#i'm not sure with all the irish accent

[crime-in-progress]

"Forget it, boyo."

i.e. This scene from Titanic, but make it Sebinis.

(With Garreth & Amit.)

[b-rainlet]

Guy on letterboxd: This movie is bad because there were so many foreign (read: mostly french) accents in it and they didn't try their very hardest to suppress something they can't help or ever completely unlearn. One star😔😔

Me: I will hunt you down and I will stab you

[loveindefinitely]

01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.

Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.

You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?

It had left you pissed off to no end, so.

Here you were.

"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.

You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.

"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.

Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.

"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."

Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?

"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.

"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.

There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.

"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."

A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.

You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.

"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"

"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.

"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."

"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.

You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.

There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...

They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.

Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.

Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.

Or.

One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.

Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?

Then, there's a knock on your door.

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.

"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"

You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.

The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.

"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.

A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.

"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.

So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.

You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.

This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.

Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.

Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.

Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.

It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.

It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.

You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.

Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.

You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.

When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.

"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."

"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."

You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.

Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.

"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.

"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.

"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."

You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.

"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.

You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."

There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.

"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.

You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.

Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"

If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.

You softly shake your head.

"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.

Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.

"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.

"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.

You swallow, mouth dry.

"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.

Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"

Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.

Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."

The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"

All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."

He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.

The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.

He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.

"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.

You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.

"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.

His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.

You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.

When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.

"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.

His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.

It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.

He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.

"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.

He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.

When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.

Like kissing the four men he warned you about.

Like doing more, maybe.

...Maybe.

His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"

And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.

"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"

Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.

"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."

The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.

You feel filthy, and you love it.

Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.

He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.

You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.

"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.

"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"

"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.

Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.

Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"

"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.

Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.

"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.

With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.

"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.

It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.

"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.

Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"

You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.

Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."

There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."

With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.

"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.

"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.

Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.

"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.

Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.

"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.

Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.

You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.

"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.

Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.

"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.

Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.

"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.

"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"

Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.

As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.

"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.

Dangerous men.

Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.

He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.

Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"

Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --

"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."

You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.

Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.

"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.

You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.

It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.

Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.

"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."

Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.

You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"

Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.

Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.

It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.

The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.

Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.

If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.

Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.

"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."

"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?

No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.

You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.

Oh. God.

"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."

What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?

Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."

There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.

You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.

The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.

It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."

You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.

His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.

Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.

"Get off me!"

Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.

And those specific words, what --

"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.

Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.

You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.

"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.

But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.

"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.

"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."

"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"

Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.

Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.

There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.

"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.

There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.

First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"

And then...

A bullet.

The sound of a trigger being pulled.

The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.

The sound of a final breath.

Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.

Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.

He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.

And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.

a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah

[cryobabyy]

Cooper Adams x Fem!Reader

Part (1/5)

oops my hand slipped and now I'm writing unhinged fanfiction for an M. Night Shyamalan movie.

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

OR

You work the graveyard shift at a hardware store with extended hours to put you through pre-med. You meet a DILF who is definitely not The Butcher.

Part 1/5

Glib (adjective)

1: Marked by ease and fluency in speaking or writing often to the point of being insincere or deceitful; superficial, smooth, slippery.

Working the graveyard shift at an extended-hour hardware store wasn't your first choice, but the pay was decent, and it was the only option that wouldn't clash with your med school classes. It wasn't so bad after pounding 2 iced coffees and a shot of espresso. Customers were few and far between— mostly construction workers, hotel maintenance guys, and the occasional emergency plumber looking for the perfect thingamajig to help undo the 1 am explosion of some poor soul's toilet. It was quiet enough to study; you only had to sit there and ring up the same crowd of blue-collar night owls until 3 am. 

And then there was him.

The odd one out.

A handsome man, 40's, tall, neat looking, dark brown eyes, with a picture of his kids in his wallet. He was friendly. Aggressively friendly. If he was your neighbor, you would tell your friends about the 6'3 Dilf with 90's heartthrob hair next door. The type to smile and wave if you catch him mowing the lawn when you grab the morning mail.

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

There's a voice in the back of your head that sounds just like him, declaring the stranger to be a 'white picket fence bastard' and a 'smarmy wasp motherfucker’ in his thick Philly accent. If he were still alive, he would tell you to watch out for him– that he was a deep state operative, a gang member, a lizard person, and other paranoid schizophrenic-fueled delusions. Toward the end, when he blocked out the windows with newspaper and craft glue, and covered all the carbon monoxide detectors with tin foil and duct tape, he insisted you should be afraid of everyone. You were only afraid of him. 

Sure, you held your keys between your knuckles when you walked to your car after night classes, and covered your laptop webcam with a sticky note, but you weren't your father.

No one was following you. No one was watching you. No one was preying on you. And the middle-aged man with a picture of his freckle-faced, blonde, blue-eyed children in his wallet was not a serial killer. 

He even told you himself.

"Hell of a lineup, am I right?" He quips, offering a sheepish laugh. "I mean... a staple gun, drain cleaner, and tarp. I won't blame 'ya if you call the cops, but I promise it's not what it looks like."

You look up from the register to find a warm smile and upturned eyebrows– an almost embarrassed expression. An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, the only sound between you two being a 24-hour soft rock radio station crackling through the ancient speakers. The stranger sighs, seemingly aware of his social misstep.

"My wife- I'm building her a Gardening shed. I'm putting up the insulation and drywall this week. And the Drano is for my kitchen sink. Keeps getting clogged. My son is fascinated by the garbage disposal for some odd reason. I don't even want to know what kind of shit he's been pouring down there." He rambles awkwardly. Guilt twists your heartstrings at the mention of the stranger's family. You may have inherited your father's suspicion, but you wouldn't let it control you.

"I've seen weirder." You lie with a smile. The stranger chuckles, broad shoulders relaxing a bit.

"Really? I could always go back and grab some bleach, duct tape, rubber gloves, the works." 

You can't help but laugh at his corny effort to diffuse the tension. It's surprisingly effective.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, sweetheart. I'm sure you meet some weirdos working a night shift like this."

"Not really. Just you…" You trail off, squinting to read the embroidered name on his windbreaker. You notice the emblem right above it– Ardmore Fire Department. He's a firefighter.

"Cooper Adams. " He holds out a hand for you to shake. Your father's paranoia creeps into your mind. You freeze, meeting his dark brown gaze. Dad's gruff voice echoes in your head.

His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

He's plotting something.

Smarmy wasp motherfucker.

White picket fence bastard.

You swallow hard, shake his hand, smile back, and tell him your name– but only your first. You're not your father, but you're not a fucking idiot either.

"See? We're not strangers anymore. "  

"I guess not."

Cooper carts out his selection of items and waves goodbye, receipt caught between his two index fingers.

"Nice meeting you, sweetheart. Oh, and tell them to hire another cashier! You shouldn't be by yourself this late. God knows what kind of trouble is lurking around. Stay Safe!" He smiles again, his voice coated with the candor of a concerned neighbor. This time it reaches the glint of his eyes.

AO3

NEXT CHAPTER

[pixiesfz]

Kyra Cooney Cross x reader

plot: the reader throws an ugly Christmas sweater party for the Arsenal team to say goodbye to the 2023 season

warning: neck kisses, swearing, teasing and idk where this will take me

"Leah Williamson that is not an ugly sweater" you pointed at the blonde "Yeah ya look too good" Jen pointed out "Define ugly" Leah shot back as everyone looked at Kyra who had a thick turtle neck that had a little reindeer physically popping out of her chest.

"hey this is my mums!"

The team laughed as you poured more cocktails that you made, ignoring the photos that Katie was taking "I'm not being in the photo dump Katie" you laughed "fine I'll put it on my story then" she huffed before finding her way to Caitlin who was sitting next to Steph and Kyra.

When Katie arrived with a smirk on her face Caitlin rolled her eyes. "What did you do?" she asked and Katie shrugged "Nothin" she said, her Irish accent thick.

"Where's your mistletoe earrings gone" Caitlin pointed out and Katie looked away "Around" she answered "So that's why you went to go get a cocktail and not come back with one" Steph pointed out and Katie rolled her eyes.

"Sorry if I just want to put a certain two people in the team out of their poor love life mystery and somehow get them under a mistletoe so they can realize they both have feelings for each other" she huffed before pointing her eyes at Kyra who crossed her head.

"She doesn't have feelings for me" Kyra whisper shouted, now blushing that the attention is on her.

"Well just so you know, the mistletoe is in the hallway where the Christmas decorations are" Katie told her before Steph brought up a new topic about Calvin.

You however were sitting with Beth, Jen, and Leah, Viv was also in the room but she was helping make a salad so her concentration was fully on the greens in front of her.

"What are you doing for the holiday y/n/n?" Jen asked as she sipped her drink "I think I'm gonna go see my brother and his family in Australia" you told her as she smiled "oh you should go see Kyra then, she's going back" Beth smiled as Leah and Jen shared a look.

Your heart started beating a little bit faster "Why would I go see Kyra?" you asked

"Cause ya like each other" Viv piped up with a shrug and you turned to her

"Go back to your salad"

"hey!" Beth playfully hit your shoulder with a smile and you all laughed "No but seriously she doesn't like me" you said and Leah perked up "but you like her" she said and you just took a sip out of your cocktail as the three silently cheered.

Viv placed the now-finished salad next to you. "I say do it" she shrugged and you looked at her in shock as she realised her mistake "not do it do it" she panicked before looking down

"I'm never giving advice again" she muttered and walked off, Beth following her with a laugh leaving you with Jen and Leah as you changed the subject "Dinners ready!".

Dinner was yummy and you somehow ended up sitting next to Kyra. "Dinners good" she smiled at you once you finished and you turned to her with a smile "thanks, uhm I hear your going to Australia for holidays" and she nodded "yeah seeing the family" "nice, I'm going to Australia too" you told her.

You swore you saw her eyes light up at the news but you shook it off maybe she was just excited to have a friend in Australia.

You were both facing your body towards each other, blocking everyone else off as you talked. It always felt like that when you two were together, rather it was on the field or in team bonding you always found yourselves together.

"Earth to y/n!" a voice piped up and it was Alessia.

You popped your head up quickly as if you had been caught in the act of something and Alessia laughed "some of us are going now so we'd like to say goodbye.

"Oh yeah sure" You stood up and walked to the door, Kyra silently wished you didn't, she missed the body heat that radiated off you as you talked.

You said goodbye to some girls that were carpooling together, more girls behind them until there was just a small handful of girls left in your house.

"I can't believe nobody has fallen under the mistletoe yet" Katie whined to Caitlin as she rolled her eyes "do you want us to go under the mistletoe?" she laughed and Katie nodded, Kyra rolling her eyes as the two of them walked off.

"What mistletoe?" you perked up behind Kyra as she jumped slightly "Nothing" she quickly said and you laughed sweetly at her blush from being scared "I think Katie is just a little drunk I suppose," Kyra said and Caitlin and Katie came back, now being the last ones left beside Kyra "I think we're gonna head off" Caitlin laughed as Katie still sported the bon bon paper crown "get her to bed" you smiled "or a toilet" Kyra joked and you laughed.

"You two good here?" Caitlin asked, her eyes especially on Kyra

"Yeah ordered an Uber I'll be good" she replied and you nodded, excited that it would just be you and Kyra behind, even if was for a short time as you waited for her ride.

You watched Caitlin help Katie into the car as Katie sent you an exaggerated wink from the passenger seat.

You walked back inside to see Kyra under your Christmas decorations with a nervous demeanor whilst she looked at some of the pictures on the wall.

You joined next to her with a smile. "That's a picture of me and my brother when we were young" "you were such a cute baby" Kyra laughed "I know" you hummed "what happened?" Kyra turned to you and you dropped your moth open "Kyra!" you gasped and turned around before fake stomping away.

Kyra grabbed your wrist before you went too far and pulled you back under the decorations.

Kyra looked up with an expression you couldn't describe before you followed her eyes.

"A mistletoe" you breathed out with a smile as your heart raced. You were under a mistletoe with the girl you liked.

"I'm pretty sure the rules for being under a mistletoe with someone means that you have to kiss them" Kyra hummed as you looked down at her.

Did she want to kiss you?

"Or if you're uncomfortable you don't have to" she rambled on and you moved closer to her.

"I'm comfortable if you're comfortable" you said and she nodded "I'd say I'm pretty comfortable" she smiled before she leaned closer to you, her height being taller.

When your lips met you smiled, you had wanted to kiss her ever since she joined Arsenal and was your partner in her first team bonding exercise, she won you over with her accent in just a few sentances.

And now you were kissing her.

You both detached from one another whilst keeping eye contact, you both wanted this.

You both leaned in again but this time with more lust, you moved around your living room before placing Kyra on the couch and straddling her lap on top of her.

Kyra's hands tried to roam your body but she got frustrated when it was covered by a thick Christmas sweater, she tugged at it as you laughed at her neediness.

leaning back from Kyra you lifted your Christmas sweater and threw it somewhere in the room before attaching your lips once again that you knew were going to be swollen.

You moved your lips down her face as you reached her neck that was covered by the turtle neck she had decided to wear, but instead of taking it off you lifted the fabric down so you could kiss her lower, her neck strained back to give you more room as she lowered her hands to your ass and squeezed it.

"how long till your uber arrives?" you asked quickly as you found yourself growing hotter and hotter for the Australian.

"I never ordered it" she smirked as she attached her lips to you once more.

[ellecdc]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFMbHSqg/

I talk like this and people like to make fun of it because of it

Can I request for marauders to defend me and pampering me afterwards. Please, thanks

okay, first of all: people make fun of you? - what are their names? where do they live? tell them I wanna talk..... secondly: thank you for your quick requests after my post! you're my hero <3

poly!wolfstar x reader who has a distinct accent (reader's gender not specified)

CW: bullying, making fun of someone's dialect/speech, swearing, pet names.

You knew there was a chance that the laughter was not at your expense at all. Perhaps they were actually laughing at what you said, not how you said it. Or, perhaps they hadn't even been listening to you at all. But your throat still constricted painfully when you heard the girls a few seats down the table in the Great Hall from you start laughing after you interjected in your boyfriends' conversation.

The girls had been particularly catty with you before, though you weren't entirely sure why; perhaps it was because you were dating two of the most popular boys in school, perhaps it was because you were different, or perhaps it was because that's just the kind of people they were.

You'd heard them make comments about your accent before, and though it was a bit of an insecurity of yours, you tried to let it slide off of your back.

You just didn't understand what the big deal was - especially considering you were attending school in the United Kingdom for heaven's sake; if you drive 30 minutes in any direction, the accent of that region is going to be different!

People in England speak English with a variation of a British accent; people in North America speak English with a variation of an American accent; people in Ireland speak English with an Irish accent; and people from your mother country speak English with their own accent too!

So why was it you who was teased for your inflection?

"You okay, Y/N?" Peter asked you quietly from his place across from you. He may as well have shouted it, however, as the sound of your name with the company of any concern acted like a siren call for your two boyfriends, both of whom immediately dropped their conversation with Marlene and James to turn to you.

"What is it, dolly?" Sirius asked immediately, noticing the slight shine of your eyes. You tried to smile at him and shake your head; you did not want to make a big deal out of this.

"Dovey," Remus chided as he gently nudged you with his elbow. "What's the matter?"

Your eyes inadvertently flit to the girls down the table before you turned back to your boyfriends and Sirius' eyes darkened.

"Did they say something to you?" He asked gruffly.

"No! No, please, I'm fine." You begged.

The sound of voices mimicking your pronunciation permeated the air as they repeated your words.

"Oi!" Remus called harshly - so completely unlike his usual calm demeanour.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sirius added.

The girls, not showing any signs of shame waved the boys off "oh come on, it was just a joke! Y/N knows that."

"You're right, you are a fucking joke." Sirius spat as he stood from the table and gathered his book bag. "Come on dollface, we're leaving."

Remus stood as well and helped you from your place at the table. Your face was so hot from embarrassment and the blood rushing to your head left a ringing in your ears. As you left the hall, you failed to notice the shouting from James, Marlene and the others in your defence.

The first few tears fell as you were ushered to Gryffindor tower. Neither boy said anything as you walked - Sirius clearly trying to shake off his rage for your benefit, and Remus keeping a steadying hand on the small of your back the whole way there.

By the time you got to the boys dorm, Sirius let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his bag and turned to you as he opened his arms.

"Come 'ere sweets." he called to you, and you immediately fell into his waiting embrace.

Remus followed up behind you and soon, you were in the middle of a Sirius-Remus sandwich as they rubbed soothingly at your sides and peppered kisses on your head.

"You know they're wankers, right?" Remus finally asked.

You snorted at him before nodding against Sirius' chest.

"We love your voice, and your accent, and your jokes. We can't get enough of it, baby." Sirius added.

"Stop." You moaned.

"It's true!" Remus interjected, before Sirius continued.

"Honest, I almost told James to shut his fucking mouth 'cause I couldn't hear my sweet lovie over all of his yapping. You're always on me about being rude, though, so I bit my tongue. You're welcome."

You chuckled at that, and you swore could feel both boys smile above you.

"There you are; I missed that sound." Remus said, punctuated by a kiss to your temple.

"I have some studying to do, but I was wondering if you could read my textbook to me while I took notes?" Sirius asked you. You looked up expecting to see a smirk on his face but were surprised to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a shy smile on his mouth.

"Wait, really?" You asked incredulously.

He huffed a laugh but held strong. "Yes, really! I wasn't kidding; I love the sound of your voice."

"Maybe later you can read my novel to me too?" Remus asked shyly from behind you.

You couldn't help but laugh at the two of them. Whether they were just appeasing you or not, you couldn't help but admit the sound of you reading to them for the rest of the afternoon sounded really nice.

[pnsteblnme]

final(s) week ✿ a.r.

pairing: alessia russo x fem!reader

summary: even though you're insufferable, your girlfriend helps you get through finals week (this one is for everyone who’s getting their asses kicked by their exams cause like same <3 but i’m crossing my fingers for you!!)

warnings: school, swearing, stress?, a bit angsty maybe, very self-indulgent :)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: first of all, i'm very sorry for disappearing from writing for like almost a year 🥹 i had my finals and barely had time to eat, let alone write but i only have one more to go so i hope i’ll get to write more in the future! i also have a few requests in my inbox that i’ll try to work on (sorry that you guys have to wait this long) and lastly, i don’t know anything about studying architecture so idk if the things happening here are even remotely close to the truth 😜

“Fuck!”

A few sets of eyes turned at your exclamation as you bent down to pick up the things you’d knocked over during your side squats. 

Across the room, Alessia watched with a sympathetic look as you shook your head and grumbled in annoyance. She knew that you’d been stressed out because of your upcoming finals and was almost used to seeing you in a bad mood. 

Of course, she understood that majoring in Architecture while pursuing a career as a professional athlete was challenging. What she hadn’t expected was for you to almost crumble in on yourself. 

The closer the deadlines came, the less you smiled. When the team had bonding night, you stayed home and worked on your project. When Alessia came home from said nights (she only went because you insisted she go), you were still working and would continue to until you were on the brink of falling asleep. 

The agitated frown on your face became a constant. With the end of training, you’d hurry home and dash into your study, only coming out to have a rushed dinner with your girlfriend. 

The bags under your eyes turned shades the night sky was jealous of. Every time Alessia tried to coax you into doing something to take your mind off of things, you insisted that you couldn’t waste time that was better spent on your project. 

So, most nights the blonde lay in your shared bed, worried frown etched onto her face as she prayed that you wouldn’t overwork yourself. Reaching out her fingers, she felt like there was more than distance between you.

Sure, she could feel you twisting and turning on the other side of the bed but you weren’t there, at least not really. Your mind has been all over the place, constantly jumping from task to task, and you two hadn’t had a real conversation in weeks. 

A nudge on Alessia’s arm broke her out of her thoughts as Leah raised an eyebrow, “What’s got her knickers in a twist?” 

Letting out a concerned sigh, the striker opened her mouth to answer, eyes still focused on you across the room, when an Irish accent filled the air. 

“Yeah, Less, ye not treating the missus right?” Katie teased as she ruffled Alessia’s hair, who rolled her eyes and shrugged the smaller woman off. 

Finally tearing her gaze away from you, the blonde turned towards the two, “I’m really worried about her,” she breathed out, fiddling with her fingers. 

Leah smacked the back of Katie’s head when she noticed that this was troubling Alessia. “What’s going on?” the blonde questioned in a softer voice.

Sighing Alessia’s eyes travelled back towards you, “It’s finals week in her uni and she’s been working like a dog, day and night, spending every last minute either here or trying to finish her projects. She refuses to believe it but it’s been taking a huge toll on her and I just don’t know how to help.”

Leah and Katie shared a look as they watched the striker’s shoulders drop. They had noticed you gradually pulling away from the team, never joining them on nights out with the excuse of having to do things for school. Initially, everyone believed that you just didn’t fancy the idea of socialising, knowing that you were a rather introverted person. 

“I don’t think there’s much you can do except be there for her and make sure that she takes care of herself. Or take care of her yourself when she doesn’t,” the blonde advised as she placed a gentle hand on Alessia’s shoulder. 

Katie nodded, “Yeah, maybe you can distract her a bit.” She nudged your girlfriend’s side with a wink, adding in a whisper, “If ya know what I mean.”

Alessia rolled her eyes, threw her head back with a groan and stormed off, not before calling out a ‘You’re unbelievable!’ at the two women who were left cackling. 

At the end of the day, everyone found themselves in the changing room, packing their things and getting ready to go home, before meeting at Beth and Viv’s for game night. So, even though all of the girls were exhausted, elated chatter bounced off the walls as the anticipation of an evening full of competitiveness grew. 

You had just finished showering and started throwing your things into your bag when a body collided with your back, arms being wrapped around your neck and legs trapping your waist. Your breath got caught in your throat before you realised that only one person would do this.

“Kyra!” you exclaimed in an agitated tone as your eyebrows furrowed and you tried to pry her off of you. 

The mischievous laughter in your ear only irritated you further, proving to be an obstacle in your plans to get home as soon as possible to be able to work on your projects. “You wanna be partners later? We’ll destroy everyone,” the Australian grinned as she rocked back and forth. 

“I’m not coming,” you huffed out as you still struggled to get her off your back, “Now get off, Kyra!” You loved that girl from the bottom of your heart but your bad mood was starting to worsen with every second that passed and you had to do everything in your power not to snap at her. 

“What?” she asked, slowly sliding down to stand on the ground and turning to face you, “But we’re the Beyond Lunacy Buddies!” the brunette said, holding your shoulders and shaking your body. “And you already missed the last one,” pouted Kyra.

Your knuckles turned white with the way you were clenching your hands, “Not everyone can sit on their ass and play games the whole day,” you scoffed, ripping yourself out of her grip and zipping your bag. You knew it was wrong of you to lash out at her like that but at that moment everything you could think about was how this interaction was wasting time you didn’t have. 

The strict schedule you’d designed barely left you room to breathe and you were determined to follow it down to a T so that you’d get good grades. You didn’t even know why you were so desperate to excel in every task you got, still having your career as a footballer if you didn’t graduate with flying colours. Maybe it was for the slim chance that your parents finally said they were proud of you. Maybe it was to prove your classmates wrong, although they always had something to say, no matter what you did. Maybe it was to prove to yourself that you weren’t a failure. The reason didn’t matter in the end because you were intent on finishing the things you started. 

“Geez, don't be such a gloomy Gus,” Kyra’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you quickly grabbed your things and hurried to your car before you had time to regret your words. 

Worried eyes followed your disappearing form as everyone wondered what happened to your usually kind and bubbly self. 

Slamming the door shut and dropping your bags next to the shoe rack, you grabbed your headphones from the kitchen counter and made your way into your study, closing the door behind you. You turned on noise cancellation and clicked play on your favourite playlist as you began ruffling through all the sheets spread across the desk. 

The ideas for the model house and the concept of the mall had been ready a long time ago but the realisation of those ideas wasn’t as easy. Already having done the foundation of the house and more than half of the drawings for the mall, a good portion of the task was done but that didn’t make it any less draining. 

You didn’t know how many hours had passed as your headphones died and you were finishing one of the last blueprints while you held a wall of the model, waiting for the glue to dry. When your pencil accidentally rolled under the table, you carefully let go of the wall before you leaned down to pick it up. 

After grabbing it, you lean back up. A loud bang fills the air as you bump your head against the table. You rub the back of your head with a wince when the sound of a slight crack follows. 

“No, no, no,” you whisper, quickly sitting up and seeing exactly what you were afraid of. The wall you’d been holding came crashing down. Leaning back a bit to check if anything else was damaged, you noticed that in your hurry to sit up, you’d creased a few blueprints on your desk. 

The pencil you just picked up was flung across the room as your vision blurred. You could hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, your hands started shaking, and your breathing picked up. 

Shaky hands smacked your forehead while tears were making their way down your cheeks. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you grumbled with a trembling voice, each word accompanied by another smack to your head. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you muttered, hands now tangled in your hair in frustration as you felt a sob bubbling up your chest, opening your mouth to gasp for air as it felt like your throat was closing up.  

Gentle hands grabbed your wrists and intertwined with your fingers. “Hey, it’s okay,” whispered Alessia with a soothing voice as she squeezed your hands. 

So absorbed in your frustrations, you hadn’t even noticed that your girlfriend was already home. As soon as you saw her standing next to you though, you felt like you could breathe again. Her mere presence calmed you down drastically. 

You slowly raised your head to look at the blonde and when she saw your tear-stained cheeks, she immediately pulled you up from your chair and into a tight hug. Even more tears trickled down your face as you were engulfed in Alessia’s perfume and the overwhelming warmth that came with her hugs. 

Sobs racked through your whole body and you clenched your fists into the back of the blonde’s t-shirt, hiding your head in her chest. One of the striker’s hands rubbed slow circles onto your back as the other held your head against her and gently scratched your scalp. 

When your sobs calmed down a bit and with your head still buried in the crook of your girlfriend’s neck (because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to string together a coherent sentence if you looked at her), you mumbled with a weak voice, “I- It’s just all too much. I actually thought I could do this, you know. ‘Cause how hard can it be to go to training for a few hours and then build some stupid house and make a few drawings?”

Once the dam broke, the words tumbled from your mouth like an avalanche, “Turns out, if you’re as incompetent as I am, it’s too fucking hard. And I know there are thousands of people out there who have it so much worse than I do so I shouldn’t be whining like this but I just feel like I’m drowning and I don’t know what to do,” you confessed before taking a deep breath. 

You slowly loosened your grip on Alessia’s shirt and started pulling away as you whispered with your head hung, “Sorry, I’m just dumping all of this on you, it’s not that big of a deal.” You took another step back, wiping away your tears and clearing your throat, “So, how was game night?”

Before you could put more distance between you, soft hands grabbed your cheeks and pulled you close again, “Stop invalidating your feelings!” You drowned in ocean-blue eyes as Alessia reassured, “It is a big deal and I want you to dump everything on me so we can work through it together.”

Her thumbs grazed your cheekbones, your heartbeat slowly returning to its normal pace, while the blonde continued, “I know finals week is very stressful but you’re more than capable of doing this. I believe in you and so should you! If you talk to me and let me help you, we can make sure that you’re not neglecting your health and that you’re not biting everyone’s heads off at training while you’re building a Dreamhouse even Barbie dreams about.”

Letting out a quiet laugh, you hesitantly nodded your head, wrapping your arms around her waist as the striker added once more, “And just because other people have it worse, doesn’t mean you’re not having a hard time.”

You let out a sigh as you nuzzled against Alessia again, “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I haven’t been the nicest person or the best girlfriend. It’s just felt like my final week rather than finals week,” you chuckle with an apologetic smile. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll have everything ready in time. You have three more days to finish this, and on two of those we don’t have training, which means that you’re not working any more today!” the blonde grinned, excited now that the time you two spent at home could actually be spent together. 

Seeing Alessia’s smile instantly brought a warm, fuzzy feeling to your stomach as you felt overcome with gratitude. Not only for the fact that she stayed with you and supported you but also for the fact that she tried to understand you. 

“God, what would I do without you?” you question, squishing the blonde’s cheeks in your hands as you pressed a feather-light kiss to her nose, forgetting about your deadlines for the first time in what felt like months. “But seriously, thank you for putting up with me even if I’ve been a ‘gloomy Gus’ as Kyra would say.”

“Of course, love,” Alessia answered with a gentle peck, “You don’t need to thank me. But you should apologise to Kyra. While I quite enjoyed a night without her pestering, she seemed very sad.”

You grimaced as you let your head fall against the taller woman’s shoulder and sighed, “I’ll go call her.” Staying in Alessia’s embrace for a moment longer, you reluctantly pulled away from her warmth and started walking to the bedroom. 

“Y/N.”

Before you could make it out of the study, your girlfriend’s voice stopped you. 

Turning around, you were met with Alessia smiling lovingly at you, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“I’m proud of you.”

Hearing those words brought new tears to your eyes as you rushed back into the room and tackled the striker in a bear hug. The quiet groan she let out when your body crashed into hers was lost on your ears when you continuously whispered ‘I love you’ while suffocating her with kisses. 

Not even when you graduated top of your class had your parents told you they were proud of you. Not even when you and your team won the Olympics that same year. But you didn’t care anymore because you had a clumsy blonde who’d tell you every day. 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚎 || Stanley Pines ll

Also called the seal people, the sea people or the mermaid – a selkie is a marine legend that tells of people who are half fish, and half-human. In the water, they are seals, but on land, they shed their skin and take on human form. And for some reason, they are irresistible to ordinary humans, who are apt to fall in love with the seal people

A/n: I am not happy with this

Stan couldn't help but roll his eyes as he tried to zone out on whatever Ford was blabbing about, docked in some small town in Ireland his brother received some tip that a creature was lingering here. One that Ford has never seen.

A Selkie

He really didn't care, as long as had an actual bed to sleep in he was happy.

....but did it have to be in some tiny ass town that wasn't even on the map, leaning into his hand an irritated sigh left his lips he didn't even notice you approach him.

"Top your beer off?"

Stan had to do a double take, he couldn't tare his gaze away. You looked like you stepped out of a painting. From that radiant smile, to how your eyes seemed to shine even in this dimly lit tavern.

Though the one thing he did notice was how you did not fit in here at all. Maybe it was you lacked the Irish accent or it could have been you looked nothing like the patrons you served. A scowl then formed on his lips.

'Idiot...you could be from anywhere...and decided to just move here.'

"Uh...sure..." Stan cleared out his throat, it was like all of his confidence was sucked from him. "Thanks."

"You're not from around here are you?" You teased leaning across the bar top.

Swallowing thickly, Stan let his eyes dart to your cleavage then quickly looked up as his cheeks flushed for a moment. "Uh.."

Humming, you smiled sitting up dusting off your apron. "You're cute."

It was strange, to be able to find a connection with a man after one that stole your hide. He was charming, he made you laugh. It was a strange feeling, while you longed to go home part of you longed to stay with him.

"So you're what...a Selki? My brother is lookin for one."

Tensing, you frowned letting your feet skim the waters. "Are you going to tell him about me?"

"Nah...I'm enjoying this too much....besides the longer he keep's searchin the longer I keep talkin to you." Stan gave you a smile as you glanced away for a moment your own smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you Stanley." You muttered as you let your head rest against his shoulder.

Cheeks turning pink, Stan gave you a smile as he gave your side a squeeze. "Ah shucks, you don't gotta thank me dollface."

"You're getting awfully close to the barmaid." Ford glanced at his brother as he jotted something down in the new journal.

Tensing, Stan scowled as he stubbed out the cigar as he turned away from Ford. "Why don't you worry about that creature you're lookin for...I got shit do."

Shrugging on a black coat, he started to walk off the dock only to pause hearing his brother.

"We're leaving tomorrow Stanley so try not to get drunk."

'Tomorrow?' Stanley swore under his breath as he quickly rushed off into the night. He didn't think they'd be leaving so soon, not when he was just starting to fall for you. Sure it may have been a month but Ford usually stayed longer.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the house looming in front of him. He knew that bastards schedule by now and where you'd be. Cracking his neck he stepped towards the door.

"One last house Stanley...then you're done."

"Stanley! Stan!" Chest heaving, you rushed towards the man as he stood at the end of the dock, he was holding something behind his back as you did your best to catch your breath. "You're leaving...weren't you."

"I was gonna...I swear...I just had to give you something. Away from those guys." Stan cleared out his throat. "Here."

Eyes going wide, tears swelled as you clutched your coat to your chest. "How did you."

"A good con artist doesn't relieve his secrets" Stan gave you a wink.

Holding the cloak, you stood on your toes placing a kiss to the corner of his lips. Waking towards the dock you slipped the fur around your shoulders only to hesitate as you looked back at the man, your heart aching. You never meant to fall in love.

"Ah go ahead doll face....I'll be fine." Stan cleared out his throat as he watched you vanish in the water. A seal poking its head up for a moment only to dice back down.

"You alright Stanley?" Ford stepped up beside him as he looked at his brother.

Rubbing his eyes, Stan cleared out his throat nodding his head. "Ya I'm fine..let's get going."

Frowning, Ford tipped his head then sighed as he followed Stan. "Right."

Hours passed as Stan kept his gaze on the waters, hoping to at least get a glimpse of you though he couldn't help but snort at Ford's rambles on missing his chances on speaking with an actual Selki, he had half a mind to tell Ford he not only talked with one but also slept with one too.

But he couldn't...not when you meant so much to him.

"Uh Stanley?! Can you come here for a moment?"

Hearing his brother's panicked voice, Stan rolled his eyes as he walked towards the back of the ship only to see Ford pointing some gun at....was that a seal?!

"Whoa!? What the hell are you doin?" Jumping in front of the barking seal, he pushed the gun away as Ford let out a scoff.

"Do you-"

"Please tell him to put the gun down?" Your voice muttered as you peered out over Stan's shoulders glaring at Ford.

"You..."

Turning around, in where the seal once was stood a very naked you. A pout on your lips though Stan had to shake his head as he quickly shrugged his coat off wrapping it around your body. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be?"

Shaking your head, you gave him a smile placing your hand on his cheek. "I tried Stanley but it's lonely...I want to be with you...if you'll have me." You whispered as your head rested on his chest.

Holding you close, Stan kissed your head then smiled as he cupped your cheeks. "Doll face, if I ever say no just toss me over the side of the ship."

"While all of this is well and good...can someone explain to me why there is a naked woman on the ship?"

Glancing up at Stan, you then turned the attention to Ford. "I'm Y/n....and I am the Selki you've been looking for."

Grasping your hand, Ford gave you a smile only to give his brother a glare. "It's nice to formally meet you, we'll talk about this later Stan-...where are you going...I AM NOT SLEEPING ON THE DECK TONIGHT?! STANLEY?"

Your laughter followed by the sound of the door slamming shut was his only response.

[trulyhblue]

Communication

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Dutch! Reader Blurb

Warnings: fluff, REALLY bad translated Dutch, language barrier.

Masterlist

___________________

Moving from your childhood club AFC Ajax was the hardest change of your life, but the easiest choice of your career.

You signed your first professional contract with them when you were fifteen, making your club debut in the same year. After six months of fitting into the squad, and having the opportunity to play in the Champions League as a substitute, you were asked to play for your first international camp against New Zealand, where you came away with a 2-1 win. From then, you have continued to be chosen for the National Team’s 23-player squad, continuously representing them as both a starter and a sub.

You were known for your agility, speed, and footwork, both on the ball and against both attacking and defending players. Being a midfielder, your job to maintain possession and create chances felt like a breeze to you, and your pure, sheer talent landed you with many of the most assists for the past three years.

Despite the friends you made at Ajax, you knew that opportunities to strengthen your player profile and widen your skills across the world were a dream of yours. You were a huge fan of Arsenal growing up, your parents taking you to games when they could.

When the opportunity arose to represent your country at the 2023 Women’s World Cup, you don't remember doing anything but crying for the days following your selection. You played your heart out that whole tournament. And while you didn't make it to the Semis, you walked away with a once-in-a-lifetime experience, with clubs worldwide wanting you as a part of their team.

Moving to Arsenal was a no-brainer. Not only were you a massive fan of the name itself, but they were among the best players in the world. You knew Victoria and Viv from the Oranje Leeuwinnens, and you had been told that you’d move in with Vic for the first couple of months upon your arrival, so the weight of the move felt lighter than many anticipated. You were roommates with Vic during Camps. But, in contrast to your Netherlands teammates, you didn't know an inch of English.

Well, other than the obvious words like Hello, Good Morning, and Goodbye, you were hopeless.

So, when you arrived on your first day of training alongside Victoria, you couldn't help but cringe at what was about to unfold.

“Ze weten dat je geen Engels spreekt, y/n.” They know you don't speak English. She spoke, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into her chest. “Ze zijn allemaal erg aardig.” They are all very nice.

You didn't reply, choosing to keep your arm around Victoria’s waist, your eyes filtering over each of the girls.

“Ah, hier is ze!” Ah, here she is. Viv said, walking out from beside Beth Mead, jogging towards you, eloping you into a crushing hug.

“Ik heb je gemist, y/n, hoe gaat het met je?” I’ve missed you, y/n. How have you been? She asked, holding onto your shoulders as she kissed the top of your head. The London chill meant that you were wearing a black long-sleeve under your shirt, its hem being detained in your hands. The chill of the air nipped your cheeks. The Netherlands were cold, but so was London.

“Hetzelfde. Ik ben goed.” Same. I'm good. You let out meekly, noticing a bouncy Beth Mead waddle over to the three of you, holding her hand out for you to shake. You had played against Beth before, and of course, you knew her from Viv, so you made sure to look her in the eye when you shook her hand.

“Hi!” She sounded cheerfully, keeping a ball at her feet. “I’m Beth!”

“Y/n.” You replied, trying to reciprocate her delight with a small smile. “I'm Y/n.”

Your eyes widened slightly when a ball came flying at the four of you, causing you all to yelp out and duck before it hit anyone. Everyone looked in the direction the ball had come from, a strong, Irish and Australian accent on cue to yell out.

“Sorry!” The duo cringed, running over to retrieve the ball with a grimace.

“Katie kicked it.” The Australian one said, but you didn't understand. You saw the pained expression on her face, and how the Irish woman, who you knew as Katie, glared at her in shock.

“It was a joint effort, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, fuck off, no it wasn't—”

“Ze vechten.” They’re fighting. Victoria muttered to you, making you laugh.

“Ik dacht.” I figured.

The two girls were silenced after another woman came marching up to the growing group, looking at you with a stern expression before softening the crease between her eyebrows. You knew she was Kim Little by her motherly stare.

Next to her was Jennifer Beattie, an Arsenal Defender. She had her arms crossed around her chest, shaking her head in false disapproval before strolling over to you, calling out to Jonas, whom you had met when you discussed your contract.

You felt like crawling into a hole and dying, the whole occasion of being introduced to everyone made your skin crawl. Of course, no one necessarily made you feel out of place, but you refused to let Victoria’s arm go throughout the whole ordeal. You knew most of the players due to their prominence in women’s football. Most of these women set the scene for how the sport is seen today, and the mere thought of them knowing who you were was surreal.

The two girls that were arguing before, Caitlin Foord and Katie McCabe were the first to come up to you. Victoria told you they were sorry, and you shook your head and brushed the apology off, not really knowing how to say the right words in English.

Steph Catley and Leah Williamson came up to you next, saying very few yet simple words before hugging you and wishing you luck. Alessia Russo was next, and you couldn't help but giggle as her cheeks went red as she started to speak.

“Erm— sorry, hold on.” The striker looked at Pelova, who prodded her on with her hands. Russo looked back at you, trying hard to remember what she wanted to say.

“Leuk… Leuk je te ontmoeten. Erm- sorry. Ik hoop… Ik hoop dat je geniet… van… Londen.” It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy London. You knew from her strained expression that she was well aware of how much she butchered the language with her English accent, but you pursed your lips together and smiled gratefully. The thought was genuine.

“Thank you.” You muttered, your slim vocabulary in English coming in handy. “It’s… nice to meet you, too.”

Alessia looked to be most accomplished with herself, asking Victoria a question before she was cut off by Jonas’ booming voice.

You waited, trying your hardest to latch onto an idea of what he was saying, but gave up when you felt someone behind you pulling you away from Vic’s side, leading towards the other end of the pitch.

When you faced the girl in front of you, she must've realised that she had startled you, since her eyes widened at your expression.

She was short, but your height, with a scrunchie in her hair and a training jumper over her Jersey. You couldn't count the hundreds of freckles that patterned her face, her doe-like Brown eyes looking at you with a mix of shock and awe.

“Hello, my name’s Kyra. Steph told me your name is Y/n… Jonas said that we are partners, so you can start if you want.”

You didn't say anything. You wish you could, but the words that left her lips were foreign. You felt a flush run across your face, humiliation at your lack of words hitching your breath. You must've looked so stupid since the girl waited for you to reply. Everyone was set off into pairs, a ball adorned between each of them.

The girl in front of you had the ball, picking it up and fidgeting with it in her hands. You stared at each other in silence, neither of you particularly knowing what to do. It wasn't until the girl put the ball to her feet, kicking it towards you, that you communicated in some way.

Instead of talking, the girl showed you the drills, pretending to be Jonas by overexaggerating her actions by marching around, waving her hands vigorously, and using the ball to make you laugh at her ridiculous impression of your Manager.

Her number was thirty-two, yours was thirty-three, and somehow it made you feel more of a connection with her. She was very patient if you didn't understand what you were doing the first time around, and you began to wonder if number thirty-two was trying hard not to talk just for the fun of it.

She never made you feel as if you were annoying her with the lack of audible contact, in fact, she looked to find it a fun game between the pair of you.

No one chose to interrupt or try and sever the consecutive numbers, finding Kyra’s unusual silence amicable in contrast to her typical outgoing self. Both Viv and Vic were eyeing you from where they stood with their respective partners, hesitant about the choice of Kyra as your partner, as you two were very different personalities. But after a while, the two Dutch women stopped looking to see if you were okay, hearing your faint giggles from the view of a giddy Kyra enough to reassure them.

Because of this, training went by quickly for everyone. Today was a pretty easy session, similar to the ones you knew from back home. You knew you were wrapping up when Kyra started juggling the ball, singing a loud tune before passing it over to you.

You moved your feet up and down as you juggled the ball from one foot to the other. Kyra giggled when she missed the ball you passed to her, tripping over her own feet and rolling around on the floor, clutching her stomach in laughter. You did this for a while, before Kyra dragged you across the field and to the stack of drink bottles.

You didn't really know where you were going, so you let Kyra take your hand and lead the way, walking behind her as you passed the bike rack and towards the indoor fields.

You didn't begin to doubt Kyra until you had pretty much walked the length of the training centre, where you had long discarded the fields you were once training on.

“Kyra.” You ushered, making the Australian stop in her tracks at the sound of your voice. She pivoted on her heel, staring at you absolutely gobsmacked.

You looked around, trying to find the words to get across what you wanted to say.

“Say it in Dutch,” Kyra answered, catching a glimpse of your reticence.

You thought to yourself for a second before nodding. “Waar gaan we heen?”

Kyra’s eyes widened, obviously not comprehending a word you said. She looked around, trying to find a solution.

She grabbed your hand again and led you down another corridor, pushing past a few doors, weaving through the never-ending maze of rooms before finally making your way back to the locker rooms, where Vic had taken you to drop off your possessions before training.

Kyra rushed to pick up her phone, waddling over to you, typing away vigorously and smiling up at you when a voice rang from the device.

“Ik kom uit Australië.” I'm from Australia. The voice spoke.

You laughed, taking the phone from the girl’s hands and writing down a reply.

“I know. I can tell by your funny accent.”

Kyra gasped, snatching the phone off you and furiously writing down a retort. You couldn't help but gape at her fondly, biting your lip at the sight of her concentration.

“Mijn accent is niet grappig, mijn grappen wel.” My accent is not funny, my jokes are. The phone sounded.

Before you could type out your own reply, Kyra went back to typing, but instead of letting the audio play, she squinted down at the translated sentence.

“Ik zou je… veel grappen kunnen… vertellen, weet je? Zou je ze graag… willen… horen?” I could tell you heaps of jokes, you know? Would you like to hear them?

For some reason, the Dutch that left the Australian’s lips left you gushing, nodding your head up and down as you grabbed her phone.

When you translated the sentence you had written down, looking down at the words in utter confusion, you sighed. Kyra was definitely no expert in your language, but you were just downright pathetic in hers.

She must've noticed your dismay since she looked over your shoulder, pointing at the first word. “Yes… but do you… have time... to tell… them all?”

She waited for you to sound out each word, humming and nodding in recognition when you repeated the sounds.

She smiled at you, taking her phone. You waited for the audio to play back to you. Kyra’s smirk only grew when she handed her phone back to you, the Contact App up on her phone — your name typed in and phone number blank.

You laughed, and she did too.

You could get use to this communication.

(just pretend it's you)

arsenalwfc : Cooney-Cross showing Y/L/N the ropes before our big clash on Sunday!

Comments:

kyracooneyx — best partner‼️ Laten we gaan gunners (let's go)

^ yourusername — 💗💗

^ user2 — THE DUTCH 😭😭😭

^ user3 — sleeping on the highway tonight, they're so cute 💔

User7 — the eyes chica 😍😍

katie_mccabe11 — quietest training session yet LOVE YOU Y/N

^ kyracooneyx — um rude 😡

vivannemiedema — Where did you two go after training?!

^ kyracooneyx — um, home? 🥰

^ victoriapelova — HAHAHAHA

kimlittle10 — welcome Y/N ❤️

^ yourusername — 💗

User1 — the duo we never knew we needed 🙌🏼🙌🏼

*liked by kyracooneyx

bethmead_ — happy to have you here Y/n!!!!

^ yourusername — Thank you ❤️

^ kyracooneyx — what about me?

^ caitlinfoord — what about you? 🤣

^ user4 — HAVSJDVSJSHSJS I'm dying

User5 — Y/n doesn't speak English, how did they even talk? Lol

^ user6 — Viv and Vic are there. I'm sure she was fine.

User7 — she's not even that good, at this point they're just getting anyone.

^ kyracooneyx — womp womp

* liked by yourusername

_____________

Number Thirty-Three 💗

You : what does ‘womp womp’ mean?

Ky : Niets, net als het. Xx Nothing, just like it. Xx

__________

[reminiscingtonight]

Hoodie ;)

I've already done a blurb for this but I actually loved it so much so I thought why not do another one

Hoodie Blurb II:

It was a fool proof plan.

There's this one particular hoodie of hers that you've taken a liking to. It's one of Leah's original pieces of clothing that she got when she first signed for Arsenal all those years ago. So it's sentimental to her in a way.

So for course you wanted it for yourself.

No matter how many times Leah takes it back, not matter how deep on her side of the dresser she hides the worn-down, ratty looking thing, it somehow always ends up back in your possession.

So Leah rolls with it.

It comes to her as a late-night thought. As she's watching your peaceful form sleeping so soundly next to her Leah knows she wants you to be hers. For good.

You're off having lunch with Steph when she does it. Having just done the laundry, it's one of the rare times you've left the hoodie to Leah's care. So slipping the tiny box into the front pocket, Leah carefully folds the hoodie back up, making sure to take extra care to plop it closer to your half of the drawer when putting it away.

When she grabs a pair of socks the next day, Leah's happy to see the piece of clothing gone.

Now all she has to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It isn't until the third day has passed and you still haven't said anything about her engagement ring that Leah musters up the courage to say something.

"Babe, have you seen my favorite hoodie?"

"Nope." you pop the 'p,' not even glancing away from the television. But the smile playing on your lips tells Leah you know exactly where it is.

"Well I'm cold. Do you mind finding it for me?"

If anything, you seem to relax into the couch some more, propping your hands up behind your head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks."

Leah narrows her eyes at the pet name. "Muffin-buns, why not?"

At that, you look up, not able to keep a straight face at her choice of words. "'Muffin-buns'?"

"Would you prefer 'honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'?"

It's quiet as you stare at Leah. Leah does nothing but stare right back.

The silence only lasts three seconds before you're both howling, laughing at the ridiculous pet name.

Clutching her stomach, Leah's wiping away her tears when you shove hard at her shoulder.

"'Honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'? Baby, why?"

Leah muffles her snort into your hairline as you snuggle into her side, scoffing under your breath about how much you hate her. Here Leah only feels her love for you grow. This is the type of afternoons she wants to have for the rest of her life. Wrapped up around you, swapping jokes and laughter. Leah's heart beats for you and only you and she wants you to know it.

Before Leah can bring up her hoodie again however, you beat her to the punch.

And she instantly feels the ice settle in her veins.

"Katie was shivering after practice today so I let her borrow it. She said she'd return it tomorrow though!"

.

You've long passed out on the couch, the tiredness of today's training catching up to you. Slipping away into the guest bedroom, Leah closes the door shut before pulling out her phone.

To her relief, Katie's contact picture lights up the screen before she has a chance to press call herself.

"Katie--" Leah starts... Only to be interrupted by a loud, angered Irish accent.

"Mate! Of all of the places in the world, why would you hide your goddamn ring in your stupid little hoodie?! Caitlin nearly passed out thinking I was going to propose when I pulled it out! And then she cussed me out when I told her it wasn't mine!"

Leah cringes. "In my defense, (Y/N) was not supposed to loan you out the hoodie."

There's a slight pause on the other side of the phone. And then a sharp sigh. "Please don't tell me this was you plan for proposing to (Y/N)."

Leah bites her lip. "Okay, I won't."

"Leah!"

Send me a fic title

[emptymasks]

i got to see hadestown on the west end and all i have to say is AAAA. i liked the original broadway cast so much i didn't think anything else could compare to me, but omg they were all amazing and maybe it's a bias from seeing it live vs seeing broadway through recordings, but i actually enjoyed them so much more. i think what helped is i felt a lot more for donal's orpheus, whereas reeve's never managed to really put at my heartstrings.

okayokay what i have to list out loved (going to try and go through the show chronologically):

la barrie's hermes using no titles and they/them pronouns. the lyrics were changed to reflect this eg "excuse me, hermes" instead of "mister hermes" at the beginning of 'wait for me', and "feathers on their feet" instead of "feathers on his feet" in 'road to hell'.

the cast keeping their own accents. it's not often in uk theatre to hear british regional accents, even if the actor has or had that accent. so hearing a nothern accent from eurydice was aaaa. as a northerner it made me really happy. i'm not sure if that's grace's real accent or not but aa it just made .

donál keeping his irish accent too. and the chemistry between his orpheus and grace's eurydice was adorable.

hermes slowly kissing persephone hand during 'our lady of the underground'.

PERSEPHONE didn't think I could love anyone more than grey but omg. i've never loved "our lady of the underground" but I do now, the way gloria performed it and this one long belting note she did while bending over crazy far backwards aaa. and at one point while dancing she acted like she'd gone too hard and pulled her back and got stuck, but then very smoothly went into leaning down towards the audience and singing directly at people in the front rows.

wasn't 100% sold on hades at first since his voice isn't as deep as what I'm used too (used to listening to page as hades), but after "i conduct the electric city" and the lights went out and when they came back on there was a single silly spotlight on hades was stood leaning against the door checking his nails all sultry like. his acting was so different from what I'm used too, more energetic and more... playful? i'm not sure if that's the right word but i can't think of anything else. and less cold and stern than page but I ended up really enjoying him. i've got two very different versions of hades i love now.

new lyrics in epic three, "what has become of the heart of that man" has been replaced with new lyrics. i think "man with his arms outreached" has reverted back to pre-broadway "man with his hat in his hands" but i'll be honest me memory of what the new lyrics are is not great.

i cried when hades and persephone danced. both of them were crying. and when they finished dancing he sobbed and crumpled into her arms and she stroked his head and back and held him the whole time orpheus and eurydice sang "promises"

hades breaking it down during the dance, doing silly dance moves and making persphone laugh, and then she joins in and does his silly dance moves with him 10/10 people supporting their partners silly dance moves.

hades "i don't know" answer to if orpheus and eurydice can go... i'm used to patrick page's grave, defeated "i don't know" and here instead you could really see the inner conflict and he was holding hands with persephone and when he said it she angrily let go of his hand and he had his little "his kiss the riot" freak out.

orpheus and hades handshake during the wait for me reprise aaaa

[queer-cosette]

Sure Les Misérables is a great tragedy and call to action and the story of desperation but I'm watching the 2012 movie for the billionth time and the entire Barricade Building scene is so funny. Marius fully steals a fucking horse. There's a random cow wandering around. "Get off your arse, it's begun!" "[audible Irish accent] We need as much furniture as you can throw down!" Grantaire kissing Madame Hucheloup for the sole purpose of stealing her chair. Javert helping build the barricade and visibly screaming internally at all this lawbreaking. I can say the words "best quality: his wiggles" and catapult every Les Mis tumblr veteran straight back to circa 2016. Comedy.

[reystenius-01]

Champagne Scenes

You had done it.

Arsenal had done it.

Your best friend, your confidante, your partner-in-crime, and arguably your everything had done it; scored the winning goal, no less. 

You and your team had won the Conti Cup, for the second time in a row.

It had been a really tough and physical match, and had only gotten even tougher mentally after seeing your Arsenal teammate go down suddenly as the extra-time of normal time trickled away. You and Stina had been right by Frida when she had gone down, and though team mentality had wavered throughout extra-time, Stina’s determination had only burned brighter, leading to her goal in the 116th minute.

The final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted into cheers and yells from your teammates. But for you, it was a moment of overwhelming emotion. As the tears welled up in your eyes, you fell to your knees, the weight of the match, Frida's collapse, and Stina's heroics crashing down on you all at once.

Stina immediately rushed to your side, concern etched on her face. “Hey, hey, what's wrong?” she asked, crouching down beside you and enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

You buried your face in Stina's shoulder, the weight of the match and Frida's condition crashing down on you. “I'm just... I'm so relieved we won, but seeing Frida like that…” Your voice cracked with emotion, and you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Stina held you tighter, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know, kärlek,” she murmured softly. “It was… terrifying, but she's going to be okay. We'll make sure of it.”

The rest of the team gathered around you, offering words of encouragement and support. “We did it, girls!” one of your teammates exclaimed. You could make out an Irish accent somewhere in there.

After a few moments, you managed to compose yourself enough to stand up with Stina's help. She kept a reassuring arm around your waist as you made your way over to Frida, who was surrounded by the medical team.

“Frida, are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling with worry as you placed a tender hand on her shoulder.

Frida managed a weak smile. “I'll be okay,” she reassured you, though her voice was strained. “Just need some rest.” She put her gloved hand on top of yours. “Go celebrate, I’ll be fine. One of the med staff’s getting my phone, so hopefully I can get talking to Emma soon. Let her know I’m alright.”

You nodded, still teary-eyed, and leaned in for a loose hug, which Frida returned before talking to Stina as you waited by the medical room’s door. 

Stina squeezed your hand, a smile tugging at her lips. “Let's go celebrate with the team,” she suggested, guiding you back towards the pitch.

As you rejoined the rest of the team, the atmosphere was electric with joy and excitement. The trophy presentation was a blur of cheers, applause, and the glint of silver as the cup was hoisted into the air. You stood shoulder to shoulder with Stina, your heart swelling with pride as the trophy was handed to your captain.

Once the formalities were over, the team gathered in a circle, arms linked, as the fans in the stadium erupted into the tune of “The Angel - North London Forever.” The sound was deafening, but amidst the noise, you could hear the voices of your teammates singing along.

Stina caught your eye, a playful glint in hers. “Come on, let's join in,” she said, pulling you closer.

You laughed and joined in, singing at the top of your lungs alongside Stina and the rest of the team, joint at the shoulder, swaying to the music. The moment felt surreal, a culmination of all the hard work, dedication, and camaraderie that had brought you to this point.

As the pair of you had finished interacting with fans, now heading down the tunnel towards the locker room, Stina leaned in close to you, her voice barely above a whisper. “I'm so proud of you,” she said, her eyes shining with love and admiration.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes once again, but this time they were tears of joy. You leaned in to press a soft kiss to Stina's lips, “Thank you.”

Stina smiled against your mouth, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. “No, thank you,” she replied, her voice filled with love and pride. “For being you.”

“Thank you for being you, too!” You chuckled lightly. “You won us the game with that goal. Our Stina ballerina, the matchwinner.” Stina playfully rolled her eyes at the nickname bestowed upon her by the fans, her hand reaching for your medal, gently fidgeting with it. Your eyes met hers, and the pair of you (almost comically) glanced around the tunnel. 

“I’m sure we can find a storage closet–” “Or we can wait till we get home.” “Can you?” “Can you?”

--------- first little fic <3 [need a lay down after today, UTA!]

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob

mafia!Remus Lupin x fem!reader | 3200 words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: mentions of spiked drink (no one drinks it), reference to past spiked drinks, complaining about misogyny, bad reputation of American tourists in the UK (I'm sorry!)

The short of it was: it had been a long day.

The long of it though, by God, was that you really, really needed a drink.

You got to your favourite pub which was only a brisk 7-minute walk from the university; a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub which probably had several thousand identical pubs lined across the UK but that didn’t matter, dammit, because this one was special – this one was yours. You chuckled at the irony that you had moved half-way across the world to England only to sit yourself in an Irish chain pub that you’d likely be able to find back home a mere 6000 kilometers away.

You relished the feel of the warm air hitting your rosy cheeks after marching your ass down to the pub in the biting wind in naught but a long coat and a scarf. The warm air stung but in all the best ways as you shucked off your outer-layers and plopped down on a stool by the bar, unawares of anyone else within your vicinity other than the bartender promised to serve you your drinks.

“Alright there, Lass? What can I get for ye?” The fellow asked and you could have kissed him right then and there.

“Can I have a negroni and your tallest pint please.” You asked, hoping the desperation in your voice wasn’t noticeable – the fact that the bartender didn’t comment on the odd combination of drinks let you know that is was noticeable. No matter – you were desperate, what did you care?

Turns out you should have cared more.

“I’m sorry but I must tell you, that is an awful combination of drinks.” A lilting voice came from your left side. You groaned audibly and held your hands up to your temples like blinders to avoid even looking at the voice who dared to speak to you after such a day.

“S’pose its good nobody asked you then.” You muttered darkly. You didn’t make a habit of speaking to people this way often – people already spent enough of your time in the UK mistaking you for an American on account of your accent anyway, you needn’t add fuel to the fire by adding to an already bad reputation.

“Please tell me that you’re ordering for a friend. You’ve surely just ordered for someone who’s meeting you here?”

You knew better – you really did. You don’t let strange men in bars know that you’re alone; make them believe someone could show up to save you at any minute. But dammit, you’ve been fending off jackasses all day – what’s one more?

“Apparently, I live to disappoint men, sir, so no – both drinks are for me. Is that quite alright with you? I didn’t realize I had to pass this decision by the board.” You spat, finally turning your what you were sure was a burning gaze to this mystery guy on a stool to your left.

You hesitated in your ire for a moment: the man was quite a bit larger than you had pictured in your mind – not large in a particularly broad way but the man seemed to be excruciatingly tall; he sat basically spilling off his stool, while still managing to look elegant in doing so. He was dressed sharply but not in a way that made him stand out – respectable but forgettable, he blended into this bar well. Or he would if he hadn’t been so fucking handsome.

He had warm, honey-coloured curls that seemed to artfully fall in front of his face, and eyes to match. You’d never seen amber coloured eyes before, but you couldn’t seem to pull your gaze away from them. You did – by god you did – because the rest of the man was too enticing not too. He had a chunk missing out of his left eyebrow which was arched mischievously at what you assumed was your attitude with him, and his crooked smirk matched. He had a few scars littering his face – most were small, but there was one large one that crossed the bridge of his nose, and another nick on the right of his upper lip that may have continued onto his lower, but you didn’t want to get caught staring at his mouth. And of course, of-fucking-course he’d have a dimple. Why wouldn’t he? Could this day get any worse.

“What was the thought process, then?” He asked, his smirk growing deeper.

“What?” You guffawed. He couldn’t seriously be doing this; people didn’t do this, right?

He gestured between the two drinks sat in front of you with his own – a rum and coke if you guessed correctly. “Why those drinks, specifically? They don’t exactly pair well together.”  

You stared dumbly at this hot, audacious man. You hoped he’d decide you weren't worth the breath and move along. He only stared back at you.

“There wasn’t any.”

“Hm?” He queried.

“There wasn’t any. Thought process, I mean.” You muttered, taking a sip of the negroni. “I like both drinks – usually separately, but I’ve been dreaming about getting my ass down here since practically 9:30 this morning and I couldn’t choose which I wanted first and I knew that I planned on getting at least a little bit tipsy in order to pretend I didn’t have a completely mind-fucking day so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll order both’ and I thought since it was no one’s business but my own what I put into my body that I could get away with it but clearly, I was wrong.” You felt winded after your mini rant as you looked back at the man. He seemed genuinely entertained at your story, though his eyes grew a bit softer.

“Thinking of drinking at 9:30 am, hm?” He pondered out loud. “You know, that’s usually the sign of a problem; one might call it alcoholism.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you call it alcoholism, I call it Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Ah, so boy-problems then, is it?” He asked in a laugh.

You shot him a warning look. “It is not like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” He offered with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Tell me what it’s like then.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m just mad about stuff at school.”

“Ah, you’re a student, then?”

“PhD candidate, but technically, yes.” You offered, downing the rest of the negroni.

“Very neat. What’s your focus?” He asked again as you began sipping on your pint, trying not to grimace at the change in drink. You're sure you failed.

“Music.”

“Hm, I didn’t know one could get a PhD in music.” He queried.

“Music theory, but yeah.” You offered, moving your drink back and forth between your hands.

“And that brought you here? To England? Why not stay in Canada – if that’s where you’re from, pardon my assumption.” He quickly apologized.

You smirked at his correct assumption – thankful that you didn’t come off ‘too American’ today.

“She goes wherever the wind takes her.”

Your statement was met with silence, so you turned to see the man had frozen in his movements and stared at you incredulously.

“Are-are you quoting Disney movies to me?”

“So, you did get the reference.”

“I did, I just fail to see how Pocahontas relates to a PhD program in England on music theory.” He mutters, looking up at you from the rim of his drink.

“I finished my Masters, then the wind changed.” You offered with a shrug, “It brought me here.”

He seemed to study you for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that you weren't going to elaborate further. “And what does this Gabriel fellow have to do with the winds of musical theory?”

You snorted indelicately. “Nothing. He just, I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try to say it out loud.”

“None of that, now.” The man said gently with the same smirk on his face, “a smart girl like you doesn’t strike me as the type to overreact to male foolishness.”

He seemed honestly interested in your answer, at least, the most interested anyone has ever seemed in your ramblings about your toe headed fellow PhD’er. You tried facetime’ing your friends from home about him many-a-times before, and they listen but they don't get it. And your schedules don’t align and with the time-difference one of you is always either just waking up or going to bed. But this random, handsome guy in your bar making fun of your drinks has done nothing but listen so far and you really wanted to get it off your chest.

So, you did.

You told him how your morning started terribly as you ripped a hole in your stockings and only noticed once you got to campus and you usually don’t dress this formally to campus, but you were guest lecturing for Minerva and you know professors didn’t technically have a dress code, but she always looked well put together so, dammit, so were you. You explained that your mother always was the superstitious type and had you carry an emergency pair on you at all times, so you were thankfully able to change, but only after you spilled coffee on your blazer and had to shrug that off for the day and the lecture halls are ridiculously cold always; you know these stone buildings were built before electricity but surely with the great minds this school has churned out, they could find a way to keep the warm air in and cold drafts out?

And if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the other PhD candidate working under McGonagall is this absolute bell-end that you're almost positive has plagiarized half of his written work because everything he spews is absolute nonsense. He’s rude, and condescending, and spoke over you throughout all of your lectures to wax poetic about different Opera’s he’s performed in across the world - that you swear to God you will fact-check one of these days - that had absolutely nothing to do with the course content. And then, and then, he had the audacity to suggest you were only here because the school was required to accept a minimum number of foreign students and since you were, quote, just a woman, you also checked off their minority requirements too.

“People don’t get accepted here because of their nationality or their gender or their status as a minority. They’re supposed to get here because they’re good.” You muttered, finishing your pint you hadn’t realized you had guzzled during your rant

“And how’d Gavin get in, then?” He asked. You choked on the last of your beer.

“Fucked if I know.” You sighed.

A few more pints were placed in front of you as you continued to rant about the ins and outs of being a scholar in the world of music [for Christ’s sake, what was I thinking? I’ll never work a day in my life.] The man interrupting only to say that switching back to liquor would be a choice you would regret in the morning, and who were you to argue?

And he listened. He scoffed at some parts when you quoted Gilderoy suggesting something ridiculously altruistic that he’d done for the less fortunate while being nothing but condescending, he sprinkled in a few you’re kidding me’s, and even asked you to repeat something he couldn’t fathom the first time.

“See? I knew it. A smart girl like you wouldn’t overreact like that. Sounds like you’re perfectly justified in your ire.” He said.

You hummed as you finished your last pint. You felt thoroughly warm and heavy which was your intention of coming to the pub in the first place. You looked over to notice that the man – whose name you still hadn’t got – was still holding the same drink he had when you first arrived.

“Who are you here waiting for, then?” You asked him.

He looked confused for a moment. “How do you know I wasn’t just in desperate need of a drink myself?”

You nodded toward his still half-full cup in his hand. “Because you really haven’t been drinking.”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked at you. “Observant, aren’t you? Clever girl.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment.

“I was supposed to meet a business associate, actually.” He offered as he looked behind you towards the bar door. You turned to take in the rest of the bar yourself; it didn’t seem like the sort of place one would meet a business associate. The bar was dimly lit and somewhat claustrophobic; it didn’t offer a lot of privacy to talk business. You liked it because it was small - you’d be able to see everyone who was currently in the building with one sweep of your gaze save those who may be in the washrooms, and you could see out onto the street from your seat at the bar.

“I think it might be safe to say they stood you up.” You offered with a smirk as you turned to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“I think you might be right.” He offered, looking you up and down.

You couldn’t help but admit he was quite attractive – and not just in his honey-blond curls and mischievous smirk and long limbs way, but he seemed clever, smart, and clearly he was a good listener. You sort of hoped he’d offer you his name, maybe even his number. You wouldn’t mind waiting around for a business associate of his with him again sometime.

You had no such luck.

He began to stand with an expression that bordered regret crossing his face.

“It appears I must be off.” He offered with a sad smirk as he placed some bills down on the table. You weren't quite familiar with the bills in the UK yet, but it seemed like an awful lot of money for the one drink he had at the bar that was still unfinished. You took notice of said drink as you came to this conclusion and got a weird feeling in your gut as he took the drink by the rim and brought it to his lips.

“Wait!” You said as you grabbed his arm. He tensed immediately and you pulled your hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry. Just, is that the same drink you had when I first arrived?”

He looked from the drink back to me with furrowed brows. “Yes, why?”

You pointed to the drink he still held in his hand. “It’s old.”

He smirked. “Are you a drink snob, miss orders-two-incompatable-drinks-together-and-drinks-them-at-the-same-time?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the drink out of his hand as he brought it to his lips once again, which earned you an indignant ‘oi!’

“No, you berk, what I mean is, this drink is old. It’s warm to the touch, the ice has all melted and it should be as flat as a board but it’s bubbling, like, a lot.” You said as you held it in front of his eyes. He watched you for a few moments before you continued.

“It looks like someone put something in it.”

His gaze shot back to his drink where, sure enough, his should-be-flat diet coke was fizzing wildly as it began to turn a slightly murky shade.

You watched as he gently plucked the drink from your hand and casually put it back down on the bar and shrugged on his jacket.

“It appears you’re right.” He said in monotone. “Looks like we both ought to take our leave, hm?”

You nodded and followed suit; replacing your jacket and scarf you had ripped off unceremoniously as you had entered and headed for the door. The alcohol made you wobble for but a moment, but you were quickly righted by a gentle hand pressed to your lower back. Mortified, you put your best foot forward and marched out the door, hoping your embarrassment wasn't to evident in your cheeks.

You had to admit, you were beginning to panic. Why were you trusting this man? You had spent the last – you checked your watch – nearly two hours talking to this man whose name you still don’t know completely unaware of what was happening around you, and it turned out that there was someone here drugging drinks.

What if it’s him? An unhelpful part of your brain supplied. Why would he spike his own drink and then almost drink it? You argued back.

“You should be more careful.” You offered in what you had hoped to be a playful manner, but it came out strained. “Do you know of any reason why someone may want to spike your drink?”

He seemed to consider your question as you both walked somewhat briskly down the busy street to the subway station.

“No reason that would be suitable to share in the presence of a lady, I’m afraid.” He offered with a wink, leaning down slightly with his hands in his pocket. This answer didn’t make you feel any better.

“Any particular reason why you’re familiar with the signs of a spiked drink?” He offered back.

“I have a feeling most girls would be able to answer that.”

“Hm, perhaps. But I do not believe all would be as quick to catch it as you were.”

You didn’t answer him; you decided you had shared more than enough with this stranger tonight, and you were officially feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with the situation. You were mostly uncomfortable with how not uncomfortable you felt. It felt easy, walking with this stranger, as if you’ve been walking down dreary streets of London together for ages and this was just another Tuesday.

He stopped suddenly and flagged a taxi. You scowled at how quickly a cab stopped for him and his long as arms.

“Here, it’s too muggy for such a lady to brave the underground.” He offered as he opened the door. You began to protest, you had a tube pass through school for a reason, but his hand was on your lower back again as he gently led you into the car and closed the door before sticking his head in the window of the front passenger seat and tossing a handful of bills at the driver.

“Anywhere she wants to go.” He said, stepping back to the middle of the sidewalk and waving you off.

Between the alcohol, your nerves and being disarmed by the attractiveness of this man, you simply spouted the address of your flat to the driver and turned your face forward. The whole evening seemed otherworldly – like you were missing a big chunk of information of what happened tonight, even though you could account for every minute of it.

Your suspicions would have been proven correct if you had turned around to see your mystery man again, who was now accompanied by two other similarly dressed men - one with an unruly mop of brown curls and a shorter man with long black hair tied back haphazardly - who began chasing a fourth man in earnest down the street in the opposite direction.

Continue to part two here.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Officer

Note: I have no idea what happened here... (proof readed, but am still exhausted from last weekend, so excuse any errors left)

Warnings: fluff/angst/smut 18+!!! Dom/sub vibes.

pairing: modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You met a bunch of cops during your first day at your new job.

wordcount: 3,7k

Masterlist

'You're closing alone tonight, aren't you?'

'Go on then, they don't bite,' Hild laughed and cocked her head towards the table of impressive looking men you had been staring at for minutes already.

Right now, everything was new to you. The line of work you were in and the way Hild, your boss, treated you with respect and kindness; this was your first day at work in the pub downtown, and you had been nervous already but it got worse when you realised the good looking group of guys were regular customers, and they were policemen, as they were all dressed in their dark uniforms. Hild nudged your shoulder in an attempt to make you go over to the cops who had ordered their drinks only moments ago at the bar. The loud laughter from the table made you smile, as the men seemed to enjoy themselves, and what's a better view than a bunch of handsome, muscular guys smiling and bickering amongst each other? But it also made you nervous, because you wanted to make a good impression. You took a deep breath and walked over to their table, and the men became quiet when they noticed you.

'Your drinks,' you said shyly as you placed the serving tray on the table.

'Aye,' the Irish man smiled, 'three ales and one glass of coco for the baby cop,' he grinned and pointed at the blond haired guy who sat across from him.

The Irish man had dark, short hair and a good beard, and the blond guy was looking much younger than the rest of the men and looked shy.

'Finan's just messing with you,' another man said when he saw your slight panic. He had long hair, half tied up in a bun and the sides were shaved. He spoke with an accent you couldn't quite place, and he smiled, 'We all ordered ale, lady.'

'Oh,' you chuckled, relieved, and handed Finan his ale.

'And Uhtred likes to ruin jokes,' Finan sneered at the man with the unrecognisable accent, who took his glass out of your hands when you reached out.

You tried to hide your smile as you handed the young, shy cop his drink, whose cheeks had reddened by now.

'Osferth here is still a virgin,' Finan grinned as Osferth took his ale from you, and he slapped the boy on his shoulder.

'I'm not,' the blond cop rolled his eyes and looked down at the table.

You chuckled and handed the last glass to the quiet man beside you, who was already looking up at you with a sweet, sly smile when you looked at him. He was handsome and had a few scars on his face. His eyes were two different colours, one light and one dark, and his head was completely shaved at one side whereas on the other side he had dark curls. His eyes and haircut resembled the two vibes he gave off as you looked at him; sweet and devilish.

'Sihtric, stop staring,' Uhtred remarked, and he grinned at the stunning man you still locked eyes with.

'Your Sihtric,' you said, and immediately froze, 'Uh, I- I mean, y- your drink, S-Sihtric,' you stammered as you handed the man his drink and you turned on your heels immediately.

Sihtric smiled at your flustered behaviour as he licked his lips. And he couldn't help but turn and check you out when you walked away as fast as you could. You almost tripped as you made haste back to the bar, where you hid behind Hild and turned your back towards the men who were already joking around again. Except for Sihtric, who still had his eyes on you.

'What happened?' Hild asked when she saw your flustered face, and she looked at the men.

'Nothing,' you mumbled, 'just made a fool out of myself and I'm sure they think I'm an idiot.'

'Are you sure about that?' Hild furrowed her brow and looked back at you with a smile, 'because the Dane can't stop looking at you,' she said and walked away.

'The Dane?' you frowned and glanced over your shoulder, only to find Sihtric looking back at you over his shoulder. He flashed you a half smile, raised his glass slightly before he took a sip, and then he winked.

You tried your best to continue your new job, but you constantly felt Sihtric's eyes on you, and you also couldn't keep your eyes off him, no matter how hard you tried. Every few minutes your eyes wandered back to the handsome Dane, and you looked away as fast as you could whenever you met his eyes. And just when you felt a little less flustered again as you were cleaning up at the bar with your back turned to the room, you were startled when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

'Miss?' a warm, low voice sounded.

You turned around and stared right into Sihtric's mismatched eyes.

'Y-yes?'

'You forgot this,' Sihtric held up the serving tray you had left on their table almost an hour ago, and he put it on the bar, shoving it towards you.

'Oh, thank you,' you felt your cheeks heat up and quickly grabbed the tray.

'You're welcome, lady,' Sihtric smiled and sat down on the barstool in front of him, and he leaned in on the bar towards you, 'you're new here,' he remarked.

'I am.'

'Mhm,' he hummed and stroked his goatee, 'where are you from?'

'I've lived in this town my entire life,' you shrugged.

'Really?' Sihtric smiled playfully as he mindlessly toyed with a few rings he wore around his tattooed fingers, 'how come I've never seen you before?'

'I don't know,' you chuckled, 'guess I just never had to call the cops.'

Sihtric laughed softly and wetted his lips while he looked at you.

'Hm. So you've been a good girl,' he said, his smooth voice and choice of words made your heart skip a beat.

'I- I guess so,' you blushed and awkwardly tried to find a spot to put the serving tray at, as you still held it in your hands.

Sihtric watched you fumble around and it clearly amused him, being very well aware he made you feel flustered and nervous.

'So… what's a good and pretty girl like you doing in a pub like this then?' 

'Career switch,' you said and leaned on the bar, trying your hardest to look confident, 'I got tired of working in an office all day, and Hild is a family friend, so I landed this job easy.'

'Fair enough,' Sihtric said. He leaned in towards you, and looked you up and down quickly before he gave you another cheeky smile, 'so, will you be a good girl for me and pour me another drink then?'

The policemen came in for a drink every day, and the tension between you and Sihtric was always electrifying. No one mentioned it, but everyone was aware of it. His eyes always lingered on you, and you leaned in just that little closer to him when you brought the guys their drinks. The guys always drank a glass of ale, and then switched to fizzy drinks and some snacks to enjoy as they chatted, but they never became drunk as they knew all too well to not drink and drive. And every evening when Sihtric came up to you on his own to order another drink, he leaned on the bar and said the same words with the same sly smile;

'How's my good girl doing tonight?'

And every night it made you giggle softly and blush without fail. You had been serving them for several days in a row when Hild told you that you had to close off the pub on your own tonight. She had an urgent matter to take care of and trusted you to run the place while she was out. You knew you could do it, and it was a rather quiet evening as it was a thursday, but were nervous regardless. And things got worse when the piece of shit of an ex boyfriend suddenly showed up at the pub, a few hours before closing.

You tried to talk him into just leaving quietly, but he wasn't having any of it and started to cuss you out as he leaned in over the bar. The table of cops noticed the slight commotion when you walked up to him to shove him out the door, and they saw how your ex grabbed your wrist forcefully. The men all jumped up, and Uhtred grabbed the guy's shoulder and squeezed it harshly, upon which you could free yourself from your ex's grip. Finan and Osferth stood back as they watched Uhtred towering over your ex, while Sihtric was fast to get in between you two. Your ex quickly became aggressive as Uhtred told him to leave, and he started to curse at you again as well as trying to swing a fist at you, but Sihtric shielded you by shoving you behind his back and he gave your ex a harsh shove.

'I'm giving you a choice right now,' Sihtric said firmly as the deranged guy stumbled backwards, 'you either walk out on your own right now, or I'll make sure you won't ever be able to walk on your own again.'

You heard Uhtred and your ex argue vaguely as you tried to process everything, and you tried to peek out from behind Sihtric, but he turned towards you before you could move. He circled his arm around your waist while he towered over you, and your ex was shoved out by the three remaining cops while you stared up into the Dane's eyes.

'Are you okay?' Sihtric asked, his face was so close you smelled the ale on his lips.

'Yeah,' you lied and feigned a smile.

Sihtric watched you carefully for a moment and then pulled you closer.

'No, you're not,' he said softly, 'you're trembling, sweetheart. Come here,' he wrapped both his strong arms around you, and you buried your face in his chest as he held you close for a short while.

'Did you know him?' he eventually asked.

'Yeah,' you swallowed hard, 'he's my… my ex.'

Sihtric leaned back slightly and took your arm, gently tracing his warm fingers over your skin where your ex had grabbed you moments before.

'Did he hurt you?'

'It's fine,' you pulled your arm back and looked down at your feet.

'Is it?' Sihtric lifted your chin with his fingers, 'is it really fine?'

You shrugged lightly and couldn't help resting your hands upon the cop's broad chest as he leaned in again.

'You're closing alone tonight, aren't you?' he asked, having noticed Hild left hours ago already.

You nodded and Sihtric sighed, then raked his fingers through his hair. He looked over his shoulder, seeing his colleagues walk back in and signalling that your ex had been taken care of, and they went back to their table to finish their drinks.

'Do you want us to stay until closing?' Sihtric asked you.

'Oh, n-no,' you said, 'please, it's… it's fine. Thank you,' you smiled weakly and tried to step away, but Sihtric trailed his fingers down your arm and gently took your hand. 

'Sweetheart,' he said, and you stopped breathing when you stared up at him, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before he looked back into your eyes again, 'do you want me to stay?'

About half an hour before closing time, Uhtred, Finan and Osferth got up to leave. They wished you a good night in passing while Sihtric stayed behind at the table. You greeted the men and changed the open sign to closed while a handful of other regulars finished their drinks quickly. They all paid and told you they'd see you tomorrow, to which you chuckled. You closed the door behind the last man who left and you locked it. 

Sihtric eyed you up and he finished his drink while you started to quickly clean the tables. You carried the empty glasses and plates over to the bar, and Sihtric followed you with his eyes before he got up to bring you his empty glass.

'Is this seat taken?' he smiled and pointed at the empty barstool right in front of you.

'I'm not sure,' you chuckled, 'it's rather busy here right now…'

'I see,' Sihtric played along and sat down, 'guess I'll have to try my luck then.'

You smiled, took his empty glass and placed it in the dishwasher with the other dirty dishes.

'All jokes aside, sweetheart,' Sihtric then said, 'can I help you with anything here, darling?'

You looked at him and smiled shyly, 'Well,' you snorted, 'actually…'

'Spill it, sweetheart,' Sihtric rolled his eyes and smiled as you hesitated.

'So, these empty crates need to be brought to the basement,' you explained, 'but it's kinda… creepy down there.'

'Creepy?' Sihtric frowned, 'how?'

'Yeah, you know, it's all old and dark and the lights don't work well. No one likes to go there.'

Sihtric looked at you and then chuckled as he got up.

'Fine, show me the way and I'll take care of it.'

You handed Sihtric a few empty crates and walked him to the door that led to the basement. You opened the door and Sihtric stared down at a dimly lit staircase, then he grinned and looked at you for a second.

'Very creepy,' he taunted.

'Be careful,' you said as he walked down into the basement, and Sihtric chuckled in reply.

You waited at the top of the stairs, and when Sihtric didn't reappear as fast as you wanted, you leaned in slightly to listen for any sounds, but it was quiet.

'Sihtric?' you called down the basement.

Nothing. You took a step down and listened again.

'Sihtric?' you said a little louder and felt spooked when there was no reply, just the flickering of the dim light.

Then suddenly you heard Sihtric let out a yelp and you heard the empty crates being dropped on the floor.

'Sihtric!' you yelled, panicked, and almost ran down the stairs, but then he appeared again with a grin on his face.

'God!' you huffed, relieved and slightly mad, while Sihtric laughed as he climbed up the stairs and followed you closely back to the bar.

'Aw,' he chuckled in your ear as he snuck up behind you, 'you were worried about me.'

'I was not,' you turned to him.

'Yes, you were,' Sihtric smiled and circled his arm around your waist.

'No, I wasn't. You're stupid,' you chuckled and stared up into his eyes as he pulled your body against his.

'Am I?' he said softly.

'You are,' you nodded while Sihtric leaned in.

'Yeah? Hm,' he hummed as he smiled, and brushed his lips lightly against yours.

'Yeah,' you whispered, and your breath hitched in your throat when Sihtric slowly flicked his tongue against your lower lip.

He chuckled lightly, and then captured you in a soft, firm kiss. He kept his arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back while his other hand settled on your neck, keeping you close.

'Yeah,' Sihtric whispered in between kisses, 'come on,' he sighed and kissed you again.

He slowly pushed you back behind the bar, where he trapped you between the old, wooden cabinets and his muscular body.

'Give me a little more, darling,' Sihtric whispered against your lips and smiled.

You moved your hands up to his neck, and slowly unbuttoned his black uniform as you kissed him, and you sucked his lower lip gently as you pulled away.

'Yeah, that's it, sweetheart,' Sihtric husked, and he grabbed your waist firmly while one hand moved up into your hair, and he parted your lips along with his as he kissed you passionately.

You continued to unbutton his black shirt while your tongues were deep into each other's mouth. Sharp gasps and soft moans filled the empty pub, and you both felt the sexual tension thicken quickly until it was unbearable, but was disturbed when your phone buzzed several times. You broke the kiss to read the texts you received, and you chuckled.

Hild: hey

Hild: I'm not spying on you

Hild: but I took a quick look at the camera because I know you're closing alone

Hild: and then I saw you're not alone

Hild: just don't have sex in the pub, please…

Sihtric laughed softly when you showed him the texts, and he looked up into the camera that was right above you. He smiled directly in the lens before he switched it off, and brought his eyes back on you again. You pulled his lips back to yours, and he took your phone out of your hand as you kissed him with a new kind of hunger. You finally ripped open his police blouse and stared at his muscular torso with heavy lidded, lustful eyes.

'Your boss said to not fuck here,' Sihtric chuckled and grazed your ear with his teeth while you ran your hands over his warm chest.

'Or what?' you asked innocently.

'I thought you were a good girl,' he murmured against your lips as he unbuttoned your jeans.

'Maybe you thought wrong,' you breathed and unclasped his black, leather belt.

'Oh, yeah?' Sihtric rasped and pulled your jeans down, 'or did you maybe lie to me about being a good girl?'

'What if I did?' you asked, and cupped his arousal through his uniform jeans.

'Well,' he hummed and groaned softly, 'lying to a police officer is considered a crime.'

'Then maybe you should arrest me,' you batted your eyelashes, 'officer.'

'Yeah, you'd like that won't you?' Sihtric said as he pushed you up on one of the cabinets behind the bar, and he spread your legs with his knee, 'you want me to handcuff you, hm?' he chuckled and reached for the metal cuffs attached to his belt.

You giggled in reply, and before you could even blink, Sihtric had your wrist cuffed and he gave you a cocky smile.

'Are you a good girl?' he whispered and slid his hand down your panties.

'No comment,' you said as you tensed up slightly.

'No comment?' Sihtric chuckled and slowly teased your wet folds while he cuffed your hand to a metal bar above you, 'I'll ask you again,' he said, and pushed two fingers inside you, 'are you a good girl?'

'Fuck,' you moaned at the feeling of his warm fingers inside you, and you tried to grab onto his open shirt with your free hand, but Sihtric stopped you and pinned your arm behind your back.

'Don't make me ask again, sweetheart,' he licked his lips slowly as he fucked you faster with his fingers.

'I… I- ah, god,' you moaned and threw your head back upon the feeling.

'So you're not a good girl?' Sihtric said and clenched his jaw, 'do you have any idea what I do to bad girls?'

You smiled with half open eyes and shook your head, biting down another moan.

'No?' Sihtric teased, and added another digit inside you, 'well, at least you're taking it like a good girl,' he chuckled, 'but I'll have to fuck you into a good girl again. You know how that works?'

You could barely speak, or even think as the cop smiled at you with his devilish smile while he thrusted his fingers in and out of you.

'I'll tell you how it works,' he said and brought his lips to your ear, and whispered, 'I won't stop until you cum on my fingers first,' he paused as you let out a heavy moan, 'and when you finally do, which,' he chuckled, 'won't take long, because I know you were already so… fucking…. wet for me as soon as you saw me walk in here tonight. Ain't that right, sweetheart?'

'Y-yes,' you moaned, and squirmed in his grip.

'Yes, officer,' Sihtric ordered.

'Yes, o-officer,' you squealed.

'That's it, good girl,' Sihtric smacked his lips and smiled, 'and after you cum, I'll taste you on my fingers, and you'll watch as I do so,' he said, 'and then you'll open that pretty mouth of yours, like a good girl, so I can spit in your mouth. And you will swallow it, why?'

'Because… I… I,' you breathed, 'I'm a g-good girl, officer.'

'Exactly,' he said, 'and after that I'll take that cuff off that metal bar,' he looked up above you, then back into your eyes as he continued to finger you, 'and I'll handcuff both your hands behind your back, and you will get down on your knees for me and let me fuck your pretty face until I cum on your tongue. Why?'

'F-fuck,' you moaned, 'please, I'm-'

'No,' Sihtric said sternly, and tightened his grip on your arm behind your back, 'you won't finish until I say so. Answer my question, darling. Why?'

'Because I'm a good girl, officer,' you cried out with ragged breaths.

'Exactly,' he chuckled, 'and you will take it like a good girl. And after I fucked that pretty face of yours, I'll sit you up on a table, your hands still cuffed behind your back, and I will eat your pussy until you scream out my name. And I will make you cum over and over again, just with my lips and tongue, sweetheart, until you beg for my cock. And then I will bend you over and fuck you so hard, so deep and so… fucking… good,' he breathed, 'that you'll still feel me inside you by this time tomorrow. And you'll be sore, probably,' he shrugged, 'but I know you'll be squeezing your thighs together all day tomorrow when you think of me, and you'll probably even consider to sneak off during your shift to get off on your own, knowing I'm just sitting right over there at my usual table, with a hard, leaking cock,' he chuckled as you began to mumble and beg, 'and you will ask me to to stay until closing time. And then I'll take you home with me, where I will fuck you so good again and again and again, until you confess you're in love with me. Why?'

'B-because… I'm… a… g-good girl, officer,' you murmured.

'That's right,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your lips, 'because you're such a good girl. My good girl,' he whispered, 'now cum for me, sweetheart.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @foxyanon @djarinsgirl27 @sigtryggrswifey @liandav @diiickbrainn

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S3 First Reactions 🪞🐝🦋🪶

❤️ Already fangirled about the whole engagement night - the hugs, Hyacinth!!!

Colin not being able to stay away for that long after their engagement announcement and immediately excusing himself at Anthony's suggestion is exactly what I'd expect of him. ×

❤️ Colin calling out Portia. "out of love." 😢

❤️ "OUR BRIDGERTON NAME" is so important, because it's reiterating that Penelope's getting to choose her family when the one she was born into is so awful

He was so nervous when she didn't respond to their new home.

"Because I love you...Pen." 😢

"Are you sure?" PEN, no 😭😭😭

❤️ That mirror moment (i love how he said "the way your eyes shine when you look at me..." callback to her complimenting his eyes) "...And other things..."

bxtch they stuck with the thread of Colin not opening his eyes to stay in the dream and Pen checking to see if it's real when they kiss

The eye acting of Nicola and Luke! (they are being doe eyes x the intensity of his gaze or w/e it is)

The gulp <3 Nicola

"You are so beautiful."

❤️ The first time!!!

"I hope my husband.." - Fran, AND John -"I would not dream of it" 😯 asdfjgkglyl

Kate & El (got their s2 vibes)

Ahh, the "Do I look a mess?" "You are my mess" was delivered so perfectly.

cute, cute, cute riding through town in carriage (no personal space)

The hand kiss in front of portia!

Colin handing Eloise the spoon 🤣

❤️ the charades game - the cutest thing (they're holding hands)

Also, fuckin Anthony being tooo competitive 😆

Peneloise rights! The back 'n forth in the game 😬

The panic attack was high-octane; the concern in the scene was cute xxx

❤️ Fran looking at John & Violet hating this story lol.....and then, me noticing her realization to another child in love

❤️ The look & collar tug in the church (polin is so dorky & domestic already)

❤️ Soooooo....the spontaneous dance in the church is better than I thought it was gonna be...their goofy footwork, spinning in a multitude of circles "dancing with MY FUTURE WIFE in THE CHURCH WHERE WE WILL BE MARRIED" bye

Part 1, the ton jokes and bullies them and Part 2, we just see people that can't help but get happy and giddy when they see their young love. Violet and Lady Danbury awwing at polin and embracing them in the park!!!

❤️ "I am going to look at the very fine wainscoting" -John, please! 😅

"Not every attachment must be dramatic and hard-fought." - Francesca 😢 bby, you're right

I legit went from this man has the crazy eyes ppl talk about to *tired eyes Wide-Open*... Bi Benedict?! ..I'm getting Bi Benedict?! (I was like: Why?Is?He?Staring?at?him?Like?That? (i knew i sensed the vibes! The Best Surprise!!!)

"This dance does not compare to a private waltz in the church where we'll be married." She's SO cute! "Well perhaps we shall have to add some flourish." Stop. km now (that's so him! he is so dumb; they're married already and dumb as they should be! ×)

Props again with the deaf representation & the sass when Miss Cressida enters the ball

"A scandal writer for a daughter. Can you imagine?" - Portia (i'm sorry i love this whole sequence)

Polin gets more perfectly dork w/stepping on feet being included during their dance at The Mondrich Ball (that's very them)

Thank god for Bridgerton giving us hour long episodes in this 2nd part.

❤️ Eloise admitting she's wrong (and so casually) 😢 ps i think they both have faults but i just love this

❤️ "The column began because I felt powerless in my own home." - Pen (well, i'm glad she said it!)

ok, now Pen admits her faults. all is right again

❤️ Irish accent again

"You are Lady Whistledown." This reveal was everything

omg, was this the scene where he wasn't supposed to cry, but did?! What would I have done without this reaction in such an important moment?! 😢

I love how Penelope highlighted the voiceless as she said she should with Eloise in her new edition of Whistledown

Violet to Agatha - "..but I hope you know that my care for you is not contingent on your aid." 😢 (she sees her)

This whole fight outside the modiste's. 😭

"I have been careful. You have been foolish.."

❤️ "I LOVE YOU" and he was shocked (an 'ily for you' moment) [i was not expecting the follow up to his line to go like that]

❤️ They deserve a hot passionate makeout before they are married where they get completely caught up after fighting.

"What am I chopped liver?" yes Anthony in this situation you are.

❤️ Violet calling in Kanthony for Colin marital advice

❤️ Yellow

The look at each other down the aisle.

❤️ Vows. Weddings on this show are usually so unhappy, but I appreciate that Colin is still so reassuring & clearly beaming about this when there is residual upset/confusion.

❤️ Eloise cryyinng

Ben's line to El- "..The friendship you have with Penelope... As the one you have with Colin." xxx (she doesn't wanna lose them)

"OUR child will always be a Bridgerton, but I should like them to know that they are a Sharma as well." fxck 🥲

"I should like to dance with my husband.."

The disappearing people in the wedding dance. like they're the only 2 ppl in the room! (Bridgerton either has it out for me [to cry] or loves me so much)

ANTHONY 👁👁 Marcus & Violet

Colin's hand caressing on Pen's face at the end of the dance they're really coming for me (bro did he almost kiss her?!??? i freaked out; had to rewind)

The queen excusing all non-Bridgertons + "Penelope, you are a Bridgerton now."

I kind of love that "Everyone except the Bridgertons are to scatter," but Lady Danbury's just there

GOD (I knew it as soon as it was coming) Eloise hugs Pen <3 🥲

ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod bi Ben

❤️ The hair grab!

This printer's assistant is on my shit list

SCOTLAND!!! JOHNCESCA

"It is not up to you what we do." 🤭❤️🤣 Colin mad but still ready to defend his wife (as it should be)

"I know my father was a good man and you are a good friend." Violet-Agatha feels

🙀He kept the letters!

💛John's words to Mama Bridgerton (her children's traits)

She said she was a fumbling mess in front of Edmund like 5 minutes before she is fumbling in front of Marcus

"Then how am I meant to help you?" ❤️ "By loving me."

❤️ Pen's love confession

"....to be a young lady to whom no one listens." - Pen!~Eloise shared look

Philippa + her "bugs"

😲 Lady Danbury x Pen (she knew! ❤️)

❤️ Colin's love confession (them crying together x)

El traveling with Johncesca

Mi-MICHAELA Stirling ... Bridgerton I swear if you are queerbaiting

OH MY GOD! Mama Bridgerton's words -FRANCESCA is fumbling her words.

❤️ Colin focussing on the hands in bed

Pen on top!

"Your father is always trying to distract with a clever word &..." "You think my smile is beguiling?" x "I could not have written without the help of Auntie Penelope." They are so obsessed with each other

Philomena?! did i hear that rt? omg Philippa

Yay we got confirmation of Colin's book! (I can only hope they're sitting in bed reading next season).