of seconds.

"Don't do it," he started, still not looking at her.

"I'll not if you-" 

"None of it, don't take the children, don't leave me," the second their eyes met, he sensed hesitation on her, so he continued, "don't you love me?" 

"Tom, I-" she softened up.

"Did you ever?"  

"Of course I did, a lot!" she quickly answered, "But if I say I do now I think it'd be a lie," 

"...so lie." 

[bruciemilf]

Hi, I was wondering if you had any baby Batkids headcanons, just all of them being extra clingy and obsessed with their dear dad. 😊

YES!! daily dose of fluff!!

Jason keeps a meticulous collection of poems that remind him of Bruce; Some collected from his favourite books, some he's written himself. They progress from love, to rage, to sadness, to regret, to a final, angry forgiveness, to love again

When Dick moved out, when his body was still clumsy and unfamiliar in his apartment, he spent hours just staring at his contact list.

Just aching for the courage to call Bruce. The little boy in him was begging to go home, and Nightwing kept denying him. But he'd know. it's a family tradition that Bruce always calls first.

Damian was never tickled; He hasn't giggled since he was 6, and Talia couldn't give to him what Ra's never gave to her. He was a blade, and blades don't feel.

When Bruce tickles him for the first time, he thinks its a punishment. His stomach hurts from laughing too much.

Tim's obsessive tendencies go root deep. He's vigilant, keeping a faithful watch on Bruce's every move. That's why he's there for. That's his purpose. He's good at that. He's useful for that. Keeping Gotham safe. It makes up for his invasion in the family.

One time, Jason gets hurt on patrol. Its a stab wound. Standard and measly. Just another scar on top of many. But it's a scar Tim could've prevented.

" I should've warned him. Should've-- saved him, been faster," And Bruce says he did warn him; He did everything right. There's no such thing as a good patrol. " I didn't do it on purpose. Bruce, it wasn't on purpose. Please believe me."

Bruce commands emotion in a way Tim is envious of. You think you see past the mask and he always shows you something different. Tim expects to get yelled at, and scolded, and berated for his sloppiness.

And then Bruce holds him, with an intentional tightness and unyielding tenderness, " Oh, my boy. My poor baby."

Stephanie doesn't get upset when people DON'T assume she and Bruce are father and daughter. Mostly because they're right. They're not. At their best, they're co-workers. At their worst, they're Bruce and Steph.

Fathers are overrated, anywhere.

But just for once, she'd like people to assume. She'd like to be mistaken for Bruce Wayne’s bastard child, or his one night stand, or drunken mistake, like the rest of the boys.

But when Bruce does put a hand on her shoulder, when a creep flirts with her at a Gala, " You're not in my daughter's league. You can't even afford tickets." It does feel good.

Cass and Bruce have particular love languages. Cass is tactile. She needs to touch you, and feel you, even if she doesn't speak. It's a proof of existence. It proves she's not an instrument of danger. Even danger deserves gentle things.

If there's anything true about Bruce, it's his lack of judgement. He asses, weights and critics, sure, but he's never one to judge. "Hey, honeybee. " and Cass loves that she doesn't have to hide. She can exist around him, and he can just hug her, and that's enough.

Cass has a tattoo of the bat symbol on her chest. Blsckbat rarely works with officers, but when she does, there's no pleasure in it. Especially when she has to stop them from putting a bullet through a starving kid's head.

"I gotta ask you; How do you do it? Why do you do it? No one's looking. No one's gonna know."

And Cass, angrily, rips a chunk off her suit to reveal the bat symbol. Gotham's mark of worship, it's unholy saint.

Thought saints aren't saints because they're holy. Saints are saints when they bleed. And they don't know how not to do that.

" This means mercy. This means Life."

[singmyaubade]

Hi!!!!

I love your writing so much and i was just wondering if i could request something with James Potter x reader where her ex boyfriend was really toxic and stuff and was absolutely horrible to her. Maybe she breaks a mug or something and cuts herself and just starts crying coz she thinks James will get mad but it’s just him being all lovely and sweet when he sees her. xx

If not don’t worry!!!

Female!Reader x James Potter

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your kindness. I really liked this prompt, I am sorry if it is not what you intended, but I did my own twist on it. Thank you for requesting :)

Warning: Cursing, Mentions of Abuse.

"So why were you next to him then?" James asked, almost yelling.

You had never seen him so furious at you or even remotely angry.

He had seen you in the library next to John Burrows, a Slytherin he despised. He knew you didn't do anything, but it was the fact that you knew he hated him and still agreed to tutor him.

"James, it's not like that," You said, almost whispering, "My professor asked me to help him, and I didn't want to say no."

That answer didn't seem good enough based on the look he gave you, "But you could've!" He yelled.

"What if someone refused to tutor you based on house rivalry?" You reasoned, still keeping your same volume.

"I would respect it and understand that it might upset you or, just for the sake of myself, not fucking talk to them!" He screamed, moving towards you.

It startled you enough to stumble backward, moving into a desk as the mug dropped, shattering into thousands of sharp pieces.

You cried, "I'm so sorry, James, I didn't mean to," You explained, going immediately to the ground and picking up the sharp pieces. You cut your palm, blood seeping from the scar as you hissed in pain.

"Y/n! What are you doing?" He said, inching towards you.

"Please don't," You flinched, "I'm sorry!"

He stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. He knew he would never ever hit you or even be violent towards you in any way, but did you know that?

James quickly moved towards you as you flinched, "Baby, I'm not going to hit you; I'm sorry if I scared you," He said, surprised you flinched because you never have before.

"It's not," You sobbed, "I won't do it ever again; I'm so sorry, James," You scaredly said, thinking he would punish you as you continued trying to pick up the pieces.

"Baby," He held your face in his palms, "I would never hurt you a day in your life; I don't know what ever could've made you think I would." Hurt and confusion flashed on his face as you felt guilty.

"I know," You sniffled, "My last boyfriend wasn't so kind to me about minor inconveniences."

Suddenly, guilt flashed on his face, "I would never do something like that; I'm so sorry, baby." He kissed your forehead.

He grabbed his wand from his bed in a quick movement, healing the cut on your hand.

You exhaled, "I feel stupid,"

James frowned, "You aren't stupid; I didn't know that you went through that; I wouldn't have been so harsh with my words." He said, "I don't care about a stupid Slytherin rivalry or the fact that you have to tutor someone I don't like; I care about you." He held your hand, massaging your palm.

You gripped his hand back, "I care about you too, and I still should've thought about how you felt," You gave him a smile.

He smiled back, "I promise to communicate, and we will talk about everything that went on in your past, but for now, we can sit here."

You nodded, both laying down on his bed, him stroking your forearm until you fell asleep.

[maximotts]

I'm wondering what would jealous/possessive PH!WandaNat be like? I'm sure WandaNat get hit on all the time, but what about the reader? Say maybe they take reader to a party and another female mob boss is showing an interest in the reader who thinks the lady is just being nice (or do they realize it and like the attention?). Does WandaNat intervene at the party? How do they deal with the reader when they get home?

Okay okay, I have like, one quick set of minutes to get my thoughts down on this and I've been staring at this ask for days so lets see if I can answer this fully rn! Spoiler Alert: I did

Honestly, I'd say since our dear reader is a bartender, she's no stranger to being hit on by others. That behavior settles down more so once Wanda and Natasha make it clear that you're theirs, but that's at work.

Whenever you're working a party, you try to be nice and polite, not wanting to offend anyone especially given the types of clientele that frequent Wanda and Natasha's bar, so even if you're being hit on you brush it off or give a thank you before going back to pouring drinks.

If they've just brought you to a party for fun, that's a whole different story. It'd be hard to get too far away from both of them in the first place, but when you do, there'd certainly be people who want your attention; everyone's curious what kind of girl could've been so appealing to Wanda and Nat who are like, notoriously very closed in their relationship.

And you're not completely oblivious to what's going on, you'd hardly be the most interesting person at the party if it weren't for the women you were associated with, but when curious questions turn to flirting, you get more flustered than anything.

Some people are more bold with it than others, Carol for instance, who's been friends with Nat for decades and has a reputation for wanting things she can't have.

Maybe you've never been great at initiating flirting, but years of bartending meant you'd developed a skill of falling into a natural banter with others. So when Carol offers you a drink, you take it, laugh when she makes comments about your cuteness being why Wanda picked you out, retort that by that logic Wanda and Nat should've asked her out long ago; stuff you see as harmless flirting.... which is all fine and good until your girlfriends catch wind of it.

If Wanda catches you, she'll make a beeline to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind and making a show of kissing your neck, "There you are, little dove. I told you not to run off where I can't find you."

And it sounds sweet, but her voice has an edge and Wanda's eyes never leave Carol's, who really isn't intimidated, she never has been by Wanda, and you know you're in trouble.

On the other hand, if it's Natasha who spies your little flirting, she'll just watch, see how far deep of a hole you dig yourself into, let the rest of the party go by with you thinking nothing of the interaction at all... but the second she puts you in the car, she's whispering in your ear, "I really hope you're not too tired because you're getting a spanking for every time you giggled at our friends flirting with you, every cute little bat of your eyelashes and cheeky lip bite; I saw it all, naughty thing."

The pair of them would decide your full punishment right in front of you on the way home, wedged between your girlfriends as they took turns betting how red your ass would get with which toy, if you'd pass out before they finished, how loudly you'd beg to cum knowing it wouldn't be a possibility that night in the slightest.

You'd learn your lesson about flirting for sure, but that doesn't mean you don't try it sometimes still when you want to piss them off.