#live laugh love carrington

[sh4wty18]

request for johnnie

pre-established relationship

reader is a content creator, is close friends with tara, carrington, jake and johnnie, and lives at the guys place with johnnie

reader slept in past their alarm, sleeping in johnnies bed

johnnie and carrington are doing an early morning stream while the reader comes down all groggy and johnnies just being sweet n making sure they slept well

“theres my sweet girl”

and carrington is just being carrington and making everyone on stream fawn and laugh over johnnie and the reader

sleepy.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: based on the request.

cw: fluff, mentions of slut-shaming

word count: 976 + edited

---

For the past year, you have been busier than ever. Your career had fully taken off over two years ago– you’re a popular youtuber and streamer. But ever since you and Johnnie had made your relationship public early last year, you were rising to a level of stardom you could barely comprehend. With your new relationship also came new friendships, and collaborating with Johnnie, Jake, Tara, and Carrington fairly often had no doubt helped in boosting your online presence. 

These past few months specifically, ever since you moved in with the guys, have been some of the most stressful yet rewarding months of your life. You were going viral, becoming one of the internet’s biggest “It Girls” along with Tara, but this new lifestyle came at a cost. Constant partying, filming, and promoting content is extremely exhausting. 

Thankfully, your boyfriend has been nothing but supportive. He’s always there to offer words of encouragement, physical affection, flowers… anything you want, really. Your relationship is stronger than ever, and you can’t imagine a better person to experience this life with. Whereas you were relatively new to the whole “internet fame” thing, Johnnie has been in this game for a decade, and knows better than most people how it feels to constantly be scrutinized online. He has been supporting you through every high– and low– of your drastic increase in fame, offering his praises when you were excited and a shoulder to cry on when you were sad. You loved him more than anyone, and you know the feeling couldn’t be more mutual. 

Last night had been a particularly rough night. You were streaming super late with Johnnie in your bedroom, and at one point, someone sent a message slut-shaming you for the outfits you wore, and calling you pretty much every name in the book. Stupid, ugly, unfunny, untalented… They covered all the bases. Usually you were pretty good at letting hate comments roll off your back, but that night you had already been feeling insecure, it was the reason you wanted to go live in the first place– to get some positive attention from your fans. So unsurprisingly, this hate comment was the thing to ruin your night.

You promptly ended the stream, and spent the next hour crying in Johnnie’s arms. He held you, gently stroking your hair, cradling your body against his, whispering affirmations, words of reassurance, and “i love you” into your ears until you finally fell asleep. 

He knew you needed to rest, which was why he didn’t wake you when you slept through your alarm this morning, he simply turned it off, and got up for the day.

You woke up a couple hours later, around noon, and noticed that Johnnie was no longer curled up next to you. You checked the time on your phone, and were shocked at how late you slept. Usually you were awake by ten, and got up to make breakfast for you and Johnnie (he usually sleeps later than you). But today, you were the one sleeping in. You slowly stretched and got out of bed. You heard Johnnie and Carrington laughing down the hall, surely streaming together in Carrington’s room, and you made your way there to say good morning.

You pushed Carrington’s door halfway open and popped your head in. Johnnie sat in Carrington’s gaming chair, laughing at something Carrington said from where he sat on the floor at Johnnie’s feet. 

You wave at Johnnie and groggily say “Morning, guys.”

Johnnie’s face lights up when he sees you, and he reaches his arms out toward you, indicating for you to come sit on his lap.

 “There’s my sweet girl,” he coos in his softest voice as you make your way across the room. Carrington is entertaining his viewers as you sit on Johnnie’s lap, resting on one of his legs and leaning back against his chest. He wraps both arms around your waist, perching his head on your shoulder and turning to face you, “How did you sleep, love?” he asks before kissing your shoulder.

“Really well,” you respond, still a little groggy. “Did you turn my alarm off this morning?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought you deserved a chance to sleep in. My beautiful girl needs her rest.” He smiles, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips.

“Don’t apologize baby, I was just wondering,” You say.

“I’m happy you slept good, baby. You know you’re the prettiest girl in the world? Even when you’re still sleepy.” He presses his forehead against yours and smiles before kissing you again.

Carrington turns the camera toward you two, “Awwww look at these lovebirds!! They are just adorable!! Guys comment down below if Johnnie and y/n are your favorite celebrity couple! I know they’re my fave celeb couple, right guys?!” He leans closer to you both and angles the camera so all three of you are in frame. You and Johnnie blush and laugh, while Carrington continues teasing. 

You stay on Johnnie’s lap for the rest of the stream, adding sarcastic comments wherever you see fit, which always elicit a laugh from Johnnie. Carrington is in his own little world, never noticing that Johnnie can’t take his eyes off you. He keeps planting little kisses all along your shoulder and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He wasn’t usually one to be so PDA on a live stream, but he knew you had had a bad night, and he wanted to make sure your morning was so good you forgot all about the nasty comment from last night. 

You turn your head toward him, kissing his cheek and then his mouth before you smile softly at each other. You love and appreciate him so much, but you know you don’t need to say it. He understands. He always will.

---

the first of many of the johnnie request i've received! i'm so excited to write more johnnie fics, all your requests are so good :)

[nancylou444]

A lovely sent me this ‘gem’:

Oh this is going to be fun. **evil laugh**

Just heard last night that Supernatural wouldn't be remembered or cause a real impact on pop culture like Breaking Bad or another boring show as such and then Jensen Ross Ackles decides to throw his fictional character of 15 years, the first bisexual in the history of television, a birthday party.

First, run on sentence much?

Supernatural will be remembered for being about brothers who did everything (including kill and die) for EACH OTHER.

Second, DEAN IS NOT BISEXUAL.

And even if he was (which he wasn’t) how the fuck can this heller call him the FIRST IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION? 

Hellers know NOTHING about SPN, Castiel, Dean, OR actual representation. 

In 2003, GLAAD concluded that there were have only been "a few bisexual characters on TV." The report cited Steven Carrington in the soap opera, Dynasty (1981-1989) who "had a long term love affair with Luke" but got married, had a child, and later lived with his former lover, Bart, as the first example. The same report also cited C.J. Lamb, played by Amanda Donohoe, in the NBC drama L.A. Law (1986-1994), and Nancy, played by Sandra Bernhard in Roseanne (1988-2018), as bisexual, calling the latter "probably the most recent portrayal of bisexuality."

In 2018, The Advocate pointed to five TV shows as having positive bisexual representation: The Good Wife (Kalinda Sharma), Game of Thrones (Oberyn Martell), Grey's Anatomy (Callie Torres), House of Cards (Frank Underwood), and How to Get Away with Murder (Annalise Keating).

As such, Lennon listed relatable representations of bisexuality in TV, apart from one mentioned by The Advocate in 2018: Max in Black Sails, Nico Minoru in Runaways, Clarke Griffin in The 100, Rosa Diaz in Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Ilana Wexler in Broad City, Sara Lance in Arrow and Legends of Tomorrow, Magnus Bane in Shadowhunters, Lucifer Morningstar in Lucifer, and Miles Hollingsworth III in Degrassi: The Next Generation.

(x)

Almost 3 years after the show he played it in ended.

Exactly. It’s been almost three years, hellers. DEAN IS STRAIGHT. 

And somebody calling themselves “dwcoded” shouldn’t be a heller, since DEAN himself has mentioned who is most important to him:

many times:

[tanoraqui]

Other things I like to think happen in the wake of Leon Stamatis’s final death:

The will Uriah Connolly found wasn’t the first anyone had seen of Leon’s will, because of course Leon had updated copies backed up with his lawyer, bank, and a public notary. Instead, it was a draft of his next update, which he hadn’t yet finalized enough to officialize—not fully legal, but clearly intended. To Uriah’s mild embarrassment, it included 6 months of rent and etc. utility payments to himself and other relevant parties on behalf of Michael Tate and/or anyone else who might be sleeping on Leon’s couch at the time of Leon’s death.

Ben Affleck produced a eulogeic biopic of his friend Matt Damon. He considered starring in it as Matt Damon, but eventually decided (on advice of his new friend and formal jail neighbor Nica Stamatis) to direct instead. To Nica’s discomfort, he wrote in Nica in as the misremembered role Matt Damon initially gave her. He offered to let her play her own part; she declined. She asked Nicole if she wanted it and Nicole thought about it seriously but also declined—she likes being a newswoman.

“Matt Damon: The Story of Matt Damon by Matt Damon’s Friend Ben Affleck” may not have been a perfect movie, but it was made with so much obvious love that it won several major awards and launched Ben Affleck back into a real directing career.

Michael invited Autumn and Ada to the premiere. Carrington Vanderbilt, the man Matt Damon died trying to save, had minimal screen time, but in what he had, he was presented as a regretful and loving failure of a husband and father who is robbed of his chance to apologize just as Matt Damon is robbed of his chance to continue being Matt Damon. (Ben Affleck had consulted on the script with Nica, who'd forwarded him to Louisa.) On balance, it was…

Yeah, it was even weirder and more awkward than their first Wonderland date. But in a good way.

Michael and Autumn resumed dating shortly thereafter. He moved in with her and Ada in Providence and they got married in Wonderland. Tyrell was their wedding planner, of course. Louisa broke her own rule to photograph her best friend’s wedding—they were going to hire someone else; they did hire someone else, and Louisa kept telling the other person they were doing it wrong, and taking over. Phil smuggled himself back into Boston to sit on Autumn’s side of the aisle.

There are exactly 2 photos of Phil at the wedding: 1 from the other photographer of him throwing a delightedly laughing Ada (ringbearer ofc) in the air, and 1 clumsy one from Louisa of Phil tripping on a stray streamers and faceplanting in one last pile of cheese. There’s a less clumsy, though still not professional, photo taken by Gemma of Louisa in her Best Woman dress bent over with laughter as she wrestled her camera into place for that shot. Wendell has it framed.

Louisa and Wendell neither get married nor have children, though they do get a beagle. Bagel the beagle helps Louisa sniff out clues (usually food) and likes to harmonize with Wendell. Wendell actually makes this work, musically. He briefly blows up on TikTok for being “the guy who sings with his dog.”

Meanwhile, the Redsistance is still hard at work helping people get by, a task that has alas grown no easier with Emily officially resigned and living in New York. However, typically, it’s MD:TSoMDbMDFBA that really kicks off the downfall of the Bespin regime and everyone associated with it. She basically killed Matt Damon, and that other guy, the loser dad! Legion remains present in everyone’s homes, and its shops are still everywhere, but the people boot out Mayor and elect something like a moderate Democrat, who promptly drops 95% of the exploitative fare and jail things, and un-exiles the Wonderland community…though doesn’t do much to re-provide housing for them…(to be fair, other people do live there, now)…

That’s manageable, because also meanwhile, Dimitri and Mallory have befriended the secret rodent civilization living in a parallel city below Boston (as secret rodent civilizations live beneath most major cities in the world). They—the rats, mostly, but also mice, squirrels, etc—have become allies and business partners with the Wonderland community, much like at the end of The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents (Pratchett).

Btw at some point Dimitri and Nica went on a road trip down the coast, maybe to visit relatives in Virginia. Along the way, they met the Jersey Devil (literally some sort of supernatural creature), and Mothman (a now-old man who played a prank with a good costume in the 60s and felt obliged to keep it up. Dimitri puts him in touch with Darby Cooper and they become happy penpals for the last years of Darby’s life.)

Isaiah and Melissa become a crack political activism team. They don’t always agree on exactly what the best path forward is, but they agree on most of their goals and it sometimes seems like they can almost read each others minds.

Mark Wahlberg starts vengefully stalking the guy who plays Matt Damon in MD:TSoMDbMDFBA, and ends up with a restraining order from Boston entirely. Fuck Mark Wahlberg.

Nica works in the Redsistance but she also goes back to work in Singer’s Sewing Machine and Vacuum Repair. Yeah, she’s rehired partly because of the amazing advertising of MD:TSoMDbMDFBA, but also because she was the best damn sewing machine repairer they ever had. She starts part-time—she’s also busy with the Redsistance; an unnoticeable, forgettable face is a real asset—but it’s not long before she’s full-time, and not long after that it becomes Singer&Stamatis Sewing Machine & Vacuum Repair. She keeps the name when old Mr. Singer finally retires, though she branches out to repairing more odds and ends of common household mechanisms.

It’s an innocuous little store. In the back room, while the proprietress repairs, she also hosts visiting revolutionaries, politicians, and the press, Hollywood directors and local artists, and one famously missing man who always comes home between adventures—who sometimes tugs her out, laughing, onto the road with him. She also welcomes anyone in the neighborhood who needs a good listening ear.

At some point, someone dies. Probably suddenly, maybe violently (they ARE all making trouble for powerful people, after all). Don’t ask me who; I refuse to contemplate it! Instead of moving on, however, they’re caught by Gemma in another crystal ball.

She hunted down the original supplier who made them for Magic Staples, see. “What the fuck, Gemma?” ask multiple people. “So we can say goodbye in our own time,” she says.

“…and it was an incredible tactical advantage for a bit there,” she admits. “Just briefly! Until they’re ready to move on!”

“…and I wanted to see if I could still do it,” she eventually confesses. (It’s all fine, though. Mostly, they all just get that extra chance to say goodbye, then Gemma breaks the ball.)

It turns out that the person who used to bless those crystal balls is the same seer who sold Dimitri those parting puzzle boxes. They’re completely unhelpful, information-wise, but they do advise Dimitri to visit China. Dimitri is still pretty busy fighting omnipresent capitalism in Boston, so he books a flight rather than try to get a job as some sort of sailor again. His plane goes down over the Pacific, but only one passenger is lost…Dimitri, of course.

Nica fights to remain calm. She’d know if he was dead, she’s sure. Somehow. Anyway, it’s Dimitri. Adventures just happen to him. He’ll be fine, and he’ll come home.

She’s right. Dimitri arrives home about a year later having found Amelia Earhart on one of those one-coconut tree islands where time doesn’t really move. (She, too, is Like This.) He brought her home with him. Dimitri and Amelia get married couple years after that.

They try to use Dimitri and Amelia's weird tropiness to bust Ethan's evil necromancy/mind control/cheese robot lab on Coney Island. Surely THAT'S a mystery to reveal to the world! Their attempts at contrivance keep failing, though; eventually they conclude that this sort of thing depends on whatever-it-is being an unsolved mystery to Dimitri and Amelia themselves (until they solve it). And they already know about the evil necromancy/mind control/cheese robot lab.

Fortunately, while Legion did immediately use its massive information-gathering reach and money to purchase as many of those fully functional glass balls as they could, and hired some skilled but unscrupulous psychics to summon ghosts into them, it turns out that it's an incredibly rare ghost who has both the wide-welcoming compassion and clockwork-like mind to function as the massive inter-human connector that Ethan and Legion seek. Leon was, as we all knew, both incredible and unique.

It all comes to a head at last when a young girl's grandmother dies, in one of NYC's many districts of immigrants. The grandmother was special because, among other things, she was strict and precise but always loving, and enough of a witch to own a really good old crystal ball (not one of the half-plastic knockoffs you get these days). The girl is special because, among other things, she, too, has some innate supernatural talent, and she doesn't want to let her grandmother (and sole guardian) go, and also she can talk to animals like the youthful protagonists of the Rescuers movies.

Cheese robots steal the crystal ball containing her grandmother's spirit. Her friends among the secret rodent city underneath NYC reach out to their allies in Boston for aid. The Bostonian rats tip off their trusted humans. Legion is still a massive evil international corporation which may or may not actually be run by humans, but its necromancy/mind control department is broken for good by the power of bildungsroman.

Emily files for divorce.

[zirawrites]

I liked your romanced companions reacting to sole cheating. How would they react to being cheated on with one another? Like sole is cheating on x with y, it would be a little extreme to get with all companions at once.

Here is the reaction that inspired this post in case anyone wants to read it :)

I chose which companion Sole had an affair with at random, hope this was what you were looking for! I agree that their canon harem always rubbed me the wrong way lol

Cait: Cait’s cheeks flushed as red as her hair. She had Sole cornered in the Third Rail, Magnolia’s jazz sounding more like grating white noise than a melodic song. “Ya cheated on me with MacCready? That grubby, shit-for-brains, no-good cave-dwelling merc?” Cait nearly punched herself in the face wiping away a fallen tear. “I always thought he was sweet on me, but it was just to keep me from thinkin you two were sleeping together. Get out of my damn life, Sole. I didn’t deserve that.”

Curie: Curie could have stomached Sole’s infidelity if it was an anonymous drifter. Some wastelander who they’d met at a bar or during a supply run. But Piper? She was Curie’s friend, too. How could she be so naive? “I suppose I have more to learn about humans than I thought before.” Curie shoved her things in a scavenged duffle bag, her back turned away from Sole. “Do not try to find me. Either of you. I already feel foolish enough.”

Danse: Danse had always feared he wouldn’t be enough for Sole. He had never dated before. Never been in love. Was never sure if he held Sole too tightly, or at an arm’s length. But when Sole admitted they had been sleeping with Preston, he wondered if he ever held their attention at all. “I didn’t take Preston as an adulterer,” Danse admitted, his teeth grit together. “Ironic how you two could do so good for the Commonwealth, yet betray your inner circle so harshly.”

Deacon: Deacon rarely missed details. He knew whenever a Railroad agent cut their hair two inches, or when Carrington changed the brand of antiseptics he used to clean medical supplies, or whether Desdemona was in a mood just judging by her posture. That was why he was so shocked he never picked up that Sole was cheating on him with Curie. “She’s a good gal,” Deacon said flatly, his shades pushed up to the skin between his eyes. “Shame she doesn’t know what a bastard you are.”

Hancock: The mayor was all about having a good time, but only when both parties consented. He had never given Sole permission to stray from their monogamous relationship, let alone with Cait. “So you two were fine huffing my chems and drinking my wine all while fucking under my roof?” He dismissed Sole with a curt wave of his ghoulified hand. “Get out of Goodneighbor, Sunshine. And don’t come back.”

MacCready: MacCready had told Sole he’d follow her until the day he died. They had swapped stories of their deceased spouses. Cleaned each other’s wounds. Shared a bed. But nothing hurt more than knowing Sole had cheated on him with Danse; someone he didn’t like, but still a man who was in their inner circle. “Don’t touch me!” MacCready slapped Sole’s hand from his arm, eyes brimming with hot tears. “Fuck off to the Prydwyn and go live your happily ever after.” He didn’t care about swearing. Duncan would understand.

Preston: The general could hardly look at Sole. He had trusted them with the Minutemen. Trusted them with his heart. And Sole had betrayed everything Preston felt secure within. “Hancock, really?” His voice warbled, on the verge of breaking. “Am I really so boring that you need your thrills with the Commonwealth’s craziest mayor?” He didn’t mean the insult. Hell, he had half a mind to apologize to Hancock later. But while Sole’s love brought out the best in him, their betrayal coaxed out his worst.

Piper: “Boy am I stupid.” Piper gave a clipped laugh that shook at the end. “All this time you’ve been helping me write about synths replacing humans, and you’ve been sleeping with one all along.” She was talking about X6-88; a damn courser for crying out loud. “Were you just waiting to swap me with some machine? Is X6 playing you, or are we both just playing ourselves?”

Nick: “I suppose only the Commonwealth’s greatest secret agent could pull one over on its greatest detective.” Nick’s voice was flat, his joke humorless. “I hope you and Deacon are very happy, Sole. Honestly. Just stay out of my way and we won’t have a problem.”

X6-88: X6 was more disgusted with Sole’s choice of lover than their actual affair. Nick Valentine was a Gen 2 synth. As a courser, X6 was superior to him in every way. “I suppose you have less taste than I thought.” He had nothing more to say. X6 was happy to go back to the Institute and ask Father for another courser to be reassigned as Sole’s bodyguard.

[obscureglance]

Another one

1. Do you like blue cheese? Not at all.

2. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? Yep, but I didn’t smoke my first until I was 22.

3. Do you own a gun? Nope. I probably would if I lived in the city.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic? I get a Strawberry Slush.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Nervous to be examined? No. Nervous for the price of the visit? Yes.

6. Do you like hot-dogs? I prefer corn dogs.

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? A green RedBull or an iced cold brew.

9. Can you do push-ups? Not many.

10. What’s your favorite meal? Lemon basil marinated chicken, twice-baked potatoes, and asparagus.

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? A vintage Givenchy watch passed down through my maternal side of the family.

12. Favorite hobby? Binge watching TV shows.

13. Do you work with people who idolize you? Lol I hope not.

14. Name a trait that you hate about yourself? People-pleaser.

15. Middle name? Elizabeth.

16. Name 3 thoughts at this moment: I hate being sick, I really want Chinese food, and my bed is very soft.

17. Name 3 things you bought yesterday: I bought OTC cold medicine and DoorDash.

18. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink: Ice water, Fanta Orange, and Coke.

19. Current worry right now? Not this paycheck but next paycheck.

20. Current hate right now? Feeling crappy.

21. Favorite place to be? In the water. Ocean, pool, hot tub. Whatever.

22. How did you bring in New Years? I had Covid so I was alone in my room. Damn, I get sick a lot.

23. Favorite place to go? California. I never want to come home.

24. What is your most recurring dream? That I’m the age I am now but I have to go back to high school because I missed a credit or something. I don’t know. It’s very uncomfortable.

25. Introvert or extrovert? Introvert.

26. What color shirt are you wearing? What shirt? Lol.

27. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? Jersey knit sheets please.

28. Can you whistle? Sometimes.

29. Favorite color? It changes by my mood but right now it’s sage.

30. Would you be a pirate? I don’t like stealing but also fuck oppressing societies. So, sure.

31. What songs do you sing in the shower? Whatever is playing. Probably something by Halsey, Born Without Bones, Avril Lavigne, or fun.

32. Favorite girl’s name? Dylan.

33. Favorite boy’s name? Carrington.

34. Who is your loudest friend? That’s hard. Probably my friend Tiffany.

35. What’s in your pocket right now? No pockets.

36. Last thing that made you laugh? Bachelor in Paradise.

37. Bed sheets as a child? I don’t remember.

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Fractured collar bone.

39. Do you love where you live? Yeah, I really do.

40. How many TVs are in your house? At least 4. I have roommates lol.

41. What is your worst habit? Running back to exes.

42. How many dogs do you have? One.

43. Does someone have a crush on you? I think so but she’s confusing me.

44. Do you own slippers? Yep.

45. What is your favorite book? I have no idea but my favorite play is Hamlet.

46. What is your favorite candy? Reese’s Cups or Airheads.

47. What is your favorite sports team? Dodgers.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral? Something bittersweet.

49. What were you doing at 12 AM last night? Watching Big Little Lies.

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning? Fuck, I’m still sick.

[runnning-outof-time]

Respectable | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part of @peakyswift ‘s 900 followers celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) keeps stumbling into someone she can't shake from her past. Their interactions are tense at first, but then he helps her, and their true feelings come to light.

Warnings: smoking, drinking, language

Word Count: 3948

A/N: I had the prompt: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh”. I really enjoyed writing this one. Huge congrats to peakyswift!! You deserve every single follower! Enjoy!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

The office was quiet. Mr. Carrington had just gone on his lunch break, leaving (Y/N) alone at her desk. She relished in the quietness and continued reading the article her boss had given her to edit. Her official title at the Birmingham Evening Dispatch was secretary, but as time had passed, Mr. Carrington started entrusting her with more and more jobs. She wasn't mad at the extra work, and actually enjoyed reading over and contributing to his articles.

It made her feel like she was part of the society that she wanted to be in; the enlightened group. The part that was considered respectable. Her family had nothing, her parents from the run of the mill working class that made up the majority of Birmingham. (Y/N)'s grandmother was truly the one that raised her. She taught the younger woman how to hold herself with class. How to be a respectable woman. That's why she took on this job...with the hopes of making something of herself some day.

(Y/N) was writing down a correction when the door to the office opened. Tucking the pencil she was using behind her ear, she finally looked up at the person who entered. The breath got caught in her throat when she saw who was in front of her. "How can I help you?" she asked, trying to be polite.

"Is Mr. Carrington in?" he asked, clearing his throat after he spoke.

"He's at lunch. Can I take a message?" she answered, getting her pencil ready.

The man furrowed his brows, as if he was thinking, before he shook his head, "I'll wait for him. Need to speak in person." (Y/N) sent him a confused look. "Can I sit?" he asked, motioning to the chair sitting against the wall of the room. The woman only nodded her head and he took a seat. "Can I smoke?" was his next request.

"I'm sorry but you can't," (Y/N) responded, giving the man one more glance before her gaze dropped back to the article.

She hoped that things would remain quiet until Mr. Carrington returned, but of course, the man had other plans. "So how are you doing, (Y/N)?" he asked. (Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. How did he remember her name?

"I'm fine," she didn't want to entertain a conversation with him.

"You still living in Small Heath?" he didn't get the hint.

She wanted to be sarcastic to him. Of course she was still living in Small Heath. She wouldn't be working here if she wasn't. "If you don't mind...I'm busy at the moment, Mr. Shelby," she decided against it, making sure there was no emotion in her voice. She hoped that he'd finally realize that she wasn't up for a chat. That she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Fair enough," Tommy responded, clearing his throat. (Y/N) focused on her article again, but she didn't miss the sound of his footsteps approaching her desk a few moments later. "So what's a secretary got any business with proofreading an article, eh?" he wondered aloud, obviously knowing what (Y/N) was doing.

"Excuse me?" (Y/N) looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his icy blue ones.

"I didn't know reporters entrusted their work to their secretaries," he restated what he’d said previously.

(Y/N) opened her mouth with the intent to snap back at him, but the office door opening cut her off. Instead, she addressed her boss, "Mr. Carrington, Mr. Shelby is here to speak to you," she stated, a professional tone now in her voice.

"Thank you, Miss (Y/L/N)," Mr. Carrington nodded, waving Tommy into his office and leaving (Y/N) alone. Once the door shut, she let out a long sigh, hoping that she'd never see Tommy Shelby again.

"(Y/N), I'm going to need you to run this down to Mr. Shelby's place of business. On Watery Lane," Mr. Carrington announced as he stepped out of his office and into the reception room. (Y/N) just about snorted at her boss' word choice. The man runs an illegal gambling den, just say it, Mr. Carrington.

"Mr. Shelby? Why?" the questions were leaving her mouth before she had a chance to think them through.

"I've got the article he requested me to write completed and I'd like for him to read over it before it gets sent to the press," her boss explained the reason behind his desire to get the folder he was holding in his hands to Tommy Shelby.

"We don't usually do that, Mr. Carrington," (Y/N) pointed out, her eyebrows furrowed. Why was Tommy Shelby getting special treatment?

Mr. Carrington nodded before he gave his response, "we don't, but Mr. Shelby's an influential person in the city of Small Heath, and therefore, I'd like to make sure that the article is up to his liking before it's published."

"So you want to stay on his good side?" (Y/N) clarified, boiling the man's lengthy response down to a few words.

"Yes," Carrington nodded his head.

"And why am I the one who has to do it?" she asked yet another question.

"Because I've got to take my wife to an appointment shortly, and I trust you, (Y/N)," he answered, making (Y/N) sigh slightly. There was no way she was getting out of this. "All you need to do is drop it off and go home for the night," he explained what was expected of her then.

(Y/N) pursed her lips, thinking the task through. How bad could it really be? She didn't have to speak to Tommy or anything. All she had to do was drop the folder off and be on her way. "Ok. I'll do it for you, Mr. Carrington," she finally nodded her head.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," her boss was praising her the second she made up her mind. "The shop's on Watery Lane, like I previously said. I believe the building number is six. Just drop it off and be on your way," he ran through what she had to do. (Y/N) nodded along as she listened.

Mr. Carrington allowed her to leave then and she started the trek from her place of work to Watery Lane; to the place she never hoped she'd be near again.

It didn't take long to arrive, and (Y/N) glanced down at the folder, double checking that she was in the right place before she stepped forward to knock. She wasn't able to though because as her foot was moving, the door to the shop opened. The next thing she knew, she was colliding into something, or someone. "My goodness, I'm so sorry, I...oh. Here, this is for you," she caught herself and dropped the apology, placing the folder right against his chest when she realized who she'd bumped into. She felt no need to be sorry to him.

"See now this is more like what I'd expect a secretary to be doing," Tommy was grinning when he realized who was in front of her. She hated that he was so tongue-in-cheek with her. It almost made her blood boil.

(Y/N) bit her tongue, trying to remain the respectable woman her grandmother taught her to be. Her flipping out on Tommy Shelby most definitely would not help her case. "If that's all, I'll be going," she decided to see herself out of the conversation and not respond to his snide remark.

"Let me walk you home, (Y/N)," he called after her, and she heard his footsteps approaching her.

"I'm fine, Tommy," she grumbled, not caring to look back at him. His footsteps continued to follow her though, and she knew that he wasn't going to stop no matter how many times she asked him to. So she walked to her apartment with him following two steps behind.

Soon enough they were stopped on the landing of the steps, a few feet away from the door to her apartment. "Why did you walk me home, Tommy?" she dared to question as she turned to her side to face him.

"It's against my better judgment to have a lady walking home alone at night. Small Heath's a terrible place, you know," he responded, flicking the ash of the cigarette he was smoking before he brought it back to his lips. Yeah, Small Heath's a terrible place because you're here, (Y/N) thought.

"I've done it before, I'd 've been fine this time too," (Y/N) asserted. She didn't need a man to make her feel safe.

"It wouldn't have sat right on my conscience."

"Oh so now you have a conscience?" (Y/N) snapped when she heard what he had to say. She couldn't hold up the respectable front any longer. She was mad at him. Her eyebrows were raised as she waited for what his response would be, her arms crossed over her chest.

"What are you getting at?" Tommy was confused.

"You really don't remember, huh?" the fact that he had not a clue what she was alluding to made her even more angry.

"Enlighten me, (Y/N)," he was also starting to get annoyed. He had no idea what this woman was accusing him of, or why she was being so snide with him.

And she let him have it. "You don't remember seducing me into your bed only for me to wake up the next day to you being gone? You don't remember the shit...the pretentious shit that you said to me to get me to fall for you?! Because I didn't want to get involved with a soldier on leave, but you made me believe that you were different. Said you'd come back to me, promised me you would. It was all lies though. All lies for a quick fuck!"

"But you felt something. You enjoyed it," he pointed out, also thinking back to that time several years ago. A time that he hadn't been able to replicate since.

"Yeah, I did enjoy it," (Y/N) laughed, almost in spite of herself before she continued, "what I didn't enjoy, though, was walking downstairs to your aunt only to have her tell me that you and some mates had slinked off to the countryside to have a good time before you got shipped out again."

Tommy sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his shoes. "That was the past, (Y/N)."

"And yet you're standing in front of me like the pathetic person you still are. Goodnight, Tommy," she bit back at him, not giving him a chance to respond as she opened her door and slammed it in his face after she entered the apartment.

She slid down the door once it was closed, tears falling from her eyes as she listened to him sigh and then walk back down the steps. She pulled her knees to her chest, hating herself for the tears that wouldn't stop falling. She wasn't crying because of what was said. She was crying because she still felt something for him.

A long breath escaped her lips as she stepped through the double doors of the Garrison. Her uncle, Harry, ran the tavern, and she would frequently visit when she needed a release from the stresses she was dealing with. Much like she needed today. She couldn't get Tommy off of her mind. It had been a few days since their intense encounter and she found herself feeling guilty over it. Perhaps she was too brash with him. But on the other hand, he deserved it...he deserved to know how he made her feel when he vanished those several years ago and didn't make contact with her until he showed up at her boss' office a few weeks back. Her grandmother and her respectable nature, and her parents and their grit were fighting a war in her brain. She needed something to calm them down, and quickly.

"Thank you, Harry," she chirped, accepting the glass that the barman sat in front of her.

"Made it a double. You look like you need it, (Y/N)," he nodded back at her and she set her payment on the counter before taking the glass and moving over to an empty table.

She sat by herself, people watching as she slowly sipped on her drink. This was one of the things she enjoyed doing. Sometimes actually getting into conversation required too much effort, so she just innocently listened to other people's. Soon enough, there was a man, who was still covered in the soot from work, approaching her. (Y/N) sighed, already having an inkling of what he was going to say. "Need a drinking partner, sweetheart?" he questioned with a slimey grin, making (Y/N) shudder slightly. "Or are you just looking to pick up someone?"

"Excuse me?" her eyebrows raised at the second half of his statement. The men in Small Heath really irked her sometimes.

"Come on, sweetie. No woman sits at a pub by herself unless they're looking for some company," he man backed his statement, smirking so that she knew just what kind of 'company' he was referring to. The look he wore made her sick.

"I'm actually here trying to forget about men like you," she stated matter-of-factly, "and I'll have you know that I'm a respectable woman who will not submit to your foolish attempts at getting me to leave with you," she chided, hoping that the man would feel guilty for thinking that she'd be that easy.

What she heard next was a woman snorting out in laughter to her left. The man stayed silent as (Y/N) looked over at the lady, who was sitting with a man across from her. She looked like someone that (Y/N) wanted to be, dressed in a posh dress, elegant make-up covering her face. Of course, the man she was sitting with was either her husband or boyfriend...that was the only way women were allowed in drinking establishments. (Y/N) felt like a sham. She couldn't show it though. "Excuse me?" she decided to ask the woman what her problem was.

"You say that you're a respectable woman, but you're not. Look at your clothes, no respectable woman would wear something that wrinkly and drab," the woman laughed at (Y/N)'s appearance. She immediately shrunk into herself and stood from the seat, hoping to leave the conversation altogether. This lady wasn't done though, "what you are is a piece of Birmingham trash that needs to be swept off of the streets for good. The only thing 'respectable' about you is you didn't walk through that door at that man's first attempt to get with you," she finished with a grin, knowing that she'd struck a chord in (Y/N).

"You have business speaking on this? Respectability, eh? If you're so fucking respectable, shouldn't have you been taught not comment on others' predicaments...on others' appearances? I'd take a chance and say that the only 'respectable' thing about you is the clothes you're wearing. You are in Birmingham, after all," a voice behind (Y/N) spoke up before she was able to herself. She didn't even know when he'd come into the pub. He wasn't here when she arrived.

The lady's mouth gaped at his words, a glare forming on her face, "I'm appalled that you'd say such things to a lady, Mr. Shelby," she chided him. The man across from her didn’t dare say anything. He knew what he was up against.

Tommy clicked his tongue and let out a chuckle before he responded, "well I'm appalled that you'd say such things to my lady, so I guess that makes us even." (Y/N) almost let her jaw drop at his words. She wasn't his lady. She wasn't anything to him. If anything, she wanted to forget him. But her stomach was doing flips; her heart swelling at his words. So now she was engaged in an internal struggle as to what her true feelings towards Tommy Shelby were. Both of the women previously engaged with each other were now speechless, so Tommy spoke again, "come on, (Y/N)," he said to her, taking hold of her arm before he physically removed her from the conversation, bringing her into the snug with him.

(Y/N) managed to find her voice once the door was shut. She hoped that the walls were thick, because she had a few words for him and she wasn't planning on saying them softly. "My lady, Thomas?! Are you on something?!" she exclaimed, her eyes as wide as they could get as she looked up at him.

"I got you out of the fucking conversation, didn't I?" he responded, motioning his hand backwards as he referred to the woman sitting just outside.

"I would have been fine. I was able to handle what she was saying," (Y/N) muttered, crossing her arms over her chest like an angry child would, "I didn't need your help."

Tommy exhaled a stressed sigh before he stepped away from the woman in front of him, fishing out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket before he placed one between his lips and lit it with a match. "You know, a simple fucking thank you would have sufficed, (Y/N)," he commented then as he dropped himself into the chair in the corner.

"Thank you," she appeased him, going to reach for the doorknob then.

"Where're you going?" he asked, making her halt her actions.

"Leaving," she responded simply. She had calmed down now and no longer saw the point of being in there.

"You leave now and that woman's gonna think you just came in here to fuck me," he stated bluntly, standing from the chair he was in just as she opened the door.

She scoffed at his words. He couldn't be serious right now. "You're delirious, you know that, Tommy Shelby?" she told him, her disbelief shining through in her words.

"Just shut the fucking door, (Y/N)," he ordered, coming right over to her so that he could place his hand on the door and shut it once more. It closed with a bang and surely got the attention of the other patrons in the bar.

"There. Happy?" she questioned, rolling her eyes as she looked off to the opposite wall, shaking her head then. She felt Tommy's eyes on her as she studied the painting across from her, the events that had just transpired playing over in her head. She couldn't help but laugh at them, her straight face softening into a smile as she shook her head to herself. How did she end up here?

Then she heard Tommy let out a hum that was followed by a chuckle. It reminded her that he was still in here and was standing right beside her. "What, Tommy?" she asked, seeing that he was also donning a smile when she turned to face him.

"Nothing, it's just that...I don't think I've ever seen you smile," he stated, his eyes meeting hers. She tried with everything in her not to shrink under his gaze.

"Well, I don't think the conversations we've had are ones that would elicit smiles," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, and he nodded in agreement with her, "and I could say the same for you, you know...about smiling," she pointed out. Sure, she'd seen him smirk before, but a smile was something completely different.

He tilted his head slightly, like he was thinking about her words, before he turned himself so that they were now facing each other. (Y/N) couldn't do anything but look up at him as he spoke, "well since we know that we both make each other smile, how 'bout we do this..." he trailed off, moving ever so slightly closer to her.

"What?" she asked. She wanted to point out that she wasn't smiling at him, but rather at the events that had just gone down. But she didn't...her heart won the argument and the breath got caught in her throat as she prepared for what she knew he was about to do.

"This," he spoke softly but she heard him, allowing him to reach out and take her cheeks into his hands so that he could tilt her head upwards and press their lips together.

Their first kiss was short, and they pulled away slightly to exhale a breathy laugh simultaneously, equally surprised that they'd just done that, and that the other liked it. Then their lips met again. The kiss was longer this time, and it made (Y/N) reach up and grip onto the lapels of his suit jacket. Her hold pulled him even closer to her, but he wasn't complaining. He just continued kissing her.

Tommy was the first to pull away, and when he did, (Y/N) opened her eyes to see that he was smiling. "You have a nice smile," she told him, reaching up and running her thumb over his slightly stretched lips. "You should show it to more people," she suggested then. Tommy just chuckled, wanting to tell her that in his position, smiling would never get him what he wanted. He stayed mum though and caressed her cheeks with his thumbs before he dropped his hands to her waist.

"Maybe I'm truly not a respectable woman," (Y/N) spoke again after they were quietly embracing for a few minutes.

"Why's that?" Tommy questioned, his brows furrowed as he peered down at her.

"Because I'm having thoughts of getting close to a Birmingham gangster," she admitted, her words coming out in a whisper. Tommy was able to hear them though, and he chuckled once she was finished.

"You'd still be respectable on me arm, love," he assured her with a grin. The pet name he used made her stomach do flips. "Treat you like a queen, I would. Nobody'd be able to say anything against you."

"Don't go making promises you won't keep, Tommy," she warned him, still hesitant to fall for him again. She didn't want it to end up like a repeat of the last time. She couldn't bear to be left alone again. Still, he was so damn convincing.

"I'm done with that. Won't ever make a false promise to you again. You have my word, (Y/N)," he told her, his hands squeezing her waist as he emphasized his words. She thought it all over in her head, not wanting to jump into something without both sides being weighed. The smile on her face gave away her answer before she could say it. "There's that smile again," Tommy pointed out, a grin on his features as he spoke.

"Oh stop it, Tommy," she smacked his chest playfully, a blush forming on her face.

His hands quickly reached up to grab hers before they could fall back to her sides, and he kept them tight against his chest as he looked into her eyes. "You really do have a beautiful smile, love," he told her, only making her blush intensify. She tried to wipe it off of her face and break their eye contact, but he knew what she was going to do before she did it, and his one hand moved to her cheek so that she couldn't move. "Don't ever stop," he whispered, and she knew he was referring to smiling.

"I won't," she promised him, stretching up to press her lips to his, the smile still on her face as they kissed.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul

MASTERLIST

[sh4wty18]

HII! I was wondering if you could write a plus size fluff/angst fic for Johnnie. So basically y/n is really insecure about herself bc she’s plus sized and she degrades herself for it a lot behind closed doors. She believes that Johnnie would be much happier with someone else and one night she decides to break up with him for that reason. She really doesn’t want to do it but she feels it’s for the best. But Johnnie isn’t giving up so easily so he tries to convince her that size doesn’t matter to him and she’s beautiful no matter what. And could it have a happy ending? Sorry I’m not the best at explaining things

insecure.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: same as request.

cw: angst, fluff, language, discussion of body-related insecurities/fatphobia

word count: 1.1k + edited

---

Being plus-sized was already hard enough, but pair that with being in a public relationship with a celebrity, and your anxiety was constantly through the roof. It’s not that you don’t love being with Johnnie, because you do. You’re just afraid the feeling isn’t mutual. 

You’ve dealt with people being fatphobic toward you for as long as you can remember. But once you and Johnnie went public, it got a hundred times worse. You used to film with Johnnie, trying silly foods in his live streams and doing Q&As together. Eventually, the constant hate comments calling you names or telling Johnnie he could do better became too much. You stopped filming with him, stopped posting him on your socials, and told Johnnie to take down his posts with you as well. People assumed you’d broken up, but really you were just ultra-private.

You felt terrible. Forcing Johnnie to be in a private relationship just because of your body and insecurities wasn’t fair to him. But it also wasn’t fair for you to have to go through constant bullying and harassment online. He’d reassured you time and time again that he loves you, but it’s beginning to not be enough. You can’t help but ask yourself, would he be happier with someone skinnier? Would he be happier in a relationship where he didn’t have to hide who he was with? Probably, you conclude. 

These are the thoughts running through your mind on repeat as you doom-scroll on tiktok waiting for Johnnie to get back from filming with Jake and Carrington. You’ve been thinking about breaking up with him for weeks now, but every time you get close, the thought of losing him becomes unbearable and you stop yourself. Today, you decided, it was time. You couldn’t keep him chained to you, someone the world would always judge. You just want him to be happy, and you’re not convinced he can be truly happy with you. 

You jump slightly as Johnnie enters his bedroom, plopping down in bed next to you, bringing a hand to your cheek and guiding your face toward his mouth. “Hey baby,” he whispers as he trails kisses from your cheek to your lips. 

You pull away gently, “Hey.”

He senses that something is wrong– you’re never one to deny his kisses– and he sits up, leaning toward you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Johnnie, um, I don’t know how to say this…” You trail off, tears already welling in your eyes. 

He pulls you to his chest, enveloping your body in his arms, “Woah woah woah, what’s going on?” 

“Don’t do that, it’s only gonna make this harder,” You say between tears, pushing yourself away from him, even though you wanted nothing more than for him to cradle you, kiss your forehead, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you fall asleep. 

A nervous laugh escapes his lips, “Okay… now I’m really getting worried. What’s going on, y/n?” 

“Johnnie I… we can’t be together anymore,” You whisper, refusing to make eye contact with him.

You hear his breath catch, and he clears his throat, holding back tears, “Wait what? You… you’re breaking up with me? No. No no no-”

You cut him off, “Johnnie it’s for the best. I don’t want you to have to be stuck with me. You could have anyone you want and I’m… I’m not skinny like the other girls you’ve dated. I can post a picture on instagram and get hundreds of comments calling me every name in the book and questioning how you could ever date me. I made you delete all our posts and videos together for fuck’s sake! You don’t want this. It’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassing. I just want you to be able to date someone who you don’t have to hide.” You wince at the thought of him dating someone else, and turn away. 

He stares at you, mouth hanging slightly open at your words. Then he clenches his jaw and anger takes over. “No.” He says.

“Wh- what?” You ask, caught off guard.

“No! We’re not breaking up. Do you think I’m an idiot? I know you’re not as skinny as the other girls I’ve dated. I just don’t care. You think I give a fuck?” he scoffs and lets out a pissed-off laugh. “If I didn’t find you attractive, I wouldn’t be dating you, y/n. You’re not gonna sit there and tell me how I feel. I took down those posts because you asked me to… because I wanted you to be more comfortable… because at the end of the day, social media means nothing, and we don’t need to post together to be happy. I never wanted to hide you, and I have never, ever found you embarrassing. I’m offended you’d even suggest that.” 

You’re fully crying now, unable to stifle your quiet sobs. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, “I just thought-”

Johnnie’s face softens, “I know what you thought, baby. I understand. But I want you to know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. There’s no one else I’d rather be with. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. In my eyes, you’re perfect. I want the world to know you’re mine.” He pulls you closer to him again, taking you in his arms and pressing a long kiss to your lips. “I didn’t delete the posts, just archived them. Can I please, please reupload them? I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. I’ll block anyone who leaves hate comments, I’ll cuss out anyone who says something mean about you, I don't care. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe I want you.” 

You smile sheepishly, kissing him back, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that quite yet. As for convincing me you want me… I think I have always known you love me, but my anxiety is constantly telling me it’s impossible. That someone like you could never love someone like me. I guess that’s something I have to work on. Your reassurance is helpful, but I don’t wanna be the girl who constantly needs words of affirmation to survive. I don’t wanna annoy you.”

He shakes his head, grasping your face in both hands so you have no choice but to make eye contact with him. “Listen to me,” He starts, “You aren’t annoying. I’ll reassure you until the day I die if that’s what it takes. I don’t care. All I care about is you understanding how much you mean to me. We’re gonna get through this together. And one day, when you’re ready, we can reupload everything. We’ll tell every single hater to fuck off and suck a dick. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” You respond, and he pulls your face in to kiss you again.

---

this request was so cutie!! likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

[discopig]

Butterfly in flight (William Killick)

After months of ruthless combat, William had long become just another ruined soldier, but when he meets a woman whos only dream is to fly. Could he find hope again?

A/N: Finally something new! I was crying to As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese (highly recommend you listen, even while reading this), and felt inspired to write this story. It’s set in the universe of The Edge of Love, while William is at war. I didn’t make this x reader as I didn’t feel it suited the theme of the story, and I had quite a specific image in mind of the character I wrote, but if you feel your appearance matches hers it could most definitely have a similar reading experience. Also idk shit about military equipment so don’t sue me thanks. Hope you enjoy :)

All characters in this are fictional.

This is pure angst. Literally no one is happy 

Warnings: description of war

Word Count: 561

129. 129 days William had been at war. Or was it 139? He didn’t know, he didn’t know if he was even keeping track of the days and nights anymore. It had to be 129. 

The sounds of screaming men, gunshots and explosions, the ringing sound in his ears - a bomb missing him by mere centimeters - that seemed to accompany him even in his sleep, these were William’s companions, they followed him around like his shadow. 

William had lost all sense of himself, all sense of who he had been before he became just another soldier. Just another man thrown into the thorny embrace of survival. He had lost hope for anything at all, that is until he met her.

There were 4 of them. 3 women, and one boy. Pilots. Assigned to special fighter jets. They were small jets, most pilots being too heavy and bulky to fly them without weighing them down. Amy, a 12 year old boy named Patrick, Lorene and her.

She was like a breath of fresh air. Her brown curls cut into a bob and pinned to the side with a gold pin, a butterfly adorning it. Her mother had given it to her when she turned 16. Told her she would fly, just like the butterfly and just like her father did. Her father passed away from tuberculosis when she was only 10. Her faded memories of him and his flight journal, being the only thing she had left of him.

They were inseparable. When William would return from combat, shaken up and in a daze, she would hold him, without a word. He didn’t want to speak, trying his best to forget everything that had happened only a few hours ago. Trying to forget the horror of looking into his friend’s eyes - that only the previous evening were glistening with hope for a better future, laughing over the campfire in a rare moment of peace - now dead and empty. Their bodies nothing but shells of the men they had been.

The ringing had stopped. When it would start again he would think of her. Her soft brown eyes that seemed to shimmer in the sun like a warm pot of honey. Her laughter, that never seemed to be anything but loud and clear despite the not very humorous life they were living. She made the ringing stop.

The 4 pilots were to be sent off today. Their first mission on the jets. She gave him the pin as she couldn’t wear it under her helmet. She placed it in his palm with a firm grip of his hand, and stared into his cold, shaken eyes. Pulling him into a hug, she whispered “I’m going to fly today William”, he could hear the soft smile on her lips. She pulled away with a soft kiss to his cheek.

All 4 of them were gone. Their mission was to fly into a German camp, jets lined with explosives, ready to detonate on impact. She gave him the pin because she knew she wasn’t coming back. 

Amy Carrington

Patrick Bright

Lorene Ridley

and her.

All awarded Air Crew Europe star medals, their medals in frames accompanied by their photos, jet numbers written on the back. She was smiling in her photo.

“I’m going to fly today William”

She flew. Flew to her death

 I cried writing this just letting you know 

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 9: "Déshonorez-moi, M. Bridgerton"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: While the other ladies have grown with the mindset of marrying and having children, you, as the daughter of a man who wanted a son, grew up being both. You learnt how to embroider, play the pianoforte, fence and manage the estate. However, there were some things that not even the Duke of Burgundy could do, so after he passed and you thought there was nothing left for you, you decided to move to London for a while and go to the Royal Academy of Art.

Nothing was going to keep you from what you wanted, and you would do whatever it takes: you would lie to everyone, you would live to death, you would pretend to be a man. You had a plan and it would be a piece of cake for you. But again, when has something that she wants and should not do easy for a woman? Especially when a man like Benedict Bridgerton gets in the way in more ways than one.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, love triangles (but not really), lgbtq+ themes, bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: In spite of the inconveniences, you joined the Sharmas, Lady Danbury and the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall for the ball, but not without setting a date with Benedict Bridgerton at midnight.

(this chapter contains adult content: smut, virginity loss, unprotected sex, consent is hot, minors dni)

Word count: 6.2K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

"Mr. Bridgerton, welcome!" Lord Carrington exclaimed. "Lady Y/N is finishing getting ready."

"Of course, Lord Carrington, I will wait for her."

He nodded. "I hope everything goes very well on your ball. We, unfortunately, might not be able to attend as my wife has fallen sick."

"Oh, that's a shame," Benedict empathized. "I wish for her to recover very soon, and as for the ball, do not worry. I will tell my Mother."

"Thank you, son."

Benedict smiled at Lord Carrington's words.

"Antoinette, dépêche-toi !" your yells could be heard from the sitting room, making Benedict smile fondly. "We will be late!"

"My Lady, this dress is not very easy to put on!"

Lord Carrington laughed. "One could never fathom a lady and her maid treating each other like sisters, but Y/N certainly treats Antoinette like one."

"She proves to us every day that she is another kind of lady," Benedict noted. "That is probably why she and my sister Eloise tally as well as they do. These two were cut from the same cloth."

"It would be unbearable to have two of those under the same roof," He smiled. "Thankfully, my wife is not the defiant kind, she would be similar enough to Y/N otherwise."

"I am certain Lady Y/N is not that bad."

"Not at all," Lord Carrington rushed. "You will never have one boring day beside that woman. She is quite the artist, any would be surprised by her talents; and her particular ability to spend an entire day at the modiste. She returns with at least a dress each time she goes, and is argumentative enough to contradict the jeweler," he added. "I promise you will have the perfect wife by your side if you keep her."

"Well, I intend to."

He curved his lips. "My wife and I have known her since before she was born… She holds a very special place in our hearts, and we wish for nothing but the best for her. Louisa and I, we are glad it is you."

"Thank you, Lord Carrington."

"You know, Mr. Bridgerton?" He began, looking at Benedict right in the eye. "The environment that she grew up in made her the woman she is today. It took her father a while to… take a look at her, he wanted a son but ended up with the living image of his wife. When he realized that she was going to be the one to take care of everything when he passed, that's when he decided to be the father she needed... And he used to spend hours teaching her how to ride a horse and then he would talk about their home while she painted the sunset. They traveled the world together and were everything to one another, so… take care of her."

Benedict frowned at certain words of his but nodded nevertheless.

"I am here!" you exclaimed running downstairs. "Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton!"

"Good morning, Lady Y/N," Benedict grinned at the use of names while in front of Lord Carrington. "Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall," You accepted his arm. "I am starving and excited for this trip."

He laughed. "Goodbye, Lord Carrington."

"Bye, my Lord!" You smiled. "Take good care of Lady Carrington for me, will you?"

Lord Carrington laughed. "I will."

Once you were finally inside your carriage, you looked at Antoinette.

"Did you tell Théo and Laurent that we will have a long trip today?" you asked and Antoinette nodded. "So, are they rested and are the horses alright?"

"They are, my Lady. There is nothing for you to worry about."

You smiled and looked at Benedict in front of you.

"You look most ravishing in that teal blue dress." he commented.

"I believed my color was apricot orange."

"In all honesty, apricot was the same color you wore the day we met," he reminded you. "Therefore, it holds a very special spot in my brain."

"I didn't remember that," you confessed, feeling warmth rushed into your cheeks. "Thank you for saying that, I am glad that both teal and apricot are my colors."

Benedict grinned. "To be fair, every color is your color. You look equally dazzling in all of them."

"That is, perhaps, because you have not seen me in red just yet. That would be your favorite."

"Very well, you have me looking forward to it."

"Your wishes will be satisfied during the ball." you replied with a suggestive smile.

"I cannot wait, then."

Soon, you arrived at the Bridgerton House, being received by all the siblings and Lady Bridgerton.

"Y/N!" Eloise called you before you joined the rest of the family for breakfast. "I need to talk to you about something."

You frowned. "Of course, Eloise. Can it wait until we are in Aubrey Hall or at least until after breaking the fast?"

She sighed. "Yes. Okay."

You and Eloise went to the dining room and sat next to each other.

"Uh, I hear you are to return to France soon, are you not?" Anthony questioned.

"Yes, I must go back. There are issues at home only I can resolve," you replied. "There is also a visit from the Americas waiting for me."

Anthony looked at Benedict. "You are coming back to London, I assume."

"I am not sure," you said, catching his telepathic conversation with Benedict that was surely about you. "Unless I am given a reason to, I will not. At least, not anytime soon."

"That is unfortunate," Anthony added. "Just know you will always be welcomed by us."

"Thank you," you replied. "Likewise."

Lady Bridgerton sighed. "And this visit from the Americas… Can we know who it is?"

"Oh, my Grandfather," you answered. "He was shocked by my absence and wishes to see me."

"He should come here," Lady Bridgerton proposed. "I have never met him before, I would be delighted to."

"I know, but he just survived a weeks-long trip, so I do not think it is proper for him to travel more," You wrinkled your nose. "You could always join me and spend a few weeks in Versailles until I leave for the Americas with him."

Benedict almost choked on his food. "Are you traveling overseas?!"

You hummed. "I will unless I have a reason not to. Or a companion, too, would be very appreciated."

Eloise looked at you with her eyes wide open, while Daphne and Francesca looked at each other hiding a smirk at your suggestion. Gregory and Hyacinth pretended not to be aware of the conversation but gave each other funny glances. Lady Bridgerton hid her laugh as Benedict, Anthony, and Colin shared surprised stares.

The eldest Bridgerton was well aware that his brother was flirting with you. It seemed very innocent and even encouraged by him at the beginning, but once he heard his Mother talk so highly of you and after having met you, Anthony knew it was time for a serious conversation: Benedict had only met you a couple of weeks previous and already decided to court you? What were his intentions? Did he not think it was an awful idea to marry someone he did not know well enough? Was he aware of the responsibility that would fall on his shoulders once he married you?

The answer to his question was found in that glint of doubt that shone in Benedict's blue eyes, and Anthony knew he had to make his brother give up on marrying you.

Since, of course, Anthony believed it was his responsibility to dictate the future of each of his siblings.

What he did not know was that the reason behind Benedict's doubt was way worse than whatever his fate marrying you and destroying an entire region would be. The remedy was worse than the illness in this case because it involved his brother having some sort of relationship with another man. Particularly his future fiancée's —fictional— brother. And Benedict, clearly, did not want Anthony or anybody else to ever know about it.

"I could always go with you! An adventure would be quite enriching." Eloise intervened.

"I think that is a wond-" Lady Bridgerton began but was interrupted by her eldest son.

"Do not even mention it, Sister," Anthony threatened. "You cannot travel abroad with a stranger."

The dining room fell silent, and Lady Bridgerton was about to interfere and scold his son for treating you that way when you replied.

You raised your eyebrow. "Did I miss something, Lord Bridgerton? Or what have I done to cause the sudden change of attitude toward me?"

"Brother…" Benedict gave him a pointed look.

"Not at all, I just cannot help but realize that you are very insistent on marrying my brother."

"Anthony, stop."

"Mr. Bridgerton, I do not need you to defend me," you told Benedict, then looking at Anthony in an attempt to hide how offended you were. "I have never, not even once, approached your brother myself, Lord Bridgerton. As you should be aware, a woman is not allowed to. I am not desperate, it is just that I must return to France, I do not need anything from you. In case you haven't considered the possibility of me loving your brother, I could easily point it out for you: marriages based on a love match do exist and I was hoping to have one of those for myself. I believe I could find that with Benedict, I did not know you were the one to make decisions for him," You stood up, dedicating him the deadliest glance your eyes could make. "Bon appétit."

You did not hesitate nor looked back, and made your way out of the dining room with the purpose of returning to the Carrington Mansion.

However, Benedict stopped you in the middle of your way to the front door.

"Y/N, wait!"

You stopped with a sigh, trying to regain composure. "What can I do for you, Mr. Bridgerton?"

"Don't call me that, please," he pleaded, taking you by your arm and leading the way to the bureau. "And pay my brother no mind, I beg you, he… Marriage is a very sensitive topic of conversation lately, especially for him. He did not mean to say any of that or to offend you."

"You do not have to apologize in the name of your brother and I do not care for him or his personal issues, Benedict," you answered. "I love you, alright? I do. And I can think of at least ten respectable gentlemen in London, forty more across Europe, and a hundred all around the world who wish to marry me and about whom I couldn't care less when you are the one that I want. I do not want to settle for any of them, I do not care if it is a prince, a king, a duke, a count, a viscount, a lord, whatever, I only want you. If you love me, too, tell me at once or I will go back to France with no reason to return to London."

"I love you, too."

"Think it through, then," you demanded. "If you marry me, you must live in France with me, Benedict. You will have to leave your life here behind for me and while I love you so, I cannot ask you that."

"Y/N, I would follow you to the ends of the Earth, you hear me? I love you like I never thought possible," he whispered. "Don't leave, come to Aubrey Hall with us. Anthony will make it up to you, of that I am sure."

You looked around, noticing you were alone.

His eyes met yours so passionately that it hurt to even break the contact, so you just cupped his face, caressing his features fondly.

And you kissed him as if the world was crumbling down around you.

"I do not care about Anthony, Benedict," you muttered. "He could disown you and still you would have four palaces at your disposal if you stand by me, you would lack nothing, nor would our children or the children of our children or their great-grandchildren. I will be by your side until my very last breath and I will love you through Heaven and Hell. This is your choice."

He kissed you again, this time more urgently and lovingly.

You observed him as he pulled away, looking perfect as ever in his Prussian blue suit with a steel and burgundy waistcoat and a matching cravat of the latter color.

"You are the most enchanting man I have met in my life," you confessed. "And I have met many princes."

Benedict laughed. "You mean to tell me that I am more enchanting than a prince?"

You clicked your tongue. "I meant that you are more enchanting than all those rich, handsome princes and the nobles and the explorers and every man I have known altogether."

He kissed you again, smiling throughout the dance of your yearning lips.

"You are the most endearing, interesting, and ravishing woman I have ever encountered," he complimented you. "You are the only woman who has called him out in front of a crowd apart from Miss Sharma."

"Ah, he must hate me now," you noted. "I will get over it."

"But he will be my best man!"

You shook your head. "No ring, no wedding innuendos."

"Well, no wedding, no kissing," Benedict added. "Two can play that game."

"That is actually very sensible from you, Mr. Bridgerton. Can you imagine what would happen if someone was to catch us with our hands in the bag?!"

He chortled. "What does that even mean?"

"It means if someone sees us in this compromising situation: with rouge all over our faces, hair a mess, and… your cheeks are turning the color of the wine!"

"Then, meet me tonight in the garden, my Lady," he proposed. "When everyone is fast asleep."

"I never said I would still go to Aubrey Hall."

"My dear Mother would be devastated if you rejected her invitation. Not to mention Eloise, who was arguing with me about how I should not keep you to myself the whole time as she needed her friend."

"Meet me at midnight, then, Mr. Bridgerton."

You did not exchange a single word with Anthony for the rest of the day. Not when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, not when you declined their invitation to play Pall Mall, and the siblings —minus Anthony— and Miss Sharma, insisted on you to. Not during tea or dinner. Not ever.

It was now an hour until midnight, and you were on your way to Eloise's room.

"Finally!" she exclaimed in a whisper when you were in front of her door. "I thought you had forgotten."

You shook your head and entered her room. "No, I just had to wait for Antoinette to fall asleep so I could come."

"Alright, that does not matter," she replied, making space for you to sit on her bed. "I have a problem I do not know how to solve."

"If there is any way I can help you, do not doubt I will."

"I know," she muttered. "That is why I am asking you this, I cannot appeal to anybody else."

"Of course, Eloise, tell me."

"The Queen believes I am Lady Whistledown."

You gasped. "What?!"

"I know!"

"Are you?"

Eloise shook her head with a frown. "No!"

"Alright," you replied. "What should we do?"

"She threatened me. My family. I do not know what to do."

"We must find out who Lady Whistledown is and expose her."

"How?! That is what I have tried to do for so long, and-"

"Shh… It is alright, everything will be alright, Eloise," you tried to calm her down. "What if you tell her who Lady Whistledown is, except that it is someone who does not exist?"

"She will find out and it will be worse!"

You nodded. "Tomorrow night, at the ball, we will spread different rumors to every possible Lady Whistledown and see which got printed and tell the Queen it was her."

"The rumors will be spread, how will we even know?"

"Because she would want to spread the one no one else told her about in order to have one novelty! We will find out who it is, then, and tell the Queen."

Eloise sighed. "And what will happen to the real Lady Whistledown?"

"That is not your problem, Eloise… The Queen threatened your family, and they are the ones you must worry about."

"Y/N, could you… not tell anyone?"

Your expression softened. "It will be our secret, El."

"Thank you."

"Always," You smiled and stood up to look at the window. "You know? You should ignore Anthony and come to France with me and Benedict, I hope. It will help you clear your mind… we could tell your Mama that you will find a French husband there; instead, I could take you everywhere!"

"Benedict, you said?" she mocked you.

"Yes. All proofs lead me to believe he will propose before I leave," you answered. "He said that I should not be indifferent to Anthony's hate because he would be his best man. That should be enough."

She made an annoyed grin. "You will marry my brother?"

"A lady can only hope," you said, noticing how Benedict was already waiting for you in the garden. "I should head back to my room, Eloise… We can talk specifics tomorrow."

"Of course. Good night."

"Sleep well."

You practically ran to the garden until you met him standing there, waiting for you with that grin of his. "Ready, my Lady?"

"For what?" you asked, taking the hand he was offering.

"Ready to be mine for a night?"

"Always."

Benedict took your hand in his and drove you to the backyard. "Would you like to fence? I could teach you."

"Oh, Benedict, darling… I have been fencing since I was seven!"

"Yes, of course," he said sarcastically. "Me as well, and allow me to remind you that I am way more experienced than you since I am older."

"Moi, j'adore un rêveur !" you exclaimed.

He gasped, faking offense. "Are you calling me dreamy?!"

"I am indeed, dearest."

"Tu es la femme de mes rêves," Benedict said with a grin. "See? It is not that difficult to compliment others!"

"Ooh, la la, Monsieur Bridgerton… si romantique !" you teased him, getting closer to him. "I will destroy you."

"That sounds most tempting…" he whispered, turning around to get the pair of fencing swords he had left there earlier that day. "This one is for you."

You took it and gave him a look. "The dress might make it difficult for me to unleash my prime level."

He laughed. "I will go easy on you."

"No, do it as if I were one of your brothers."

"Are you sure about that? We are very competitive."

You clicked your tongue, taking a defensive position. "En garde, dearest."

"I will destroy you!" Benedict exclaimed and you chuckled as he hit his sword against yours.

And you started fencing.

You could admit you were having the time of your life, all laughter and you winning more than half of the rounds.

"It is because I have been going easy on you."

You scoffed. "I told you not to!"

"One more, all or nothing at all."

"Only if you wish to lose."

"Confident much?" he questioned. "Alright, how about… a bet?"

"A bet?" You frowned. "What could you possibly bet?"

"I win… you dance with the man of my choice at the ball," Benedict stated. "And I shall not be gentle."

You hummed, then. "Very well, Benedict. I win, you come to France with me despite Anthony's objections"

"Oh, you are serious."

"I always am, dearest," you replied. "En garde !"

You began the final round, and it was, probably, the most competitive you have been a part of.

Benedict started running as he saw you close to winning, and you had no choice but to raise your skirt and chase him down. "That is against the rules!"

"We never said anything about rules!"

"You said fencing, so we must follow the rules of fencing!"

"Once you catch me we can begin to talk about rules!"

You got closer to him, taking advantage of how Benedict lowered his speed to give you a much more fair chance to reach him. "You run too fastly and this dress is making it impossible for me to-"

Benedict, who had turned around to see you complain, felt you fall harshly on top of him as you stumbled.

Both laughed at the situation, the fencing swords long forgotten.

"You look precious under the moonlight," he noted, seeing how the light illuminated your face slightly, and how your short hair fell messy, covering both your faces like a curtain with how close you were to one another. "You certainly do."

You could feel the way your stomach fluttered at his compliments and how flushed your face was. "Shall we call this a tie?"

His hands put your hair behind your ear and then fell on your neck, driving you impossibly closer until your lips met.

"I believe you mentioned something about no kisses, Mr. Bridgerton," you mentioned once your lips parted. "Not that I am complaining."

Benedict kissed you again, this time more urgently. You could taste the craving in his lips and feel the need in his touch.

"You will not believe half the things I see inside my head," he confessed, standing up and helping you stand up, too. "Your lips are my addiction, Lady Y/N, and I long for you every second that we are apart."

"I wish to never be apart from you," you whispered, taking his hand in yours. "I wish to grow older with your hand holding mine and to watch you sleep every night."

He smiled and kissed you once more. "I love you."

The next kiss was better. Benedict pushed you against the nearest tree and you felt as if your soul would leave your body any second at how… unearthly the experience was.

An unfamiliar warmth took over your entire being, and the need for more would not leave you breathing in peace. More, more, more… your body chanted, but more of what?

"I feel…" you breathed out when he left your mouth and went to your neck, his hands holding your waist tightly against him. "What is this that I am feeling?"

He grinned. "Have you never been taught about this?"

"About what?" you asked with a whimper.

"My, my, Lady Y/N, anyone would think that with that know-it-all attitude of yours, you were aware of all the ways two people can make the other feel when they are alone." Benedict smirked.

"What does that mean?" You sighed, feeling his hand go to the bare part of your back and caress you there.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded eagerly. "I do."

"Alright," He kissed you tenderly on your cheek. "This is something important, so you must be sure about it before we proceed."

"How so?"

"Because it is something that a lady like you only does once she marries."

You made a confused grin. "Like kissing?"

He chuckled. "It is… more than that. However, it is related to kissing. You kiss the other person when you do it."

"So it is like… advanced kissing?"

"Yes, you could say that," Benedict laughed. "It requires us both to be nude."

Your heart started beating faster and you felt your cheeks warm. "Nude? Like in the paintings?"

"Just like that," he replied. "And we would touch each other. I promise you that I will make it the most enjoyable experience if you allow me."

"Would you enjoy it as well?"

"You have no idea," Benedict smiled, kissing your forehead. "But this is not something you should take lightly, so you must be certain you want to do it."

"Why do people do this?"

Benedict pursed his lips. "Two reasons, actually."

"Two?" you questioned.

"Firstly, and that is why ladies like you only do it after they are married, so the woman can be with child."

Your eyes widened. "I do not want to be with child yet!"

"I know," he conceded. "That is why we will be careful..."

"Could there- could there be consequences?"

He nodded, stroking your hair. "Only if someone sees us."

"Then we must hide somewhere to make sure we are not to be seen." you answered surely.

"Are you completely sure you want to do this, then?"

"I am. I want to do it."

"Shall we go to my bedchambers?"

"Yes."

You kissed again, this time shortly. "You cannot tell a soul about this."

"You know I will never tell." you said, taking his hand.

Benedict drove you silently through the hallways of Aubrey Hall until you arrived at his bedchambers.

He opened the door and invited you in. "Are you completely sure, then, my dear?"

"I am," you answered. "Could you call me something other than dear? Everyone calls me dear: the Carringtons, your Mother…"

"Mmm… does my heart sound good?" he wondered between laughter.

"It is perfect, mon cœur." you confirmed, taking a look around his room.

[My heart]

"Shall we?"

You nodded in front of him and waited for him to do the first move.

So Benedict kissed you softly on the lips and then pulled apart. He spun you so your back was facing his front, and started kissing your neck while playing with the buttons of your dress. "May I?"

"Yes…"

He unbuttoned the dress and soon it was discarded on the cold floor. Your bare skin got goosebumps under his burning, delicate touch. Then, he undid your corset and put it away, driving his hands to your now-uncovered breasts.

You shook under his touch, resting your head on his chest as his hands did wonders on your breasts. "It is cold, why do I feel so warm… there?"

"Do you like this?"

You nodded.

"That is why, my heart… Now, do you like what we are doing?"

"I do," you answered truthfully. More, more, more… you heard again the chants of your body and decided to indulge. "Is there any way you could give me more?"

"More of what?"

"I do not know, I just… I want more." you hurried to say.

"Anything you please," Benedict left your breasts unattended to put his hands on the sides of your undergarments. "May I?"

You nodded, and he complied.

The cold air meeting your warmth was the first feeling you met with, and the way you shuddered wasn't familiar in the slightest.

"Is this normal?" you wondered while raising each leg from the floor so he could take off your undergarments while kissing your bare back.

"Is what normal, my heart?"

"It is too hot and I feel something… Can I touch it there?"

He breathed out with eagerness. "Yes, you can. Come here, spin around, my love."

You did as he told you and with the most flushed expression, you put your right hand between your thighs, meeting with an unusual, heated moisture there. A loud sigh left your lips. "Why is it wet?" you asked, feeling embarrassed without knowing why.

"It is normal, you mustn't worry," he answered, taking your hand in his and sliding your wet fingers into his mouth. He released them, kissing your knuckles before letting go, fighting the ache that hardened between his thighs. "That means that you are enjoying yourself, just like I am."

You cleared your throat. The sight, though unfamiliar, awakened many inexplicable feelings of intimacy you couldn't quite decipher. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much." Benedict said, kissing your cleavage.

"But I have not touched you yet and you are still clothed."

"But I am seeing you, touching you, and kissing you," he lowered his kisses to the valley between your breasts. "I enjoy that. I enjoy sharing this with you."

A shaky breath escaped from your lips as your hands went to his shoulders for support. "Really?"

Benedict hummed. "It is most pleasant, as I have been told, when you do it with someone you love."

You let out a soft chuckle at his words. Looking down, you met with his blue eyes and sweet smile, and when you saw his burgundy tie, you were more conscious of the fact that he was still fully clothed.

"I wish to see you." you demanded, untying his cravat delicately.

He shuddered at your command. "Anything."

He stood up now and started unbuttoning his waistcoat. His white linen blouse, with the sleeves already rolled up, came next; his black trousers followed, and soon, it was the two of you wearing as much as you did when you were brought to this tempting world.

Your finger went to his torso, focusing on his beauty marks and connecting them like constellations. Benedict exhaled with difficulty, long gone the ease one must have for having breathed their whole life, his hands resting restlessly on your hips.

"I have never seen a man quite like you," You left a soft kiss on his chest. His forehead met yours and his eyes remained closed. "Dishonor me, Mr. Bridgerton."

That seemed to be his cue, a trigger for his wildest desires because when you least expected it, he pushed you against the wall and kissed you as if he fed off of it.

Lust, just like time, turned the daylight heavens in his eyes into the dark midnight sky you loved under.

He carried you, making your legs wrap around his body and your skin merge with his, never not kissing you, not even for the briefest second.

"I am desperately in need, Benedict. Please, do something!" you begged, holding onto his arms, feeling his smirk against your neck like a kiss. "Something, anything."

Suddenly, the tip of his fingers met your core. You flinched at the intrusion but did nothing other than moan his name. "Something like this?"

He started drawing circular shapes on you: slow like torture, steady like a heartbeat, sweet like honey.

"Oh," you moaned. "What are you doing to me? Why do I… feel like this? Oh, God…"

Benedict grinned. "Are you enjoying it, my heart?"

"Yes." you replied, breathing quickly and closing your eyes. Instinctively, you spread your legs further to give him better access.

"Look at me," he told you. "Every second, you shall be looking at me."

You nodded, opening your eyes, squirming under his touch. He explored you, he loved you, he made you feel so good.

"Benedict, what is…" you whined, moving your hips at the same rhythm as his fingers. "I need more."

He kissed your forehead and increased the speed of his movements, putting one of his fingers inside you.

It was a sensation you could have never imagined, it was better than what you expected when Benedict promised you would enjoy this. You felt the need to scream his name, but knowing Colin's bedchambers were just next door, you decided to cover your mouth with your hands.

His forehead was pressed to yours and your eyes locked to each other's while your body exploded in a wave of delight, his hands didn't leave you unattended until he was certain you were done.

"What was that?" you asked him, tone a little tired.

Benedict kissed you. "That was a little bit of me dishonoring you."

"Clearly," You laughed. "Does it feel similar for you?"

"Well, it works a little differently for men."

"How come?" You frowned, getting closer to him and feeling something hard pressed against your thigh. "Wait, is that you?"

Benedict shuddered. "Can I show you?"

"Yes, please."

He nodded. "Alright, this might hurt a little, so I will need you to say no if you are not certain. You must be comfortable at all times and should not feel obliged to do something you do not want to, alright?"

"Will it hurt for long?"

"Only at the beginning, my heart, though I promise I will do my best to make sure it does not hurt," he promised. "Then, it will feel good."

"I would like to try."

"Remember to stop me if you wish to stop."

"I will," You kissed him gently. "I want you to feel good. Please, teach me how."

Benedict smiled. "You could touch me like I touched you."

"Okay," you agreed. You kissed him, and your body got closer to his. Your hands traveled his arms softly, then his chest, then going lower. Once your fingertips reached under his belly button, he flinched. "Did I hurt you?"

"On the contrary," you whispered. "Continue if you wish."

Your fingers went lower until you stumbled upon his cock, and Benedict's breath hitched. "Can I… touch you there?"

"Only if you are comfortable."

You looked down and focused on him. Under the dim moonlight, you could not see much, but you could distinguish its length, so you traced his silhouette. He moaned loudly at your touch, and you smiled proudly. "Guide me, please."

Benedict covered your hand with his and made your hand hug him, then guided you up and down slowly. Some moisture joined your movements, making it easier for you.

"Come here," He stopped you, then making you straddle him but not getting your bodies to meet yet. "I shall get inside you now. Are you still sure you want to do this?"

"Is this the part that hurts?"

"Yes."

You nodded. "Alright, I am ready."

He looked you right in the eyes and used his right hand to drive you closer to him until you were kissing softly. Then, Benedict put his hands on your hips and lowered you until your bodies met.

The pained sigh was muffled by the kiss you and Benedict shared, the ache was tarnished by the growing bliss, and you couldn't contain the voices imploring for more.

"More," you begged. "I need-"

"Let me know if you want me to stop." he said, switching positions.

"I will." You nodded, looking at him in the eyes.

And then, it began.

If you thought nothing could be better than what you had just experienced, you were definitely wrong.

It was all soft at the beginning, but then it grew desperate and needy for the both of you. Your hands were intertwined and your eyes locked as he fulfilled his promise of making you feel good.

The kiss was never-ending, and it got to the point in which you did not know where you were, you just knew you were together and nothing else mattered.

Suddenly, Benedict pulled away, but you were in such a state of bliss after you felt your body shattering and coming back you were not all that aware as to why. Not that you cared with the way you felt right now.

"I will be back in a second." he promised as he stood up, kissing your forehead before leaving the bed. You looked at the window from the bed, admiring the night sky.

Benedict returned and started cleaning you up delicately, not saying a word. You didn't need to as the silence was peaceful and comforting.

Before he could lie next to you again, you wrapped a blanket around yourself and went to the window sill, where you sat and Benedict soon joined you. He was supported on the wall and you on his chest, both admiring the stars and the moon.

"I love summer nights," you commented. "And the good company makes it even better."

He chuckled. "Am I a good company, my Lady?"

"There is no one I would rather be with right now."

"I sure hope so," He smiled, giving you a short kiss on your temple. "I do not think Lord Weber would have done any of this."

"He wouldn't have dishonored me, you are correct," you joked. "I am glad it was you who dishonored me."

Benedict chortled, caressing your arm with his fingertips. "I cannot just dishonor you and get away with it, can I?"

"You cannot! What would happen to us if someone opened that door and saw us in a position as compromising as this one?"

"We would be forced to marry!"

"What a tragedy, Mr. Bridgerton!" You dramatized, turning around to kiss him on the lips.

"Marry me." he asked, an enamored sigh leaving his lips.

You looked at him with a small smile. "That sounds incredibly impersonal and not worthy of a yes from a lady like me."

Benedict trapped your lips into a last kiss for the night, doing nothing to hide that huge and adoring smile of his. "You have absolutely captivated me, my heart, and I am afraid I am irredeemably in love with you. For you, I would run from London to Versailles, swim from France to the Americas and back; I would give away everything that I have and renounce all that I am. You are my inspiration, my muse, and I am here to swear to you that I will love you, cherish you, and honor you until my very last breath. I have been trapped under your spell since the first time my eyes met yours, and I shall remain bewitched until I am on my deathbed. Will you marry me, my heart, my Lady, my love?"

"I will marry you, Benedict Bridgerton," you answered with an ecstatic smile. "And you better put a ring on my finger before you dare tell a soul."

"Cross my heart."

[livvynka]

Why did you leave me? Kamilah x Adrian x Amy AU

Story is in different universe. I will not spoiler anything for you, but read the warnings!

750 words, for adult!!!

WARNINGS!!!: Suicidal thoughts, mental issues, depressions, death.

Please, very carefully choose if you want to read this, If you know, stuff like this, incite your bad moods or bad thoughts, don't read it. I'm writing it from my experience, I'm not psychiatrist and your experience can be very different.

Disclaimer: I know a lot of creators write similar fics, but I don't want to say no to the request. If you know someone who write fic like this, let me know. If you are a creator who did fic like this, I'm very sorry. I'll gladly tag you and promote your work.

Request is from amazing @glowriter.

Writers I know, who writes similar theme (I GOT THEIR APPROVAL): @rhonda-sayeed @blaine-hayes

Tag list: @fal-carrington @samanthadalton @vonda-b-real @drmmyrs @straightlikewetspaghetti @blaine-hayes @lizielasyd @mrskamilahsayeed @millasayeed @ntoraplayschoices @ilove-kamilah-sayeed @kamilah-is-queen @rhonda-sayeed @queenkamilah @domakir @kwaj115 @fundamentalromantic @somethindarker @crimsonvrose @glowriter @leenasayeed @hellyeah90sbaby

Please consider following these people. They are talented and their blogs are great! If you want to be tagged or do not want to be tagged anymore, please, contact me.

And thank you for your support. I appreciat all likes, reblogs, comments. You are all amazing!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, they are property of PixelBerry studios!

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11 days back

Kamilah is sitting on the edge of Ahmanet Financial building. She is trying to get her mind back. Memories, emotions, dialogs. Everything is flashing before her eyes. Too many thoughts, too many emotions...

She sees one memory brighter... Her brother. He is smiling and trying to get her attention. He hides his horse toy and Kamilah needs to find it. It's old wooden horse, small enough to hide in your palms. They are playing this game for years... His bright smile, his unconditional love towards Kamilah and his family, how sunlight dancing on his face.

Next memory is about Adrian, it's a few years after they meet and Gaius send them to their first mission. He is laughing to Kamilah's arrogancy. How she sends the cowboy men to the hell. The cowboy men come to her and offers her drink, she refuses but he doesn't stop there. He squeezes her wrist and she, with the swift move, break a few bones of his hand, then she throws the offered glass, full of rum. Glass shatter in his face. Adrian laugh and say something about rudeness. She loved his smile, kidness and warm personality. Even if she never admits to anyone. It was one of her anchor to her humanity, one thing she wanted to fight for, one of the thing Adrians remind Kamilah her brother.

In the seconds, all of the memories fades out and storm comes.

She clenches her jaw. Something very dark run in her brain. All the pain, every lost, every negative feeling. And believe, there is a lot of this, she lived too long. This amount of negativity and pain is not bearable for anyone.

"GAIN CONTROL", she tells herself. "YOU NEED TO KEEP GOING."

She squeeze the edge of the building hard, she almost break through.

She looks down and voices calling to her. "JUMP. DO IT. END IT."

Is she going to survive this? Or she just waits for sunrise? Till the sun takes over her life?

She didn't' feel this way a long time. She feels trapped, exhausted, painful, angry, exposed. She grabs her head with huge frustration and shakes side to side.

"STOP! STOP, STOP, STOP! NO, NOT LIKE THIS!"

Voices scream in her head.

"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE. YOU ARE MONSTER. YOU ARE NOTHING WITHOUT HIM. HE WAS THE LAST PART OF YOUR HUMANITY."

"NO!"

She finds a safe place, darkness calling to her and offers way out of this.

"You know there is a way to fix this, turn... it... off Kamilah."

"NO! He wanted better life for me!"

"TURN IT OFF!!!"

And then she did. She feels nothing. Everything is so quiet, clear. She simply don't care.

12 days back.

Adrian and Kamilah going through the tunnels. Searching for some ferals. Since ´the animals attacks start, they go to the places, where the attacks were and track them down. What they didn't know is, Vega and Gaius are behind this... After long fight, Gaius run and tried to kill Kamilah. But Adrian can't let her die, he loves his sister too much. And when Gaius shoot with a wooden bullet, he shove her to the side, so the bullet shoots him instead. He dropped to his kneese.

Kamilah: "NOOO, what did you do? Adrian!"

Kamilah helps Adrian lay to his back. She still holding his hand.

Adrian: "Kamilah, you need to promise me, you will keep going. Be better person. Find someone who makes you happy, who you can share a beautiful moments, see a gorgeous places. I love you, sister."

Kamilah: "I was the one who supposed to die, Adrian! I lived to long and life don't bring me happiness anymore!"

Adrian: "I still believe there is a hope for you. You just need to accept the fact you are the one who is denying the happiness."

He pats and cleans her cheeks from tears. He never sees her crying. She hugs him.

Kamilah: "I love you Adrian, you will always be my second little brother."

Adrian: "See you on the other side Kamilah Sayeed"

8 days back

Police officer: "Detective we have another report about ´animal attack´. The other type. Victim was man in late twenties, his appearance is very close to the previous victim. Short brown hair, gray eyes and light colored skin."

Amy Seba: "Thank you officer, I am going right away to crime scene"

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BE CONTINUED

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The Light Of Morning

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Drug Use, NSFW, SMUTT, LOTS OF WORDS 

Words: 8.6k

Summary: What is done in the dark, comes to light.

Note: I come bearing gifts! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this! ❤️❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

“Ms. Y-L-N, this is the final print. It’s just waiting for your approval,” Tandy said, placing it in front of you on your desk.

 “Thank you. I’ll have a look. Tell Capri that I need to see the proofs from that shoot this morning.”

 “Got it.” You began flipping through the magazine you were the editor in chief of and tried to figure out if all the edits made your cut. You were picky always had been, but your pickiness always paid off. It paid off so much that you were one of the biggest names in fashion and a serious force to be reckoned with. As you flipped you listened in on the phone conference, you were part of all the while taking notes of any idea that came to mind.

Today was a hectic day. The final edits had to go out for printing tonight, on top of the new theme for next month’s magazine. Once the theme was picked, you had to come up with backup articles for all of your staff so that when the staff meeting happened, things would go smoothly. Then you had to iron out all the details for your meetings the following Monday. Fridays for everyone else symbolized the beginning of the weekend and whatever party, but for you, it was always the busiest and most hectic day of the week.

 An hour later, your conference was finished, and you’d signed off on the edits. You now had to get down to put together to oversee the inhouse fashion. As you walked out of your office, Tandy shot to her feet.

 “Get these off to printing; we’re all set. I’m going down to put together now.”

 “Got it. oh, Chris just called.”

 “Chris who?”

 “Chris Evans, your bestie,” Tandy informed.

 “Really, when?”

 “Maybe ten minutes ago.”

 “What did he want?”

 “He said he’s been calling your cell, and you’ve been ignoring him, and he doesn’t appreciate having to find you through your assistant, especially if he’s your best friend,” Tandy explained. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have time for his melodramatics.

 “Thank you, Tandy.”

 “Do you want me to call him back?”

 “No, he can wait. He needs to learn that I’m not at his beck and call,” you teased with a wink before you got on the elevator.

 You and Chris had been friends for a long time. You grew up together in Boston but never really became friends until you were both in middle school, which was right in time to see him turn into the object of every teenage girl’s affection. You’d seen Chris through plenty of awkward phases. The phase where he idolized vanilla Ice and thought he should dress like him. The phase where he thought maybe baseball was going to be his calling—it wasn’t. The phase where he got into soccer only to realize that he was skinny as hell and didn’t really like the uniforms that made him look even skinner.

 You were there through other phases too, like the phase where he liked only cheerleaders and had a thing with Beverly Espino while also having a thing with her friend Stacy Carrington. That ended badly when they both realized it. You were there during the phase of him crushing on every burnett in your sixth grade only to change his mind and like all the blondes. Needless to say, you’d seen everything Chris related, girlfriends, side pieces, flings, everything. You knew everything about him, his strengths, weaknesses, fears, and shortcomings. You also knew that all his weaknesses and shortcomings would clash with yours.

 After high school, you went to college in New York to pursue a degree in journalism and communications. Chris went off to make his mark in Hollywood. Your friendship took a backseat to both of your goals, but that wasn’t the case for long. You made sure to put in the needed effort to remain in each other’s lives. You accompanied him to countless Hollywood events, and he accompanied you to plenty of work events. Now with both of you in your thirties and at the peak of your careers, your friendship was stronger than ever.

 When you made it down to put together, you looked over all the pieces of clothing that had been sent to you for you to style as you wished for this month’s issue. The ones that hadn’t been chosen were set to be sent back or reused for next month. You spent the next hour or so making a plan for what you wanted to send back and what you planned on styling for the next issue. You got so enthralled you lost track of time. When Tandy came in to whisper to you that you were late for your interview, you panicked. You hated being late.

 It took you five minutes to get back to your office, where some interviewers were waiting for you.

 “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time making plans for next month’s issue.”

 “We understand, when you make it to the top, you’re supposed to make people wait,” a well-dressed woman with auburn hair said with a smile.

 “Ha, the top. Nonsense.”

 “Plenty would beg to differ. I’m Madeline, and this is Jeff.”

 You shook their hands and asked Tandy to bring in a bottle of your preferred flavored sparkling water; then, you sat in the seat before them. You noticed Jeff give you the once over before he licked his lips as his eyes rested on your thighs.

 “Welcome, I’m Y/N, I’ve never liked the whole Mr. Y-L-N.”

 They smiled and visibly relaxed. You didn’t know where this idea that you were a mean ass came from. You were so far from that. You did like respect and liked a good job done. Those traits made you meticulous and determined. You didn’t like your time wasted. The interview began with them asking how you got your start and whether or not you knew this was where you wanted to me. You answered the questions honestly, never giving too much information. It was a trick Chris taught you. He always said answer the question asked do not give an ounce more. If you do, you’re making it easy for them to pry for more and or twist your words. It was great advice, advice you followed.

 When the conversation went into details on how you put an issue together and how you kept it all organized, you rambled on and on. Your passion was what you did, and you luckily loved what you did. You loved sharing insight, lessons learned, and tips and tricks. You were a black woman, and for you to have made it this far was unheard of. You wanted to show other black little girls that there is no glass ceiling; they too could be right where you were or higher.

 When the interview had reached the forty-five-minute mark, you looked to the door expecting Tandy to be there to encourage them to wrap it up. She was nowhere in sight.

 “So, Y/N, there is a lot of curiosity about your personal life. You are so successful, so much of a force to be reckoned with inquiring minds need to know. Is there a Mr. Y-L-N waiting at home for you at nights with your bathwater drawn and dinner waiting?”

 You nearly laughed way too loudly. The question was ridiculous. You hadn’t had a date in months because of how busy you were, and for the fact again, you hated your time wasted. Men were either intimidated by you and didn’t approach or approached with the intent on wasting your time.

 “My success comes with late nights, early mornings, and lots of sacrifices. No Mr. anything is waiting for me at home.”

 Jess smiled and quirked his brow before he licked his lips again.

 “So the old wives' tales are true. The ones that say successful women have to sacrifice the happy home life of husbands and babies to reach where they want to be.”

 You were speechless. How did you answer that? Of course, you didn’t believe that, but that was precisely what you’d been doing. Clearing your throat, you adjusted in your seat.

 “On the contrary, I believe women are in control of their lives and futures. It is absolutely possible to have every single thing you want. I fully intend to,” you finished as Tandy stepped in. Finally, you thought.

 “All finished in here?”

 You stood and adjusted your skirt while nodding with a fake smile.

 “Yes. Thank you for coming by, Madeline, Jeff. It’s wonderful to meet you. Tandy will show you out and also give you a parting gift of my appreciation.”

 You shook their outstretched hands, Madeline’s first and then Jeff’s. When your hands touched, you felt a smooth card in your palm. Jeff smiled slyly while looking right in your eyes.

 “Hopefully, we see more of each other,” he said. You caught his meaning, and politely smiled.

 “Time will tell. Have a good weekend.”

 You watched them walk out then looked in your hand to see Jeff’s business card. On the back was a simple message. “Call me. I’d love to have dinner sometime.” You chuckled to yourself as you dropped the card in your desk, not giving him or it another thought.

 “Y/N, Chris is on the phone.”

 “Put him through, thank you.”

 You dropped in your seat and stretched your legs on top of your desk then picked up the phone. Before you spoke, he did.

 “I am not your assistant or some journalist who wants a piece of you, so they chase you down. I don’t appreciate having to--,” he spoke before you interrupted him.

 “Man, stop all that noise. My god, you actors sure are sensitive and love to talk.”

 Chris laughed on the line, which had you giggling along with him.

 “How can I help thee, Chris Evans?”

 “Shut up. You’re not funny.”

 “I’m not trying to be. You’ve been calling all day. What’s up?”

 “I’m in town.”

 You froze and smiled. “In town, like New York?”

 “Duh New York, where else would in town be?”

 “Shut up, don’t come for me.”

 “I was planning on doing just that. I had a few interviews today, and I don’t have to fly out until tomorrow afternoon,” he informed before you gasped and sat up.

 “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

 “If it involved beers and music, then yeah,” Chris answered.

 You screeched. It had been months since you’d been able to hang out together. You always had a great time together.

 “So? You down to take me out?”

 “Take you out? You’re such a dork.”

 “You like this dork. Can I take that as a yes?”

 “Yes. Come by my place at eight.”

 “You know that is two hours from now, right? Will you actually be ready? I don’t want to wait for you for an hour, Y/N.”

 “You won’t be waiting. I’ll be ready,” you promised.

“Okay, eight. See you then,” Chris finalized before you hung up.

When eight o’clock rolled around, you were not ready, and you knew he was gonna flip out. You ran around your townhouse, trying to finish getting ready. After putting the finishing touches on your makeup look and spritzing yourself with your perfume of the month, you grabbed your clutch in time to hear the doorbell ring. He was ten minutes late, and you knew it was purposely done. Skipping down the steps, you made it to the front door to let him in before he rang again. He gave you a quick once over and stopped at your bare feet.

 “I gave you ten extra minutes, and you’re still not ready,” Chris whined. Rolling your eyes, you walked away, leaving the door open.

 “Chris, I’m ready. Just give me two minutes. Plus, why are you ringing the doorbell? You have a key.”

 You heard the door shut and then heard his footsteps before he turned the corner. “I don’t have any keys on me tonight.”

 You tipped your foot onto one of the steps and rubbed the handful of perfumed lotion you carried down with you and paid attention to what you were doing. You didn’t register that everything was quiet. When you looked and turned to him, you rubbed the excess between your thighs.

 “What?”

 “Uh---nothing, you look incredible. It’s been months.”

You smiled warmly and approached him with your arms stretched out for the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, and the two of you rocked from side to side. His arms engulfed you as they always had, but he felt like he’d bulked up some more.

 “Bulked up?”

“Gotta keep the physique looking good.” You rolled your eyes and stepped into your shoes in the corner and adjusted the hemline of your dress.

 “See, ready,” you said with a twirl and a pose.

 The ride in the cab was not a quiet one. Chris filled you in on everything he’d been doing over the last few months and told you about any new experiences he’d had. There was never one moment of quiet. You’d always found it comforting that no matter how much time passed where the two of you didn’t see each other, it never mattered when you got back together. You talked like no time had passed at all. When he began to tease you about the recent accomplishments you’d made with work, you sat there and ate up the praise. He knew you hated it, but he still did it. Truth be told, you didn’t mind the praise from him; it was from others you hated.

 When you walked into the hottest new restaurant in the diamond district, Chris had your clutch and his hand at the small of your back like the perfect gentleman he was. The Friday night crowd was out, and the restaurant was bumbling with overlapping conversations and the clatter of dishes and glasses. As you passed the tables on the way to your own, you felt the eyes of passing men but ignored them. You ordered the first round of drinks and asked for time to decide. That was when you noticed Chris’s eyes on you.

“What?”

 “Don’t what me? I must have clocked seven guys just checking you out,” he informed. You rolled your eyes again.

 “You’re exaggerating.”

 “Am not. I saw it with my own eyes,” Chris insisted.

 “Ignore them. Why are you looking at other men watching me?”

 “Because I need to know and be ready to drop one of them if they step out of line,” Chris boasted. You smirked and shook your head. He’d been dropping guys in your name since you were kids. You knew it was a protective gesture, so you didn’t care.

 “What about you? I see plenty of eyes slanting over her to check out your baby blues and cabin in the woods beard.”

 Chris laughed heartily again. You liked to tease him about his beard.

 “You know you like the beard. Don’t lie, puddin’.”

 You couldn’t stifle your laugh at the mention of his nickname for you that stemmed from an incident in your childhood. “Are you going to drop one of them for me?”

 “Hell no, I don’t fight for no man, honey,” you quickly responded.

 “I’m not just anybody,” Chris defended. You took him in for a few moments, but the moment was interrupted by the waiter bringing by your drinks.

 The two of you ordered your meals and got right back into talking and teasing one another. You’d missed him, and it was evident he’d missed you too. Dinner was delicious, and the service was spectacular. Chris left a generous tip after he paid the bill much to your annoyance. He knew you hated being kept. You worked hard to make your own money and liked to spend it. When you protested, he overrode your voice and went ahead and did it anyway. He didn’t do it to be sexist; he did it because that was how Ms. Lisa raised him.

 After another fifteen-minute ride in a cab, you arrived at a club that Tandy had told you about weeks ago but hadn’t gotten around to going. From the modern exterior, it looked really exclusive. The neon lights were dark but blinding. The colors were all aesthetically pleasing and complimented the fresh slate of the outside. When you walked to the guards in front of the establishment, they looked at you from head to toe and smiled their approval. They then glanced at Chris, who had his head dipped low so no one recognized him. When the guards opened the doors for you, those who were in line groaned and whined their displeasure.

 “Oh shut up, or you won’t be getting in at all!” Those in line instantly shut their mouths. You walked in front of Chris down the dark corridor.

“Guess you wore the right dress,” he whispered.

 “Guess I did.”

 The corridor ended and opened up to loud music and even darker neon lights that gave everyone enough privacy to have a good time however they saw fit.

 “Wow,” Chris uttered.

 “Right. How long has it been since you danced your ass off white boy?”

 You walked down the steps toward the dance floor and turned to him as you began to dance as well. His smile was bright as he shook his head. You beckoned him to you as you continued to dance. When he got in front of you, he began showing you that rhythm he had. He had more rhythm than any white boy you’d ever met, and he took pride in his dance moves. When he busted out some old two-step, you threw your head back and laughed loudly. Chris then wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to him. The two of you danced and got lost in the music.

It felt good to finally cut loose after such a long time being work-focused. You’d tried to ignore how badly you needed a night out, but right now, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Chris kept his hands respectful as you danced close together. Every so often, he turned you and danced behind you, keeping up with the latest dance moves. You leaned to his ear.

 “Someone’s been watching Tik Tok,” you teased. He laughed again and brought his lips to your ears.

 “And paying attention to my niece and nephew,” he joked.

 After an hour of dancing, the two of you found an empty area and ordered two rounds of drinks. As you drank and swayed in your seats to the music, you shouted at each other, still catching up. The music was so loud that you missed a few words here or there, but because you knew him so well, you knew what he was saying. There were so many instances where you each finished each other’s sentences before laughing together about it.

 “More dancing?”

 You nodded and took his hand and allowed him to lead you back to the dancefloor. It was even more crowded than before, and you were shocked; he still hadn’t been recognized. He was also surprised, but you could tell he was enjoying his new anonymity. Your moves got sillier and sillier the more you drank, and his got more frat boy as he knocked drink after drink back.

 At one point, you ended up in the air being moved through the crowd with you shouting. When you returned to your feet, there Chris was in the center of the circle doing some old school moves that had you laughing. He found you in the crowd and posed. You knew what it meant and panicked as you rapidly shook your head. Chris stamped his foot adamantly and gave you a stern look. You shook your head again, but he was not letting up. Rolling your eyes, you just gave in. He smiled once he saw he’d worn you down. With two nods of your head you ran toward him, he bent and did his best Patrick Swayze impersonation from Dirty Dancing by hoisting you into the air and holding you there. The crowd erupted with loud cheers and hooting. You looked down at Chris and found his eyes already on you. Shaking your head, you giggled before he allowed you to drop into his arms so he could slide you down his body.

 “You’re such a dork!”

 The night passed in a blur. You drank an excessive amount of alcohol, and after a while, the vibe in the club turned utterly hedonistic. When someone approached you with an assortment of party enhancements, you were shocked when Chris’s hand was the first to fly out for the trey. His only response was “live a little.” He made you look like such a prude sometimes. Since peer pressure always worked, you chose two items off the trey and took one of the rolled joints.

 You danced, drank, puffed and passed to each other and allowed whatever you’d taken to take you higher than either of you had been in a long time. When you left the club and climbed into the back of a cab, you could see the sky beginning streak with the impending sunrise. Neither of you could stop laughing about any and every stupid thing. When you got back to your place, you stumbled inside and laughed a lot more before you made it to the living room floor where you sprawled out on.

“Oh my god, do you remember the last time we were high together?”

 You snorted and laughed for a little while. “Nope, it’s been months though.”

 “What did we take?”

 “I don’t know, but all these colors are so vivid,” you responded.

 “They are,” Chris answered. Both of you let out a united, “wow.”

 Several minutes passed with the two of you lying on the floor in front of the big French window looking up at the sky. You had such a delicious high that nothing felt real or like it mattered. All of your senses were heightened. You could smell Chris’ cologne like you wore it and taste the last drink you had before leaving the club almost forty minutes ago. The material of your dress gently rubbed against your skin, and though it hadn’t felt bothersome before, it sure did now. Even the coolness of the floor felt incredible against your skin.

 “Why’d we never get together, Y/N?”

 Your snort was loud, louder than it should have been.

 “Shut up. You’re so stupid.”

 He laughed right along with you before he stopped. “I wanna know. We’ve been friends since we were eleven. I knew you before you got boobs,” Chris reminisced.

 Again, you couldn’t help but snicker.

“And I knew you before your balls dropped,” you countered. Neither of you could keep a straight face with that one.

 “See. So why?”

 You sighed and lifted your leg into the air, not expecting that your heel would fly right off and across the room to knock something onto the floor with a loud clatter. That set you both off laughing uncontrollably.

 “Because I know everything about you, and you know everything about me,” you informed.

 “Some would say that’s a good thing.”

 Looking to your left at him, you scoffed and shook your head. “Not for us. I know too much. We’d never work. Our uglies won’t play well together,” you finished before looking back to the sky.

 “Well, I think everything would play well together,” Chris countered this time.

 You shook your head and sat up to reach the bar that you knew was close by. Raising onto your knees, you grabbed the first bottle you could reach then dropped down onto your elbows to look at it.

 “What’d ya get?”

 You looked at him with a wide smile. “Hennessey. How adventurous are you feeling?”

“Crack it open,” Chris answered with a strong Bostonian accent. You opened the bottle and brought it to the head for a few gulps before handing it off to Chris. Then you leaned back on the ottoman that was there. You watched him take his gulp. He wrinkled his nose and blew out.

 “How would you handle my tendency to push people away?”

 Chris looked at you, took another gulp from the bottle, and blew out a breath again.

 “Hmm—not let you push me away.”

 You rolled your eyes at his genius plan. “Great plan, dork. How would I handle your tendency to be a flirtatious dick?”

 He smiled his signature Chris Evans smile and lifted both his eyebrows. “By knowing I only have eyes for you.”

 You snorted and shook your head before you grabbed the bottle. “Bullshit,” you said before bringing it to your head.

 “I’m being serious right now,” Chris protested louder than necessary.

 “You’re drunk. That is the only reason why you’re bringing this up.”

 “Okay, yes. I’m drunk and high as fuck, but that does not make the question any less valid.”

 He was being his annoyingly persistent self. Usually, this trait would be a good thing, endearing even, but when he was drunk, it was anything but endearing.

 “What do you want from me, Chris?”

 “You’ve never thought about us?”

 “There is no us,” you pointed out.

 “I know that, but you’ve never thought about it?”

 You didn’t hesitate with your answer. “No. I mean, not really.”

 “I’ve thought about it,” Chris admitted.

 You had to laugh then. He was really venturing into unchartered territory. You’d never talked about anything like this before.

 “Shut up. You have not!”

 “I have. It was brief, but I thought about it,” Chris confessed.

 The two of you were silent for a while. Your mind was running as fast as it could, which wasn’t that fast because of whatever party enhancements you’d taken. You couldn’t wrap your head around this conversation.

 “And?” Your curiosity was not impaired, though.

 “And what?”

 “Did we work in your brief thought?”

 Chris took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle and took another healthy gulp.

 “I don’t know. It was like a flash of a few instances. We seemed—happy.”

 “Liar. We probably argued like cats and dogs.”

 Your laugher intermingled before you both fell silent again, just watching the sky change its hue.

 “Nah—we were good together like always,” Chris finished.

 You took the bottle and took three big gulps and almost gagged from the burn in your throat that rushed to burst into flames in your belly. You were quiet for a few minutes, but it was you who looked at him first. Sensing your eyes on him, he looked to you, and the two of you just gazed at each other. It was the two of you who moved in simultaneously before hesitating just when your lips were going to touch. Some part of you said stop, but it was a small, quiet part, every other part of you was telling you to do it.

 When your lips touched neither of you moved, you stayed there, letting it sink in. When you did move, it was a slow and cautious kiss. Your lips pressed and brushed together in an intimate way that was foreign for the context of your relationship. Though it was foreign, it felt good. After what must have been minutes, Chris deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth to curl around yours. A moan escaped you, and as if that moan was the hammer that destroyed whatever wall and gate that kept the two of you from going down this path. Chris moaned after you, and it was a new sound for you. You rose onto your knees at the same time Chris did the same thing. He cupped your skull and kissed you more earnestly. Your hand gripped his waist and loved the heat radiating off him.

 You kissed him back with as much passion and yearning he kissed you. For several long minutes, that is all you did. It was a feeling to relish, a feeling you wanted more of. You were the first to begin to undo his shirt. When Chris felt your finger graze his chest, he pulled his lips from yours to peer into your eyes. You were focused on his shirt and the goal you had—to get his clothes off. Once the buttons were undone, you pushed his shirt off and looked over his exposed skin. He had buffed up, you thought. When your eyes met, neither of you moved for quite a while. It was as if both of you were taking in the moment and fully acknowledging the line you were about to cross.

 Your lips crashed together, and from there, no one could tell where he began, and you ended. Your moans echoed in the quiet room. Chris’s hands touched you everywhere, the back of your head, your neck, the small of your back and your ass. His large hands cupped your bottom and pulled you flush against him. When he pulled your head back by your hair, he latched his lips onto your neck, which had you biting onto his shoulder as you enjoyed the sensations of his lips on your skin.  When he nibbled your ear lobe, you threw your head back but grabbed at his pants and began unbuckling his belt. Your movements were quick.

 You felt Chris lower the zipper down your spine then trail his finger along your skin until he reached the back of your neck. Once there, he gripped you and angled your head, so you looked at him. You could see nothing but desire in his eyes, and that was all you cared about. You kissed him again and took control. You teased his tongue then nibbled his bottom lip as you finally got his pants open. Chris then peeled your dress off your body, revealing your naked body to him for the first time since you were twelve.

 He looked enflamed as if the sight of you set him on fire. You grabbed the bottle from the floor and gulped a mouthful before holding it out to him. You laid back onto the floor just as Chris accepted the bottle and took two gulps from it before he put it to the side and lowered his head to your breast. He sucked it into his mouth and teased it along with the mouthful of Hennessey. As he explored your skin for the first time, you hugged his head to you and arched your back, feeding him even more of your flesh.

 Chris brought his lips to your other breast and did the same before he ended on a forceful nibble. He trailed kisses down the center of your body. When he got to your belly button, you watched as he dribbled the remainder of the liquor in it. The wayward glance he offered you only set you on fire even more. He languidly slurped the liquid from the indentation and used his tongue to swirl around it to ensure he got it all then peeled the rest of the dress off of your body with help from your lifted legs.

 Slowly Chris spread your thighs and looked between them at your black lace thong. After looping his thumbs at the waist of the garment, he pulled them off of you. When he got the first glimpse of your sex, he sucked in a breath then groaned.

 “Fuck, you’re gorgeous!” That was the only thing he said before he buried his face between your thighs and began demonstrating all the ways he was good with his mouth. He expertly flicked his tongue across your clit before he sucked it into his mouth only to repeat the action from before. He did it in a dizzying pattern, one that had you on edge and needing more.

 You buried your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and began bucking your hips across his lips. His moan was one of approval. He liked that you were using his face to get yourself off that turned you on even more. Chris pressed your thighs back to the cool floor and held them there then took control of the way he ate your pussy. In seconds you saw stars and found yourself panting and muttering incoherently. You didn’t care that you were getting loud; all you cared about was him keeping his pace. Chris dipped his tongue into your heat, and you lost your shit. Screeching out, you came on his mouth as you bucked even more wildly truing to milk and prolonging the pleasure you felt.

 “Mmmm, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night,” Chris huskily purred. The dim light that poured in behind him bathed him, making him look like some sort of heavenly creature. He was gorgeous, and you began to wonder if he’d always been gorgeous or were you seeing him in a new light. Chris lowered his head to kiss your inner thigh. Then he dropped a suctioned kiss to your clit that renewed the fire you felt. Lifting your legs, you pushed at his pants, hinting for him to take them off.

 Answering your silent plea Chris arched over you, allowing you to use your feet to free him of the confining material. The loud clatters of him kicked off his shoes echoed in the room, but then he remained hovered over your body, showcasing his incredible upper body strength and giving you the first look of grown-up Chris. His cock was long, thick, and mesmerizing. Long gone were the days of him having a skinny pale-looking worm, he’d grown nicely.

 “I know what you’re thinking,” Chris breeched. You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

 “You’re thinking about the first time you saw it when we were eleven. It looks a lot different now.”

 You smiled and wrapped your legs around his waist. “I promise I know what to do with it now,” Chris finished with a smirk.

 “Prove it,” you whispered. He shook his head and, but you could see the fire in his eyes. He liked a challenge; he liked feeling like he had something to prove. He crashed his lips to yours again and stole your breath in seconds. You moaned on him and wrapped your arms around his back. The way the muscles there danced and spasmed had you moaning even more.

 When you felt him press forward to sink the tip of his intrusion in, you gasped on his mouth and angled your head back, giving him unrestricted access to your neck. Chris groaned as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and continued sinking into you. With each agonizingly slow glide, you came that much closer to falling apart. He stretched you so deliciously, so perfectly that your body began to shake. In no way were you prepared for the size of him, and he was blowing your mind with just what the good Lord blessed him with. It sure didn’t look like much when you were kids.  After him feeding you half of his length, you gripped him tightly, which had him grunting before fully thrusting into you.

 “Fuck!” Both of you shouted out together, him feeling the full heat of your body and you claiming your second release of the night.

 Chris took several deep breathes then slowly pulled back, leaving only the tip of him before he looked down to watch as he filled you to the hilt once again. A whimper escaped him before he did it again, and again and again. Each time he snapped his hip forward more forcefully, and each time your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Chris began to move within you like a wave ebbed at the shore. His eyes met yours, and the moment became even more intense.

 After a few minutes, Chris was rocking in and out of you to his own rhythm. It was clear he had one goal, and it was to bring you as much pleasure as possible. his lips tasted every part of your upper body, neck, shoulder, earlobe, collar, nipple and each time he tasted of you he acted as if your skin was the sustenance he needed. After your third orgasm, you flipped him onto his back and rocked your hips against him. Chris arched his back and spread his arms out beside him as he released a deep groan.

 He watched your body move and allowed you to take your pleasure from him. Every time you rocked forward, you felt him lurch within you, and after the fourth time, you were addicted to the feeling. Using his abdomen as leverage, you bounced on him as you rocked, changing the angle of which he pumped into you and the intensity of the sensations. Chris gripped your hips and held you where you were before he pumped up into your core.

 “Ah, shit, yes! Mmm, fuck me!”

 With the demand, you were on your back once again with your ankles on his shoulders, and him hovered over you as he fucked you better then you could remember ever having it done before. He was reaching places you’d forgotten were there. Your skin was peppered with goosebumps, and every time he stoked that sweet spot in you, your whimpers picked up. When you heard Chris’ moans, you used his shoulders as a brace to begin rolling your body like a wave giving as good as you got.

 “Fuck!” The way Chris looked at you said he hadn’t expected you to do that, and he was quickly losing his shit. You dropped your legs and pushed him away. You had the strongest urge to have him in your mouth. Quickly you rose to a sitting position before you bent down to lick at his cock.

 Chris sucked in a long breath and groaned out with every inch you sank into your mouth. When your lips wrapped around his entire shaft, Chris gripped your head and groaned loudly.

 “Oh my god.” You pulled back and repeated the action before you sped your movements. You knew he was close; you could feel it with everything in you. Bringing your hand to join your lips, you worked him with a pattern you knew would be his finisher. As you swirled your tongue around him, he let out a shriek that was music to your ears. Chris sank back onto his heels, then panted and groaned.

 “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Locking eyes with him, you moaned on him but sped your lips. He knew what you intended, and he was powerless to stop you. After the fourth lodge in your throat, you moaned, and just like that, he came. You moaned and took everything he had. Several long moments later, you pulled your mouth free and moaned with a cocky smile. Chris’ jaw was dropped with a look of sheer disbelief on his face.

 You grabbed the bottle and took a mouthful of the brown liquor and moaned as the flavorful liquid washed down the mouthful he’d just given you.

 “Fuck outta here,” Chris chided, letting his accent shine through. He then grabbed the bottle, took a gulp of his own, and grabbed you before he pushed you over the ottoman. In seconds he’d sank into you again like he hadn’t just come. He was more than ready.

 This round, he was in full control, and he used his control to show you just how much he’d grown and how much he knew now. Long gone were the days of him experimenting and practicing. He was a big boy now, and he was fucking you the way big boys did—roughly, deeply and thoroughly. You screamed his name and panted with every snap of his hips into you. When he grabbed your hair to pull you back against him to then gently grab your throat, you lost it. Never in your life had you been into this kind of play, but with him right now, the forceful and dominating way he held you and commanded your body was making you weak and ready to let him take it any way he wanted.

 From the ottoman, you moved to one of your couches where he used it at a perch for his foot to give you a deeper, more intense angle that sent you over the edge. From there, he pressed you against the cold window tempting anyone who dared look in to watch as he fucked the life out of you. When you finally came again, you were back on the floor with him over you, giving you slow, deep strokes that were next to impossible to take, but you took it. You took every fucking thing he gave.

  -The Next Day-

The sound of the passing garbage truck and then street sweeping machine stirred you wake. Groaning, you sat up only to get shriek when the harsh light beamed down into your face. Shielding your eyes, you waited for them to adjust before you peeped through them and to your right. Your head was pounding, and everything you looked at was blurry.

 “Oh my god,” you groaned. Waiting a few minutes, you sat there feeling worse than you’d felt in a long, long time. When you looked to your right again, you saw the nearly empty bottle of Hennessey and groaned.

 “Uuugh, fuck you, Henny,” you groaned out before you opened your eyes wider.

 You felt a body beside you shift, and then you felt the unmistakable nudge of a dick against you. Your head snapped to the right to see Chris lying there shirtless with your throw blanket draped haphazardly across his man parts. Your jaw dropped as panic began to set in. You looked at yourself and saw you were topless and that the same throw was across your lap as well.

 Slapping your hand across your mouth in an attempt to keep any sound from escaping, you began to hyperventilate. Again, the nudge of a dick pressed more forcefully against you. You were horrified but filled with a strange curiosity that you fought with every fiber of your being. You were afraid to move. It was as if you thought if you didn’t move, then none of this would be real. It wouldn’t be real that you’d just had sex with your best friend. So, without moving, you sat there and stared out the window before you.

 You don’t know how long you just stared out the window in a daze, but you felt when Chris woke. His groan said he too felt the pounding in his head. You decided not to look his way; this would only get worse that way. You remembered everything.

 “Oh—fuck,” Chris whispered. You nodded, knowing the weight of everything had set in. He sat up beside you, but neither of you spoke, you just stared out the window in front of you.

 After a few moments, you couldn’t handle being this close, and you got up to realize you were completely naked. Chris instinctively looked over you before he shook his head and looked away.

 “Oh fuck,” he repeated. You hurried away toward the second couch and took the other throw blanket and wrapped yourself in it before walking out toward the kitchen. You needed coffee.

As you worked the almost five-thousand-dollar espresso machine in your kitchen, you went over everything that happened the night before. The more you remembered, the more panicked you became. When Chris came into the kitchen, he was dressed with his shirt unbuttoned enough, showing his chest tattoos. He approached the espresso machine as you turned to walk away from it. Your bodies bounced, and with it came another memory of the night before. You abruptly turned and went the opposite way to sit at the nook. You sat in silence while staring into the cup of coffee.

 Chris sat with you, but he also remained quiet for several more minutes.

 After a few sips of coffee, he spoke, “Soooo, that happened.”

 “Did it? Do you actually remember it happening?”

 Chris nodded slowly as his facial expressions became more and more animated. “Uh—yeah. I remember a lot of things,” Chris answered.

 “Oh, god.” You rubbed your forehead and took a big gulp of the black sludge in your white ceramic cup.

 “Where did you learn to do that thing with your mouth?”

 “Chris!” Your shock was evident.

 “Sorry. Right not important.”  

 The silence returned and stretched as both of you still struggled to wrap your heads around the last eighteen hours.

 “Have you always been able to make it jump like that?”

 Chris paused his coffee cup filled hand in midair as he glanced at you. “Did you like it?”

 “Shut up, shut up, shut up. Not important,” you drilled.

 Again, you were silent, just sipping away at your coffee, refusing to address the enormous elephant in the room.

 “What about the way you squeezed me? How’d you learn that?”

 You slapped your hand to your face. “Oh my god, Chris. We have to forget what happened. It shouldn’t have happened,” you began.

 “Yeah, but how do we forget it all? It was a lot. You did things to me—whooo, no good catholic woman knows how to do what you did,” Chris admitted as your jaw dropped.

 “Shut up. You’re the one to talk. You’re no good catholic boy. Does your mother know what you do with that mouth?”

 When the two of you began laughing together, the tension between you fell away, and you were left with the normal way you always talked. It was comfortable.

 “Oh my god,” you groaned out again.

 “I don’t want anything to be weird,” Chris quietly began as he looked at you. You nodded your agreement. That was the last thing you wanted too.

 “It won’t be. It was a one-time thing. We were really, really, really fucked up.”

 “One-time thing,” Chris repeated as you both nodded in agreement.

 You finished your coffee and made him a quick bowl of oatmeal that you shared. Though both of you tried to ignore the elephant and forget it was there, it wasn’t so easy. You caught his eyes on the parts of your body the throw exposed as you moved, and you recognized the look on his face. You were sure he caught the way your eyes stayed glued to his exposed chest or his hands as he used them. All you could think about was the way he’d touched you, and the feel of his weight hover you.

 You were now in this weird limbo place, and you didn’t know what to make of it. You knew, though, that you didn’t want to lose what you had.

 “Ah damnit,” Chris hissed as he looked at his watch.

 “You gotta go,” you informed. He nodded and confirmed.

 “I have an appearance to film before my flight out.”

 “Yeah. Go, go. It’s cool. We’ll talk,” you rushed out.

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yes, Chris, get to work.” You smiled, then stood and led the way to the front door. Chris made sure he had everything he needed and stopped in front of it facing you.

 “Uh—thank you for last night,” he awkwardly began. You quirked your eyebrow and scrunched your face.

 “Uh---.”

 “Weird?”

 “I mean, it’s like you’re thanking me for sex,” you informed.

 “Fair enough. At least I’m not shoving an envelope of a few thousands in your hand,” Chris teased before he got a slap to the gut.

 “No thank yous, no I’m sorries, just—go.”

 He nodded and came in to kiss your cheek awkwardly. Your eyes met, and they lingered before he pulled back to kiss your forehead. After he did, he turned to walk out the door.

 “Jesus,” you whispered.

 All you wanted to do was bury your head under your blankets, but you knew you’d obsess over the entire night and think about it way too much. You also knew the chances of you overthinking it and making things worse were almost guaranteed. You decided to keep yourself busy. For the remainder of the day, you ran errands, cleaned your house, and did everything not to give yourself any time to sit and think.

 By the time evening came, you got a text from Chris letting you know he was lifting off and that he’d call when he landed. Your reply was typical Y/N.

 MSG: Eh, don’t worry about calling. It’s not necessary. Have a safe flight.

When you asked him how he’d handle when you pushed him away, you were being honest. He knew you had this tendency. Even though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he still called. You watched it ring and ring until it ended. That was how things went for the majority of the weeks that passed. Every time he called, you either ignored it entirely and pretended it never happened or sent a meager text a few hours later, apologizing for missing his call. You’d then text back and forth in intervals thanks to his busy schedule until one of you—usually, you let the conversation fade.

 A week passed, then two, then four until seven had passed where you’d barely spoken or texted. You knew you were being super weird about things even when you were the one to promise things wouldn’t be weird. You also knew that you were pushing him away, and it was the absolute opposite of what you wanted to do. It was apparent in how you kept up with him in the tabloids and news articles. Every time he had an accomplishment, you cheered for him while sending a dry text showing your support. It was usually a text he responded to with the same dryness.

 In that time, you used your work as a crutch and excuse to pile more on to keep busy. You stayed so busy that you ignored the signs of exhaustion your body was sending you. When you passed out at work from severe dizziness, you finally listened and took the rest of the day off to work at home. While in the cab and tapping away in an email, you felt the first bout of nausea. That one feeling had you opening your calendar to go over your dates. When you realized you were over six weeks late, you nearly passed out again.

 After stopping by a pharmacy for not one or two but eight pregnancy tests, you beelined it home. It took you a whole hour to get the nerve to take them. You kept putting it off and doing everything else but. Once you took them, you sat on your bathroom floor, surrounded by pregnancy tests. You tried your best to keep your head clear and not think any thoughts. Your phone went off for the fourth time, signifying that the five minutes needed had passed long ago. You’d sat on the floor for twenty minutes, unable to look at not even one test.

“Come on Y/N. You fought for everything in your life. You’re successful, financially comfortable, just look at the damn test.” You took several deep breathes and looked down at the first test to see two double lines.

 “Oh.”

 You moved on to the next one and bugged your eyes, seeing another pair of double lines. Quickly you moved to the next and read the word “pregnant” in the clear blue window. As you looked around you, each and every text showed double lines, a plus sign, or the word “pregnant.” You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

 You were pregnant with your best friend’s baby.

 You were pregnant with Chris’ baby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[jobesimming]

"This is...Issue 32" August "

"This Is...Daring Darling Family" magazine issue 32, August

Transcript Below:

The Daring Darlings aren't so daring as we thought?

Written by Carrington Williams

Welcome back "This is.." Family, today we have everyone's favorite family, "The Darlings". A family filled with secrets and lies...But whose family is normal right? There's a difference between "normal" and "keeping-a-child-secret-for-sixteen-years".

"Adrienne was my girlfriend at the time I got my ex-high school lover, pregnant. Porsha didn't even know of the status of our relationship. I wasn't even aware either were pregnant until Maverick came and a few months later, Posha messaged me on Simbook about Belle." Said Messer Darling. Wow, imagine committing infidelity and trying to blame your partners because you're a douchebag? May I add that he and Mrs. Darling were engaged at the time? What do you mean by girlfriend Messy Messer? I know the burning question is.."Why now?"

"Why now? Well, I want the world to know who my family is. It's extremely hard dating someone outside of your race, you know? So between the many death threats and Adrienne's pregnancy? I was stressed. So when Porsha reached out...I ignored her. I was 27 and my career was taking off, I couldn't let this mishap ruin my career because I was horny and young." Messer continued. Now we're getting to the truth! Here you have it, folks, Messer Darling has admitted to not being shit! Also knowing Adrienne was pregnant. And that concludes "This is...(MESSY)Messer". #BOYBYEMessyMesser #CancelMesserDarling #AdrienneDeservesBetter #WhenIsAdrienne'sNextMovie

"This is...interracial love"

"I think what was really hard...was explaining to the kids their black and white. 'But people at school call us black'. It was so difficult explaining to them, they're biracial and have two different sides to them. Blair is kinda the only one with kinky hair. Maverick and Brysen, their hair ranges from straight to curly a lot." Adrienne confessed.

Love comes in many shapes and sizes and in this case, skin tone. No one can deny the cultural differences that exist here. Look at the wonderful and beautiful set of kids they made! True love shows through family first.

"My parents are...racist, which is why we didn't date in high school. But they're coming around, mainly because of the kids. I knew Porsha, we were best friends because of cheer. There was always resentment because of Messer. "

The way people are treated because of their appearance is shameful. Back then, I think I was in the eighth grade, and I was obsessed with the couple! Messer used to take her to basketball and football games, they were cool. It is true though, many did hate Messer because he married a white woman. People assumed he was a colorist, but the love between them is true. He loves her for her, not because of her skin and the same for Mrs.Lauren-Darling.

"I love what Messer and I made. I look at my kids every day and start crying. To think two different people from different settings came together and made this beautiful and wonderful blend...warms my heart. "

Congrats on sixteen years of marriage Mr. and Mrs. Darling! Can't wait to see what's next for this couple. "I know they can't hear me...but I want to end it off. I'm Adrienne Lauren-Darling and this is...Interracial love!"

Belle'Anna's Interview

I was honestly shocked my former classmate ok-ed an interview between the two of us. Belle'Anna is the daughter of Porsha Richards and Messer Darling.

Q: We're curious, whom are you dating and how long has it been? What happened to aspen?

A: Aspen broke up with me after prom. I was so hurt and sad. My bestie Naura wasn't having it though. So we'd go out. One day we went mini-golfing and Colt walked up to me, "Wow, you're gorgeous. I hope this doesn't sound weird..but I follow you on Simstagram and it's crazy I'm seeing you in person." It was funny though because his family is famous and wealthy! Like he was fanboying and it was so cute. It started off as a friendship until he expressed to me how he felt about me...then late April he asked me out. We've been to get her for four months, five next week.

Q: Are you going to college?

A: Yes, I'll be attending Howard in a few weeks

Q: What's your major and/or minor?

A: I'm majoring in Media...and my minor is acting

Q: Do you plan to marry Colt?

A: *Turns around* Is Colt in here..*laughs* I do, he talks about it all the time. He wants four kids!

Q: Do you want kids?

A: I already feel like a mama because of Naura. I live with her and Silas, her son. For the most part, she takes care of him...but I hate when date night comes because Silas wants me to sing, read, dance, cook, and play! I order zoomers delivery and put on some kids toons. But I do want kids. I want black kids though. It's been a dream of mine to raise black kids. Colt agreed, but he really wants kids of his own.

Paragraph by grad photo:

Belle'Anna has recently graduated from high school and was named "Class valedictorian". She also won Prom Queen, Homecoming Queen, three scholar awards for best young novelist. It was rumored that their class salutatorian wasn't supposed to be the famous "Luna Villareal" and it was originally "Kimberly Jeng". The Principal felt that there should be a "racial balance"..whatever that means.

[jessicatates]

I lived through your drinking shoe polish, and eating a worm. I made ballerina costumes and birthday cakes, and I laughed with you when you dressed the dog in Eunice’s clothes. And I cried with you when Johnny Carrington left you in the 7th grade for that hussy, Rita Lewis. Because you were my child. And you were no less my child than had you come from my womb. Corinne, love does not come from having shared the same body. Love comes from having shared a lifetime.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Pale is always working, always stressed out. How about his s/o giving him a nice massage? it could turn into nsfw idk! I just adore how you portrait him 💞😘

Hey Angel

Pairing: Pale/Reader

Word Count: 1361

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m very proud of my Pale! I’m gonna be keeping this one SFW, just because I’ve had a negative personal experience with massages turning into something else, but I do think that with Pale, he’d be very excited with your hands all over him, so just imagine that for the ending if you want lol ;)

There’s a little candle burning, vanilla scented, a bourbon on the rocks waiting for Pale alongside it.

And alongside that, you were also waiting for Pale. He’d left at half past 4 this morning for work, no rest even on a Saturday. It was 9 p.m. now, a seventeen hour work day. Typical for Pale to work this hard, typical for his work to call him in, typical for this man to parallel his city; never sleeping.

You wore a robe he’d bought you a while back, lace mostly, butter-soft on your skin. Under that, plain underwear, allowing the lace to be the statement. You were a little dressed up for him, though you wouldn’t admit the effort, knew he’d feel guilty with how long he’d been away.

When he was the only guy in the world who could manage all this shit, keep all the plates spinning, you could understand why his work called him in, even on the weekend. Probably some event, a Greek wedding or a mob dinner. Something that had to be perfect. With his standards, of course it would be.

You were so busy animating little vignettes of the events he might be catering that you didn’t hear him slamming the car door or stomping down the passage. He was a big man, he made a lotta noise. So when the door opened, you jumped a little, shifted toward the bedroom where there was a pistol in Pale’s nightstand.

Your eyes softened when he rounded the corner to the living room.

“Sorry dollface, did I scare ya?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I didn’t hear you.”

He took off his blazer and draped it over the piano before making his way to you. 

“How was your day? Sorry I left so early,” He kissed your cheek tenderly.

“It was nice, painted my nails, watched some TV.”

He glanced at the bourbon and raised an eyebrow. “That for me?”

You nodded, pulled your bottom lip into your mouth with a small smile.

“So what are the Carringtons up to this time, huh?” He settled beside you on the couch, his hand instinctively resting on your thigh. 

“It wasn’t only Dynasty, I watched some Jeopardy too,” You protested with a laugh. “But the Carringtons are fine. Still got enough money to buy their way out of all their problems.”

He smiled over the rim of his glass, something like love in his eyes. How else would he know what you were up to, keep track of what you were invested in?

“So I was thinking, if you’d like, I could give you a bit of a massage to help you unwind a little?”

Pale hummed and set his glass down. He wrapped you in a hug, albeit a slightly awkward one with you both being on the couch. “You’re really an angel, huh? That why you got the candle and the robe and all that set up?”

“Not set up,” You smiled. “Just an extra few seconds.”

He nodded into your shoulder. “Angel.”

You laughed and lightly pushed him off. “C’mon Pale, let’s get that shirt off.”

“Alright, alright. You got some music for me to strip to at least? Yeesh.”

Laughing heartily now, you leaned your forehead into his chest. “Man, I missed you, actually.”

“Actually? I did too.” He kissed the top of your head. “One day I’ll have more than enough money to pay the bills and we can just cruise through life. Won’t leave you alone for a second.”

You leaned back, giving him some space to undress. He seemed to get the message and undid the first few buttons of his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He could iron tomorrow, he thought with relief, tomorrow’s a Sunday.

“How do you want me?”

“However’s comfortable.” You warmed the oil between your hands. “Make sure you can breathe.”

Pale huffed a laugh. “Breathe? Around you? Haven’t breathed in years, don’t need to.”

You were a little puzzled by that one, but you didn’t think too hard about it. He’d only slept for a few minutes, it was fair enough if his metaphors weren’t a hundred percent coherent. Maybe it was, maybe it made sense in some way of Pale’s that you couldn’t quite understand. Probably just trying to say he loved you.

You started on his lower back and worked your way up either side of his spine, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumbs, kissing along his vertebrae where you hadn’t oiled yet. His tailbone was tense, you figured that was from sitting in the driver’s seat for a couple hours today.

He moaned freely, mumbling when you hit a tender spot and leaning away from your touch slightly. You took your time working out the knots and kissing over his freckles, but after what felt like quite a while, your hands started to get a little sore, so you rubbed a few final spirals over his neck and then moved to kneel on the floor, face in line with his, propped up on a couch cushion. 

“You’re droolin’ a little, Pale. That good?”

You smiled and wiped the corner of his mouth with your thumb, you’d have to wash the oil off your hands anyway.

A tear spilled from the inner corner of his left eye and ran over the bridge of his handsome nose. “What’d I do to deserve this, huh?” 

He smiled and closed his eyes, happily drawing a deep breath. Tenderly, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know I don’t say it that often, but I love you,” He blinked his eyes open. “More than anything. It hurts when I have to go without you for so long.”

You felt something brushing your hand, then glanced and saw his fingers tracing over your knuckles. When you looked back at him, he was smiling at you. 

“C’mon, it ain’t that bad,” You smiled back, ran your finger over his face, connecting the freckles. 

He hummed negatively. “It is. Boss said I could have the day off on Monday and Tuesday. Said I looked grumpy today. Damn fucking right I’m grumpy. My girl’s tucked up in bed sleeping and I’m not there to grab her ass or nothing. You gotta wake up alone, make your own breakfast- What did you have for breakfast?”

“Cereal,” You kept tracing your finger over his skin, lining his features. 

He groaned. “Fuck, that’s inhumane. On a Saturday? Man, there’s gotta be a special place in heaven for people like us. People who work their asses off and love each other through it.” 

“French toast tomorrow? With berries and cream?” Your voice took on a hopeful lilt as you traced Pale’s eyebrow.

“And mascarpone, and I’ll make an omelet or something, hashbrowns, onions... You know why I had to leave so early today? Fucking group catering, three hundred people or something, and you wanna guess what they ordered last minute?”

You thought for a second, knew if you took any longer Pale would explain without giving you a chance. “Seafood or something? Like calamari?”

Pale looked at you incredulously. “How’d you know?”

Surprised yourself, you shrugged. “I was just picturing it, before you came. Thought it might have been a Greek wedding.”

Pale pushed his chin out, raised his eyebrows further. “And how the hell’d you know it was Greek?”

You laughed. “I didn’t, I swear. It was just what I was imagining. I didn’t know seafood was a Greek thing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it is. There’s this salad thing, pretty simple at first, you know, lettuce, olive oil, lemon juice, but then you gotta add crab, calamari, mussels, scallops... Shit, it’s nearly impossible to find three hundred pounds of seafood in less than twelve hours. Fresh seafood!”

“Any leftovers? Not the seafood, but..?”

“Oh, so much baklava. There’s a tray in the fridge at work, was gonna bring it home but I guess I forgot. We could get it tomorrow sometime. I put my name on it ‘cos I know you like it.”

You kissed his cheek again. “Maybe you’re the angel.”

Pale chuckled. “Not even close.”

[spiridakos]

of disney and stolen planes

This little number is for Bruna. Happy birthday, girl. Thanks for being my friend and being there for me and somehow dealing with my chaotic ass everyday. I’m so glad we’ve gotten to be so close. <3 @falliam-iloveyou3000

Fallon Carrington was not having a good day.

To start, she’d had a jammed packed schedule and had no choice but to leave her two daughters with their Uncle Sam for the day - she trusted Sam, sure, she just preferred to spend as much time with her girls as possible. Unfortunately for her, her schedule didn’t allow it that one Tuesday in September. Usually, she’d switch off with Liam if her schedule was more jam packed than his, but they’d both been struck with terrible luck and he too had a day full of meetings that he simply couldn’t reschedule.

Fallon got to spend her day stuck in meeting after meeting with people she’d much rather never have to ever meet with face to face. But, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d pretty sure everything that could go wrong with all her projects for the day at Fallon Unlimited, did go wrong.

The only thing she wanted to do when she finally escaped her office at 7:47pm that night was go home to her family and curl up on the couch and watch one of those Disney movies the girls loved so much. Except, when she got home, her house was quiet. Too quiet to be the living corridors for two young girls who were always playing excitedly up in their bedrooms.

No, the only thing she walked into was Liam eating leftovers in their kitchen.

“Where are the girls?”

“Still with Sam, I guess,” he replies when she slips in the room with him and places her purse on one of the empty barstools.

So, she does what any mother would do - pulls out her cellphone and tries to call him. Except, she’s met straightaway with his voicemail. So, she texts him, leaving it alone for about thirty minutes until she realizes just how quiet their house still was, noticing he still hadn’t reached out to let her know where he was with Olivia and Charlotte - immediately making her assume the worst of all possible outcomes and sending her into an understandable panic.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Fallon,” Liam reassures her gently settling beside her on the couch after his nightly shower. He wraps his arm around her frame, pulling her into his chest which she welcomes the way his touch can calm her instantly. His fingers graze against her bare shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the crown of her head.

And sure, Liam made her feel better with his soft touches and reassuring words; she knew he was probably right, too. She trusted Sam, she did - he was just the one who would be most likely  get them into more trouble than needed, too.

She just wanted her daughters to be safe.

“Why won’t he pick up his phone?”

“He probably took the girls for ice cream or something,” he suggests, thumb still tingling against her skin, even after all these years. A reasonable argument, she must admit, even though she wouldn’t say it out loud and admit that to him.

Still, she didn’t like it.

She liked to be given a heads up if her daughters were going to be returning to their estate late; especially on a school night when Charlotte had to be up early in the morning. But, then Liam continues to try to reassure her. “You know how Olivia gets about ice cream for dessert. And he can’t tell those girls no.”

She takes a deep breath, leaning into his arms further and trying to take comfort in the way his fingers created friction against her bare arms. “You’re probably right.”

She feels Liam press a soft kiss against the crown of her head again, a glowing warmth settling in her veins as she lets herself begin to get lost in his touch. She tilts her head up to meet him in the middle, their lips finding each other in the night as she applies just enough pressure against him to let him know how much she missed him all day. They’re just starting to get lost in each other, his hand starting to slip under her shirt and tease the bare of her stomach when they hear keys jingling in the door and jump apart at the risk of getting caught by two pairs of wandering eyes.

Their feet swing off the couch quick, heading towards the foyer where they hear the door start to creak open slightly, meeting the three culprits who can’t seem to quit giggling away as their laughs echo off the walls.

She greets the three of them with her arms crossed against her chest, eyes landing directly on the girl’s uncle first and foremost. “Where have you two been all day?”

“Hi mommy!” Charlotte bursts into excitement first, running right up to her mother to grab at her legs and hug them tightly. She pulls back and looks up at her mother with those matching blue eyes sparkling right before her. “We went to Disney!”

“Disney?” Fallon asks, eyes wide as she finally lets herself notice the logo on the bundle of bags Sam is carrying in his hands “How did you three go to Disney?”

Olivia’s already found herself to Liam, settled in his arms as he hoists her against his frame when she jumps into the conversation with enthusiasm. “Jet, mommy!”

“The jet? How did you take the jet, Sam?” Fallon asks through her teeth. “You need authorization from Liam or I for that thing to even take off.”

Charlotte tugs at Fallon’s shirt to get her attention. “I gave the pilot the authorization, mommy!”

“How did you do that Charlotte?”

“Were you two aware that your daughter is, like, a super genius?” Sam places the bags with Walt Disney World written in dark blue font against the tiled floor, leading himself closer to the four other bodies in the room. “She found some type of loophole. I don’t even know. I was getting ready to take them back here but, before I knew it, your pilot said we were clear for take off.”

“Did you not think to ask me if you could take my daughters out of state today?” Fallon twirls her fingers in her daughters soft brown curls. “Charlotte, do I even want to ask how you managed to authorize our family jet to take off?”

“Probably not, mom,” the young girl smiles. “It’s better if it remains a secret.”

“Fallon,” Liam steps in, placing a hang against his wife’s shoulder; the same place he placed it earlier to calm all her anxieties. She’s sure it’s because he can see the worry lingering in her eyes, always so easily able to tell how she’s feeling just by looking into her blue eyes.

“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, Fallon,” Sam says. “They had a great day. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yeah! Mommy, Ollie got to meet Mike and Sully today!” Charlotte exclaims. “Oh, she was so excited!”

Liam looks at his blonde little girl with wide eyes. “Is that true, Olivia? Did you meet Mike and Sully today?”

“Mike Wazowski, daddy!” The little blonde’s laugh is infectious when she starts sharing the moment from her day. “Mike gave me a hug! So did Sully!”

“Don’t worry, lovely parents!” Charlotte moves towards the back, locating the item in question and pulling it out. “We got you a picture all printed out and in a pretty frame! See!”

Fallon looks down at her youngest in that photograph, the happiest smile and widest eyes she’s ever seen on her baby girl. It makes her sad that she’d missed such an important day for them, as they’d clearly had one of the best days they’d had in a long time. She’s to blame, really, for her busy work schedule being out of control lately.

She intended to fix that.

“I got to see Olaf, too!”

“Of course you did,” Liam says. “And how was Olaf today, Miss Ridley?”

“Don’t be jealous, dad,” Charlotte says. “That’s not very becoming of you.”

“So, I think I’m going to go now. This seems like a family conversation and I don’t want to intrude,” Sam says sinking backwards towards the door.

“How convenient for you,” Fallon rolls her eyes as he slips himself into the outdoors. “We’re not done talking about this.”

Liam places Olivia carefully on the floor, as she quickly makes her way to the bags to start pulling out all. her souvenirs. “What else did you girls do at Disney today?”

“We went on the carrousel and we did a lot of shopping!”

“Wait a second,” Liam says. “How did you go to Disney today, Charlotte? It’s a school day.”

“Well, you see, guys,” she trails off with a devious smirk appearing on her face. “It’s a funny story really.”

“Charlotte Grace, do not tell me your uncle allowed you to skip school today for a trip to Orlando,” Fallon speaks up.

“It might not have been his fault entirely,” she admits. “It’s possible I managed to convince him that today was the day for those once a month teacher meetings.”

“Charlotte,” Fallon sighs.

“Harvard isn’t going to allow these little stints, Charlotte.”

“Look, mommy! I got Mike!” Olivia runs up to her mother with her new Disney themed plush toy, lifting it up as high as she could to show her mother her new favorite toy. “Mike Wazowski!”

“I see, baby. He’s very cute,” Fallon says as Olivia attaches herself to Fallon now. “What do you think Liam? How long should we punish her for?”

He ponders it before he suggests, “Six months?”

“Six months?!” The eight year old shrieks with wide eyes.

“Okay, that’s a bit harsh, wouldn’t you say?” Fallon questions. “Maybe like two weeks?”

“Two weeks?!”

“She skipped school and manipulated our privately hired pilot to fly our jet to a different state,” Liam says.

“Okay, fine,” Fallon sighs. “We will discuss this further in the morning, Charlie. For now, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I don’t think I deserve any punishment!” The tiny brunette is met with two lingering stares from her parents that suggest otherwise. “Fine. I accept whatever punishment you give me. Even though, I should be rewarded for being so smart, I think.”

“Charlotte, it’s bed time,” Fallon says. “We’ll discuss this in the morning, okay? You’re not off the hook, though, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I just wanted to have a good day is Disney and this is what I get.” Charlotte’s shoulders drop dramatically, always ready to perform and put on a show, as she starts to make her way up the grand staircase, sulking all the way to the top step.

“And you will be returning to school tomorrow!” Fallon turns her attention back to Liam, with a look that can only read unbelievable at their daughter ability to pull off her greatest heist thus far. Olivia, already yawning and closing her tired eyes as she leans against her mother’s shoulders. Fallon can only turn towards Liam with these words: “When did we exactly raise a convict?”

[gohnnyjuitar]

20 OTP Questions

tagged by @sunset-cassaparilla ( i am in love with myra & danse’s dynamic btw wow) this took me so long bc my little brain was like Hm.. make pic for them........

i’ll tag uhh @benny-gecko-official, @saddeniq, @theartofblossoming if you haven’t already!! otherwise i mean if you see this just pretend i tagged you bc i’m bad at tagging hlhlfh

anyway, here’s Anthony and Deacon bc i’m Hopeless!! under the cut this time bc i talk a lot jfkgfj

1. Who can out-drink the other?

Deacon’s by no means a light weight, but Anthony’s got that patented Prewar Liver™ and some fancy Vault Tex nanites cleaning up his blood.That being said, they’ve never actually attempted to get drunk together; they’ve had a few beers together, sure, but they’re usually too busy or too antsy to get drunk.

2. Who says “i love you” more?

Deacon, and usually in private. They both know all too well that the Wasteland can take just about anything from you if you aren’t careful, but Deacon especially. After Barbara and working with the Railroad- the Switchboard- he wasn’t even expecting to get close to anyone like that again. Now, he won’t let himself take that for granted. They do pick up kind of a “code” when it comes to wanting to say it in public.

3. Who has trouble sleeping alone?

Anthony’s had issue with this since leaving the Vault. Not only was he used to sleeping next to someone, he was used to sleeping in a room with three other people.Travelling on his own is the only time it gets really bad. Nightmares come more often and, at its worst, insomnia. If he’s having a particularly bad day, he likes to tuck his head under Deacon’s chin and press his face into his shirt as if to reassure himself that there is another presence there.

4. Who swears more?

Deacon does. Anthony was usually in sight of a camera prewar so usually had to watch how he acted and what he said. He’s so used to it, that when he does swear, it catches him off guard a little. Always gets a good chuckle out of Deacon, too, who usually threatens with a swear jar.

5. Who does more of the housework?

Got me thinking of them settling down now oof.. I think it would end up being both of them pretty equally. Anthony did his own housework when he lived in his own apartment prewar and Deacon just doesn’t like Mess.

6. Who forgets their anniversary?

Deacon takes pride in being able to remember, well, a lot. Anthony insists he’s been around long enough that things tend to blur together. Deacon will tease Anthony about it on different days, but they don’t really take the whole ‘anniversary’ thing too seriously. What’s one day matter when the next could be your last in the Wasteland?

7. Who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Deacon, absolutely. Anthony’s always run pretty warm and doesn’t usually go for a blanket unless he’s sick or it’s actually cold out. When winter rolls around, it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Deacon wrapped up in whatever blanket he could find with Anthony all but draped over him.

8. Who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Deacon will never admit it- and Anthony will never tell him- but he snores whenever he’s actually sound asleep. Anthony thinks it’s endearing, not to mention he lives for when Deacon gets some actual sleep. He’ll take watch all night if it means the poor man gets some rest.

9. Who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

Anthony is, unfortunately, allergic to pet dander so Deacon knows better than to hold onto a stray dog or cat. That definitely didn’t stop him from presenting Anthony with a pristine Deathclaw egg and nearly killing him on the spot.

10. Who usually makes dinner?

They take turns! When they can remember whose turn it is, anyway. Sometimes it’s decided with some good ol’ fashion rock paper scissors. Neither of them are terrible cooks, but it’s always better than some of the prewar food left behind.

11. Who plays their music out loud?

Anthony carries around an Elvis holotape that he likes to play whenever he finds an intact holotape player. Otherwise, it’s not uncommon for him to end up humming a song that might’ve gotten stuck in his head when visiting say Diamond City. Deacon doesn’t mind. In fact, sometimes it helps lull him to sleep at night.

12. Who hogs the bathroom?

Listen, a man’s got to know just how well a disguise works. Deacon only hogs the mirror whenever he’s putting on a disguise and Anthony usually couldn’t care less. He likes to make sure his hair doesn't look absolutely disgusting, but he can usually get enough space to do that while Deacon’s changing. It has ended with an elbow to the ribs or stepping on feet in smaller bathrooms, but they end up with a good laugh if that’s the case.

13. Who gives the most compliments?

Oh, they’re obnoxious. They like to shoot increasingly dramatic or outrageous compliments at each other whenever they’re somewhere safe and around others. Especially at HQ. It grinds Carrington’s gears and they think it’s hilarious. The more sincere compliments are said only when it’s just the two of them. They’re said with soft smiles and gentle voices and they’re as sincere as could be do not attempt to fight me on this.

14. Who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

That definitely depends on the argument. They’re both generally pretty laid back dudes so not a lot gets them really heated like that. When they do argue it’s usually a brief, angry thing. They have to find separate corners of HQ or even go a couple days with radio silence before they come back together and apologize. It’s never words intended on hurting, it’s usually concerning the other’s well being.

15. Who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

Deacon is really good at that. He can do something completely asinine and still keep a straight face. His favorite thing is to say something incredibly specific and a reference to something only Anthony would understand in front of him and whoever he’s talking to. Anthony will embarrass unintentionally, usually by way of complimenting Deacon to someone else like Desdemona or Carrington while he’s in earshot.

16. Who gives the other cringe-worthy pet names?

File this under one of the things they do to get on Carrington’s nerves.’Stars’ and ‘Deeks’ are the go-to nicknames, but man can they get creative if they’re bored enough. Deacon leans towards the more outrageous, ‘that’s not even a real word’ names while Anthony will absolutely break out the prewar slang. If Carrington has to hear Deacon be called ‘one chrome-plated pussycat’ one more time, he’ll lose it.

17. Who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Anthony doesn’t get sick often at all, so when he does it’s usually pretty bad. The  Vault Tec nanites in his blood can work to clean out his system, but that can mean Anthony’s body going comatose while they do their job. The first time that happened since coming back to the Commonwealth, he’d contracted Vault 81′s Molerat disease and given the cure to Austin. Deacon, who didn’t know much about his nanites at the time, was absolutely beside himself when Anthony suddenly just dropped.

18. Who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

They’re both, as mentioned, incredibly laid back about most things. Deacon can manage to stay ‘angry’ longer than Anthony, given the reason. Anthony’s attitude leans towards ‘I don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow, so let’s fix this before then’. Deacon has the potential to ‘stay angry’ longer simply because he can avoid and throw himself into work if he really wants to.

19. Who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Anthony’s more likely to actively seek out comfort when he’s upset. He’ll end up in a funk for a day or two, realize he’s Upset, then go find Deacon and pull him away for a hug. Sometimes he can get away with just being near Deacon and listening to him just talk, other times he likes to be Held.

20. Who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

Probablyyy Anthony, if only because Deacon’s more of a private guy so only displays affection when there aren’t any prying eyes. I like to think that eventually, in places they’re both comfortable, they’re more likely to be seen holding hands or lingering touches. In times of celebration, Anthony has the potential to get carried away and Scoop Deacon up into a big ol’ hug.