#one of these days i will be good enough friends with the bar lads from choir to participate in all the casual hugging they do

[deep-hearts-core]

dear lord i need to be hugged. by my peers.

[scoutswritingcorner]

The Monster That Lurked

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N:Hey hey! I'm in a really angsty mood and decided to write a full fledged fic about my own work of ‘Monster In The Woods’!!! YAY!!! ALSO A FRIENDS TO LOVERS DEAL- SUE ME. Also you can picture Human Alastor or Alastor anyway you want cause I don’t really describe him much except for what he is wearing and I picture Alastor a certain way in my head. This got long I apologize.

TW: Set in the 1920-30’s, Human Alastor and his murders. Pre-established relationships, cheating, Alastor “stealing” you away from your husband.Alastor and Reader have known each other for a long time already. Reader is also some sort of fucked up, in like the murder way. Talks about cheating, fighting, Gore, Christianity and religion in general. MURDER VERY MUCH MURDER

Word Count: 7k

1927, the days filled with laughter and partying whilst listening to jazz standing with your husband..well you were waiting outside a sleazy bar for your husband, the same drunkard that your father had married you off to. He wasn’t your first choice neither was he your last choice. You would’ve been fine not marrying anybody and just living your life hidden from prying eyes, you would rather be somewhere in the Louisiana bayou with Alastor. Just sitting and listening to him ramble on about a new show he was talking about or how some poor lad got on his bad side. 

But yet you were standing on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy bar with even sleazier patrons as you stared at your husband through one of the windows as he hit on the same poor dame that served him. He cheated all the time and yet you never cared, was it because you never truly loved him or was it the fact you’d rather picture his own death while he begged god for his sins. You couldn’t tell anymore and a part of you didn’t want to know anymore. The other part of you wanted to delve deeper into your own thoughts, wanted to open the door that was locked and barricaded for your own good. You wanted to understand what it felt like to rip flesh from bone and see how long it would take for him to lose consciousness from the blood loss.

A loud honk from a passing car made you jump out of your skin and look around, feeling the small box in your pocket, it was supposed to be for your husband but he didn’t deserve it, he would’ve just sold it eagerly for some kind of money to waste his life away. That’s fine you knew a man who would appreciate it more than him anyway. The same man whose voice was happily broadcasted on every radio for miles around, you could practically hear his smile through the radio static and fuzz. Your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve just thinking about him, he was your friend and that was it. Friends don’t have crushes on friends. This was just a way to spoil him for being a good friend of yours. Right?

You couldn’t bother him right now, you knew better so you did what you always did. Went back home and made yourself busy until he eventually made his way over to your house. He was always quick enough to get to your house before your drunken husband did but stayed around long enough (i.e in the early hours of the morning) so you wouldn’t have to deal with anything unnecessary and you eventually went to bed. Then he would’ve disappeared for a few days but he came back around. You didn’t question him or his ways, you knew better. A part of you did want to question his motives but you held your tongue like you always did.

Your husband wasn’t a necessarily violent man..just dumb and constantly drinking, said some nasty words too. If it wasn’t for you, Alastor would’ve probably done him in by now. Especially when he was talking bad about his Mother, you saw the way Alastor stared at your husband. The same angry look you gave him when he had gotten on your last nerve. But before Alastor could get to him, some other patron did. Knocked your husband’s nose sideways and a tooth completely out. Bastard deserved it completely and till this day you don’t visit that place. You needed a fucking drink thinking about your husband but the bastard drunk your house completely dry.

A knock on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts and as you turned towards your front door, the man of the hour had walked through your door. A huge grin plastered on his face, one hand holding a bottle of whiskey and in the other today's paper. “Ah ha! There you are, My Dear!” He called out his suit absolutely spotless. A smile formed on your lips as you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, waving him towards one of the only rooms your husband doesn’t enter. “You had me worrying there for a moment,” He said tilting his head back towards you as he led you to the parlor room, “Maybe that husband of yours was back from wherever he was lurking.” He finished his smile falling into a snarl, Alastor was also not a huge fan of your husband from the start. You never asked why as you both didn’t want to think of him during your little time together.

“Please..you know better than I do that he’s hitting up on a poor dame at the bar.” You replied, sitting the glasses down on the table causing him to make a noise in acknowledgement, “At this point, Alastor..I’m believing you're a mind reader with how you just appear with whiskey in hand at my front door.” At that? He let out a loud belly laugh leaning in closer to you allowing his gaze to soften as he stared at your features before he leaned away opening the bottle of whiskey. This was going to be a long night for the both of you and you had forgotten all about the gift.

~~~

A couple weeks had passed since you last saw Alastor in person but you didn’t fret, he had called the next day to tell you he had made it back home safely. Something he had picked up ever since you had asked him to stay the night so long ago, you were-..are still scared of your own thoughts. The ones that dare creep out, the ones who tell you to crack open your husband’s chest and rip out his still beating heart. The ones who you don’t dare tell a soul and you sure as hell won’t tell Alastor, he’d think you're insane. But you knew..you were slowly losing yourself and everyday it was one step closer to killing your husband.

Walking into the kitchen and rolling your eyes seeing your husband looking like hell, “Hungover John?” You hissed out as you moved past him a grunt falling from his lips in reply, “Shut the fuck up..” He hissed out speech still slurred as half assed venom dripped from his tongue. “I wasn’t the one up at 1 in the morning drinking with that no good radio host.” You froze your hand twitching towards the knife on the counter but stopped yourself, “I wasn’t the one who was at the bar drinking his sorrows away whilst trying to bed another dame for the twentieth time this week.” You hissed back, sending a glare towards him. 

John stood up fully and walked towards you getting into your face, hand raising to no doubt strike you. But nothing came as someone cleared their voice, an icy cold tone to it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Friend.” Alastor..fuck you forgot about him and his way of just walking into your house. You had drunkenly given him a key one night, ‘Just in case’ you told him. You were glad that you did because as soon as he heard Alastor’s cold voice he immediately backed up and stormed off deeper into the house.

Alastor’s cold gaze had followed the poor idiotic man as he disappeared into the home before they snapped back onto you. “Are you alright?” He asked the venom and anger laced in his voice gone but you saw how his eyes still held his anger, like they did when that fool had talked bad about his Mother. You often had envy and wished that you could know a mother’s gentle hand guiding you towards a better life. But criminals only give birth to criminals, your mother had left the Earth so long ago you don’t even remember what she looked like anymore but sometimes when you look into a crowd you see a familiar figure and a part of you becomes elated before it crashes and burns into the ground. 

“I’m fine, Alastor.” You replied softly as you glanced down the hallway where your husband stormed off. Alastor sat silent watching your face keep still but the sadness in your eyes was apparent, he knew you yearned for freedom and solace. He knew how you would rather be a thousand miles away from your “husband”- God he hated that word and man, if he could’ve he would’ve killed him a long time ago. Walking over he softly hummed, “Let me take you out on the town, Dear…a way to get your head cleared.” He whispered, reaching over and carefully placing his hand on your shoulder. He watched your eyes once almost so lifeless and dull flicker to life at the thought, “All day?” You asked, glancing at him, the warmness in your eyes returning, a small smile forming on your lips. Hook…line…and sinker, he’s got you right where he wants you, perfectly safe in his hands.

“Of course, Dear! Now go on, go get dressed!” he hummed his smile, returning as he guided you to go down to your own bedroom which was supposed to be the guest bedroom. You never explained why you had moved bedrooms but he didn’t need to guess or ask. It was abundantly clear to anyone who had stepped foot in your household, this “marriage” wasn’t full of love. It was only necessary and after the first year of it, you had grown cold. That man had taken away any semblance of your hope and happiness for a better life. Alastor hummed a tune that played from his radio broadcasts as he looked around your home, he’s seen the decor and fake photos that hung up on the wall a million times but yet it never gets old. Especially when he’s staring at the photo of you on your wedding day, the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “What are you still doing here?” A slurred voice asked, causing him to calmly look over. His smile grew wider at the sight of the boy in front of him. That wasn’t a man..far from it. “Good to see you at least a little sober, Jonathan.” He hummed, dodging the question thrown his way. 

“Shut the fuck up, Alastor.” John threw back, moving closer as Alastor’s eyes darkened. Just a little closer..and then he’d be gone for good. “John!” You yelled out making the man flinch and Alastor’s heart raced, oh how he loved hearing that venom lace your tongue; it was always a delight to see how commanding you were when you wanted to be. When Alastor first met you, you were quiet yet happy and you hadn’t been married to this fool. Such a lovely little mouse minding your own business when you had accidentally bumped into him. He wouldn’t believe anyone if they said meeting you would change his life. You had spilled wine on his suit, yet you didn’t freak out when you saw his eyes flicker angrily. Only apologized and paid for his new suit with the money you had been saving up to leave for good, he wouldn’t find that out until a year later.

John looked over at you with anger but soon he once again stormed out of the house cursing you and Alastor. Alastor looked over at you with a gentle smile returning to his lips as he guided you to the front door. “Come now~ Let’s paint the town red, Dear” He called out laughing at his own little joke making you roll your eyes at his antics. Silly man.

~~~

Hours happily passed by and the day turned into night from swinging into tailors and from jazz clubs to socialite parties so you both could secretly judge people between hushed breaths, he eventually led you down to a park that was lit up with lampposts every so often before sitting down on a park bench under the moonlights soft glow. Your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence as you glanced over at Alastor. His leg crossed the other one, “I haven’t seen someone so eager to play the fool in one of those parties.” He laughed out, tapping his thumb on his knee, “Something on my face, Darling?” You jumped and looked away, “No no..sorry I..I’ve been lost in my own thoughts recently, Alastor.” 

He looked over at you, you were unusually silent the whole night. “Can I tell you something?” You asked, watching as you finally looked over, oh he could never get used to those eyes of yours and that darling little smile was everything to him. “Of course, Darling.” He reached over and carefully plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his attention fully on you. You looked down, hands trembling..you had to tell him, you could tell him right? “Nevermind it, you’d think I’d gone insane.” You corrected and cleared your throat leaning back into the cooled bench. You felt uncomfortably hot despite the cold air, winter was right around the corner.

Using his hand to rub at his chin as he hummed your favorite tune he played on air, this piqued his curiosity much more than he’d like to admit. “I’d never think such a thing, my friend!” He replied throwing his hand up in the air as if to actually try and swat those thoughts away from your mind. “Tell me whenever you feel ready to do so, my Dear!~” He was always willing to listen to you even if it was about nothing, your voice was practically music to his ears. Closing his eyes as a cold breeze hit his face as he continued to hum along to fill the silent night, he suspected it was your..’husband’..the cause of all your misery. The way your honeyed voice was now constantly laced with venom and authority as if you had to fight to even allow your voice to be heard. Your silence had felt like an eternity for him but he knew it had only been a moment or two, he didn’t realize how addicted to your voice he had become.

“I..I’ve been having thoughts.” You started making him look over at you, his eyes narrowing in concern at your form, how small you had looked at the moment. He had leaned forward and took his jacket off before draping it over your figure not minding how the cold nipped at his skin but he didn’t interrupt you, he knew better to do so. “Angry thoughts..well they started out that way but now they’ve turned into something more..violent.” You explained carefully pulling his jacket closer to your frame, eyes casted off in the woods. You imagine some man standing there, blood covering his hands and drenching his shirt, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up into the night sky and laughed out loud for god to hear him. 

Alastor followed your gaze as his humming slowed down until it completely stopped to allow the silence to fill the air, his smile pulling into a more sinister one at how he finally understood. The same one that happened to find its way on his lips after killing his latest victim, he quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth allowing the smile to drop before you could catch a glimpse of it. “I think of what it would feel like to rip flesh from bone..to finally choke him out..I want to know what it feels like to snub out a life..his life. I’m not a violent person and these thoughts terrify me, I try to keep them hidden but…sometimes they slip out.” You finish up finally noticing how tight your throat felt and the tears falling down your face. It felt great to finally get that off your chest but now the anxiety of it all set in, would he rat you out to the police? Would he hate you?

“I don’t remember when they started. Was it when I was forced to get married to him? I’d tell myself I can save enough money and start somewhere new..but then I’d miss you..miss your early morning show and our late night talks.” You confessed spilling your problems out onto the sidewalk like a drunkard when he had spilled his guts on the pavement. You were pathetic in your own way. Alastor watched you for a few moments before carefully pulling you into his side, using a handkerchief tucked into his vest pocket to carefully wipe your tears away. “No more tears, dear friend.” he whispered, allowing you to hide your face into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

He was at a crossroad in his own mind, should he tell you not to go with it? He wouldn’t want you to go into this dirty mess. But he also wants you to feel the rush of adrenaline when snubbing out a life, he wants to help. But either way if you did or didn’t he’d take care of it..in some way or another. No one should hurt his little mouse in such a way and get away with it. It was silent for a long time as you calmed yourself and he held you with a softness that was foreign to himself and most others. 

“I always..I always imagined running away with you..to some old house down near the bayou.” You whispered out feeling the familiar chain that hung on his vest, the one hidden under his jacket. He leaned his head against yours and hummed in reply. It sounded picture perfect in his mind.

~~~

You sat at the church pew next to your ‘husband’ and kept your head down as you listened in on the priest doing his normal sermon. The only time your husband had decided to not be drunk and clean up for once in his life was always on Sundays or when his family was coming over. Something you always ran away from, you stayed in the empty parlor with a glass of water and a small book. His mother was never kind to you nor his sisters, you chose to ignore them and their gossip. Especially when you had to be seated around them in a church talking about a man who you possibly didn’t believe in but was instead forced to hear this priest talk about whatever was in the bible. Your hands clasped together as your mind kept drifting off. 

It had only been two days since you told everything to Alastor, your feelings and how you wished to murder your own husband. You haven’t been able to talk to Alastor since which was fine, he was a very busy man after all. Lifting your head up as you felt your husband nudge your leg with his own, you sent him a glance ignoring how he was practically glaring at you. “Don’t embarrass me infront of my family” He hissed out as you glared at the wall. “They already know how rocky our relationship is, John.” You hissed back, about to leave but someone sat next to you keeping his head down, “Sorry I’m late, Dear Friend.” Alastor whispered, making the anger dissipate in a matter of seconds, “Mother wanted to go see an old friend,” He hummed and got comfortable next to you.

After an hour or maybe it was a good 10 minutes you couldn’t tell but Alastor had successfully dragged you away and out of the church under the guise of it being important and he couldn’t dare interrupt the sermon. You didn’t care now as you laughed at some joke that was pointed towards your husband, walking down the street arm in arm as he used his other hand to dramatically explain everything that’s happened between the hours you both had parted. The crying and confession long gone in your mind as you pointed out the flaws in his story but he had only reached over and pinched your nose between his fingers with only a half hearted threat of keeping his ‘secrets’. 

As you both walked down the street the laughter and conversation lulled into a peaceful silence. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, feeling a familiar presence in your pocket, the gift you had forgotten about for weeks now. “Just for a walk through the park, Dear.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smile had formed on your face but your eyes still had that faraway look in them. Guess you were going back into your own head again, “I got you something a while ago and forgot it in my jacket” you called out reaching into your jacket and pulling the small box out, you didn’t want to bring up the fact it was supposed to be a gift for your husband. Alastor abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked at you, “You didn’t need to do such a thing, Dear.” You only smiled at him and gave him the box, “I know..but I wanted to give it to you.” You whispered out watching as he opened the box, his eyes widening. It was one of the newer pocket watches that you’ve had your eyes on for a long while now, “Dearest I..I couldn’t take this.” He replied carefully, taking the watch out, flipping it open and smiling. “But you can..and you will cause it’s for you, Al..”

You loved seeing him smile like that, something that you had rarely seen when you first started hanging out. It’s still mostly rare, especially when he’s had a hard day or the simple fact that you sometimes don’t see him for days on end. He put the pocket watch back into the box carefully, “Guess I’ll have to find to pay you back now?” He hummed out placing the box into his pocket causing you to sigh, “You know you don’t have to do such a thing, Alastor. I..I don’t deserve it.” Only criminals give birth to criminals and criminals don’t get nice things. 

“Oh but I think you do,” He replied and leaned down to gently tap your forehead, “Despite what those thoughts of yours tell you.” You blinked and stared at him, “You know me too well,” You huffed turning away from him. “Not well enough!” He called happily following after you and quickly catching up, long legged bastard. You looked up at him as he held out his arm, “Are you sure about that, Alastor? I think you know me better than most people.” You said carefully taking hold of his arm, he chuckled and quicked his step making you practically had to speed walk to catch up with him.

The night truly didn’t stop until you were almost on the verge of passing out from laughter and how sleep creeped up on your shoulders. Alastor’s arm was snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as the sandman was practically calling your name. “Come on now, one foot up the step.” He whispered as he guided your sleepy self up onto your own porch. “I can walk fine, Alastor. I’m not drunk,” You whispered, shaking your head trying to fight off how your eyes grew heavier. You don’t like being up past a certain time in the early mornings but for Alastor you would’ve done it a million times over….Maybe you did have a crush on him but he wouldn’t love you back in a million years. 

You don’t remember when you got into your bedroom, did you black out on him? Yet he was still holding you against his chest as he swayed you to an imaginary rhythm. “And here I thought you had fallen asleep on me already.” He whispered out, causing you to jump out of your skin for a second before you huffed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do so.” You replied leaning back to try and smooth out his shirt, now noticing his jacket was draped near the door of your bedroom. “Nonsense, I find it comforting in a way that you trust me to fall asleep near me.” He replied watching you, his bow tie had been undone for a couple hours now but watching the way you had subconsciously fixed it for him made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His mind wandered off watching as you blinked the sleep from your eyes to make sure he still looked presentable. He wondered sometimes what it would be like if he married you instead of that idiotic man. “..Don’t leave for too long this time, Al..I know I’ll eventually hear your voice on the radio but sometimes it’s not the same..” You whispered out glancing back up at him, his gloved hand reaching up to cup your face tracing the bags under your eyes with his thumb, “I’ll try, Cher..” He replied as he leaned down to press his head against yours. He couldn’t promise it but he’d try especially since he has been working so hard on his plan to get rid of that idiotic husband of yours.

You leaned your head up, allowing for your noses to brush against one another. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, one of his hands splayed on the middle of your back. Then it had hit you, all those times he had pulled you away from your husband and took you to the places you loved..was he silently courting you? Had he been doing so for days now and you were just too stupid to notice? You gently cupped his face and watched as he had opened his eyes, when did he close them? “I..Alastor? Have you been courting me?” Your voice was only above a whisper making him freeze in his tracks. He was silent for a long time before he nodded and sighed. “I have been yes,” He replied and you felt your face warm, seemingly all of the tiredness from before had dissipated. 

His gloved hands came up to carefully grasp onto yours as your thumb caressed his cheek, a faint scar that had healed overtime. You remembered when you saw the scar, yet you never asked, figuring he would’ve told you when he decided to do so. He had yet to say a word about it so it must’ve not been important. In the years that you had known him, you’ve grown to love him and to be wary of him all at the same time. He was a wild mutt waiting to sink his teeth into any fresh meat he could find, he wasn’t the one to be tamed or “domesticated” and you surely would never think to tie him down to a preconceived notion such as marriage or a family life. It took someone truly special to worm their way into his heart and that was a tough act, nonetheless, he had picked and prodded at the worst parts of you wanting to see how quick it took for you to finally snap at him, show your fangs and reveal your weak spots to him. He loved the game of it.

Yet here he was, the same wild animal that used to raise his hackles and bare its sharp teeth was essentially laying down and showing his belly to you. He’d disappear to find his fill and get those fangs bloodied before he’d make his way back to you. Maybe everyone who told you to stay away was right, he wasn’t a man to stick around but here you were inviting the man into your home day after day because you just couldn’t get enough of him. 

Blinking your thoughts away you focused on Alastor, how he had leaned closer to you. “May I?” He whispered, ever the gentleman he was, his hands carefully squeezing yours as you nodded your head a small smile on your lips. Wordlessly, he closed the gap and gently kissed you. At first it was such a small kiss but you didn’t want it to end, you just got a taste of what it felt like to be loved..actually loved and it felt amazing, that one small kiss turned into a bigger one as his hands fell down to hold onto your sides.

You would be asleep until lunch the next day, the memory still fresh on your mind as you awoke to find a small gift box on your bedside table. You were going to kill Alastor.

~~~

You sat in an office, legs crossed as you watched the lawyer in front of you collect some papers and give you a passing glance every so often. “Now, it’s to my knowledge you are looking to file for a divorce?” The man asked, causing you to nod, “Now is there a reason for this divorce?” You huffed, how many times did you have to explain it? “Infidelity, I’ve caught him one too many times and I’d rather make this quick.” You huffed out venom lacing your tongue as you watched the older gentleman nod and produced some papers. 

After an hour of signing papers and making everything on record you had finally gone home. You didn’t even greet your husband when you walked inside, just placed the papers on the table and left for the day ignoring how he yelled out for you. You had walked all the way to the park, the same park Alastor had walked you to all those weeks ago and you spilled your darkest secrets out into the open. Sitting on the same bench as you watched people pass by as your eyes drifted to the woods, you also knew Alastor was an avid hunter and you’d be alone for a while longer as deer season came around. You’d be alone with your husband and your thoughts. You hoped this divorce would go through but it was a slim chance and then you would rightfully be kicked out of church for thinking of doing such a thing. Laughter rang in your ears as you got lost in your own world, your eyes glued onto the Doe walking out of the collection of trees to find something to eat on.

As the doe finally found something to snack on it had turned its head up and towards you. A small part of you felt a twinge of dread as you stared at the doe and the other part felt calm as the feeling started to grow and settle into the pit of your stomach, your breathing slowed down considerably before the doe had run off seemingly spooked away. You frowned and watched as it disappeared further into the woods. Gloved hands clamped down onto your shoulders making you jump up in surprise and let out a loud scream as Alastor’s laugh was heard from behind you.

 You turned on your heel ignoring the passerby who looked on in confusion, “I’m going to kill you, Alastor.” You hissed out trying to hide the prominent blush on your features and how your lips creeped up into a smile. He smirked, he knew you didn’t actually mean you would kill him. Your version of ‘kill’ meant you would simply get him back later in some kind of fashion. You were a smart person after all. “I’m sorry, Dear! You were so out of sorts you looked primed for me to scare you.” He hummed and moved to sit down on the bench, his hand patting the spot next to him. You let out a loud sigh sitting next to him, “What’s on your mind?” He hummed out fixing his gloves before moving to brush imaginary dust off his pants. 

You were silent for some time trying to figure out the words in your head, “I gave John divorce papers today.” you whispered out causing him to look over trying to hide the growing smile on his face, you still haven’t brought up the kiss you both shared the night before and you were scared to do so. “Really?” He hummed, leaning back against the bench using one hand to tap a melody on his knee, “I’m just waiting for him to sign it and see if the court will..allow the divorce to happen.” He didn’t answer and looked ahead as the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Your mind raced as another cold breeze hit you in the face, what would you do if the court denied the divorce? Would Alastor still..be by your side? The thoughts raced and raced but before you could delve deeper, a warm inviting hand was placed onto your shoulder causing you to look over at him confused but leaned into the warmth.

“It’s going to be okay, Dear. Don’t let those thoughts run you ragged now.” You nodded at his words and smiled, “Figured you’d be out hunting by now.” That made him let out a small laugh as his smile grew wider and went off on a tangent about hunting and how to actually be a good hunter.

You’d be fine.

~~~

You’d be fine.

Those were the words echoing in your head as you were now standing in your kitchen hands on the counter as you stared down at the broken glass cup as you heard your husband yell at you. The amber liquid is now spilling onto the wooden floor, your cheek burned like hell and you tasted the iron in your mouth as you unclench your jaw allowing your teeth to free themselves from your tongue. You stormed over to the phone and used the rotary dial to call a familiar number that you had stuck in the back of your mind. Alastor. You don’t remember the start of the conversation. All you could mumble between the stinging pain and blood in your mouth was, “Come over..It’s an emergency.” Before hanging up abruptly.

The next few moments were quick in your mind but you knew it took far much longer to do as your hands trembled. Grabbing whatever heavy metal object you could find in the vicinity, as your husband turned to face you once more. The fear in the man’s eyes as you swung and hit him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor, his hands moving to cover his nose as he stared up into your empty anger filled eyes, god..it felt good to see him as nothing but a pathetic ant beneath your feet. It felt invigorating as you dropped to your knees one hand holding him down as you continuously bashed the item into his face until he was nothing more than a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

You stared down at him and then the blood covering your hands as tears formed into your eyes and a sob bubbled up from your throat but you weren’t sad. Far from it..you were relieved as you looked up at the ceiling falling flat on your ass as you started to laugh between horrid sobs. Your hands grasping at your shirt laughing louder until your cheeks hurt from how long you were smiling and as Alastor finally came into your vision. The smile faltered for a moment as another loud sob wracked your body, “I did it, Al..I did it-” You choked out as you curled into yourself. “It felt so fucking good..I felt fucking invincible.” You hissed out blood dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. “Oh god- I finally fucking did it.”

Alastor walked over calmly and quietly, his hands clasping on your shoulders. His suit was long gone as when you called him he was in the middle of getting ready to go out ‘hunting’ but when he heard your desperation, he rushed over immediately. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Dearest..but go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with the mess, yes?” He whispered into your ear as you let out another sob allowing him to help you stand up on your two feet. As he helped you to your own bathroom and got you fresh clothes, he went back to the freshly dead body in your kitchen and smirked. “Got what you had comin’ old boy.” He hissed out before starting to get to work cleaning up the mess.

It didn’t take him long to clean up but now he had to find a way to actually get rid of the body. In your backyard? No, that's too suspicious..in the woods? Maybe but he doesn’t want you to have another breakdown. But he would have to wait until night time so right now? He’s going to have to play the part just in case people start to suspect something. He looked around and draped a blanket over the body before dragging it towards an empty room.

When he had walked back to the kitchen, he had watched as you were carefully cleaning up the shards of glass. Walking over he had finally noticed the blooming bruise on your cheek causing a part of him to be angry. “He hit you?” He whispered out helping you stand up, “Yeah..after we got home after the court denied the appeal..said I embarrassed him and broke a cup over my head before slapping me.” You whispered your speech slurred from your swollen tongue making you flinch, “What do I do now?” You whispered out, allowing him to gently grab your chin, “I don’t know what to do, Al..” His eyes softened and he sighed, “Sit down and I’ll cook something for you, Dear. We are gonna have to wait till nightfall.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your head.

Later that night, he had helped you bury your ex husband deep in the forest, he mostly did all the dirty work but he did explain how to hide a body. 

~~~

It was now 1931, four years after you had killed your ex husband and a year after the economy collapsed. You and Alastor had moved in with one another and while not officially married by the courts you both loved one another and acted as such. Wearing a wedding ring on your finger told everyone you were either remarried or you still loved your poor ex husband that was murdered in cold blood by the rampant serial killer that was on the loose. Which would be far from the truth.

His family blamed you for his murder, calling you every name in the book and berating you for ‘kicking him out of the house’ which also wasn’t the truth. Yet another lie your ex had spun to keep his pride intact, you didn’t care in all honesty. The man was gone now..killed by your hands.

But here you were walking down the dark streets of New Orleans to get back home to your loving Beau, you had heard through the grapevine he was having a rough day and hoped to cheer him up that night but as you continued to walk down the street you realized that you were being followed. But maybe not maybe it was just your paranoia, but still you felt like a waiting duck, taking a turn down an alleyway and then another hoping to lose the trail of whoever was following you. 

It wasn’t until you had gotten to a familiar part of town out near the bayou that you felt relatively calmer but then that was stomped on when you heard a yell from behind. You looked back thinking it was one of the friendly neighbors but it wasn't. It was the man from before the same one who was following you. You dropped the book you were holding and broke out into a sprint down towards where your house was, trying your best to dodge anything that could hurt you. Then a loud shot rang out and it sounded like thunder causing your body to freeze up for a second. But you continued to keep running, you just needed to get home..you could see the smoke billowing from the chimney and the soft glow of the lights inside.

Your heartbeat was banging on your chest as you ran, you were almost there..you could see Alastor inside before a loud SNAP echoed through the silent air as you fell face first into the ground. 

You scrambled to get up sobbing as you looked back to see a trap digging into your leg, its sharp teeth scraping against bone as you sat up watching as the man got closer. “Fuck fuck-” you hissed out as you started to painfully get the jaws of the trap unstuck and scrambled off ignoring how your leg was burning. You yelled out for Alastor before another loud shot echoed through the air. The constant buzzing of the cicadas had gone silent as you fell to the ground gasping for air. Oh god it hurt, your hands moved to clutch your stomach as you looked up at the man, pistol in his hand pointed right between your eyes, “You killed my brother.” He hissed out his voice breaking as you teared up and begged him to let you go.

Tears cascaded down your face as he yelled, whispering some prayer that spilled past your lips and then the night went silent. As the gun had fallen down the hammer hit the ground first causing the gun to be set off, the bullet flying into the sky of the New Orleans Bayou. You trembled laying on the ground sobbing as you brought your hands up to see blood covering them the moonlight had casted down upon you as you sobbed out. There was movement before your head was lifted up and cradled into your Husband’s chest. His familiar cologne invades your senses in a comfortable way as he shakily tries to stop the bleeding. 

“It’s going to be okay, Cher..I’ll fix you right up.” he whispered into your hair as he pressed his hand onto your stomach. You were bleeding out too much as your breathing started to slow. No no it wasn’t supposed to end like this, tears raced down his cheeks as he pulled you closer as your hand weakly grasped around his sobbing out how you didn’t want to die. But he knew he couldn’t help you, he was far too late to properly help you and it was too far to get you to a doctor. “Sing me a song, Al?” You whispered out, “One last song?” he nodded and cleared his throat, watching as the light in your eyes slowly faded as he sung your favorite song.

He stayed like that for an extra hour, holding your lifeless body to his and singing all your favorite songs before he finally had the courage to find a place to bury you properly, making sure that when the sun rose the next morning it’s first rays it sent out over the bayou would hit your grave. You always did love watching the sun rise and listening to his broadcasts.

He would meet you again, he just knew it. He just didn’t know when.

[ohmygraves]

Hello! I've got a little writing idea if you want to do it. Reader and the rest of 141 are at a bar and reader keeps getting hit on throughout the night. Ghost/Soap getting jealous and feeling protective/possessive over reader and intervene. Just a little bit of a guard dog trope really. Scary man privileges. Hope this sounds a little interesting to do, have a good day :)

hello!!! thank you sm for the idea 💖🫶🏻 please enjoy this humble writing, i love the idea 💛 i wasn't sure if i want to do it with ghost or soap so i did both lol have a good day yourself!

scary dog privilege — ghost/reader/soap

warnings: creepy guy being pushy, alcohol mention, swearing

your little outing at the bar tonight seems to be quite unsuccessful.

actually, no, someone else would argue that you had a very successful day at the bar, since you're currently being hit on left and right by the other patrons. that's the purpose of a bar, right? to maybe find someone to kiss or hook up with one night, and hopefully not catch anything along the way.

but no, you're actually getting quite annoyed right now, as you want nothing more than to sit back, relax, and just get a few drinks with your friends from work. that's all. you want nothing to do with these people who want to get into your pants, or even ask you what's under it.

after a job well done, your captain had wanted to treat the team a few drinks to celebrate. this gets everyone excited, especially because he's not giving any price limits, and he's quite generous. besides, who would miss out on getting free drinks?

maybe you, because you're actually thinking if it was better if you'd just stayed behind, maybe read a book or watch some movies. hell, you could've even spent time at the shooting range, which you actually hated! (because ghost would nitpick at every single thing you did wrong when shooting, and he won't leave you alone until you get it right)

poor you, being such a people pleaser, not wanting to offend the person trying to hit on you, giving them a chance to speak and you'd listen attentively before turning them down because you're not here to hook up, you're here for some drinks and maybe to catch up with your friends. work has been so awful lately that the five of you haven't had the chance to even speak about anything other than mission, work, training... it's slowly getting annoying.

unfortunately, it seems like the others are not so interested in catching up, seemingly leaving to do their own thing. gaz went to the bathroom after downing a few pints, captain went out for a smoke as it is a non-smoking bar, and ghost and soap were somewhere near the billiard table, competing for something stupid again likely. and you? you're left alone in the booth the team always sat in, alone, taking sips of your drink waiting for kyle to come back from his pee break.

you've turned down two men so far, who fortunately was smart enough to sense that you're uninterested in their idea of a good time. you have to admit, you felt quite bad turning them down, especially since they seem to be quite courteous.

this fucking bloke, however...

he was very drunk, very pushy when talking to you. you could literally smell the alcohol off of his breath, it was a surprise that no one has tried to kick him out yet. he kept pestering you, trying to sit beside you and touching you, and your politeness is growing thin everytime he tried to get you to drink with him. you tried to tell him you're not interested, but he was too drunk to even register a "no", apparently.

seriously, where the hell is kyle? why does he need to piss out his two pints of beer immediately after drinking them?

you cursed at kyle, wondering which bathroom he went to for his pee break. did he go to the bathroom in the fucking philippines or something, what's taking him so long?

quickly, someone else scooted over beside you, leaning against your shoulder. soap.

"aye, this lad bothering yer, hen?" he asked you, arms slung behind your shoulder. you thanked whatever gods sent him your way.

the man who tried to hit on you seemed offended, was about to give soap a piece of his mind, before he was yanked out of the way by ghost, thrown aside down on the floor. it made a huge commotion, people were now looking at you.

ghost sat down quietly in front of you — where the man just sat after he tried to touch you, "reckon we should give him 'piece o' our mind, johnny?" he asked the scot.

"mmmaybe. what yer think, lt?"

now the man was fuming, being humiliated in front of the bar when he was trying to flirt with someone?

to make matters worse, now soap decided to kiss you!

he gently held your face, pressing his lips against yours, and to make it believable, even slipped his tongue in-between your lips, his eyes glaring at the drunk bloke. the man who tried to flirt with you was dumbfounded, too surprised to even say anything.

soap pulled away from you for a moment, letting you catch your breath. but before you could say anything, ghost pulled you over the table, his hands gripping your collar as he kissed you too, following what soap did, but much more intense. you didn't even see him pulling his mask up.

"see? lass's taken. shoo." soap held you close after you kissed ghost, basically telling the guy to fuck off. somehow, he left, still fuming though at the two guys who claimed you just like that.

you? you were a little dazed. confused. whatever. your two work mates kissed you after saving you from a random bloke who did not know what no means because he was too drunk off his arse. and strangely enough you didn't mind, they were the best kisses you've ever gotten in your life.

"why'd you two kiss me?" you asked, somehow. you felt stupid right after asking, clearly the answer was to help you get away from that creep!

ghost let out a sigh, taking a sip of his own glass of bourbon. "think we did ya a favor there, love."

you thanked both of them, but you still feel soap's hand squeezing your size, pulling you close to him.

"ye see, lass, can't have 'nother blether hittin' on ye."

you didn't seem to mind, you were getting tired and too drunk to even care. at least you're safe with them.

soap lets you lay your head on his shoulder, talking to ghost about something as you three waited for price and gaz to return.

[dutchmancallypso]

I liked Heartstopper from the start, but where it really became THE comfort show for me was the bowling party in S01E05. At that point, I didn't know so much about the show yet and how wholesome it was overall. Plus it was half of the season so I expected something to go really downhill.

But like...

The scene where Tao tells Nick that Charlie really likes him, and he better stop messing with him or else? And Nick is just like "Okay, fair enough" ?

Like, no arguing. No back talk. Nothing. Nick just acknowledges this is how Charlie feels about him and how it looks like to other people, especially to his friends. Obviously we know he's not really messing with Charlie, but that doesn't matter. For others, it looks like that. And Nick knows, that's not right. There's no ego involved.

And the scene where Nick overhears Charlie and Tao in the bathroom??

Holy moly. So many things could go wrong here. I was really worried.

I was expecting Nick to either stay there and confront Charlie about it somehow, or leave and stay radio silent.... anything but hugging Charlie and nearly crying in his arms. Then afterwards, Nick immediately sets the record straight on everything - explains to Charlie the thing with the date, expresses his feelings for him... admits he's made a mistake that is worth saying the banned "S" word. Just wow.

(The way it feels so unrealistic tho, when it's literally just good communication. The bar irl is in hell,huh?)

Of course Nick isn't the perfect human and he messes up sometimes, but he always owns up to it. Like the next day, when he explains everything to Imogen as well. He doesn't sugarcoat stuff, just tells her that's how he feels. And she listens. She is obviously hurt, but doesn't put him down for it, not even the next day in front of the rugby lads.

Incredible.

The way this show handles communication is so great.

Truly one of a kind💜

end of rant

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 13

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au TW: Gaslighting Note: Drama, drama, drama, but happy ending to this part. Enjoy ;)

Gaz and Johnny could not believe what they were hearing. 

“Mate…” Gaz sighed exasperatedly and put his head in his hands after Simon had told him and Johnny about what happened between him and ____.

“Yer a fuckin’ eejit!” Johnny spoke what was on his and Gaz’s mind and didn’t hesitate to slap Simon right across the head, something that only his long-standing friendship gave him the privilege of doing without being slapped right back.

Three days had passed since the first day of Simon’s fever and he had recovered from it enough to visit the pub with his two friends for a conference. It evidently wasn’t going well so far. 

“Was I wrong to tell her to go out with Alejandro?” asked Simon who was in between them, sitting at the counter, not angry with Johnny at all for the smack he received. 

“Aff course, ye absolute fuckin’ lemon!” Johnny shook his head, “Ye shouldnae said that!”

“Cut him some slack,” said Gaz to Johnny, grabbing Simon’s shoulder, “He’s literally never interacted with women before.”

Ouch. However true it was, Simon did not want to be reminded of his incompetence.

“Tha’ doesnae mean he should let her go!” Johnny brandished his arms angrily in protest, and the two shushed him when the other pub-goers side-eyed him. Johnny took a hasty gulp of his beer and lowered his voice to an annoyed whisper, “How daft can he be?!” 

Gaz turned to Simon. “Why did you even tell her that?”

He ruffled his hair, embarrassed. “Thought Alejandro would be a better fit for her.”

“How so?” Johnny demanded.

Simon pulled up Alejandro’s Instagram and showed it to them. “He’s a handsome lad, this one. Why would anyone not want him? Look, he’s a model too. And what am I? A bloody blue-collar car mechanic.”

They did agree that Alejandro was handsome, but Johnny grabbed Simon’s shoulder. “Aye, he’s good-looking, but ye cannae choose fer her now, right? What if she likes a bloody blue-collar car mechanic and no’ a model, huh?”

Gaz pursed his lips and sighed, sitting back against the bar stool, thinking about how hurt she must’ve been, even more so after he encouraged her. “You fucked up, Simon,” was all he could manage to put into words. 

Simon silently stared at the sweating glass of water in front of him that was turning lukewarm. Three days of awkwardness had passed already. If he let this tarry any longer, his relationship with her could turn lukewarm too.

“What do I do?” he muttered helplessly, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want her involved with me,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m an ex-criminal. Who in the bloody hell wants to be with me?”

“She does, clearly,” Gaz interjected confidently. 

Simon was reminded of how sweet she was to him even after he bared his soul to her and revealed his blood-stained past; of how she came immediately to care for him when he was sick. And he hurt her, thinking that he was doing her a service. His shoulders slumped and his head bowed over his glass of water, feeling the guilt weigh on him.

Johnny and Gaz silently watched Simon rub a hand over his face, groaning under his breath. Gaz’s eyes flickered to Johnny, and he detected a trace of pity in his grimace. 

“Ye wanna ken whit tae dae?” Johnny began, now shifting in his seat. His two friends looked up at him. “Since ye told her tae go out with Alejandro tae her face, ye should go right back tae her and ask her no’ tae go out with him but with ye.” He paused for a moment, “an’ while yer at it, maybe ask her tae be yer actual girlfriend so this won’t happen again.”

“But what if she doesn’t accept? What if she already accepted Alejandro?” Simon asked.

“I don’t think she will,” Gaz spoke before Johnny did, trying to sound confident. In reality, he didn’t know her well enough to predict what she would do, whether or not she would be petty and try to get back at Simon for hurting her by going out with Alejandro. He hoped that would not happen and that she wasn’t that sort of person. 

Johnny was surprisingly silent, letting the calmer Gaz speak some sense to their thick-skulled best friend. When the two were silent and Simon was left pondering to himself, he said, “Ye should go and dae it now. Don’ waste time.”

Simon nearly opened his mouth to say that he didn’t feel ready to just get up and go, but that would only elicit a negative response from his friends. And he especially didn’t want Johnny to keep calling him a pussy.

He let out a laboured sigh as he rose. “I’ll be back,” he said reluctantly, pulling out his skull mask from his pocket and putting it on.

Johnny took a slower sip of his pint. “Only come back here if it all goes tae shit,” he said.

Gaz offered Simon a reassuring smile and a firm clap to the back. “You got this mate, go on now.”

And Simon did.

___: Hey, about the date ___: I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m interested ✔️ Read 11:32 AM

She sighed as she returned her phone to her back pocket and shifted her heavy grocery bag to her other hand, trudging slowly and thoughtfully down the pavements.

She just couldn’t accept a date with Alejandro, especially not when she adored Simon. But it was too late for her now; Simon didn’t want to go to the family reunion, which automatically meant that she wouldn’t have to go either.

She hadn’t yet told all this to Lindsey, knowing she would not hesitate to fight Simon for saying such a thing. She wanted to try and talk to Simon again, to tell him that she wasn’t going out with Alejandro, and that she wanted to go to the reunion with him so that he could keep his promise with his mother.

Just as she reached her hand to her back pocket, someone’s repeated honking in her direction made her turn back. She saw a helmeted man on a motorcycle pull up next to her and didn’t recognize him until he took off his helmet.

“Simon!” she exclaimed, feeling a painful flutter in her chest at the sight of his face, “How come you’re here?”

“I was… uh… I was just going to the book cafe,” he muttered an excuse, “and I happened to see you. Where are you coming from?”

She held up her bag of groceries. “From the grocery store.”

He paused for a moment, feeling the awkward tension in the air. “Can I drop you home?” he offered quietly, seeing how heavy the grocery bag looked.

“Um, sure,” she nodded, realising how long it had been since she last rode on his motorcycle.

He put his helmet back on, and she got on the pillion right behind him. Pulling back out onto the road, he began to cruise and slip past the traffic like a lizard. She held onto him, even though he went slow. She missed the familiar scent of the rainforest cologne and found herself pressing herself a little further against him, just to inhale another whiff that took her back to when they met first. 

Her moving closer and her arms tightening around his waist stirred a strong feeling of protectiveness and desire in him. He just wanted to set things right with her, and he was determined.

His breath got a little heavy with anticipation when he pulled up at the entrance of the apartment complex she stayed in. She got off, and so did he, saying that he wanted to walk her to her door just to make sure she was protected and safe throughout. The lady was in agony; his kindness to her was making her wound worse. “Don’t raise my hopes now, Simon…” she thought to herself.

When the doors of the lift opened, to their surprise, Alejandro stepped out. He saw Simon and ____ standing together, and fighting back a sneer, smiled at them. The corners of Simon’s lips stayed where they were, and his gaze hardened on Alejandro. 

“Alejandro, why didn’t you reply to my text? Is everything okay?” she asked immediately.

Her eagerness made Simon grimace for a split second. Alejandro cast a glance at Simon and then smiled at ____. “I’m really sorry nena, I was pretty busy today,” he said, “Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about it. Can I borrow you for a moment if you’re not busy?”

“You’re not taking my girlfriend anywhere.” interjected Simon, “If you have anything to say to her, I’d like to hear it too.”

Alejandro scoffed. “Who are you to decide for her? You’re not even her real boyfriend, are you?”

Simon clenched his jaw and glared at Alejandro. She told him? Was that intentional too? Did she tell him that her relationship with Simon was fake so that it would give Alejandro an opportunity to strike? His anger boiled over at this point, both at her and him.

____ gulped harshly, mentally berating herself for forgetting to tell Simon that Alejandro figured out their little game of pretend. A glance at Simon told her that he was definitely not pleased to hear it. 

Simon grunted, not wanting to distress her by making a fuss. “Fine,” he relented and stepped back.

Alejandro smirked and led her aside to a far corner of the lobby where they could talk. Simon kept himself nearby, watching.

As soon as Alejandro ensured that he was a safe distance from Simon’s keen ears, he turned to ____, only to find her nervously and worriedly glancing at Simon. He put an index finger against her jaw and turned her face to look at him.

“Tell me nena, why don’t you want to go out with me?” he asked, letting his finger linger against her jaw before pulling it away. 

She pursed her lips. “Because I’m not interested. I like Simon,” she answered firmly.

“Are you sure about him?” he asked, resisting the urge to glance at Simon. “Does he like you back?”

Was she sure about him? Did Simon like her back? The thought of his grimy past came to mind, and the possible dangers of associating with him, and the fact that Simon himself encouraged her to go out with Alejandro. She stood there, her fist clenched tight around her grocery bag, struggling to decide. 

She opened her mouth, saying shakily, “I don’t know if he likes me back, but I like him, and I have no feelings for you. I’m sorry.”

Alejandro let out a soft sigh, but he wasn’t discouraged. “Again, are you sure? Because I think he looks like he could hurt you. He might be nice right now but who knows what he could be later on. That scar on his face is really telling. He could just be a criminal, you know.”

She glared at him like he had insulted her. “Don’t talk like you know him,” she said sharply.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologised, “But you can’t deny he has the air of one, can you? He looks dangerous, and I’m just looking out for you.”

She would’ve been swayed by him if it weren’t for her deep seated feelings for Simon. “He does, but I still like him anyway. Besides, he’s always been nice to me by looking out for my safety,” she answered, now starting to get annoyed by his persuasion. 

He scoffed. “Looking out for your safety,” he echoed, “What if it’s a case of him being so overprotective of you that he doesn’t let you choose which man is good for you?”

She rolled her eyes. She knew that was far from who Simon was. “Alejandro,” she warned, her voice sharper than before, “I know him better than you, so stop talking like you know him. I don’t like you talking badly of him.”

“Is a man not allowed to express his feelings now?” He crossed his arms.

Her annoyance was only growing more and more. “You know that’s not what I meant,” the sharpness in her voice had an added coldness to it.

Alejandro inwardly cursed at how obstinate she was. “Look nena, this is your last chance. I can probably care for you much better than he can. Why do you want to miss out and like him?” The hint of disdain couldn’t help but slip out of his friendly tone.

“I don’t think it’s right or fair to go out with you when I have feelings for someone else,” she said, taking a deep breath to keep herself from snapping. “I like Simon. End of story.”

Alejandro stood up straight and sighed. “Your loss, sweetheart.” Stepping back, he wished her a good night and strode right out of the lobby and out into the street. 

When he was out of sight, she shook her head wearily. One thing after another. At least she shook him off now, but she couldn’t shake off her anger at how he looked down on Simon. Sighing, she raised her eyes back to the man himself, who was still standing by the lift, arms crossed and foot perched up the wall he was leaning against, glaring at the floor. She went back to him.

“You have a nice chat, darling?” he asked through his teeth. 

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh as she pressed the lift button.

Their thoughts wandered in the deafening silence, and were interrupted by the “ding!” of the lift door opening. When they reached her floor, he escorted her to her door and both of them stood there, hesitating.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked, “You’ve never come over before, have you?”

He nodded in agreement, breathing heavily and mentally preparing himself. He tensely watched her unlock the door and enter, beckoning him inside. He stepped in, taking off his trainers as he watched her shadow move about the foyer. The click of a light switch resounded in the thick silence, and a white light glowed over the two of them as if they were in an interrogation room.

“Do you like Alejandro?” he blurted out in desperation, unable to hold back anymore. He knew he asked her that on the camping evening around the fire, but he wasn’t sure anymore.

“No!” she exclaimed, saying with some force, “I don’t like him.”

He stared at her, his breath heavy again. His lower lip trembled. “Then why did you reveal to him that our relationship was fake?”

“I didn’t. He figured it out,” she replied, her pitch rising slightly in anxiety.

He paused, inhaling once more. “Did you want to go out with him?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t, I just…”

“Then why did you say ‘I’ll let you know’ when he asked you out? Why was it not a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” he demanded earnestly, taking a step forward.

Her brows furrowed and she took a step back. He saw the flicker of fear and unease in her eyes and stepped back immediately, giving her space. “Did you not want to go to the reunion with me?” he added.

“I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“I don’t!” he ran a hand through his hair, “I promised my mum I’d bring over my “girlfriend” and I thought… it’d be more bearable to be there if you’re around.” He rounded back to his question, “Did you or did you not want to go with me?”

“I did want to go,”

“Then why didn’t you give Alejandro a proper ‘no’ to him asking you out?”

She hesitated. “Why do you care about that, Simon?”

“Because I like you!”

She stared at him, stunned by his outburst. He exhaled and pursed his lips, feeling his cheeks flush both with embarrassment and exertion.

“I like you,” he repeated softly, his shoulders dropping and his hands hanging by his sides as if in surrender, “I want you. I want you to go out with me, not that bastard.” He added angrily, “He’s an odd bloke, that one! I’ve always felt that way.”

Odd was right. “I guess so. He was trying to persuade me to go out with him,” she replied, “trying to get me to choose him over you…” her voice trailed off, “but I didn’t choose him.”

Simon felt his knees turn into jelly. “Who do you choose then?” he asked breathily, swallowing harshly, feeling his mouth go dry, his heart speed up, and his palms sweaty.

“You, Simon. I like you too.”

He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, staring at her, unable to believe his ears. He was almost waiting for her to say “Just kidding!” and call it a day. But she didn’t open her mouth. Her nervous fiddling with her fingers and her averted gaze as she waited for his answer was all he needed to know.

A grin broke his tense face. “Fucking hell,” he chuckled, leaning his back against the front door, legs weak but utterly relieved. He covered his face in his hands, continuing to chuckle. “Fuck me,” came a soft, muffled, but happy exclamation, “I thought you didn’t like me at all.”

She stepped closer to him, a relieved smile gracing her tired face. “I liked you for a long time,” she admitted, “Ever since you saved me that night.”

His eyes softened. “Me too,” he exhaled, feeling the relief wash over him a hundred times over at those words. 

But it evaporated slightly when a look of worry flashed across her face, making his brows furrow slightly in confusion. “There’s just one thing I’m worried about,” she began.

“What is it, darling?”

“I won’t be in any danger if I’m with you, right? I mean, with the gang you were with. They won’t find us for whatever reason and hurt us or anything, right?” 

He grimaced. It was a genuine concern. “I’ll be honest. I don’t know if they’re hunting me down or not, and maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. When I was arrested, I willingly shared gang secrets to the police. I don’t know what they did with that information, but it’s likely they used it to catch a few of the other gang members. And I don’t know if there are any remaining.” 

He paused, feeling an ache in his heart at the sight of the fear in her eyes. He cursed himself for not rethinking his decisions. He inhaled and tried to assure her, “But don’t worry. They usually keep themselves within territories and don’t venture outside of it carelessly. We’re not far from London, but we’re far enough to not be in their territory. They’ve not come once for me all these years, so there’s nothing to fret about.”

Partial relief was evident on her face, even though the fear lingered. He gently took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Even if they come for either of us, I’ll protect you. I won’t let them lay a finger on you. I’ll break their bones if they even try,” he said firmly. “No one will touch you and get away with it, so you have nothing to worry about, alright?” 

She chuckled, nodding. “Please, don’t break anyone’s bones. I don’t want you going to prison again.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll let you decide what you want me to do with anyone who hurts you.”

The two exchanged chuckles and grins, and Simon, feeling an overwhelming sense of adoration and love for her, raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. She smiled widely at the chivalrous act, blushing and feeling jittery. 

“That being said…” he lowered her hand, pleased to see her reaction, “would you come with me to the reunion as my real girlfriend?”

She giggled. “Real smooth of you, Simon.”

“What can I say,” he bragged, “I know a woman’s heart very well.” As if Gaz and Johnny didn’t agree that he was inexperienced with women. 

She burst into a fit of giggles at that joke, and he smirked triumphantly. “Were you able to make her laugh this hard, Alejandro? Don’t think so,” he thought to himself, remembering how angry she looked talking to the man. 

He watched her laugh, feeling his affection for her grow stronger and deeper. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed against her fingers as he asked softly, “What will it be, my love?”

“I’ll go with you,” she declared with a lovely smile, “as your real girlfriend.”

End of Part 13.

Part 14 coming soon :)

Oof finally 13 parts later, they are dating LMAO. Reunion chapter is next.

--

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@xoxobooksstuff @suhmie @whenyouwannafindlove

@dontyouworrydaddy @0chemicalwaste0 @prozacprinc3ss

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@raydenrrobertson @creepingeva @dontyouworrydaddy

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[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [2] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: the response on the first chapter of this was so overwhelming in the best way. i'm literally beside myself that people enjoyed it! my current plan is to update this every other day and try and get some little blurbs and one shots out in between. have a fabulous saturday night my loves <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he's terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

---

chapter two - i swear i thought i'd dreamed her

“Is that all you’ve got, Tartt?”

“Oh you’re so fuckin’ on, Rife.”

It’s day four of training camp. Jamie is over the moon to find that the England lads are largely similar to his Richmond lot and while he’s not half in love with them like he is back home, they’re a good bunch of lads. They get on. They can rib each other endlessly and then enjoy a good meal. He feels far more at home than he could have imagined.

He hadn’t expected Ted to get quite so jealous when he was telling him all this on FaceTime the night before.

“It’s nothin’ like being at home, though, Ted. ‘Course fuckin’ not. Haven’t got a grandad screaming at me all the time, ‘ave I?”

That was enough to placate Ted, allowed him to get on with telling Jamie how everyone was getting on at Richmond. Apparently, Ted had originally called him to get some advice on hair care products, but Jamie didn’t buy that for a second. He knew Ted could tell how nervous he was before he left. He was so grateful to have a gaffer - and a friend - willing to make up a shit excuse to check up on him.

He was holding his own in the training sessions too. He knew he wasn’t first choice up front, and however much it might have irked him previously, now he was able to enjoy the prestige that came with being here. The feeling he got when he shrugged on his England kit every morning just like he’d dreamt about when he was only a sexy little baby.

He loved penalty practice with Rife, tackling Marko in a 5v5 and knowing he’d be tackled back any second. He knew they were training for what would turn out to be some of the most important matches of his career, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like making a few new friends and dragging them down to the nearby pitch everyday to have a kick about. It felt nice.

Still hadn’t managed to talk to the City lads, though.

It was beginning to affect his play, too. When one of them would shout out an instruction to him, he’d do it without hesitation, wanting to make nice. But he knew that his own instincts got him his place on this team and blindly listening to others wasn’t going to get him any minutes.

Which was why he was stood behind a plant, outside the hotel bar, trying to figure out his move to just go over and talk to the fuckers.

They were nice lads. He knew that. They used to be friends, yeah, but he was a prick back then, so maybe they only liked prick Jamie and weren’t that nice at all. Or they hated prick Jamie and wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Or they thought he was a total joke who didn’t deserve to be there. Or-

“What did the plant do to you?” came a voice from behind him, which made him realise he was gripping the stem with a vengeance, “You need me to kick it over? I’ll do it, but you’ll need to be lookout.”

That playful teasing, that voice, was familiar. When he turned and found you, kind head of PR you that he hadn’t seen properly since your first meeting, he couldn’t decide if he was a lucky bastard or had the worst misfortune in the whole world. He groaned either way as he let go of the poor plant.

“I’ll water it later to say sorry, I guess,” he said, patting a leaf in a way that felt pretty pathetic, “You’re stayin’ ‘ere too? I haven’t seen ya.”

That wasn’t totally true. He’d seen you about once a day since that first day, but only around the camp itself rather than the hotel. The two of you had shared curt nods each time, a reminder of your first meeting, but each time these nods had been followed by easy smiles to each other.

Each time you’d been sharply dressed. A pencil skirt here, a trouser suit there. It reminded him a little of Rebecca, except for the little touches that he’d noticed you let slip through the professional facade. A beaded anklet, a pair of fluffy earrings. You were a ray of sunshine around the place, that much he had picked up on. The regulars at the camp greeted you as a similar breath of fresh air.

“Perk of being head of a department,” you smile, “How’s training treating you? Issues with the grass that you’re taking out on all plants in sight?”

There was a very loud sigh waiting in his throat. He could make up a lie about waiting for someone, or checking out the plants because he wanted to get himself one back home, but you’d see through any bullshit he offered up. And he didn’t really want to bullshit you anyway.

“More embarrassin’ than that, I think,” he admits, watching as your face falls from that teasing smile to something with more worry in it. It’s very hard to keep eye contact with you when you’re looking at him all concerned like that, “I’m gonna give y’ the option to walk away now, if ya want, so y’ don’t have to be part of it, like.”

He watches you make a face as if there’s an obvious answer to what he’s just said. Without thinking, he takes a quick glance back at the City players huddled around the bar to check they haven’t clocked him. Of course, you notice.

“I hope you know how mysterious and intriguing you just made this situation,” you say as you come to stand beside him, more behind the plant than you were, “Something to do with the lads in there?”

That big, loud sigh he’s been holding in manages to break free.

“Yeah, it is. Yeah,” he doesn’t even know how to say it without sounding like a sad sack of shit. You smell really good and it’s the first time he’s seen you in anything other than work clothes and you look incredible in cargos. His thought process is scrambled, “They’re all City, yeah? Sooo…we were teammates an’ then we weren’t. Now I’m…fuck, I don’t even fuckin’ know what I’m doin’.”

Part of him hates swearing like that in front of you until he remembers your penchant for swearing. He hadn’t looked at you when he was talking, but when he risks a look back at your face, there’s no more of that worry that had been there briefly. There’s understanding instead, and he likes it a lot more. 

“You want to talk but don’t know how? Think they hate your guts?”

“Well, it’d be hard to hate these guts,” he says, words cocky but he doesn’t get the tone right and he’s quick to self-deprecate instead, “But yeah, that sums it up. Pretty fuckin’ pathetic, huh?”

“No. Not fucking pathetic at all, Just Jamie. Don’t call yourself that.”

You’re looking at him expectantly so he nods, a little confused by your ferocity.

“Good. Not pathetic,” you say again, for him or for you, he isn’t sure, “So, let’s get us a game plan. How about we go in there, order a drink maybe, definitely some chips, and I’ll wave them over after ten minutes. I’ll make up some PR bullshit, get the conversation going.”

He hesitates. Suddenly, he realises his previous plan was to stare at them all night through the leaves of this plant before running back to his room when they looked like they were about to get up.

“I dunno…maybe I should leave it? Like, I’m making a big deal out of nothin’, really.”

“I think they’d appreciate you making an effort,” you insist, “I can confirm that they don’t hate your guts, if it helps. They’re decent lads. Warne is a dickhead, but he’s harmless. I’m sure you know all this, really.”

“You might be underestimatin’ what a dickhead I was, Just Y/N,” he laments, although the use of what he could now call a nickname between the two of you makes him feel better, “I was fuckin’ awful.”

“No, I know,” she says instead, and he wasn’t expecting that. His head snaps to gape at her so quick she actually laughs at him, “I watched Lust Conquers All. It’s trash but it makes you feel better about yourself, you know? And yeah, you did seem like a dickhead, but you don’t seem like one now. Anyone with half a brain would notice, so I’m sure even Warne will realise you’re not coming at them from the same place you were at.”

It’s a lot to process. Firstly, that yet another person has watched that godforsaken fucking show and it’s you and he feels like a total idiot in front of you now. But then he registers the rest of it, that in such a short time you’ve just proclaimed that he’d obviously not like that anymore. That he’s changed. He knows he has, but he doesn’t always expect other people to notice straightaway.

“How the fuck did you watch that show and still manage to be so nice to me when we met?” he asks, because he can’t help himself. He wants to know the answer. Wants to know if you’re just like that with everyone, because that would probably be easier.

“Hey,” you lower your voice, “Richmond fan, remember? I’ve been to the games. Even a couple of the open training sessions. Everyone at Richmond knows you’re a different person now, right?”

He gulps. Nods.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So…I do too,” you’re practically whispering now. Talking to you is like having a piece of Richmond with him, maybe even more so than the playlist. You’re Richmond and you know the new Jamie. It means more than he should tell you to feel like he has someone on his side, “Also I’m pretty good friends with this guy at the club. Do you know Trent Crimm?”

“You know Trent?” he exclaims, louder than he should. You hush him, but you’re smiling as you do it. He repeats his question a lot quieter, “Sorry. You know Trent Crimm?”

“Yeah, he used to do some reporting on England, for a while. We ended up chatting quite a lot. There’s not many male football journalists out there worth making friends with, but Trent’s one of the good ones. He texted me to look after you, actually, so you must be pretty great.”

Now Jamie was really torn. On the one hand, Trent texting you to take care of him was really fucking nice for a man he hadn’t even spoken to all that much. On the other hand, there was now a sinking feeling in his chest that all this kindness was a favour to Trent and had nothing to do with him at all.

“Oh. That’s- uh, that’s nice to hear.”

“Oh fuck, that’s not why I want to help you!” you said quickly, like you’d read his mind, “I just saw you with the plant, wanted to check you were okay. I’m not just, like, fulfilling a promise to him or anything.”

That sinking feeling lifted. Especially because he liked that you wanted to make sure he knew that. He could feel little pieces of his confidence floating back into his body. They were on thin ice, however, when you tugged on his arm to follow you as you walked straight into the bar, heading directly for the City players as you did so. He had no choice but to follow you.

His first thought was that you really did look criminally good in cargos, and his second thought was that this wasn’t in the fucking plan.

“Boys! My City Folk,” you greet them, definitely going for awkward on purpose. The three players smiled and waved as you came to stop beside them at the bar, Jamie following behind attempting to look as cool as possible, “I do hope you’re not breaking any rules? I am a known grass, and I will tell Gareth.”

They laugh and Jamie joins in because then maybe he’ll be part of things. Also, you’re funny, and he can tell you know it.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, just water for us tonight. We thought if we came down here, it might at least feel like we were drinking.”

“And I thought there might be some girls to chat with,” Warne added, as expected by pretty much everyone who knew him, “None around until you showed up, Y/N.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Warne,” you reprimand, though there’s enough teasing in it that he just grins, “Didn’t the others remind you this hotel is entirely booked out for England players and staff?”

“Yeah. But you never know who you haven’t met yet.”

Jamie snorts at that and it draws more attention to him than he’d like. But it’s an opening, and your eyes are wide telling him to go for it! So he does.

“Strangely profound for you, Warne,” he supplies, grateful when you chuckle and the other two City boys join in, “Hey, how about the next round of water is on me?”

That really draws a laugh out of them, even Warne.

“You were always a generous son of a bitch, Tartt,” Rocky smiles, clapping him on the back. Again he sees an opening and with you still looking at him all encouragingly, he wants to take it.

“Nah, I wasn’t. I was a prick when we last talked. But I’ve been told I’m slightly better now, sometimes,” he glances at you when he says it, but you look so fond he has to look away, “Anyways, what I’m tryin’ to say: I’m sorry for before. Hope we can start fresh, like.”

“Mate,” Rocky shakes his head, brushing him off, “We’re all good. Long as you don’t keep drifting offside when I’m trying to thread one to you, I think we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, and don’t beat me in the fitness trials, alright? That’s my time to shine,” Warne adds, and even he’s got a friendly look in his eye, an attempt to respond to Jamie’s obvious and unexpected vulnerability. The weight that Jamie feels lift off his chest is massive. He can breathe properly again.

“No promises, mate. I’m fuckin’ fast now. Lightning, me.”

And with that, it’s easy to fall back into the banter he was used to. When Warne has launched into a story about not being able to find a toilet in Ibiza, he turns to you to say a silent thank you, but you’ve vanished from his side. He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Searching around for a second, as subtly as he can, he spots a flash of your cargos behind the plant he’d been so well acquainted with. You pop your head out when you see that he’s looking and shoot him a double thumbs up and it’s all he can do not to excuse himself from the conversation and run over to you.

But you’re already giving a little wave and walking the other way. He watches you until you’re gone. Lets his eyes linger even a little longer than that.

When he turns back to tune into Warne again, hoping none of them noticed his wandering eye, he’s so incredibly grateful that you helped him face his fear. That he’s got his wish, and can get back to the game he loves without anymore unfinished business hanging over him.

Alongside that gratefulness, is the tugging at his heart that thinks his position behind that plant wasn’t so bad, once he gained some company. 

But he wouldn’t have flirted with you. He isn’t going to. Bad idea. Just talking, in a totally friendly way, would have been a pretty fucking nice evening, he thinks.

---

next chapter

if you've got this far, i fucking love you!! <3 and if you're at all into real life football like i am (enough to be pursuing a job in the field ffs) then see if you can work out who any of the England players might be based on hahaha

[blueraineshadows]

Guitars, and Heart Strings

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - angst, fluff, smut

🔞 NSFW 🌶 🔥 ❤️

This is a Request fic for the lovely @simpy-slytherin 💜🥰

Notes: The Legacy Gang have graduated, and they are getting ready to embark on their adult lives. One last night out together in Hogsmeade to kick off summer turns a little explosive for our favourite dueling partners...

The Three Broomsticks was packed out with patrons, Sirona rushed off her feet with the bustling bar filled with witches and wizards who had piled in for the evening's entertainment. Tonight, a local five piece band was playing, a group renowned for their foot stomping shanties and they were very popular.

The lead singer, in particular, was rather well known, a former Hogwarts graduate with a stunning voice and a gorgeous smile. Adam McNeil turned heads, there was no two ways about it.

"Oh, MC, what a beautiful man," Natty sighed. "I'd let him strum my strings any day of the week."

MC snorted a laugh and nudged her friend with her shoulder. "Natty! Just how many fire whiskey shots have you had already?"

Natty grinned. "Not nearly enough to pluck up the courage to go and introduce myself to Adam McNeil that's for sure."

The girls giggled, and MC looked over at Adam, her eyes widening a little as he met her gaze and gave her a smile. She immediately smiled back, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Natty noticed and nudged MC quite firmly with a boney elbow. "Did you see that? He smiled at you!" Natty looked at MC rolling her eyes. "How is this fair? Adam McNeil is giving you sexy smiles! Oh, to be you for one day, MC!"

"Honestly, Natty, you do not want to be in here," MC said, tapping her temple. "Way too much baggage lying around. Anyway, it was just a smile, he probably does that to everyone."

Natty didn't look convinced. "Come on, he was definitely looking at you," she said. She eyed MC a moment. "Or are you playing this down because you've got your eye on someone else?"

MC gave her a look. "We've been over this," she said. "Seb and I are best friends. He's a flirt, sure, but I don't think it goes any further than that."

"But, you want it to, right?"

MC shrugged. "Maybe. I don't want to mess up what we have though, he is too important to me. I would hate it if things got weird."

Natty nodded. "For what it's worth, I think you would make a great couple. But, I understand your worries." She glanced back towards Adam McNeil and smiled. "You could always try a little flirtation with someone else. Adam is looking at you again."

MC turned to see, and Natty was right. MC felt the beginnings of another blush as she smiled back. Again. She took Natty's arm. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

The whole gang had turned out for tonight. MC stared at the table of her friends as her and Natty approached, her heart full of love for them. They had become her family over the last three years. All of them. They were all crammed around one table, chatting and drinking, laughter spilling out freely now that all the exam stress was done.

They were free. It was almost scary.

MC smiled fondly at Poppy, who was practically sitting in Ominis' lap, her little hand clamped firmly around his. She doted on him, her eyes full of her adoration every time she looked at him.

Poppy gave her a sheepish smile. "I did try to save your seat, but then Garreth and Leander arrived."

Both red headed Gryffindors looked up, big smiles as they greeted her. Maybe she'd had a few too many shots of firewhiskey, because she threw her arms around the both of them and planted a kiss on their cheeks. "It's good to see you guys," she said. She meant it. The potential to not see any of them again hurt more than she wanted to admit.

As she pulled away from the Gryffindor lads she met a pair of brown eyes that always set her pulse fluttering. Sebastian's eyes blazed with something, glittering dangerously as his hand clasped her wrist possessively. He tugged her away from Garreth and Leander and patted his lap. "There's a seat right here for you, MC," he said.

MC eyed his lap. Oh, it was tempting. Her heart started pounding at the thought of it. She didn't trust herself to do it though, the proximity combined with the alcohol might lead her into dangerous territory. Her chat with Natty had brought all her torment over Sebastian to the forefront of her mind.

Turns out she didn't have a choice. Sebastian had her wrist in his grip, his smirk dangerous as he tugged her down onto his lap, his hand planting firmly just above her hip. She gasped as she tried not to spill her drink, adjusting herself so she was a bit more comfortable. Their gazes met and she bit her lip at the possessive satisfaction in his gaze.

"Someone is feeling rather hands on this evening," she quipped.

"Only thinking of your comfort, MC," he said. "It's not very gentlemanly to leave a lady standing now, is it."

"A real gentleman would have given up his chair, not manhandled said lady into his lap," she said, poking him in the chest.

"Ah, but this is much more fun," he said. "I'm at a better advantage for annoying you, and I know how much you love it when I do that."

"Bloody hell, would you two just fuck already?" Garreth said across the table.

MC gaped at him. "Garreth!"

Sebastian's fingers gripped her hip a little tighter as Garreth laughed and shrugged, he held his hands out. "What? We're all thinking it. I'm just saying it out loud."

MC glanced around the table and everyone was suddenly very interested in something else, their drink or the band, anything but her gaze. Poppy gave her an apologetic look. MC turned to Sebastian and was met with a rather smug smirk. She narrowed her eyes. "Hands where I can see them, Sallow," she quipped.

He laughed and held both hands up in surrender. "My hands are at your command." His wink sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she had a few ideas of what he could do with those hands. MC looked down at her drink and the thought crossed her mind that she should watch herself, too many of those and her restraint might snap.

See? Dangerous territory.

The chatter round the table continued, the table becoming cluttered with their empty drinks. The band continued to play and the atmosphere in the pub became rather lively. MC tried not to think about the feel of Sebastian's hand at her hip, or the fact that he barely took it away from that spot. She felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest where her arm was against it. Every now and then his breath would tickle the loose strands of hair at her neck where it had slipped from her clip, she rubbed her hand there once as it tickled and he noticed. He smirked and blew gently onto her skin, making the loose strands of hair dance and goosebumps erupt down her arm. Her nudge and gentle scolding just made him smile wider.

Feeling fidgety, she squirmed a little in his lap and heard his breath hiss through his teeth, his hands stilling her hips. "Sorry, am I squishing you?" She asked.

He shook his head and shifted her ever so slightly himself, adjusting his seating. Her bottom brushed up against something hard and she wriggled to get comfortable, whatever was in his pocket was rather annoying. He made a small, low sound and she glanced at him to see colour flooding into his cheeks, his eyes dark pools of utter temptation. Realisation flooded through her, and desire pierced right through her core. Oh, fuck!

Her eyes flew to Natty. "Fancy a dance, Nats? I need to burn off some energy," she said. She risked another awkward glance at Sebastian before she slid from his lap, her legs a little wobbly as she clasped Natsai by the hand. "Come on, you can drool over Adam McNeil while we dance."

....*...

Adam fucking McNeil. Sebastian's hand curled into a fist on his thigh. MC, Poppy and Natty were dancing, laughing, and Adam McNeil's eyes were lingering for far too long on MC for his liking.

Sebastian's gaze travelled over MC as she danced, her hips swaying, her arse perfect in those tight little trousers she wore. He adjusted the crotch of his trousers, a little embarrassed that she had caused him to get a little too aroused when she sat on his lap. The look on her face had been priceless though!

Even her blouse was close fitting this evening, the throat open exposing her collar bones, the mini corset vest she wore accentuated the exquisite curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had noticed. The singer, this Adam McNeil that the girls were all sighing over, was watching MC too closely, his gaze following her as she danced and offering up little smiles her way. What was worse, she was smiling back.

"That lead singer loves himself a bit doesn't he?" He grumbled.

Imelda huffed a laugh. "What's not to love? He's talented, devilishly handsome, and charming beyond belief," she said. She gave Sebastian a sly look. "And if my eyes don't deceive me, he seems to have taken an interest in our very own Hero of Hogwarts. I'd say that's what your pissed about, not how Adam views himself."

Sebastian glared at her. "Who says I'm pissed off?"

She laughed. "I'm just spitting facts, Sallow. If you want to get your dick wet, I'd quit whining and do something about it, before someone else does."

Ominis nearly choked on his butterbeer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "My sentiments exactly, although I might have chosen my words a little more eloquently."

"Oh, don't you start," Sebastian sighed. He stood and fished in his pockets for his coins. "I need another drink."

Waiting at the bar, Sebastian seethed. The song had ended and the band were taking a moment to have a drink and wipe their sweaty faces with towels. They chatted amongst themselves, but Adam only had eyes for MC. He beckoned her over and she went, her smile lighting up her face. Adam bent to say something into her ear and she nodded, then moved to say something back to him. Sebastian did not like the way Adam looked at her, he didn't like it at all.

He grit his teeth and reminded himself that he had given up the use of Unforgivables a long time ago. But his wand felt heavy and willing in his pocket as MC put her hand on Adam's arm and laughed.

....*....

MC was loving this evening. She paused in her dancing, a little out of breath, her blood pumping pleasantly, the alcohol giving her a brilliant buzz.

"I love this band!" She said to Natty. "I haven't danced like this in so long."

"They play around the Highlands regularly," Natty said. "Maybe we should go to other gigs?"

"Oh, yes, I would love to!" MC beamed. Not only at seeing the band play again, but at the thought of meeting up with her friend. She desperately didn't want to lose touch.

"I think Adam might be pleased to see you there too," Natty said. "Not that I am jealous or anything."

MC put her arm around Natty and gave her a squeeze. "I told you, its nothing, just a bit of harmless fun."

They went back to the table to quench their thirst, MC returning to Sebastian, but she hesitated at the sour look on his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"

He pulled out of her touch and nodded tightly. "Couldn't be better," he said.

MC frowned. She was having too much of a good time and she did not want to deal with one of his mood swings right now.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

She picked up her drink and moved towards Leander instead. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I sit here?" She asked.

"Oh, of course," he said. He immediately went to stand to offer her his chair. She giggled and pushed him back down. "No, no, silly. I meant here." She patted her hand on his thigh and he blushed a brilliant shade of red.

He froze, his hands held out awkwardly, as MC sat on his thigh and slung her arm around his shoulders. She turned to pointedly stare at Sebastian, one eyebrow raised. If he wanted to be a misery, she would give him something to sulk about. His mouth tightened subtly and she smirked. Serves him right.

"Is this alright?" She asked Leander quietly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Erm, yeah, it's alright," he said.

She smiled. "I don't mind sitting on your lap. You're a gentleman, Leander," she said. "I trust you completely."

The band finished their song and MC turned to clap enthusiastically along with everyone else. Sebastian sat there without moving a muscle.

Adam wiped his face with a towel and then picked up an acoustic guitar. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said, loudly. His voice carried across the room beautifully. "This next song is a bit slower, if that's alright, and I would like to dedicate it to a rather lovely young lady in the room. She knows who she is."

Adam's gaze met MC's and she felt her cheeks warm considerably, and then he winked. Adam McNeil fucking winked at her! She put her hand to her chest, flattered beyond belief. She stared back at Adam, stunned, as he began to play his guitar.

The song was considerably stripped back, and when Adam sang, she felt herself melting. She hadn't even noticed how her fingers were digging into Leander's shoulder until he shifted it under her. She released her grip, muttering an apology.

Adam kept his eyes on her, and people were starting to notice.

"Fucking hell," Imelda muttered behind her. "He is absolutely singing that to MC!"

MC swallowed, and she broke eye contact with Adam to glance at Sebastian. His face might as well have been carved from stone. His eyes were cold fury as he glared towards the band, towards Adam, and then he looked at her. MC almost flinched at the coldness she saw there in his eyes.

She had to look away. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, confused. How many times had she sent signals to Sebastian and got nowhere? Their playful flirting was apparently just that, playful. And now he was jealous? Of Adam?

Tonight was supposed to be about fun, and it had been. And as for Adam, how could she not be flattered? He was utterly charming, and he was looking at her in such a way that made her feel good. She was not owned by anyone, she did not need permission to have fun, and she was not going to let Sebastian Sallow get under her skin. Let him sit and stew in his jealous misery.

She stood up from Leander's lap, thanking him for allowing her to sit there, and she moved to the bar, ignoring Sebastian completely. She needed a drink.

....*...

"Must you insist on being an insufferable fool," Ominis snapped. He put a long fingered hand to his brow and squeezed. "Quit whining and moaning, you're rather spoiling the mood of the whole evening."

Sebastian eyed his best friend, his lips twisted into a sour grimace of envy. "Oh, and I suppose you would be quite content to sit there whilst some back street singer started fawning all over Poppy, would you?"

"That is entirely different," Ominis said, his brow creasing with annoyance.

"I don't see how," Sebastian muttered. He folded his arms, pouting miserably. He leant back against the barrels outside the Three Broomsticks, out here getting some much needed air away from the band inside the pub. He didn't think he could stand another minute of watching Adam McNeil flirting with MC, and seeing her enjoy it.

"It is completely different," Ominis huffed. He leant in towards Sebastian, stern faced. "I had the balls to ask Poppy to be my girl, and I'm rather glad that I did. I get to hold her hand whenever I like, I get to kiss her whenever I like. Unlike yourself, who makes a rather big show of being an insufferable flirt, but you haven't got the nerve to actually tell MC how you really feel!"

Sebastian stared at Ominis, a flush beginning to creep up his neck. A slither of envy coiled in his gut thinking of how Ominis had mentioned being able to kiss his girl whenever he wanted.

"If another man even dared to think about laying a finger on Poppy, then I would absolutely be furious. Only I get to do that. You, however, have no right to sit there sulking and spoiling MC's evening just because you're not getting your own way," Ominis continued. "And if she does end up leaving the bar with that singer, then you've only yourself to blame!"

Sebastian gaped. "What? She will not be leaving the bar with him! Not if I have anything to do with it!"

Ominis looked pained. Sebastian cared little, he was too busy imagining MC leaving in the arms of that bloody singer. His hand slid into his pocket and gripped his wand tight. Over his fucking dead body she would. MC was his! How could she not be?

They had shared more in the last few years than some did in a lifetime. There would be no life without her, not for him. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him. At least, that's how it was in his head.

What if it wasn't like that in her head? What if she went off with Adam and had this whole new life and forgot about him? Isn't that one of the fears that has kept his mouth sealed shut in the first place, her leaving him, forgetting about him?

Oh gods. He was going to have to tell her.

Sebastian's grip relaxed on his wand and he looked at Ominis. His shoulders slumped with the gutting realisation that once again, his friend was right. Why did he always have to be right?

"It must be rather smug to be you, Ominis," he groused. "Doesn't it get tiring being right all the time?"

"You have no idea, Sebastian," Ominis said, wearily. "When it comes to you, I feel I must be always one step ahead to prevent disaster."

Despite his sulk, Sebastian couldn't help but grin. He loved nothing more than keeping people on their toes, and he doubted he would ever stop.

Sebastian decided he needed another drink, a drop of courage. After all, he was about to go and tell the girl he loved how he felt before handsome Adam could whisk her away. He quite liked the idea of being able to kiss MC whenever he liked.

....*....

MC stood and clapped as the band finished their last song of this set. Adam said they would be taking a 30 minute break before returning to finish the evening off. Natty asked if she wanted another drink, and MC was about to say yes, but Natty's eyes had widened and she grabbed MC's hand. "Merlin, Adam is coming over here," she hissed.

"What?" MC turned and saw that Natty was right. His smile was devastating.

MC threw a quick glance back over towards their table, and her friends. Sebastian and Ominis were nowhere to be seen. Then she reminded herself that she didn't need to answer to anybody, she was her own person. It would be rude to ignore Adam, especially after he sang for her.

"Hello, ladies," Adam said.

"Hello," Natty replied. Her cheeks darkened in a deep blush. "You have been wonderful!"

"Oh, well thank you," he said. "It's always great to hear that people have enjoyed our music."

MC's lips curved into a smirk as she looked at Natty. She was fairly certain that it wasn't the music so much as the man delivering it that Natty was so enamoured by.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," Adam said, and he put a gentle hand to MC's elbow. "But, I was wondering if I might steal you from your friend for a few moments."

His Scottish accent was beautiful, soft and melodic, and MC was just staring. She felt the sharp pinch of Natty's fingers and mentally shook herself. "Oh, erm...sure?" She said, nervously.

She glanced at Natty who gave her a rigorous nod, practically shoving MC in Adam's direction. "Of course you can steal her," Natty said. "Can't he, MC? I don't mind."

Adam smiled. "MC? That's a bonnie name," he said. He met her gaze. "A bonnie name for a bonnie lass."

MC could have sworn she heard Natty utter a little whine. She threw her a look but Natty was waving her off, and Adam was taking her arm. MC felt a million butterflies erupt in her stomach. What in Merlin's name was happening here?

Adam led her over towards the corner near where there instruments were set up. MC eyed them curiously, some she recognised, others she wasn't so sure of. They certainly made for enjoyable music though when all played together.

"I was hoping to get a moment alone with you, MC," Adam said. "You've been a rather delightful distraction all evening, if you don't mind me saying."

She did not mind, she realised. "So, am I right in assuming that I was the girl you dedicated that song to? Or, do you say that to all girls?"

The twinkle in his eye had her flustered. "Only the really pretty ones," he said. He leant in a little closer, his intriguing scent surrounding her. "And you, MC, are beautiful. I couldn't resist stealing you away from your friends. Although, before I make a complete fool of myself, I thought I had better check something. Are you attached to any of the gentleman that are sitting with you this evening? I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

The way Sebastian had gone off in a sulk, you would think that someone had stomped on his toes with heavy boots. MC pushed the thought aside. She shook her head. "Nope, no gentleman or lady to tread on," she said. "I am a free spirit."

Was she? Her heart clenched a little, her confusing feelings for Sebastian churning away in there. However, Adam looked very pleased at this news, and his smile was so very lovely. "In that case, I would be honoured if you would like to share a drink with me while we're on our break. Would you like that?"

"I would," she agreed.

And that was how it started, how she found herself sipping whiskey with a gorgeous Scottish singer, and ended up perched on his lap while he tried to show her how to play his guitar. Never mind that she didn't have the first clue how to play, or that all the whiskey in her blood had released the flirt in her, MC was rather enjoying herself.

Adam brought his arm around to show her how to press her fingers onto the strings, arranging them into a chord on the fret board - a new term she had just learnt. His touch was firm but gentle, and she was surprised at how she didn't mind it all. It was more difficult than it looked, the strings hard under her soft finger tips. She held the strings down in the position he had arranged and then she strummed with her other hand.

She winced at the off sound it made. She giggled. "I think I should leave the music to the experts," she said. "You make it look so easy."

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "Ach, its only practise, MC," he said. "Everyone has to start somewhere. Have another wee go."

She looked down at the guitar and readied for another try. Adam's hand moved to her waist, the touch feather light, almost hesitant. Her breathing hitched a little, and while it certainly didn't feel terrible, a strange flush of guilt swept over her. It wasn't Sebastian's hand.

Trying to concentrate, she strummed the guitar, and this time it didn't sound so bad. She smiled, and Adam's hand pressed a little more firmly at her waist. "See? Much better this time," he murmured near her ear.

MC felt warmth spread through her at the same time a shiver slid down her spine. He was beginning to affect her, her thoughts growing hazy. It was so confusing. She wanted him to touch her, and yet all she could see was Sebastian's face. She swallowed, and cursed herself for drinking more blasted whiskey than she should have.

She should tell him. It wasn't fair to lead Adam on, she couldn't let him think she was available after all. She shifted on his lap, pushing the guitar forward so she could turn to him, her eyes locking on his very pretty ones. Oh, Merlin, he was even more lovely this close up.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she did have feelings for someone. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, he was leaning in, and her heart sped up in a mixture of excitement and panic. Oh, gods, he was going to kiss her!

And then a firm hand grabbed hold of her upper arm, she jumped, shocked, eyes flying up to meet with a pair of furious brown eyes.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Sebastian growled.

....*....

The band was no longer playing as Sebastian entered the bar, he made his way to order his drink, Ominis beside him. He glanced about looking for MC, nerves fluttering about what he might say to her. She wasn't at the table with the others and he frowned a little, his gaze swinging about the room.

He froze. There she was, sitting on Adam McNeil's lap, his hands on her as she tried to play his fucking guitar. He watched, livid, as Adam spoke into her ear and she smiled that beautiful smile of hers. No way. He wasn't having this.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snapped.

"What is it?" Ominis asked.

But Sebastian didn't answer. He was moving, pushing his way through the bar to get to MC, he wasn't going to stand for another moment of Adam's hands on her. As he neared them, his eyes blazed as she turned to Adam, and the bastard was leaning in for a kiss.

Not on his fucking watch! He reached out, desperate, panic seizing him as he clamped his hand hard around her arm. He felt her jolt with shock, but he didn't loosen his grip. Couldn't, even if he wanted to. She looked up at him, surprised and a little fearful.

"Don't even fucking think about it." He ground the words out past the frightened fury in his throat. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't.

"Sebastian!" She gasped his name, the sound of it breathless, pained almost.

Adam was looking between MC and him, confused. "Okay, easy now," he said slowly.

Sebastian glared at him. "Get your hands off her," he spat. He tugged at MC's arm. "Get up, now!"

MC struggled to put down the guitar whilst Sebastian was holding her so tightly, but he refused to let her go, his fingers clamped in a vice like grip. Adam took the guitar and then Sebastian hauled her up, dragging her out away from him.

"What are you doing?!" She cried. She tried to resist his pull, but he just tugged her harder. "Sebastian!"

She looked at Adam who was reaching out for her other hand. "I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

Sebastian's stomach churned with jealous rage and he clenched his teeth.

Adam frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend," he said. His eyes hardened as he looked at Sebastian.

MC shook her head. "I don't, but..."

Sebastian seized on that word. But what?

"...I'm so sorry," she finished.

He threw Adam a warning look to back off and began to head for the nearest exit, dragging MC along beside him. She tried to pull her arm free, and kept glancing back towards Adam, but Sebastian just wanted to get her out of there, away from Adam, away from all the eyes in the room that were now watching the drama unfold.

Sebastian didn't even try to seek out Ominis and the others. He knew all he would see was them with their heads in their hands. Oh look, Sebastian had spat his dummy out again. Fuck it! Right now, all he could see was red. And all he wanted was her, with him, and him alone.

....*....

Anger. That was her first reaction. How dare Sebastian drag her bodily out of the pub like that, and in front of everyone too! She had struggled as much as she could against his iron grip on her arm, but she hadn't wanted to create even more of a scene than they already were, so she let him take her outside.

Embarrassment. Oh, there was plenty of that! For one, she was fairly certain that she had been about to let Adam McNeil kiss her, and guilty shame flooded through her. Sebastian would have seen! Everyone could see. Inwardly, she was cringing.

Outwardly, she was firing daggers with her eyes as Sebastian dragged her across the cobbled street and down a path. He was the most insufferable prick sometimes! She yanked against his grip again, his fingers biting viciously into her muscle. This was going to bruise.

"Let me go," she demanded.

He looked at her. "No."

They carried on walking, her feet stumbling a little to keep up with his pace. "You're so bloody rude," she snapped. "How could you do that?"

"He was touching you," he said. Simple, controlled, matter of fact. "I didn't like it."

"Oh, you didn't like it?" She scoffed. She fumbled for her wand. "Well, I don't like this, so let me go!"

She thrust her wand up under his chin, pressing it against his flesh. He halted but didn't let her go. His eyes slid to hers. "I'd think very carefully about your next move, MC," he said. His words, spoken so silky smooth and dark, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted, her eyes locked with his.

No. She was mad at him, she couldn't let him distract her. She pressed her wand in to his neck a little more. "Like you did back there? Did you even think about it? Yanking me from Adam's lap like that! How dare you! You ought to go back and apologise for such roguish behaviour."

He scoffed. "Not fucking likely," he said. He leant in close, pushing his own neck against her wand, his skin becoming white and taut under the pressure. Her hand trembled a little. His eyes burned into hers. "He put his hands on you, MC. It was unacceptable."

"Unacceptable to whom, Sebastian?" She frowned. "Isn't it up to me who puts their hands on me?"

He swallowed, her wand jolting under the movement. That had to be seriously uncomfortable, but he didn't move back nor push her hand away. "Is that what you really wanted then? You wanted him to touch you. Looked like I interrupted a kiss too, how romantic of him, snogging you over his guitar."

Jealous prick! Inside she was pissed off at him, but also, quivering with delicious want. The balance was swinging madly and it was making her dizzy. He had no bloody right looking so attractive whilst pissing her off!

She couldn't resist the urge to niggle at him, rile him up, push him...to what end she had no idea. "It was rather romantic, at least I thought so. He had such gentle hands."

Sebastian's nostrils flared and his eyes raged. He stared at her, a war going on behind his gaze. Then he finally shoved her wand away from his neck, his hand released her arm and he turned away. He raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. He let out a frustrated growl through his teeth.

"So, one minute you're wriggling around on my lap...and don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about," he said giving her a look. "And then the next, you are off in the corner trying to snog the lead singer of the band. What are you playing at?"

She gaped. "Just what are you suggesting, Sebastian?"

"Not suggesting, asking," he said. "Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"How is this suddenly all about you?" She cried. "I thought we were having a lovely evening, then you got all sulky and pissy, disappeared for a while, and then storm back to rip me so rudely away from Adam, and drag me bodily out of the pub! If anyone deserves to be cross here, it's me!"

"And if I hadn't pulled you off him? What then?" He demanded. "Would you have kissed him? Gone home with him?"

"I...I don't know!" She cried. "I didn't plan any of this, I was just enjoying my evening."

He looked crestfallen for a moment, before turning away, pushing his hand through his hair. "You really might have left with him?" He asked quietly. His voice dropped even lower and, if she had heard him correctly, his next words chilled her. "You would have left me."

"I wouldn't have gone home with him." She said. She had been about to tell Adam that she had feelings for someone else after all, she really hadn't planned on going anywhere with him.

He rubbed the back of his head with his hand and began to pace again. "You would have kissed him though, wouldn't you?"

She lowered her gaze to the path, suspecting he might be right on that front. Why should she feel so guilty? Why were they arguing about this? They weren't even a couple.

"Are you jealous?" She asked. Clearly, he was jealous, but would he admit it.

He stopped pacing and clenched his hands into fists. He gave her a sideways look. "Do you want me to be?"

She rolled her eyes. "For fuck sake, Sebastian, does everything have to be a game to you? Just answer the question. Are you jealous?"

His mouth tightened. She took a step towards him. "Yes or no? Shall I go back there, see if he fancies another try? I might let him."

"You will not," he hissed. He took hold of her upper arms. "You're not going anywhere."

"Going to stop me are you?" She taunted. Her pulse fluttered hotly, blood thrumming with whiskey and fire. "Now, why would you do that?"

"Because..." He stopped, lips clamping shut.

"Yes?" She leaned in towards him. He stared, wide eyed as she got closer and closer. His fingers were fisted in the sleeves of her blouse, but his arms bent as she invaded his space.

Her anger had shifted, twisting into fierce need. Adam didn't seem so important anymore. It was just Sebastian and her, alone on this little pathway in the dusky shadows of Hogsmeade.

He was so beautiful, she loved that face, had seen him go through all sorts of emotions with those eyes that she could drown in. She had pulled him through hurts, trauma, had fought beside him, cried in his arms. How could he ever think that she would leave him?

"I would never leave you, you know," she said, softly. His eyes flickered with a devastating flash of vulnerability. "Never."

"You should," he rasped. His breaths were coming quicker, more harried. "Why would you want someone as fucked up as me, when you could have someone like Adam?"

The broken sound of his voice crushed her.

"I don't want Adam," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers. She put her wand away and took his face in her hands. "I want you."

His breathing faltered. "What?"

....*....

He had heard her right, hadn't he? He just stared at her, blankly, his mind empty of all thoughts and he scrambled to gather them.

Her hands, capable of such beauty and terror, were holding his face. The pads of her thumbs swept over his cheeks and his lungs screamed for him to draw a breath.

She wanted him.

Words were useless. They wouldn't come at his call, so he just pulled her closer, closing the gap, and claimed her lips with his own. At the first touch of her softness he knew he never wanted it to stop. He just held his lips there, unmoving, freeze framing this moment because he never wanted to forget it.

Her hands slid down his face, finger tips like searing torture as she smoothed them up behind his ears and into his hair. She broke contact with his lips to draw a breath and kissed him again, expelling the breath as a moan.

That's when he lost control of any restraint he may have been clinging on to. His mouth devoured her, stealing every gasp and moan she uttered as he swirled his tongue hungrily between her parted lips. His hands were swift, greedy, as they skimmed her hips, sliding around to grab her arse in those tight little trousers.

Oh, fuck, he throbbed with desperate need, his hips seeking hers as his hands pressed against peachy softness. Somewhere, in the back of his filthy mind, he was aware they were on a public path. He shuffled her backwards, unwilling to stop kissing her mouth, and pressed her up against a rough stone wall.

"Sebastian," she panted. Her fingers pulled at his hair, the tug sharp but highly arousing.

"Tell me again," he demanded. He nipped and licked along her jaw, burying his nose against her neck to breathe in her scent. He was dizzy with it, completely lost. His. And only his. "Tell me you want me."

His breaths guttered and a low moan slid from him as she rolled her hips seductively against him. "I want you," she sighed. "Please..."

He gripped her hips, forehead pressed to hers, staring down to where she was grinding against him. His cock was so hard, so fucking hot for her, that it was almost painful. "Let me fuck you," he begged. "Fuck..."

She was tugging at his vest, popping the buttons and then working on his shirt, as it opened she dragged her finger nails down his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging on to a semblance of control. He did not want to shoot his load too soon.

He growled through gritted teeth and pulled at the buttons of her trousers, opening them enough to get his hand in. "Oh, my..."

She was soaked, her underwear clinging to her damp flesh. His finger tips slid luxuriously through heavenly slick folds and he thought he might die. Delicious little mewls came from her lips as he boldly pressed two fingers into her, groaning at the soft heat of her tight walls. Now his cock was positively dripping with need to get in there.

He had once imagined the first time he would take her. He had the whole scene played out in his head, how he would light those little floating candles that she loved. Have a fire roaring in the grate and slowly kiss every inch of her.

This, this was nothing like that. But fuck, was it good.

He shoved her trousers roughly downwards, yanking one of her legs free of them, he lifted that gloriously bare leg and resumed his finger play, seeking out that perfect little nub. Her hips flexed and her finger nails bit like tiny teeth as she rutted against his hand.

He bit her lower lip, sucking it gently and tasting blood. "Does it feel good?" He asked. She nodded, dragging in her breaths. He pumped two fingers into her, his thumb dragging lazily over her clit. "Then tell me, tell me how you like it, and I'll give you more."

Her moan was sinful and he bent to suck at her neck, tasting her.

"More...Seb...please," she whimpered. "So good..."

He rubbed tighter, faster circles and she whined, a string of little cries left her and then she was cumming, clenching and bucking. She was fucking perfect and he wanted it all.

Not even waiting for her to calm down, he hosted her legs up and around him, lined himself up and slid his aching cock into her clenching, soaked pussy.

He had to take a few seconds to clear the haze of lust that clouded his vision, her hot tightness sucking him deeper until he thought he might pass out. Her hands were clutching at his shirt and vest that were hanging loosely from his shoulders, her mouth gulping, overwhelmed and shocked at how quickly he had done it.

"You feel amazing," he groaned. He adjusted his grip, one arm taking the weight of her pelvis, the other braced against the wall and he began to thrust.

Oh gods! His eyes rolled and his teeth clenched. He couldn't hold back. He was going to have some apologies to make after this, but he couldn't help it. She had driven him so wild that he was spinning out of control, fucking her so tight and hard she had to throw out a hand against the wall to brace herself.

"I'm...sorry," he panted. "Am I...hurting you?"

She gripped the back of his head. "Don't you dare stop," she said, through gritted teeth. "I want it...give me all of it."

Fucking hell! It was hot, it was fast and stars exploded behind his eyelids as his cock finally let go, throbbing deliciously as he pumped her full of himself.

He was breathing hard, so happy, so overwhelmed. He took her face in his hands, could feel her trembling against him.

"I love you, MC," he said fiercely. "You're mine, all mine, and I am never letting you go."

"Promise?" She whispered. She put her hands over his, her eyes glittering with tears. "Promise me you'll never let me go."

"I Promise," he said. "And you know me, I never go back on my word."

She looked up at him and his heart swelled to almost bursting point. "I do know you," she said. "And I love you and I'm going to make you a promise too. I will never leave you, Seb. I physically couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to breathe."

He held her, tight, eyes closed, savouring everything about this moment. She was his, and he was hers, and it was no longer just in his head. It was real.

[storiesforallfandoms]

bad idea, right? ~ joseph quinn

word count: 2789

request?: no

description: yes, i know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

pairings: joseph quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

semi based on this song

We didn't intend on reconnecting. It was a complete accident. A coincidence, even. We were both out with our friends at the same bar. It had been months since we broke up, and it was one of my first outings post-break up. Despite the fact that the relationship hadn't ended poorly, it was still hard to process. I spent a lot of nights crying to rom-coms with my friends afterwards.

I didn't expect to see him there. Actually, for once, I had fully forgotten that Joseph even existed. I was just excited to be out for the night, to have a good time with my friends.

It wasn't even me who saw him first. One of my friends, Fiona, who is incredibly sweet but also incredibly lightweight, gasped and leaned towards me to ask, "Isn't that Joseph?!"

Lynn, my best friend, elbowed Fiona as I whipped around to see where she had been looking. As she said, there he was - the beautiful, chocolate button eyed man I had been in love with for so long. He hadn't seen me yet. He was at the bar with a few of his friends, sat around and chatting. My heart started to pound as I turned back to my friends.

"Do you want to leave?" Lynn asked.

"No," I said. "I let him keep me from having fun for long enough. I'll just...avoid him as much as I can. Maybe he'll do the same if he sees me."

Lynn gave me a skeptical look, but decided to respect my wishes.

For the most part, the plan was a success. The girls and I moved to the dance floor once we all had enough drinks in us, and Joseph became a distant after thought.

That was, until I stumbled off the dance floor to get myself some water. I could tell that the alcohol was starting to get to me in a way that I would regret in the morning if I didn't try to sober up a little bit. I pushed through the crowd at the bar and asked the bartender for an ice water. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings as I waited, until I heard a familiar voice say, "(Y/N)?"

That voice sobered me up better than any water could.

I turned to see Joseph stood basically right next to me. He looked as shocked as I felt. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Luckily, the bartender gave me my water, so I used that as an excuse to try and get away.

"Wait!" Joseph said, reaching out to grab hold of my arm. He quickly let go just as soon as he grabbed me. "Sorry. I just...I didn't expect to see you."

"I didn't expect to see you, either," I said.

"Are you...here with anyone?"

I knew what his question meant, and I was a little surprised to hear him ask. "Just my friends. Lynn and the girls."

Is that relief I see on his face?"

"I'm here with the guys," he said, gesturing over his shoulder towards his friends. "I just got home from filming, they wanted to celebrate me being back."

"Aren't you tired from being away filming for so long?"

Joseph sighed, as if me asking him that lifted a weight off of his chest. "I'm so tired. I had such a long flight, too, but the lads wanted to go out right away because they're all busy the next few days."

"How long are you in town for?"

"Indefinitely. I have nothing else lined up right now until I have to do promo for A Quiet Place: Day One."

Why did I ask that? He's going to think I want to see him while he's home. I can't see him. We're broken up, I've mourned this relationship and let it go.

But have I? If I had, why did I ask him how long he's in town for? Why am I still here talking to him when I'm sure he would let me walk away if I tried to.

"It's good to see you," he said.

"It's good to see you, too," I said. I was surprised to find that I meant it, too.

We both stood in silence for a moment. I knew I should walk away, just end this whole interaction and go out separate ways. But my feet just wouldn't move. I just stood there, looking at him, every good memory I had from our year long relationship running through my mind. Despite my attempts to try to move on from our relationship the last few months, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to pull him in and kiss him.

"Can we meet up while I'm home?" he asked. "Just...talk about things?"

Bad idea! Do not say yes!

"Yeah, okay," I responded.

Stupid!

His eyes lit up. "Okay. Um, do you have the same phone number?"

I nodded, unable to form the one word response. He still had my phone number? I thought he would've deleted it, considering he was the one who ended our relationship. I still had his, but only due to the fact that I had memorized it. Lynn deleted his number from my phone, but I never told her I had added it back in about a week later after a particularly hard night.

"I'll text you tomorrow, yeah?"

I nodded again. He smiled and reached out as if he were going to hug me. He hesitated, so I closed gap instead, grateful for the contact.

I thought he wouldn't remember, so I didn't bring it up to my friends. I didn't even tell them that I had been talking to him. I figured it was just one time, one night of momentary happiness, before I fell back into the sea of despair over my ended relationship.

So, imagine my surprise when I got a text message the next morning that read, "hey, i understand if you changed your mind, but that offer to meet up is still open."

As you can probably imagine, Lynn wasn't happy when I told her.

"You what?!"

I winced. "I didn't think he'd remember! It was late enough into the night that I figured he was a few drinks deep, and by the morning he wouldn't remember even seeing me."

"So you're not actually going to see him, right?"

I looked down at my lap, unable to look her in the eye.

Lynn groaned, "(Y/N)..."

"I know, I know. It's a bad idea to go."

"It's a terrible idea! You're still trying to get over your breakup. Going to meet up with him is just going to open old wounds."

She was right, and I hated that she was right. I had this sliver of hope that maybe meeting up with Joseph would result in us rekindling our relationship, but I knew that was unlikely. Joseph had broken up with me months ago because of how quickly his career had suddenly taken off after Stranger Things. It was like he went from a low profile actor to one of the most sought after actors. First it was Hoard, which was filmed right after Stranger Things. Then he was cast in A Quiet Place: Day One, which was an insanely big deal. And then right after that was Gladiator 2, an even bigger deal.

Between filming and press tours, I knew I wasn't going to see Joseph very often. That revelation hurt, but I knew he was happy, and if he was happy then I was happy. I would push through the long nights of missing him, the mornings waking up and wishing he was in bed next to me, the lonely feeling in the pit of my stomach. All of it was worth it to see him thrive.

But, Joseph didn't see things the same way, apparently. Because, just before he left to film A Quiet Place: Day One, he sat me down and told me he thought it would be best for me if we broke up.

"I don't want you to always be waiting for me," he had said. "You deserve to be happy with someone who will always be around and can give you everything you want. And, with the way my career is going right now, I don't think I can be that person for you."

As much as I wanted this meeting to end with us getting back together, I knew it was highly unlikely that Joseph would've changed his mind. It had only been months, and he still had so much on his plate. Just because he was home now until he had to leave and do more promo didn't mean he suddenly was no longer busy.

Lynn was right, I shouldn't go to the meeting. It was a bad idea. But, at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to cancel it.

So, that's how I found myself in the coffee shop where Joseph and I had our first date, waiting for him to show up. I wondered if he had intentionally picked this place for us to meet, or if it had been a coincidence.

I wasn't sure which option would hurt less.

I looked up as the bell over the front door chimed, and the familiar face of the love of my life looked around the room. When his eyes landed on me, he smiled and made his way over to where I was sitting.

"Hey," he said as he slid into the booth across from me. "You're early."

"I wanted to make sure I got us a spot to sit. I expected it to be busier here today."

It was a Sunday afternoon, which I figured would be prime time for a coffee shop to be busy. Besides Joseph and I, there was only one other person in the place - someone who was typing away at a laptop a few tables over.

"I got you a coffee," I told him as I slid the cup towards him. "Your usual."

He beamed at me. "You remembered."

"It hasn't been that long since I was making you your usual," I reminded him.

He nodded and looked down at the cup in front of him. An awkward tension filled the air. I wondered if what I said was wrong. Should I have brought up our relationship? Were we going to pretend we hadn't dated for a year? That we hadn't talked about marriage and planning our futures together in that year?

"There's so much I wish I could take back," Joseph said, finally. "I wish I hadn't...I wish I hadn't been so stupid all those months ago."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He sighed, the air from his mouth disrupting the steady flow of steam coming from his coffee. "I thought I was doing right by you by ending our relationship before my career got so hectic. I thought...I thought it would've been better for you if you could be with somebody who didn't have to be away for long periods of time and leave you by yourself."

"That wasn't really something for you to decide, though," I pointed out. "Not without talking to me first."

"I know."

"You just ended our relationship out of nowhere. I thought everything had been fine, and then suddenly..." I trailed off, feeling a lump form in my throat as I remembered that day months ago. I shook my head, trying to hold back any tears. "It was like the whole issue wasn't even up for discussion. You had decided we were over, that was it. The end."

"I know," he repeated. "And, God, do I ever feel like such a fucking idiot because of it."

"Good. You should, because you were an idiot."

I didn't say it maliciously, and luckily Joseph picked up on that. He chuckled. "Yeah, I was a massive idiot."

There was another moment of silence. I raised my coffee cup to my lips, blowing on it a little before taking a sip.

"I don't suppose there's any chance at trying to start over?"

The coffee slipped down my throat the wrong way as I reacted to his question. I quickly put the cup down and coughed up the hot liquid. The person a few tables over looked at us, interested but uncaring, before turning back to her laptop.

"Are you okay?" Joseph asked, a light chuckle in his voice.

"You couldn't have waited until after I swallowed to ask that?" I retorted.

"Okay, maybe that was bad on my part, you're right."

Once I had finally finished my coughing fit, I cleared my throat and sat up straighter to look at him.

"Are you serious?" I asked him.

"About starting over?" I nodded. "I am serious. (Y/N), you have to believe me when I say these last few months have been hell for me, too. I missed hearing your voice every day, or seeing your texts come in. When I got word that I was coming home for an indefinite period of time, I almost called you to tell you on instinct. I made the biggest mistake by breaking up with you. I know that will never go away and it will likely always be something that hangs over us, but I would do anything to prove to you how much I do still love you."

I was so sure I was dreaming. There was no way this was real. This was exactly what I had wanted to happen, so surely it must've been a dream, right?

But the burning in my chest from swallowing hot coffee the wrong way told me I wasn't dreaming. Joseph was actually here, sat across from me and looking at me with those big brown eyes that I loved so much, asking me if we could try to start over in our relationship. Obviously, I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him and tell him that of course I wanted to get back together with him. This was all I had wanted for months since we broke up. But, the more rational part of me (the part that sounded like Lynn, actually) told me not to go there just yet.

"You really hurt me, Joseph," I reminded him.

"I know I did. I know I'm sorry isn't enough, but I am so sorry for doing what I did to you."

"If we are giving this relationship another shot, then you have to promise me that you will talk to me about this stuff before you make big decisions like that. I understand that you were trying to think of me in that moment, but if you had talked to me before deciding to just break up with me, I would've told you that I wanted to be with you even if I don't get to see you for long periods of time. I was so happy for you to be getting those roles, Joe. I was excited to hear the stories from sets and to get to watch you grow. The feeling of loneliness was a very small price to pay if it meant getting to see you be happy."

He looked away from me again. "I guess...I didn't really think of it that way."

"Because you were being an idiot."

He smiled. "Yeah, I was."

"A colossal idiot."

"A mega idiot."

"A mega, colossal idiot."

We both laughed then. Joseph's hand started to reach out towards me, but then he hesitated. I reached out the rest of the way and intertwined my fingers with his.

"Will you give me another shot, (Y/N)?" he asked again. "I promise I will never be such a mega, colossal idiot again."

I nodded. "Of course I'll give you another shot."

His entire face lit up with happiness. He squeezed my hand before tugging on it, pulling me a little closer as he leaned over the table to kiss me. It was only a quick peck, like he was testing the waters, but it was all I needed. It was what I had been wanting for so long now, just to feel his lips against mine again.

When he sat back, his hand still in mind, I gave it another squeeze and asked, "Are you allowed to tell me any stories from A Quiet Place? Or is it all top secret, hush hush?"

He smiled. "You know I'd tell you anything, even if it was top secret."

And just like that, we fell back into a usual routine. It was as if the last few months apart had never happened. And I was more than happy to forget it had.

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, Jake Seresin, suggestive language, fear of abandonment. I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.87k

A/N: Wasn't sure I was going to post again tonight, but here we are! Not sure I'm going to post a fic update tomorrow, but I might work on some drabbles and post some of the asks sitting in my inbox. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The cool, night breeze twisted its way through the door of the crowded pub as a group of patrons exited, offering the briefest relief to your clammy skin as you busied yourself behind the bar. Patrons crowded around the various tables, some laughing in the open while others crowded in the dark shadows of the corners. Your regulars were easy to spot, most of them fishermen. Their carefree attitudes set them apart from the strangers passing through who kept themselves closed off and guarded in an unfamiliar places.

“Y/n!” Called Tom, one of your regulars. He had been a good friend to your father, having known him from his early fishing days. Tom had done well for himself, having been able to put enough money away to buy his own ship - the Iceman. “How’s about another ale!”

“Coming, Captain!” you hollered over at him jovially, already moving to grab a fresh glass. You had always liked the old captain, and had considered him to be a part of your family growing up. When your parents had died, he had seen to it personally that you were taken care of and that Bradley was able to secure steady work on the various shipping vessels that docked on your shores. “Where’s Rooster?”

“Should be coming along soon, I suspect,” Tom smiled warmly. Bradley had been picking up different odd jobs as of late, his latest one being aboard the Iceman loading and unloading cargo. He had been dodging your questions about it as of late, and you had started to wonder if he was up to something.

“He’s going to work himself into an early grave,” you grumbled, sliding the glass of ale down to the captain who caught it easily. “He won’t even tell me what he’s doing all of these jobs for.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” mused Tom, lifting the glass up to his lips to take a swig. “He probably doesn’t want you to worry.”

“He’s worrying me by not saying anything,” you countered, leaning against the bar. At that moment, the pub door swung open, and an exhausted looking Bradley stumbled through. You rounded the bar to help him sit down as he staggered onto a stool. “Bradley, for heaven’s sake!”

“Think you can get me an ale, Guppy?” he asked, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. The tips of his ears and nose were seared pink from hours spent in the intense sun, and you frowned at him.

“What you need is sleep,” you countered, but Bradley shook his head, fixing you with tired, pleading eyes.

“Please?” he asked again, softer this time. You sighed, moving back behind the bar and pouring him a draft before sliding it over to him. He grabbed it, raising it up in a silent cheers before tossing his head back with a long swig.

“Easy, lad,” Tom frowned, watching the young man as he took another long pull from his glass. Bradley set his drink down, absentmindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Another,” he told you, but you shook your head.

“No, absolutely not,” you scowled as the furrow between his eyes deepened. “You need to go home and rest, Bradley.”

“She’s right, lad,” Tom started, twisting in his seat to face the younger man. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave if you’re not careful.”

“I’m fine,” Bradley muttered, resting his head against the palm of his hand. Tom gave him a wry smile before clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He shot you a wink before getting up to join his crew that was gathered on the opposite side of the room. You watched him go before turning back to look at Bradley with a frown.

“C’mon, Roos,” you prodded, leaning your head down so you could meet his gaze that was fixed on the bartop. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Nothin’” he grumbled unconvincingly. You rolled your eyes with a purse of your lips.

“I’m having a hard time believing you,” you sniped, snatching the glass away from him. Without another word to him, you poured another ale and offered it to him. He took it, offering a small smile. He met your even gaze just long enough for you to see the flash of guilt that flitted in his eyes. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you hissed, eyes blazing, “I have known you for twenty years now. Either you tell me what you’re up to right now, or I will personally see to it that you won’t be able to get another job for a month.”

“Alright,” he winced, setting the glass down and finally meeting your stare. “You have to promise me you won’t yell.”

You scoffed. “Are you twelve?”

“Guppy, promise me,” he insisted, hazel eyes pleading with you. You studied him another moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?” you shrieked, causing some of the patrons to turn to the two of you as Bradley hissed at you to be quiet.

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad.”

“That was before you told me you were leaving,” you snapped. “Where are you even going to go?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, leaning back. “Still need to find a crew that will take me on long-term.”

You stayed silent, watching him with furious eyes. After a couple of beats, you turned to walk back around the bar. “Caroline, I’m leaving.”

She waved after you, moving to tend to some patrons on the opposite end of the bar. Bradley watched you walk away with wide eyes before getting up to stumble after you. You flung the door of the pub open before setting off with a brisk pace down the road.

“Guppy!”

You ignored the man behind you, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Guppy?”

The tears began to fall, the trails they left behind on your cheeks turning to ice in the cool, night air. You turned to walk down to the beach past the docks. How could he drop that bomb shell on you? How could he keep that hidden from you in the first place? Your anger only served to cover up the true emotion you tried your hardest to ignore. Betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” Bradley begged, his long legs having helped him catch up to you by now. You stopped in your tracks, feet sliding into the sand beneath you as you whirled around. You shoved Bradley with all of your strength, shock at the unexpected movement being the only reason stumbled back at all.

“How could you?” you cried, tears falling quicker and your breath coming out shallower as you fought to keep your composure. “How could you just plan to leave me?”

“It’s not like that,” he started, but you shook your head.

“Don’t lie to me, Bradley,” you seethed, hands now clenched at your sides. “Don’t. I deserve the truth. Were you even going to say goodbye to me, or were you just going to vanish one day?”

“Of course not,” he murmured, staring at you with eyes once again pleading with you. “I would never do that to you. You know that.”

“I thought I knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t leave,” you shot back, causing Bradley to wince. “Guess I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”

“Y/n,” he sighed, running a hand over his face and looking out at the ocean. He seemed to be mulling over his words. “It wouldn’t be forever.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” you laughed humorlessly.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” he continued, giving you a pointed look. “It would only be until I earned enough to buy my own ship.”

“You can do that here,” you argued, but Bradley shook his head with a small, empty laugh.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve barely earned enough these past weeks to live off of for a month out at sea. I’d be buried in the ground before I earned enough to buy a ship, and you know that.”

You couldn’t argue. You knew he was right, and you knew that this was not the life he had dreamed of. He had dreamed of going off with your father on one of his many voyages before the sea had claimed him. It had been years, but the pain of his and your mother’s passing still felt fresh in your heart.

You saw how Bradley looked longingly out at the sea when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always looked happiest standing on the deck of a boat. No, Bradley was meant for a life at sea, and you knew it. You just never thought he would leave you behind.

“It won’t be forever,” he says again, moving to put his hands on your shoulders, bending down so he was eye level with you. “And when I earn enough money to buy my own ship, I’ll come back for you.”

“That could be years,” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. Bradley sucks in a breath before slowly nodding.

“You’re right,” he conceded, wiping the tears from your cheek.

“What if you forget about me?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before drawing you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “How could I forget my baby sister? Besides, I think you’d swim across the ocean to find me if I ever forgot about you.”

You huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re probably right.”

“‘Course I am,” he chuckled, pulling away from you. “Now, c’mon. It’s freezin’ out here, and I’m exhausted.”

You allowed him to lead you up the hill to your shared home. He left a chaste kiss to the top of your head before wishing you goodnight. As you lay in bed that night, you obsessed over the one question you had refused to allow yourself to ask him down at the beach. What if the sea claimed him too?

The following night, you found yourself back behind the bar of the pub. You had heard snippets of chatter amongst the locals about an unknown ship that had docked on your shores.

“I don’t like the look of’em,” Tom had told you and Bradley as he sat at the bar. A lull in the crowd had granted you a moment to stop and talk with the two of them.

“Why’s that?” you asked. He frowned.

“When you get to be my age,” he grumbled, “you can start to pick out the rotten sorts from just a glance.”

Before you could respond, the pub door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. All three of you turned to see a large group step through the doorway and into the warm glow of the lantern filled room. A blond man stood at the front of the group, lips curled into a confident smirk. You noted the handsome features of him and his companions, and you knew the other women in the room had as well due to the scattered giggles from around the room.

“That’s them,” Tom mumbled, taking another sip of his ale.

The blond scanned his eyes across the room before catching sight of you at the bar. A twinkle of intrigue shone in his eyes as he began to saunter over to you, his crew dispersing to find a table to sit at. You shot a weary glance at Tom before moving to meet the tall stranger on the opposite side of where Bradley sat.

“Evenin’” you greeted with a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked you over with lick of his lips. “An ale, and your company if you’re offerin’ that too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. It wasn’t the first time a patron had made a pass at you, but it was the first time a patron was that devilishly handsome. “The ale, I can get you, but I’m not in the habit of entertaining sailors.”

“Shame,” the stranger grins, watching as you pour his drink. You hand it to him, and you feel a shiver run up your spine as his fingers graze yours. “Would have been nice to have someone as pretty as you in my bed tonight.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick from the corner of your eye, and you shot him a warning glance. This part of your job wasn’t new, and you had long since learned how to handle yourself in these situations.

“I believe there are more than a couple of girls over there who would be willing to warm your bed tonight, Mr…?”

“Seresin,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Jake Seresin. And I’m not interested in having anyone but you, pretty girl.”

“Well, then it looks like your bed will go cold tonight after all,” you said to him. Bradley snorted, trying to cover it with a cough, but Jake ignored him.

“Seresin,” Tom grunted, causing all three of you to look at him. He shook his head, and turned to glare at Jake. “I’ve heard of you. You’re a pirate.”

The conversation died in the pub as everyone turned to look at your little group by the bar. Jake’s easy grin never faltered as he stared back at Tom.

“Pirate is such a nasty word,” he drawled, taking a sip of his ale. “I prefer the term…liberator.”

“Whatever you call it, you have no business here,” Tom snapped.

“I beg to differ, my friend,” Jake countered, moving to stand. Turning to the rest of the room, he stated, “I’m looking for men to join my crew. You keep what you can carry with you. If you’re interested, come see me.”

And with one final glance at you, he sauntered off towards the back of the room where his crew had taken up purchase.

“Pirates?” you asked, looking at Tom hesitantly. He shook his head and got up to go join his own crew in the corner. You peered at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He studied the rim of his glass as he stroked it thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him. He jumped as your words pulled him from his train of thought.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, refusing to meet your gaze. You studied him him for a moment until you saw the quick glance he threw towards the back of the room.

“No,” you snapped, causing him to finally meet your gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” he scowled, but you fixed him with a glare and a finger pointed into his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” you hissed in warning. Bradley glared right back at you before hopping off his stool and strutting towards the crew at the back. You scrambled around the bar after him. You closed the distance just as he stopped in front of Jake.

“I want to join your crew,” he stated. Jake looked at him with an amused look, eyes flickering to you as you pulled on Bradley’s arm so that he faced you.

“Bradley, don’t,” you begged.

“Y/n, enough,” he snapped down at you, taking you aback. His eyes softened as you looked up at his broad frame with hurt bewilderment. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his sandy brown locks. He looked back at you before continuing. “Don’t you see, Guppy? This is my chance. If I don’t go now, who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to leave and make my fortune.”

“Roo, you’re my brother. I can’t let you do this,” you pleaded, taking his hand in yours. You willed him to listen to you, but it was no use.

“I’ve made my decision, Guppy,” he said. You couldn’t stop the flash of hurt you knew passed over your face as Bradley turned back to the captain. You looked around at the other patrons desperately before settling your eyes on Tom. He was already looking at you with a solemn expression, shaking his head.

“Sign here,” Jake instructed, pointing to the piece of parchment he had rolled out onto the table. Bradley obeyed, scratching his name in quick strokes to the bottom. You felt the tears start to run down your face before you could stop them. You couldn’t stop anything, it seemed. Bradley straightened and turned to look at you. The two of you stared at one another for several moments before you turned on your heel and stormed away from him.

That night, as you lay in bed, you dreamed of the sea. You dreamed of blue and green swirling around you as you struggled to breath. You dreamed of splintering wood and echoed shrieks that were drowned out by thundering waves. You dreamed of strange creatures that lurked the deep as they waited for their next meal. You dreamed of golden hair and cocky smirks as they taunted you beneath the waves. You dreamt of a cold, calloused hand that pulled you under until the surface was nothing but a distant memory.

[aryastarkthelittleshewolf11]

Pack: Ned’s Men (Jory & Harwin)

Arya’s description of them at Winterfell -

Jory had always smiled at her, when he wasn’t telling her to get from underfoot. - Arya III, ASOS

“Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. - Arya II, ASOS

Relationship & Caring for Arya -

Arya stood in the centre of the room, alone but for Jory Cassel - Eddard III,GOT

Ned could see Arya tense in Jory’s arms. Jory spoke up quickly. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.” - Eddard GOT

“We all lie,” her father said. “Or did you truly think I’d believe that Nymeria ran off?” Arya blushed guiltily. “Jory kept his word,” her father said with a smile. - Arya II, GOT

“[…]There were other wolves for her to play with, we heard them howling, and Jory said the woods were full of game, so she’d have deer to hunt.[…]” - Arya II, GOT

His eyes went wide. “Gods be good,” he said in a choked voice. “Arya Underfoot? Lem, let go of her.” […] “The Hand’s daughter.” Harwin went to one knee before her. “Arya Stark, of Winterfell.” - Arya II, ASOS

She missed him (Hot Pie) more than she thought she would, but Harwin made up for it some. […] , but she left out the stableboy she’d stabbed with Needle, and the guard whose throat she’d cut to get out of Harrenhal. Telling Harwin would be almost like telling her father, and there were some things that she could not bear having her father know. - Arya III, ASOS

“[…] For every man we lost, two showed up to take his place. A few were knights or squires, of gentle birth, but most were common men - field hands and fiddlers and innkeeps, servents and shoemakers, even two septons. Men of all sorts , and women too, children, dogs…” “Dogs?” said Arya. “Aye,” Harwin grinned. “One of our lads keeps the meanest dogs you’d ever want to see.” “I wish I had a good mean dog,” said Arya wistfully. - Arya III ASOS

Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. - Arya III, ASOS

“We have sore need of horses, milady. Armor as well. Swords, shields, spears. All things coin can buy. Aye, and seed for planting, Winter is coming, remember?” He touched her under the chin. - Arya IV, ASOS

Gendry took one look and laughed so hard that wine came out his nose, until Harwin gave him a thwack alongside his ear. - Arya IV, ASOS

“You get away from them, boy — “ “She’s a girl,” said Harwin. “Leave her be.” […] The bars were too narrow to pass a cup through, but Harwin and Gendry offered her a leg up. - Arya V, ASOS

Betrayal of Trust -

They’d been her friends, she’d felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They’d let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but the Hound found Mycah. […] And no one raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold […] , or Jory who was captain of the guard. - Arya II, GOT

The look she gave him was full of hurt. “I thought you were my father’s man.” “Lord Eddard’s dead, milady. I belong to the lightning lord now, and to my brothers.” - Arya III, ASOS

“End” -

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. “Jaime Lannister murdered Jory, and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have behead them.” - Sansa III , GOT

Whirling, she broke for the door, and when Harwin tried to grab her arm she spun away from him quick as a snake. […] Someone was shouting her name, Harwin probably, or Gendry, but the thunder drowned the out […] - Arya VIII

[thunderousavery]

Ocean-Blue Eyes Pt. 1 (Ghost x M!Reader)

A/N: Was bored thinking about dicks and masked men, so I thought of making a little story about one of my cutie patooties. This will have an eventual smut, I swear it's evident in the writing. I'm so bad at this though, so bear with it a little.

Summary: You're the Ghost and Soap duo's favorite bartender. You're harboring a secret crush for Ghost, and well, Soap annoys you about it. Main Pairing: Ghost x M!Reader Warnings: Cursing. More cursing. Vulgarity. And Soap being an annoying mohawk rat for the reader's taste.

Midnight of April. Saturday. A gentle warm breeze of the summer wafts in the air.

I work as a bartender at a little club in town somewhere in South America. I don’t know, but I like my job. It’s what kept me in a stable life nowadays, and I haven’t run into any financial problems with it. I please customers, and they give me tips; very opportunistic work if I could say so myself.

“The usual?” I asked my long-time customer and friend as he greets me with that charming smile of his before sitting down at the bar counter. I know his drink was more of a hard Scotch mix that I never make for others, so it’s pretty much very easy to remember.

He nods, setting his cap down, and ran a hand through his mohawk hair. “Aye. Ya know me so well, lad.”

I chuckled softly while preparing his drink, grabbing a few bottles of beverages from the liquor cabinet as I spoke, “It’s because you’re the only one who drinks shit like this, man.”

“Hey! It’s a specialty from Scotland. It ain’t shit,” he retorted, shooting me a playful glare.

“It’s shit. I tried it once, and it tasted like dog piss and water from the the fucking Amazon”

“Hey, now that’s just rude!” He pouts.

It’s always like this whenever Soap comes to the bar after a long day from military work; banters and laughter with him and a couple of shots of his shitty drink. We’ve been friends since he came here two months ago, and I have to admit that he’s grown on me for some time. He tells good stories, encourages other customers to buy drinks (especially his weird concoction that he keeps forcing me to make), and he also looks after me when I feel down.

He’s one good friend, I’d give him that. But I never get any other ideas than that.

Soap’s cute, but not cute enough for me to spread my legs for. That’s a gay shit that I won’t cross the line. Personality and appearance are both a big fucking check for an annoying Scotsman like him, but I don’t like him more than as a friend.

... Well, except for his ‘other’ friend.

“So, where’s Mr. Blue Eyes?” I asked with a soft smirk as I try to hide the eagerness in my voice while wiping the countertop.

“Ghost? He’ll be here soon,” he replies before taking a swig from his drink. He raised an eyebrow and broke into a mischievous grin. “Why ya lookin’ for him? Gonna fuck him with yer eyes again?”

I felt my cheeks erupt in red at his vulgarity before looking away and groaning in annoyance. “I-I’m not...” I trailed off, can’t seem to think of a good retort to that. Damn him.

“Oh, admit it, lad. Yer stares are enough to undress him well, and he hates getting cold. He gets all grumpy when that happens.” Soap chuckled.

“I-I wasn’t staring!” I tried defending myself, but I know it was no use.

“And ya know what they say? Denial is a river in Egypt, baby.” He grinned as he made the innuendo gesture on his hands, his finger pushing in and out on a little hole he made with his other hand. “He likes angry fuck, by the way.”

This is why he’s better off as my friend. We don’t take each other seriously, and he’s a fucking bully to me when it comes to my crush on his friend, Ghost.

Yeah, I like his friend. And yeah, Ghost is the type of guy that I’d spread my legs for if he allows me to. With just a single look from his piercing blue eyes, I’d call him ‘Daddy’ and beg for him in obedience. Gosh, I don’t even remember the last time I got laid.

But I’m not admitting that out loud. I learned my mistake by telling Soap, and he won’t stop being a bitch to me about it.

“Fuck you. I’m putting rat poison in your drink next time and I’d play that Ratatouille theme when you die.” I shoot Soap a glare while threatening to throw the dirty towel on his face as he held his hands up.

“Hey, quit it, (Y/N). No one’s poisoning anyone’s drink tonight.” A familiar gruff voice with a strong British accent vibrated in the air.

...

...

... Holy fucking twat, it’s Ghost! And he’s walking up here wearing something that I've never seen him wear before!

His typical skull-faced balaclava was on, but he was wearing a dark green sleeveless shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. With the way he moved and dressed like a fucking macho man, I could see every muscle on his tattooed arms flex. He has some light scarlet burn scars on the skin of his right shoulder, but it didn’t lower the fondness I felt for him at all.

He looks so scrumptious right now, and the way his ocean-blue eyes looked at me sternly makes me want to take a dive and drown in them.

“... You’re doing it again.” Soap decided to pop my thought bubbles and laughed.

“What’s he doing again?” Ghost asked him, clearly in confusion as he sits down and looked at me once more with curiosity.

“I-I’m not doing anything, Soap. Damn it...” I cursed under my breath as I busied myself again to wipe the countertop that I and Soap knows was already clean. I couldn’t look at Ghost; I’d fucking die and let the ground swallow me whole.

Soap continued to laugh it off before sipping on his drink one last time before he handed his mug to me, gesturing for one more. I could only glare at him silently before sighing and taking his mug to prepare his shitty drink again.

This night’s going to be a disaster...

Ghost eyed me for a bit before he pulled out his wallet and put some cash on the counter. “Scotch on ice, mate.”

“That same plain shit again? I swear, ya have sum boring taste buds, LT.” Soap chuckles as he took a sip.

“Shut it, Johnny. I’m just making it easy for the lad, unlike you who always wants some fucking weird shits in your drink.” Ghost snorted, and gosh how I’m proud to hear him put his friend in his place. He’s so aggressively British, I’d let him talk me down and destroy me—

“Eh, but why’d ya put for more than one glass? Tipping him the extra?”

... Huh?

I looked at the counter, and I had to blink a few times before I could register the fact in my head that there are a couple of dollars sitting right there. Even at this distance, I can already count that it can afford more than one shot of Scotch on ice. Not only another one but probably a couple more.

“I-I...” I gulped softly as I looked into Ghost’s piercing blue eyes that could stare right at my soul. “You... You’re tipping too much—”

“It ain’t. Have a drink of your own and join us.” If he ain’t smirking behind that intimidating mask of his, I’m having doubts now because of how his chuckle gruffly vibrated from his chest. “Or, it can be a tip if you wanna be boring, mate. You don’t seem to look too busy, though.”

It’s more than enough for one drink!

... However, there’s a bar policy; never drink with the customers. No matter how convincing they are or they offered to pay, never ever drink with them. Never entertain them too much because work always comes first. Failing to uphold this, you’ll find your last cut of salary and letter of expulsion in the boss’s office the next morning.

...

... I’m just kidding. There’s no bullshit like that here. This is the best workplace that I’ve ever been in.

“Yeah, and there ain’t even a single customer here other than us, lad.” Soap agreed, nodding with a soft hum.

“That’s because it’s only an hour before closing time.” I shook my head and chuckled. “But sure, I can join you guys.” I grabbed a glass for myself along with a couple of beverages and some lime. I made my favorite cocktail mix; Moscow Mule.

Who would’ve thought I’d get to have an excuse to drink with my British military soldier crush? Aren’t I so lucky?

“That’s the spirit.” Ghost lifts his mask a little, just enough to reveal his stubbled square chin and plump lips as he takes a sip from his Scotch. And, oh my god, I swear there was a damn smirk on his lips just before they touched the fucking edge of the glass.

Does he even eat ass with that mouth of his? I wonder.

“If stares could kill, someone could become a bloody murderer now.”

The impeccability of this fucking mohawk rat to just outright say such words is so darn bad, I just want to shove a whole empty bottle of Scotch up to his fucking ass. I glared at him silently while I finished making my drink, thinking carefully if I should throw a lime at his face and hope it would catch on his fucking eye.

“... So,” I spoke, trying to make a small conversation rather than having another banter with Soap. “When are you guys going on your next mission?”

“Classified detail.” Soap snickered when I gave him another deathly glare. But then he eventually answered, “In two days, I guess.”

“I see...” So, I only got two days left to get laid by some British hunk? “And you’ll come back in?”

“Depends on it, lad.” Ghost answered this time, and he didn’t bother to slide his mask back on to cover the lower half of his face. Thank goodness for that. “If we’re lucky and Soap doesn’t fuck up a single time, then we’re back in two days after as well.”

“Hey, I don’t fuck up on missions!” Soap pouts like a fucking rat, I swear it’s damn annoying.

But I like these two’s dynamics. A lieutenant and a sergeant. They look so close like two brothers with different blood and origin, and I remember Soap telling me some stories about how he hates Ghost but likes him at the same time. They respect each other at work, but Soap says he will always find time to annoy his lieutenant at some point. Typical brothers, I guess.

“—And they said Gaz would be... (Y/N)?” Ghost’s voice snapped me back to reality when his words trailed off and mentioned my name. He looked at me with a soft frown on his lips along with a concerned look in his eyes. “You okay, mate? You’re staring off.”

“O-Oh... Uh, y-yeah... I’m fine.” I smiled sheepishly before taking a sip from my drink. I didn’t bother to look at Soap because I know he had a damn smirk on his face right now.

“... If you say so.” He sighed before setting his glass down and put his shoulders on the counter, leaning forward a bit. “Enough about our work. I wanna know something more about you.”

If I still had my drink in my throat, I would’ve spat it out, probably aiming at Soap’s face. “W-What? U-Uh... What do you want to know about me?” I gave Soap a quick glare to make sure he doesn’t speak any dirty side comments.

“Hmm...” He rubbed his chin for a moment before he spoke. “... Are you hitting on Johnny here?”

...

“... Wait, what?” My eyes widened as the size of saucer plates. Did I... hear that correctly? I’m pretty sure he asked if I was hitting on—

“Hold up, why’d ya even think the lad’s hitting on me?” Soap laughed obnoxiously, almost tipping over from his seat as he found it also surprising that Ghost would jump to that conclusion. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case, LT.”

“Then, why does he keep looking at you like you’re some piece of meat?” Ghost grinned.

I swear this is not the right time to show your pearly white teeth, Ghost! Oh my god, what has the world fallen into? I know Soap and I know that I’m already being obvious with my little gestures and looks to Ghost for quite a while now, but why the hell would he think I’m hitting on Soap all this time?!

Hasn’t he seen my heart eyes whenever I look at him? Hasn’t he seen the way I’d smile charmingly for him just to notice me? Like, what the actual fuck?! He was thinking I’m hitting on this fucking mohawk rat?!

I blushed softly nonetheless mostly because I’m finally running out of patience and sanity. “I-I... No, I’d never—”

“He’s hitting on you, LT.”

That was the last straw.

“Alright, where’s the fucking knife?!”

A/N: Will post part 2 as soon I finish it. Love lots :))

[just-a-bit-of-a-nerd]

Idk if you take requests, but if you do I think it would be cool to do a part 2 on your Captain Jack Sparrow x daughter reader if you feel like it. Have a good day 💙

Stolen maps and hurt hearts

(gif not mine)

Warnings: talks of dead mother, boys being mean, and like one curse word

Summary: You get in a small fight with a few boys but when they say something that hits a nerve you dad is there to comfort you.

Parring: Captain Jack Sparrow x daughter Reader

M/N= Your middle name

Enjoy!

You and your fathers crew were making their way to the Faithful Bride Tavern to take a small break from sailing the seas. Your father sat in the corner of the room drinking his rum while you sat at a bar not to far away, talking to some random person you didn't know before today.

All was going quite well until you heard a voice from the entrance.

"Y/N M/N Sparrow," a young boy who you knew as Harry shouted and once he did it seemed the whole place went silent and your fathers eyes were on you.

Before anyone could do anything you got up and ran for the back exit while whispering "Buggar buggar buggar," under your breath.

As you were just about to make it out, one of Harry's friends, Arthur grabbed you by the waist and swung you face to face with Harry who slammed you against the wall.

"Now now lads, that is no way to treat a lady," you joked but no one was in a laughing mood.

"No games Y/N," Harry started, "what did you do with my map?"

So it may be true that the last time you saw Harry you did indeed steal the map to a treasure you and your father were looking for but you sadly no longer have it.

You bit your knuckle as you answered, "Oh yes that map, I'm afraid it was destroyed," you explained with a fake nervous smile, "not that it'd be any use for you now for I've already collected the treasure."

Harry's eyes turned a shade darker in rage, " You little witch!" he shouted in your face.

"See again with this talk, is this how your mother taught you to speak to women?" you smart mouth.

"Well I suppose mine did better than yours, it's a shame yours isn't around to teach you how to be more of a lady," Harry sassed back taking you off guard for a second not long enough for him to notice, but long enough for your father.

"That's quite enough," Jack speaks as he walks out of the watching crow.

"I see," Harry starts, "to much of a daddy's girl to fight her own battles-"

You then cut him off with a swift punch to the jaw and that's when Arthur wrapped his arms around you once more but you managed to aim a kick right for his groin making him fall back in pain.

"Would anyone else like to tic me off?" you question as you look around the crowd and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

You look at your father and you see the worry he has in his eyes and before you could do something you'd regret you walk right out of the bar as your father follows not far behind.

You walk out to the ship where one of the crew mates take watch, "you go have fun, I'll watch the ship," you explain and he just agrees. Everyone takes orders from not only Jack but you as well.

"Have a nice night Miss. Sparrow," he says as he walks into town.

The quite you longed for didn't last long as you saw your father walk up to the boat.

"What?" you asked as he got aboard ship.

"You know what," he stated as he leaned on the railing that you were sitting on, "you have the skills to hide what you feel from everyone in that room but you cannot hide your sadness from me," he explains, "do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really," you say honestly.

"Alright then I'll just drink this rum until you do," he states as he takes a swig of his bottle.

You and your father have talked about your mother before, it's not a subject either of you like to discus considering it's a sad topic for the both of you and neither of you like feelings. Though every time you have the talk about your mother Jack reminds you that you had nothing to do with her death though you simply cannot believe that. It's not entirely a regret you have because there's no point in having those, the past is past and you cannot change it so don't wish to. But you do wonder where your mother would be if she never had you. At least she'd be alive and at the end of the day you were the reason she died. Not only that but it was hard for you to grow up without a mother. It was a learning curve for you father needing to learn about all the ladies things and you never had anyone to get first hand advice from, everything Jack knew he had heard or was told.

That's what sent the tears running down your face. You never liked to cry, not even alone and never the less in front of your dad. You've only cried 3 times in your life besides when you were in infant, and every time it's been about your mother, this was the third time and only the second Jacks ever seen you cry.

He takes notice as soon as your first tear falls and he pulls you into a hug as you sob in his chest. It was only you and him, which you did love but sometimes you wished you could see how it felt to have a lady to look up to all your life. And by no means did you strive to be your mother, you knew the kind of person she was and you knew the kind of person you wanted to be. And it sure as hell wasn't her.

"It's alright love," your dad comforts you, "fate can be cruel sometimes."

"Am I really that bad?" you ask feeling waves of insecurities, "Am I in desperate need of a mother?"

"Trust me love I've met odder women than you," he jokes, "you're just stronger and braver than all the women Harry have met, and that's good because those kind are the fun ones," he explains.

That makes you giggle, Jacks not always the best at comforting but he's learned how because of you and he's gotten much better at it over the 14 years he's had with you.

"Anyway, you did good dealing with those two, amazing shot on the big one," he congratulated as you wiped your tears, again neither of you liked feelings that much and it was time to change the subject.

"Thank you, I remembered you teaching me that one."

"That's my girl," he said as he put an arm around you, "do you wanna go back in there?" he asked.

"Sure, lets see if Harry wants a round two," you said with a smirk.

Jack made a face at that, "Yes I'm not sure about that, I wasn't to keen to the way he was grabbing you," he said worry and annoyance in his tone.

"Really? you're afraid he's flirting?" you sarcastically asked.

"That's how I'd do it," he says honestly as he takes another swig of rum.

"You have no need to worry," you reassure, "I'd go on a date with the Kraken before I go on one with Harry."

"Well I'd rather you go on a date with no one," he deadpans.

"Of course you would," you sigh.

[thelarriefics]

TOP 10 DEVILINMYBRAIN FICS:

Tumblr: @thedevilinmybrain​

babydoll blues (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

the agony and the rapture (79k)

Louis thinks back to that first day, sitting in that pub with Harry, asking him about heaven. He hadn't thought much of it then, but maybe Harry's word choice had a heavy weight behind it. If Louis would see paradise when he got to heaven, what would Harry see? What is home like for him? It must be something else with the way Harry is always cowering around, fearful of the above.

“Do you think we’re worth it?” Louis asks, glancing over at Harry. “Humans? Worth all the drama?”

“Of course, you’re worth it.” Harry doesn’t pull his gaze away from the window, staring at the rendering of the angel again. It really is in his likeness. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought you weren’t.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Louis’ tone goes soft, so very sincere. “Glad you were assigned to me.”

into that goodnight (62k)

Once upon a time, there was a boy. But not just any sort of boy. This was a clever boy, the cleverest of them all.

and i would search the night sky to find you (56k)

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

secrets don't make friends (30k)

5 times Louis' crew knew too much, and the 1 time they thought they knew, but didn't really. Not at all.

you're shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes (20k)

5 times Louis was gross hot and 1 time Harry was.

i'm a captain on a jealous sea (15k)

It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Nick. He is, if he’s being honest, kind of indifferent. Louis gets that Nick is just doing his job most of the time, being loud and prying, not having boundaries. But it’s just a little too much for Louis’ taste. Louis, who has learned over the years, when to be loud and when to know that coy is the game. But, it doesn’t matter really. He’s not required to like everyone, doesn’t have to make nice with them outside of having a camera shoved in his face. He can let Nick be Nick and it shouldn’t affect Louis at all.

Except.

What Louis actually has a problem with is the way Nick Grimshaw looks at Harry.

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) (12k)

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

to be a better man (9k)

“I can tell how much of a good boy you think he is.” Leon’s snarl doesn’t change, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. “But he’s still calling me, not you, hm?”

“Watch your mouth.” Louis is about done with this conversation. Who the fuck talks about their own boyfriend like this? “Or are you accusing me of something?”

“Just giving you an out, lad. Like Harry would even look at you. He’s too busy crawling up my ass to notice anyone else.” Leon snarls, rolling his eyes in a dismissive shake of his head. “But if you’re so concerned, go see what he wants. Make him happy enough to leave me alone, eh? Since you’re so worried.”

I don't know if I could ever go without (5k)

Sunshine is pouring in through the bedroom window, hazy with early morning and the bitterness that is a December London. It hasn't snowed yet but there is rain in the forecast, dark clouds probably rolling in from the coast later tonight. No one will think to bother them, too caught up in their own quarantine, their own lives. It's the first time in a long time that Louis doesn't have to worry about their phones ringing or someone coming to knock on their door or flight itineraries. Right now, it's all soft and warm, sliding over white sheets and the mess of brown curls next to him.

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒊𝒏𝒆

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: Enjoying the messages and responses I'm getting about this story. Makes me v happy :) Enjoy this one, lads <3

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty

January, 2014

Who said you can’t celebrate the new year 2 days after the fact? Nobody, that’s who.

The night was young, and X was alive. A beacon of escape. A place to drown worries in alcohol and music. Where Nate could lose herself. Where she could breathe.

With Lana at her side, she made her grand entrance, dolled up, eager to forget. The lights flashed a myriad of colours, the bass throbbed through the floor and up through their feet. Nate had already taken several shots back at the house with Lana; her cheeks were flushed, her movements a bit wobbly, but her confidence was sky-high.

“Bozhe moy, Natalka, slow down!” Lana yelled over the music, watching as Nate downed another shot at the bar like it was water. 

Nate wiped the back of her mouth with her hand, grinning. “Can’t slow down! We’re here to fucking party!”

Lana laughed, glancing cautiously at the bartender. Good job they actually knew the bartender tonight…

“She givin’ ya a rough time?”

“Rough time?” Lana scoffed. “Rough time is for valley girls and businessmen. We are Russian, we live rough.”

“Beckyyy,” Nate drawled, leaning back over the bar. “Hi!”

“Are yer sure you should be drinkin’, lassie?” Becky remarked in her regular Irish twang, folding her arms.

“Are you sure you didn’t get a job here just ‘cus your daddy owns it?” Nate murmured back, but still reached out to take Becky’s hands in hers. “I love you. Have a fantastic year…”

Becky tried her best not to burst out laughing; she’d seen enough drunken foolery in her time—and not just working at the club—and seeing Nate, someone she had fond memories of training alongside, in this state made it almost impossible.

“Tequila. More tequila is needed,” Nate grinned crookedly, resting her wait on top of the bar as Becky suspiciously obliged. If there was one thing the Irish and the Russian had in common… it was how easily they took their liquor. Make no mistake, Nate was smashed. But she’d already been drinking all night as it was.

“Listen,” Becky started, sliding across a row of 6 shots to Nate and Lana, “You look like you’re on a mission, girl. Just be careful, yeah?”

Nate flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Careful is not my style, Becks. You know that.”

“Too well,” Becky muttered, shaking her head as she moved to the next customer.

Nate downed the first shot, the burn blazing a trail down her throat. She was about to reach for the second when a familiar voice grated on her nerves.

“Natalka.”

She didn’t need to look to know who it was—Borislav. He had a way of making her name sound like a curse, and she was too drunk to mask her irritation. Turning, she found him standing there with that smug look she loathed, and next to him was a guy she didn’t recognise. He can’t have been more than a few years older than Boris. He had brown hair, a cocky smile, and an air of arrogance that matched Boris down to perfection.

“Borislav,” Nate greeted flatly, the tequila dulling her already thinned patience. “What do you want?”

Boris ignored her tone, shooting that grin at her. “Just thought I would introduce you to a friend of mine.” He gestured to the guy beside him. “This is—”

“I don’t care,” Nate cut him off, not interested in the slightest. “Why are you here, Boris? Seriously. Did someone lose a bet?”

The man beside Boris chuckled, clearly amused, but Boris’ smile didn’t falter. “You are in… how you say… rare form, tonight. A few too many drinks?”

Lana tugged at Nate’s arm, trying to steer her away from the brewing confrontation. “Natalka, let’s just go dance, da? Ignorirovat’ yego.”

But Nate wasn’t having it. The alcohol fuelled her bravado, and she was itching for a fight. “Why don’t you and your boyfriend crawl back under whatever rock you came from, Boris?”

Boris’ face finally slipped, his eyes narrowing. “You are going to regret saying that to me, Natalka.”

“I already regret this entire conversation,” she shot back. She turned to Lana, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go.”

As they moved away, the guy with Boris—whose identity would remain a mystery—whispered something to Boris that Nate couldn’t hear. She didn’t care. She was done with him, with his smarmy attitude.

They pushed through the crowd towards the dancefloor again, but before they could reach it, a girl bumped into Nate, spilling a drink down her arm.

“Are you fucking serious?” Nate snapped, looking down to see if the drink had ruined her beige dress.

The girl, clearly not in the mood to apologise, scoffed. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in a club if you can’t handle your liquor. You look like a kid.”

Nate’s vision blurred with rage. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“You heard me,” the girl pursed her lips. “You clearly don’t belong here.” She grimaced at Nate’s presence as she turned to her friends. “Fuckin’ commies…”

Lana’s hand shot out, trying to pull Nate away, but it was too late. Before anyone could bat an eyelid, before she could even process what she was doing, Nate’s fist flew out in front of her. The punch landed square on the girl’s jaw, sending her reeling back into her group of friends.

Chaos erupted around them as the girl lunged back at Nate, grabbing at her hair and yanking her down. Before they knew it, they were both on the floor, grappling, screaming, throwing wild punches. Some of them landed, but a lot turned into stinging slaps. Nate even managed to throw some scratches in there at one point.

People gathered around them, shouting and goading them, but it all blurred into one anarchic mess for Nate.

“Get the fuck off me, you psycho!” the girl shrieked, but Nate was beyond reason.

It took two bouncers to pull them apart, Nate still swinging as they dragged her towards the exit. Becky watched from behind the bar as Nate and Lana were hauled out of the club.

Once outside, Nate stumbled into the wall, her head spinning, the adrenaline and alcohol crashing together in a violent wave of nausea.

“Holy shit, Nate,” Lana gasped, trying to steady her. “What the hell was that?”

Nate didn’t answer, too busy trying to keep herself upright. 

“Hey! I said leave!” one of the bouncers clapped at them, pointing down the street, where passersby on their own nights out stopped to watch the free entertainment.

“We’re going!” Lana snapped back, shooting a glare at him. “Otvali!”

“My dad is not gonna be ha—” Hiccup. “Happy about this!” Nate screamed, barely standing straight in her friend’s hold.

“Yeah, yeah, go on! Get outta here!” The bouncer huffed, waving them away. “You’re too young to be here, anyway, Volkov!”

Nate growled. Literally growled, as she readied herself to lunge at the bouncer in question. But Lana, for once, easily overpowered her and dragged her down the street.

“Let’s just go home,” Nate finally muttered in a defeated slur. “I’m done.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The mall was buzzing with activity, a hive of pre-holiday shoppers and the kind of forced cheer that Nate honestly found irritating. Almost as irritating as the combined scent of expensive perfume and freshly brewed coffee that radiated within the space of the sleek, modern building. 

She walked beside Katya and Alexei, her thoughts flitting and anywhere else but in the moment. Katya was chatting away, her voice its usual soft and delicate, as they approached the salon.

“I’m thinking a deep red for my nails, maybe something festive for the holidays. What do you think, Alexei?”

Alexei, with his ever-present smirk, gave a dismissive shrug. “Sure, whatever makes you happy, Katerina. Though I think black suits you better—more mysterious.” His eyes slid over to Nate, lingering in a way that made her want to spit right in his annoying face.

Clenching her fists, Nate looked back over at her sister. “Red is classy. You can never go wrong with it. Plus, it’s a gorgeous contrast with the blonde.” She reached up and loosely brushed Katya’s hair over her shoulder.

They entered the salon, an upscale place with gleaming surfaces and polished floors. Katya was instantly swept away by one of the stylists, who began fawning over how healthy her hair looked. Nate dropped onto a plush chair, feigning interest in a fashion magazine while Alexei leaned against the wall, shifting his gaze between the two sisters. It wasn’t that Nate wasn’t interested in fashion—she was—but considering the circumstances, fashion was the last thing on her mind.

“So,” Alexei drawled, his Slavic accent a low rumble, “How’s life treating you, Natalka?”

She hated when people used her full name like that, especially someone like him. “Same as always,” she replied curtly, flipping through a page of the magazine without actually reading it.

Alexei snorted, clearly unimpressed with her attempt at deflection. He was like Boris in all the wrong ways, maybe even worse, because he wore his cruelty like a badge of honour. She hated that he was around Katya, hated that he was here with them, hated most of all that he made her feel like a trapped animal at a time that should have been dedicated to sharing a special moment with her sister.

“You have been awfully quiet today. Something on your mind?”

Nate looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “Just tired. And I’m not much of a salon person, as you may have noticed.”

He grinned, all teeth and menace. “Yeah, not exactly your scene. But it’s good that you are here. Can’t let little Katya wander off by herself, can we?”

She shot a glance toward Katya, who was blissfully unaware of the taut atmosphere between them. “She doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“Nyet,” Alexei agreed. “But you might.”

The implication in his words wasn’t lost on Nate, and it took everything in her not to snap back. Instead, she just forced a tight-lipped smile, checking the time on her phone for what felt like the hundredth time since they got here. It was almost three.

Katya’s laughter bubbled over from the styling station, breaking the tension for a moment. Nate took the opportunity to stand with a small groan, brushing her hands over her jeans. “I’m gonna go look at some laptops,” she announced.

Alexei’s eyes narrowed. “Dimitri said not to let you out of my sight.”

The casual way he mentioned her father’s orders made Nate roll her eyes impulsively. “I’m not a child. I’m going to the shop across the hall. You can still see me, it’ll be alright, I promise,” she chided, mocking his unofficial duties. “And besides,” she added, slipping her phone into her back pocket, “I’m kinda tired of being asked what I’m doing every two seconds.”

His jaw tensed, but he knew better than to push her too far in public. “Otlichno,” he relented, though his tone was anything but. “But don’t take too long. If Dimitri finds ou—”

“He won’t,” Nate cut him off, already moving toward the exit. “Keep an eye on Katya.”

She could feel Alexei’s eyes on her as she crossed the hall, her heart pounding from the thrill of having a small sliver of freedom.

She’d been counting down the minutes until this moment, her thoughts focused on what was coming rather than on Alexei’s unnerving presence. As she stepped past the threshold of the Apple store, she quickly scanned the parameters, searching for a familiar face among the customers and staff.

There she was—Lana, standing behind the Genius Bar, typing away on a spanking new iMac. Nate made her way over with a casual stride, taking a moment to look as inconspicuous as she could, pretending to size up different products until she stopped in front of her friend.

“Hey.”

Lana looked up from her work, her expression brightening as she saw Nate. “Natalka! Didn’t expect to see you here. What’s up, milyy?”

Nate glanced over her shoulder, making sure Alexei was still lurking by the entrance to the salon, distracted by his phone. She leaned in closer to Lana, lowering her voice. “I need a favour. Can I use the back entrance?”

Lana’s brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t hesitate. “Da, da… Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… need to get some air without being followed, you know?”

The blonde’s expression softened in understanding, glancing over Nate’s shoulder and at the salon opposite the store. “Follow me.”

Lana led Nate through the made of displays and rows of devices, toward an unmarked door at the back of the store. She pulled out a set of keys, unlocking the door and pushing it open to reveal a narrow hallway.

“Thanks, Lana,” Nate said. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lana replied with a smile. “Be careful.”

Nate nodded, and proceeded to make her way down the hallway, hearing the door click shut behind her. She walked quickly, footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete walls as she approached the back entrance. The door at the end of the hall led to a small, secluded alley, far away from passersby and prying eyes. Perfect.

The alley was suffused with the faint, distant hum of traffic and the occasional clatter of a trash can, the tall buildings flanking it shielding the daylight somewhat. Emerging cautiously from the back of the Apple store, she shoved her hands in her pocks, not expecting the sun-vacant air to be so chilly. She took in her surroundings, narrowing her eyes.

Her gaze locked onto the black SUV parked near the end of the alley, the vehicle’s dark windows hiding whatever, whoever, waited inside.

She stiffened when she saw Roman leaning against the car, his broad frame unmistakable, even from a distance. Next to him stood his right-hand man, his own confidante.

She hesitated for a moment. She’d been so angry at him—still was—and she honestly contemplated turning on her heel and darting away back in the store, across the hall, and returning to Alexei and Katya. Live the life she detests, almost as much as the man in front of her.

But she was in a little too deep. Just verging on cannonballing off the shallow end, but still too far from shore to turn back.

Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him with measured steps. When she was close enough that she could see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, she stopped, and he pushed himself up from the SUV, watching her every move.

“You came.” There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at her, like he was sizing her up.

“You told me to call when I was sober,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Here I am.”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “I didn’t expect you to actually do it.”

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m full of surprises.”

Roman smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I can see that.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Nate could feel her pulse in her throat, each beat a reminder of how reckless this was.

“What do you want, Reigns?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

He nodded to Paul, wordlessly passing over a set of keys he’d been twirling around his finger, all whilst keeping his eyes trained on her. “Get in the car.”

She immediately scoffed. “Fuck that.”

Roman sighed, nose twitching as his patience visibly thinned. “We’re not doin’ this here. Either you get in the car, or I’ll make sure Daddy knows where you’ve been today.”

She shot Paul a wary glance. He wasn’t the kind of man who made threats idly, and she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t make good on it. Still, her feet stayed rooted to the ground.

Roman caught her suspicious observation, his expression softening just a teeny tiny fraction. “I ain’t drivin’ off with you. Wise Man, here, stays here with the keys, and we talk. In private.”

He turned and opened the back door of the SUV, stepping aside to allow her in. Nate hesitated for a long moment, mentally listing off all the ways this could go wrong. But, realistically—logically—she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not like this. Not yet. That would be… idiotic.

“Fine,” she muttered through clenched teeth, brushing past him and climbing into the backseat. “But don’t think for a second that I trust you.”

Roman looked at Paul, rolling his eyes, before he slid in beside her, shutting the door with a soft click. The interior of the SUV was warm, a stark contrast to the chill outside, and the leather seats were almost too comfortable. But Nate’s guard was up, every muscle in her body tense as she waited for him to speak.

The Samoan leaned back in his seat, resting one arm along the window, his large hand lightly holding the headrest of the passenger seat in front of him. The silence was so fucking thick, so very charged with the weight of mutual disdain.

“So,” Roman began. “Why do you hate your dad so much?”

Nate’s breath caught in her throat, the question hitting her like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t expected him to come right out and ask, hadn’t expected him to cut straight to the heart of it. Her chest tightened as the countless answers to his question crept up her throat.

“That’s none of your business,” was all she managed to utter. But he didn’t even shift at her answer. Only remained steady, once again studying her demeanour.

“You made it my business when you let it slip at X. I wanna know why.”

Once again, she crossed her arms over her chest, looking ahead of her. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Dimitri—especially not with him. But the way he watched her, as if he could see right through her, made it hard to keep her defences up.

“Why do you care?” she asked without looking at him.

“Because you didn’t just let it slip. You wanted me to know.”

Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did,” he interrupted sharply. “You coulda kept your mouth shut, but you didn’t. You wanted me to know, even if you didn’t realise it at the time.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she laughed bitterly with a shake of her head.

Roman didn’t flinch. “Maybe not. But I know what it’s like to hate someone who’s supposed to be on your side.”

Gnawing at her lip, Nate just shook her head. This wasn’t exactly the conversation she had anticipated. Perhaps if she deterred the conversation… 

“I, uh… Thought about what you said, you know,” she started, clearing her throat. She was yet to look back at him as she spoke. “At the auction.”

Roman didn’t really appreciate the diversion, but if it meant she gave him the information he wanted in the end, then he was more than willing to sit there and deal with the long-game.

“I know that we didn’t take that shipment… And I really did think it was you, because who else could it have been, right?” She sighed. “But… if you had taken it. If you had killed Priest…” She finally turned her head to look him in the eye. It was now her turn to study him. “I don’t know—I just don’t think you’d give me your number and I definitely don’t think you’d be sat in this car with me behind a fucking Apple store.”

It pained her to have to give him the benefit of the doubt, no matter how sensical it seemed. But ultimately, whether she liked it or not, Roman wouldn’t have been so persistent if The Bloodline had, in fact, stolen the shipment and assassinated Damian Priest. It just didn’t make any sense to her.

They continued to stare at each other, scoping each other out. Trying to fish out any hint of deception. Roman definitely wasn’t going to break the gaze; that would be a foolish act of weakness. And Roman was far from that. So Nate blinked once, inhaling deeply, before she proceeded.

“He’s controlling,” she said finally, the words slipping out before she could really process them. “He thinks he owns me.”

She tried to be as careful as she could with her words, knowing that the implications of what she was currently doing were severe if they were to ever circle back to Dimitri. But at this point, what was worse? Telling his enemy that his own daughter hates him, and subsequently being banished, possibly even murdered? Or living the Volkov life the way she was expected to?

Honestly, Nate couldn’t even answer that anymore.

Roman raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt her. He just waited, letting her talk as much as she wanted to. Ideally, she’d spill her guts to him, give him everything he needed.

“Always makes decisions for me,” she mumbled, looking away. “Who I can see, where I can go, what I can do. And now–” her breath caught in her throat, “And now, he’s just…” She contemplated telling Roman about the marriage, but decided against it, that it wasn’t important, and not something he needed to know about. Besides, she wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew; everyone else seemed to.

They just didn’t know the extent of it.

All throughout, Roman’s expression didn’t change. Yet, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something Nate couldn’t quite place. Somewhere between confusion and… consideration.

“And you thought speakin’ to me at the club, tellin’ me you hate him is gon’ change that?”

“I was drunk!”

“It don’t matter if you were drunk, Princess, you still told me.”

Nate let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she accepted his point, as much as she wanted to slap the raised eyebrow off his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking, to be completely honest with you. Maybe I just wanted to see if you were as much of a bastard as my dad is.”

Roman’s lips twitched slightly, almost like he was amused by her defiance. “And? What’s the verdict?”

She met his eyes, her own burning with acrimony. “You’re worse.”

For a moment, he remained silent. Burning a hole through her with his intense stare. Then, to her surprise, a low, rough sound fell from his lips—he chuckled.

“I can live with that,” he said, voice tinged with amusement. “But if you think I’m just gon’ stand by and let you and your family play whatever game you’re tryna play with my family, you’re wrong.”

Nate’s anger flared up again, temper rising. “I’m not playing a fucking game!”

“Aren’t you?” Roman leaned in closer, his eyes darkening. “You called me, you came here, you got in this car. You’re not as innocent as you want me to believe, Prin–”

“Okay, first of all,” Nate held up a finger, straightening her posture and raising her voice, turning so her back was to the door so she could look this fucker head-on. “I have a fucking name. Use it. Secondly, I hardly got in the car willingly. You threatened me!”

“Yet, you’re still here. You’re free to leave, sweetheart, the doors ain’t locked.”

She hated how he always seemed to have the upper hand in these conversations, how he could make her feel so small, so unsure of herself. But her doubt was something she would never let this man see. She huffed and sat back with her arms crossed.

“I’m not trying to prove anything to you,” she grumbled. “If anything, I want nothing to do with you. But I got myself in this situation, whether I like it or not. So, I’m gonna ask you… what now? I came here, I told you what you wanted to know, what else do you want from me? Or can I go?”

Roman scoffed himself, shaking his head. “Oh, I can talk now?”

“I’m not playing games here, Reigns, I will walk my arse back into that shop and never talk to you again.”

“A’ight, chill…”

Chill… Fucking chill?! What a cocky motherfucker…

“There’s one thing you need to understand here,” Nate squinted at him. “I swear upon the grave of my mother… that we had nothing to do with that shipment being taken, or the murder of Damian Priest. You still seem to be so convinced that we did. I am no use to you in that regard…” she trailed off, her hand resting on the door handle. “I don’t know who took it. I wasn’t there, I don’t even know what happened.”

“But what I do know,” she leaned forward, hooking her fingers on the handle as she did, to keep her stable. “Is that some bastard fucked us both over,” her voice turned somewhat menacing, and she gritted her teeth. “And if there’s one thing I don’t like… is being fucked over. But… and I hate that I am saying this right now—I really don’t believe that The Bloodline took that shipment.”

Matching her energy, Roman leaned forward himself, narrowing his brows as he took in her features. You could really appreciate her beauty in the daylight, and he wasn’t expecting to be so intrigued by the unique shade of her eyes.

“Damn, look who done changed her tune,” he teased with a small murmur and a wicked smirk.

“Ugh,” Nate grimaced, pulling away. “Anyway, you got what you wanted—can I fucking go now?”

Remaining in the same position, Roman just gestured to the door, the smirk still present on his face. “Don’t hesitate to call again if you, uh,” his eyes raked over her form as she got out the car, his gaze lingering on her backside longer than intended. “If you need anythin’.”

“Please,” Nate sighed, mirroring his smirk. “You couldn’t handle me, bol’shoy chelovek.” And with that, she slammed the door shut.

Shit, I dunno what that means, but it sounded good…

Roman stepped out of the car, watching Nate as she walked away and disappeared back into the store. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, even as Paul approached with the keys in hand.

“Is she going to be a problem, Sir?” Paul asked quietly, glancing back at the spot where Nate had just been.

Roman’s gaze remained fixed on the empty alley. “Wise Man…” he huffed, laying a hand on his special counsel’s shoulder. “She already is… but I think we got her. Just gotta give her time.”

Nate stepped out of the back entrance of the Apple store, the cool air from outside lingering on her skin as she re-entered the warmth of the mall. She quickly found Lana still behind the counter, a knowing smile on her face.

“Thanks, Lana,” she said softly, grateful for the quick exit.

“Anytime,” Lana replied, smiling as she watched Nate leave.

Nate hurried across the mall, slipping back into the salon. Alexei’s eyes narrowed as she approached.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked suspiciously. “I looked over, and you weren’t in the store.”

Nate rolled her eyes, irritation flaring back up. “Lana showed me some rare models of an iMac in the back. Can you just chill for once?” Chill. There’s that word again. Thanks, Roman, you wanker…

Alexei frowned but said nothing, clearly still apprehensive but unwilling to push further.

Nate’s eyes softened as they landed on Katya, who was just finishing up with her nails. Her little sister looked up and smiled, waving her hand over.

“How are your nails looking, Kat?” Nate asked.

Kaya beamed, holding out her hands for her big sister to see. “I went with a sort of wine red. What do you think?”

“They look amazing,” Nate replied, easing her tone entirely. She reached out to gently touch Katya’s hand. “You picked a great colour.”

Katya beamed, her eyes practically glowing. “You think so? I wasn’t sure at first, but they’re actually really pretty.”

“I love it. You got great taste.”

Leaning in, Katya lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “I was thinking… Maybe we could go shopping after this? Just… the two of us?” she cast a quick glance over Nate’s shoulder at Alexei, who was waiting impatiently to go.

Nate chewed her lip, looking back at the man in question for a second. “I’d love that, K,” she answered her sister, still looking at Alexei, who heard the answer and visibly got more upset that he’d have to put up with the two Volkovs for longer than needed. Nate smirked, looking back at Katya. “We can go get Taco Bell as well, if you want,” she further suggested, knowing it was Katya’s favourite fast food place, and that she very rarely got to have it due to Dimitri’s dismissal of such places… nothing to do with the fact it was Mexican food… no, not at all.

Katya squealed, wrapping her arms around Nate. “Yes!” 

Nate smiled, a rare, genuine smile that she reserved only for her little sister. The world outside the salon—everything she’d been dealing with—didn’t matter at that moment. All that mattered was Katya, and the simple, pure joy she brought into Nate’s life.

Even if, as they headed for a store of Katya’s choosing, Nate was faced with a not so simple text on her burner phone, from the number she was yet to save in the name of the enemy:

Offer still stands, Princess. Call me whenever.

[bobbie-robron]

Robron Fanfiction Recommendations (May-2024)

The below were recommended on Twitter during May 2024.

Love Me Blind (2019) 25.1K words, exploring_in_space

When Aaron was 17, he fell in love with Robert, his soulmate, over the summer. But then Chrissie found them and they split. Now, ten years later, Aaron is moving in with boyfriend Ed (a ‘comfortable’ relationship) into the Mill while Robert (not completely happy but happy enough) is a single father to Sebastian. When the two meet up again at a machinery convention, it doesn’t take long before Aaron initiates an affair while keeping Robert in the dark that he’s still very much still involved in all manner with his boyfriend. Oh, did I forget to mention that Aaron’s lapse in paying attention lead him to believe Sebastian is a dog? Something’s got to give and who will lose in the end?

All Over Again (2016) 4.5K words, Miss_Romance_Lover

It’s post-SSW2016 and the lads made it through alright but Aaron has a seizure while in hospital and now has lost a full year of his life. That means he doesn’t recall opening up about the vile one, his sister being back in his life and, most importantly, that he and Robert were happy and living together. As Chas and Robert are there to support Aaron as his memories gradually begin to return, in the end it’s about Aaron falling for Robert who he is now.

Skins and Torrents (2019) 20.0K words, Illgetmerope

Aaron left the village not only to escape the Dingle name but to be close to the ocean… becoming a fisherman. He keeps to himself and pretty much is on his own but then a freckled seal starts to stay very close when he’s out on his boat to retrieve his catches and begins to enjoy seeing the animal. Soon after, a freckled blonde shows up with eyes for Aaron and there is a connection. But when Robert disappears after their night together, all good feelings are gone. Oh, there’s this legends about selkies that Sarah tells Aaron but he brushes it off until he realizes there may be truth in it after all…

Behind the Bar (2015) 3.2K words, robronsugsy

Diane and Doug have plans to go out and Chas is feeling under the weather. What shall become of the bar for the evening? Well… Robert volunteers himself and Aaron to cover for them! How will they do I wonder 🤔?

May to December (2017) 23.6K words, Activeimagination

Hell year was a disaster and hard to watch, if at all, most times. Here, we get a different take of the lads’ breakup but with major differences. There is no OTT ad nauseam plotting by Robert, Doc Dulliard does not exist and Chas/Liv aren’t trying to make Aaron prove to THEM he’s over Robert. Instead, we focus on the lads individually as they try to cope with their breakup via regular counseling for Aaron and the bottle being Robert’s best friend but all roads lead them back together before December.

Something wretched about this (something so precious about this) (2016) 2.9K words, Port_in_a_Storm

It’s post Aaron finding about Andy being behind Robert’s shooting. With Robert mentioning how Aaron wanted him dead at one point, he begins to question whether Aaron still has some of those residual feelings especially since he has not said the L word since they got back together. Time for a chat to clear the air.

And You Are? series (2016) 11.3K words, brangelina_of_the_gallaghers

A series of eight stories that take place in 2010 when Robert (23) returns on the day of Sarah’s birthday and it’s Aaron (19) who he runs into first. And right from that first night they get together and decides on being friends with benefits. Each story focuses on the usual suspects one by one finding out about them as the pair continue to get together but do not admit there are emotions involved until the end.

Down by the Sea (2016) 4.0K words, MonkeyLuv

Robert, Aaron and Liv go off on a trip to Wales that Aaron hopes will brings some Robert and Liv bonding. Well, when you have nicknames tossed about, Taylor Swift blaring, the beach and pesky hair gel (along with a wee bit of Adele in 2016 🥺), how could they not all get along better by the time they head back home?

[ambazaar]

The Bitter Tase of Hibiscus 🌺

Shanks x oc

Synopsis: Tessa, due to a complicated past, has an opinion about pirates. An opinion that's become a bit muddled since he came to the village for the first time. It's all inconvenient, really. Falling in love.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Use, Fluff (may be subject to change)

A/N: I've barely read or seen ANY of the manga or anime so pls don't mrder me about inaccuracies. Im in love with OPLA Shanks and needed to get my frustrations out in writing. So have a fun, angsty short story filled with fluffy goodness. Will be updating as I can.

\\\

Tessa could tally the number of times he'd cast his gaze on her with two hands. The occasions he had spoken to her directly were even scarcer, a mere handful. And once, just once, amidst the jubilant atmosphere inside Party's Bar, as she set a tray of drinks at his table, he unexpectedly reached out and gently squeezed her hand, wordlessly expressing his gratitude with a smile and a nod before diverting his attention back to his comrades. It had only been for a moment, but it was enough to make the world around her just a bit blurrier. She remembered standing at the bar counter after everyone had left, ghosting her fingers over her hand where his touch left a tingling sensation that still remained. Tessa had known him only a few months altogether and yet in her heart she knew she had fallen utterly and completely in love with Red-Haired Shanks.

Makino, Tessa's dearest friend, teased her relentlessly about it. She knew full well the only reason Tessa picked up extra work at Party's was in hope that she'd catch glimpses of Shanks walking back and forth from the docks, despite never putting any effort to actually engage with him. With a playful glare, Makino warned Tessa, "If you ever vanish off on romantic escapades and leave me to single-handedly manage this place, I'll never forgive you."

Tessa seemed appalled by the very idea. "You know I could never," She assured her friend, "Not even for someone as alluring as Red-Haired Shanks. Windmill Village is where I belong." And Tessa tried every day to prove to Makino that she meant it, but whenever the pirate captain sauntered into the shade of their roof, Tessa's heart ached.

But, Tessa was not the only one who admired Red-Haired Shanks so fervently. Luffy, a young boy whom she and Makino had watched over for most of his life, was perhaps even more spellbound by the captain’s presence than she was. The young boy looked up to him, trailing behind Shanks with unwavering enthusiasm at every opportunity he could. And contrary to Tessa’s initial expectations of him, having known him only by reputation, Shanks consistently exhibited an astonishing level of patience and kindness when it came to Luffy, though perhaps occationally poking fun at the lads urgency to join his crew.

In fact, Tessa's infatuation with Shanks began the first time she saw him and the young boy interact. Each time after simply added to the depths of her affections. She lingered on her duties at Party's, completely engrossed in the tales he wove for Luffy and the other attendees, painting vivid pictures of sea monsters and nefarious villains. She adored the way Luffy hung onto his every word, understanding wholeheartedly how captivating his stories could be. And when he laughed, his voice bolstered above all others without a care in the world how many eyes fell on him.

When the pirates were away, she would catch Luffy swinging wooden swords at Makino's barstools, shouting at invisible foes and claiming himself a pirate. “If you break anything, I’m adding it to your Treasure Tab,” Tessa would say, a running joke between her and Makino and him. 

“I’m good for it,” Luffy always reassured her, exclaiming that one day he would be the mightiest pirate captain, with enough gold to keep Party's open forever. He truly was the sweetest lad she knew, with a determination that would shake the foundation of Mount Colubo one day, she was sure of it. 

Though, in part, Luffy’s enthusiasm to become a notorious pirate did bring about a cloud of worry over Tessa and she felt comfortable enough in Makino's discretion to share these troubles with her, but only during times when the Red-Haired Pirates were out at sea and their influence over the young boy held less weight. In addition, the grip Shanks’ presence held over her heart was also loosened by his absence and she felt more inclined to talk about him without sounding entirely like a love-sick fool. 

But Makino knew Shanks far better than Tessa did. More accurately, Makino knew everyone better than Tessa did. Even Luffy. She knew how to talk to people in a way that entranced Tessa. And if she trusted someone, there wasn't a soul living or dead who could sway her loyalty to them.  

“He may be a pirate, Tess, but you can take my word for it: Shanks is a good man," she told the older woman, on more than one occasion. 

When they'd both stayed up past the wee hours of the early morning recovering Party's from the previous evening, Makino felt especially daring in her tired haze and asked Tessa, "Would you love him if he weren't?" 

Tessa nearly dropped the glass in her hands and snapped around to glare at her friend, her amber eyes practically ablaze. “I do not love him, Makino. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scorned, turning away immediately to hide the color washing the pale from her face. “It’s just an infatuation. Nothing more," she said, scrubbing the glass dry a little more aggressively. "One day, Shanks and his crew will come to this island for the last time. They'll have their last drinks, tell their last tales under this roof - and then they'll leave." 

Makino stared at the back of Tessa's head, the laughter in her lungs knocked from her breath when she heard the shake in the other woman's voice. 

Blood surged back into Tessa's knuckles as she loosened her grip on the bar rag. She set the cup on the counter and let out a shuddering sigh. Quietly she added, "Like all pirates do," and placed the glass beside the others before reaching for the next.

The tension in Makino's shoulders faded in the silence that followed. She sighed in a 'knowing' sort of way and suddenly wrapped her arms around Tessa's neck, taking her by surprise. Makino brushed her thumb back and forth over her friend's shoulder as she trembled beneath her weight. Neither of them spoke for a while. 

They both watched from their place behind the bar as soft waves cascaded against the sturdy docks, causing the fishing boats to sway and bob in place. The darkness that cloaked the sky was already fading into a gradient of deep purples, then shifting to an array of pinks and reds as the sun climbed higher toward the horizon. 

When the first rays finally hit the water, reflecting its warmth to caress their faces, Makino breathed a heavy sigh into the softs curls of Tessa's auburn hair, her sad smile hidden from view. "You and me, Tess, we're all each other needs, ey?" She said, finally.

Tessa's lips trembled. She closed her eyes and desperately reached for the other woman's wrist. "Of course, Kino," she agreed, leaning back into her.

Makino squeezed her arms around her just a bit tighter and then loosened them completely, stepping away to pick up the rag she'd abandoned. "You've always been a terrible liar," she chuckled. 

Tessa spun on her heel with a mind to assure Makino she'd meant it, but there was a sound on the distant waves that trapped the words in the back of her throat. The faint, haunting chime of a bell echoed through the air, resonating  four, five, six times. And then, silence.

Makino only looked back when the other woman let out a quiet gasp, but Tessa's gaze had already moved to the distant horizon, her eyes locked onto a shape materializing from the early morning fog. A ship, by the looks of it. Makino sighed, knowing very well there would be no sleep for her now. She could pay Luffy to run ahead to the traders and that would certainly give her time to prepare for visiters. "Get some rest, Tess. If they plan to stay, I'll need you for the evening rush," she said in her hurry.

But Tessa remained, her heart pounding against her ribs as she watched the ship come to port.

A ship with a dragon figurehead.  

Shanks.

---

Part 2