#something wrong with him /aff

[clown-eating-pig]

Somehow I completely missed the underlined portion of this conversation until just now 😭😭😭 he’s so funny when exactly was he “trying out” a middle name in conversation with Jon sksjdkcjmskxkskdmcjwjx 😭😭😭😭

[crow-quet]

also while im here have some random doodles i was doing during my last month's playthrough of ace attorney

[allyourlife]

godddd we knowwww

[gaysonlyocean]

I'm going to explode I am also an enjoyer of Hawaiian style pizza -defnotadam

your name gets funnier with every ask you send KJHGFDFGHJ

[youling-the-ghost]

y'know that's actually the most accurate description of Tom I've ever heard actually

Tom, describing being roasted: I really like that most of those were like “Tom’s almost really handsome… but something’s wrong”

[wolfish-trickster]

A thought/imagine

Okay so imagine you're in some small town looking through shops for new weapons. Astarion notices your interest in some daggers and as a dagger expert he wants to flaunt and impress you with his knowledge. However when he gets within the hearing distance he hears the shop owner telling you about the dagger you're currently holding: specialized to kill vampires.

Astarion expects you to put it down immediately, especially after his confession and all that. So imagine how his heart completely shatters when you keep holding it and even ask how much the shop owner wants for it.

Back in the camp he acts as if nothing happened of course, if he acted out he could give you a reason to kill him sooner than you planned. His thoughts have been killing him the entire time tho. Has he done something wrong? Something that has upset you? Is there a way to bring him on your good side again? When are you going to test out your new blade? This night? Next?

He just kept replaying the past few weeks, looking for any actions or words that may have upset you. He found nothing except for stopping sleeping with you. Maybe that's it? Is he really back to square one? Well, he has been sleeping with people to save his skin for the past two hundred years, he could power through it a bit longer if he had to. Even though it made his heart ache. He thought you'd be different. He hoped you'd be.

As he was planning his new proposition for you, as if on a cue you come up to him, smiling, giving him a neatly wrapped box. You push it into his hands, asking him to open it. With distrustful eyes never leaving your hands tucked suspiciously behind your back he unwraps the box and opens it. When you ask him what he thinks he finally takes the risk and looks down into the box.

He expected you to strike right then. But you kept standing without any movement. So was he, from pure surprise and also confusion.

The dagger you bought earlier that day, the special one for vampires, was laying in the box on a bed of red rose petals. Like in a pool of blood.

"I thought it would fit perfectly into Cazador's throat," you say.

He's speechless. After all he's been through with you, the nice and the ugly, you only ever wanted the best for him. This gift solidified it.

He loved you. Truly. Fully. Forever.

Without words he hugs you, uses all his willpower to not sob into your shoulder. In all his existence he has never trusted anyone more than you. Someone who saw him as a person. Who cared for him. Who gave him random trinkets because they remind her of him. Who just bough the perfect weapon that could rid her aff all Astarion's burdens and life problems he shared with her, and gifted it to him with a nice bow on the top.

He will never doubt or question you again.

"Yes my darling, this will indeed make the perfect necklace for that bastard."

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. Trouble Brewing masterlist

-

“Shit,” you huff, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest, annoyance bleeding into your words as your frustration finally comes to a boil. 

“What’s th’ matter?” Roper, another rig worker, asks. He’s taken to sitting with you in the lounge whenever his breaks line up with yours, one of the few men to not treat you with barely concealed disdain. You can't deny that it's nice to have company.

“Nothing—I think I may have accidentally contaminated the samples. None of this looks right.” 

By this, you mean the papers spread out on the coffee table in front of you—print-outs of the water sample analyses. You’ve been staring at them for far too long, eyes practically burning after your tenth consecutive read through. 

Almost everything in the sample analysis looks off. The alkalinity, the pH, the temperature, the CO2 and H2S levels—even the microbiological parameters are far exceeded. At some point, you must have accidentally contaminated the samples; only in a worse case scenario, such as a massive oil leak, would you expect to see numbers like these, and you would know if that were the case. It would be immediately obvious not only by the distress spreading like a miasma through the rig, but simply by looking at the water crashing against the jacket legs beneath you. 

There’s something else too. Something in the samples that you’ve never seen before—almost like a faint iridescence to the water, a shimmer so light that it’s almost not perceptible to your eye. 

So it can’t be that. You must’ve done something wrong when collecting your samples from the discharge point. It’s frustrating to know that the work you’ve done so far has been basically for nothing, seeing as how you’ll have to do it all over again in order to get a fresh batch of samples, but you just remind yourself that these things happen. It could always be worse. 

A reminder of that appears right before your eyes when a guy on the other side of the lounge opens his trap and says to Roper, “Ye hear about MacTavish?”

Your ears perk up. Roper must notice because he just grins. “Na—what happened?”

The other man whistles through his teeth. “‘Twas a shit storm. Heard about it from O’Connor.”

“Och, spit it out, will ye? Quit keeping us in suspense.” 

“A’richt, just dinnae tell him ah tellt ye—‘ah swear he’ll take someone's head off at this rate.”

The men whisper and titter about it all afternoon—how MacTavish got dragged into the rig manager’s office and ripped into over some offshore antics (fightin’—near broke a guy’s jaw for mouthing off tae him, one crew member tells you surreptitiously, again reinforcing the gossiping hen opinion you’d already formed of them). You’re not exactly shocked by the news, but the quiet that comes over the rig in his absence is a bit jarring. 

Coming across him in the aftermath of the incident is, however, far more shocking. 

You see him first from across the mess scowling into his food, a dark cloud hanging over him. His usual roguish countenance is swapped for something more choleric, foul-tempered. It’s incongruous with the image you have of him in your head, the one that sees him as eternally cheery; cocksure and braggadocious. 

Roper warns you in no uncertain terms to give Soap a wide berth if you happen to come across him.

You cock a brow at that. “You think he’d hurt someone?”

“Na, tis nae like that. It wasn’y his fault that someone else wanted tae have a pissing contest. The lad’s just got an ill temper is all. He’ll gallus aff eventually—juist best nae tae git in his way until then.” 

No sense in trying to decipher what he means by that. You have a job to do anyway and the issue with your samples weighs far more heavily on your mind than Soap’s bad mood. 

Still, you recognize it as a distant cause for concern. Every so often it dawns on you how far you are from civilization—out in the middle of the North sea, surrounded by nothing but waves and men with voracious appetites. You grit your teeth and bear a lot as it is; unsavory comments and blatant stares, the kind of thing that registers as an ever present, unsung threat that you are impelled to ignore lest it be mentioned. Lest it be given a name.  

Soap’s bad mood might not be something you have to worry about, but still you acknowledge that you should probably keep your distance for the time being. At least until his pride is mended and he’s back to his old self. 

These days, you’re never allowed what you want though.

You’re around the bend of a hallway when you hear him coming, his distinctive thick brogue snapping at another crew member. Though your heart immediately starts pounding against your chest, there’s nothing you can do; the corridor behind you is too long to run back down without being seen and there aren’t any rooms to sneak into and use as cover. All you can do is stand there with your heart in your throat as he gets closer and closer. 

The sharp dogleg in the hall keeps him from seeing you until he’s already on you, nearly plowing into you before catching himself at the last minute, a big hand slamming against the wall beside you to stop him mid-step. You flinch despite anticipating him. 

“Jesus, bonnie, I didn’y see ye there. Make a bit o’ noise or somethin’,” Soap says, more brusque than he’s ever spoken to you before. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, attempting to sidestep him. 

“Ach, wait, ‘ah dinnae mean tae snap. Where are ye off tae?” he asks, stepping with you to the right so that you can’t pass around him. He’s quick enough that you walk straight into him, crushing your nose against his chest and wincing when you take a step back and wriggle it out. A hand clamps down on your shoulder to keep you from scurrying off any farther. 

“Um…I have some things to do.”

“Things?” he repeats, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I have work. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“Ah’m no’ an animal, bonnie; ye dinnae have to run off jus’ because ah’m in a mood.”

“I’m not running off—I really do have work to do, Soap. That’s why I’m here, remember?” You realize that he must like it when you get snippy with him because the second you do, his lips stretch into a grin, blue eyes glinting. 

“Want some help?” he asks. 

“Um…” 

Irritation clouds his expression. “Ah’m no’ gonna flip out if that’s what yer worried about. That shit with Rennick had nothing tae do with my work.”

That shifts the guilt around in you and gives it a bigger hole to wedge itself in. “…Sure. I guess I could use a hand.” 

“Now, ye aren't just asking tae make me feel better, are ye? ‘Cause ah’m a big boy; I willnae cry if ye let me down gently.”

“Oh my god, Soap, do you want to help me or not?” you snap. 

His grin widens, a new little mischievous furl to it. “Well, ye dinnae have tae beg, bonnie. Ah’d be happy tae help ye out.”

Of course it was nothing but a ploy for him to rile you up and get you to be the one to ask for help. 

Back to the discharge point to collect fresh water samples. Soap doesn’t stop talking the whole walk, the onslaught of questions about your personal life and his own life offshore enough to make your ears ring. No chance of peace and quiet—not with him around, anyway. 

On your way up a flight of stairs, you peek back at him to find him climbing with his hands on both railings. You’re not sure if it’s to keep you from slipping away or to keep himself stable, but if you were a bettor, you know which you’d pick. 

Soap grins toothily up at you. You roll your eyes in response and turn back around, climbing up the last few steps. The ocean’s ever tempestuous winds howl in the distance. 

For all your initial reluctance to let him help you, he proves to be a pretty useful assistant, helping you flush the sample point beforehand and then holding your equipment as you carefully fill and cap each sample bottle. 

He’s such a help in fact, that part of you feels a bit guilty for the way you treated him earlier. Like a ticking time bomb. Wouldn’t you also be upset after being told off by your boss? You have the luxury of not really reporting to anyone on the rig—so long as you send your boss daily updates on the progress of your work and follow safety and security regulations on the rig, you never worry about being reprimanded. Certainly not yelled at. 

You’re also surrounded by strangers for the most part, which, while sometimes alienating, also means that you’re not particularly invested in what anyone has to say about you. These aren’t your coworkers. In a couple weeks’ time, you’ll be flown back to shore and you’ll never see any of them ever again. 

The walk back to your room-cum-office is different. Soap follows behind you quietly for a change, your additional samples in hand, and only the sound of his steel-toed boots clanging against the floor remind you that he’s still with you. You didn’t think he had it in him to stay quiet for so long. 

He follows in after you when you reach your room, not bothering to wait outside like anyone with common sense would. It would be more aggravating if he weren’t so handsome. It’s hard to look at him and hold on to any real anger though. 

“I—uh—I’m sorry you had a rough day,” you finally manage to blurt out. 

He must eye you dubiously because you can feel the weight of his gaze. Not like he doesn’t understand what you’re referring to, but more like he doesn’t quite trust your sincerity. 

“Ah must’ve been bonny crabby for ye tae apologize for that asshole,” he teases. You can tell through the joke that even now his pride is a little stung that you brought it up at all.  

If his temper weren’t so volatile, you might actually be tempted to spend more time with him. You have to shake that thought away as soon as it comes to you though; you won’t be on the rig for much longer anyway. 

“What’d you do anyway?” you blurt out, immediately thinking better of your words when Soap’s face darkens, nostrils flaring the slightest bit. “Sorry, that was—don’t answer that.”

“Nah, it’s no’—” he pauses, sucking air in between his teeth. “It’s no’ a secret or anythin’. Got myself mixed up in some bad shit, but it’s over, ah swear. Told Rennick that it wasnae anythin’ tae worry about, but he gave me hell anyway.” 

“He seems like a dick,” you say in consolation. 

“Aye,” Soap laughs. 

He waits until you’ve packed all your samples away before opening his mouth again. 

“Ye ken what would really make me feel better, bonnie?”

You glance over at him suspiciously, bracing yourself for something crass. You can feel it brewing—the culmination of days worth of purred words and heady glances, his interest so blatant that ignoring it feels almost pointless. He lays it on thick enough that you’d have to be blind not to have picked up on it. 

So, it catches you off guard when instead of making a licentious comment, he just sighs, “Ah could really use a hug.”

That’s—that’s a bit more reasonable than what you had anticipated. Surprising enough for you to lower your hackles and turn to face him. 

He holds his arms out in invitation, face expectant. That nearly makes you cringe before you catch yourself. You’ve been caught in this trap before—your tentative kindness leveraged for physical affection; pushing your boundaries at the first sign of weakness, like waging a siege on you—and even though your teeth itch with the urge to snap at him, it just doesn’t feel worth it. Easier just to capitulate and give what he wants. Just this once. 

Besides, it’s just a hug. 

His arms fold around you the second you step into them, constricting around your waist like two steel bands holding you in place. He hugs tight too, not an inch of space between your bodies, your breasts flush with his chest. Toes practically scraping the ground, lifted up by the strength of his arms. 

The blood rushes to your head. Weak kneed. It’s almost a blessing that Soap’s arms are holding you up. Every inch of your body feels electrified, nerves spitting hot fire; even your scalp tingles when he rests his chin on your crown. You don’t like to think about it—how little anyone touches you these days and how starved your body is for it. Even offshore, you haven’t dated in so long that it seems almost incomprehensible now that you’ve ever dated anyone before.

He groans into your hair, lost in his own head. One of his hands curves up and around your back until it cups over your shoulder, anchoring you even tighter to his chest. You can feel the bulge of every muscle, the tensile strength vibrating under his skin, and it’s only then that you realize that he’s shaking. 

The other thing you can’t ignore is the weight of his dick pressing into you. Your eyes bulge when you realize you can feel it thicken with blood against your belly. Even through the material of his pants, you can tell that it’s big. 

“Christ, bonnie,” Soap whines, pulling you somehow even tighter to him, nearly cutting off your breath. “Yer so fucking soft.”

“Soap—” you squeak. “Okay, I think that’s—I’ve—I’ve got work to do—”

You tense when his free hand drifts down your back and settles right over your ass. 

“Soap—” you hiss, then yelp when his hand drops even more and his fingers into a soft, fleshy cheek and he grinds his hips into your belly. You’re not sure if he’s even aware of what he’s doing, his hug devolving into something coarse and almost sexual. 

You reach a hand up to grab him by the jaw and push his head away, struggling feebly in his hold until his arms finally give a little and you’re able to wriggle out, scampering back until you’ve put some distance between the two of you. 

When you meet Soap’s eyes, you have to fight the urge to flinch. It takes him a second to regain control of himself, slack-jawed and hungry-eyed until he blinks and it starts to melt away. His chest heaves with his ragged breath. He looks every bit like a man that just got kicked out of bed before finishing, dick still hard in his pants. 

“Sorry, bonnie. Ah got a little carried away,” he says apologetically, eyes so round that they almost make him look puppyish. 

“It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. You’re still shaky and your thighs are suspiciously damp and you’re fairly sure all the blood in your body has rushed to your face because your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but you also don’t want to acknowledge the obvious. The outline of his dick straining against his pant leg. The dark flush on his cheekbones and his glazed over eyes. The way you have to fight the urge not to stare at the fabric of his jumpsuit tight around his thighs and biceps. 

“Ah’ll, uh…ah’ll see ye later then.” He takes a step back, then another, waiting maybe for you to say something. For you to tell him that it’s alright to stay. 

You smile tightly instead, ignore the urge to call him back to you. Your smile only drops when he closes the door behind him. 

There’s trouble brewing. You can feel it swelling up like a wave, ready to crash into you.

Under you, you can feel the rig shift with the water and in the distance, something howls.

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.2

pt. 1 pt.3

TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst

The liquor on his tongue didn’t even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didn’t know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many ways—disgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldn’t wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didn’t go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.

"‚‘nother on’," he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didn’t have any worry in her life.

"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."

"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."

"I dinnae remember yesterday."

"What a shame."

He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."

"No."

"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology," she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?

"No."

"Please, a drink won't kill you."

"I said no."

"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."

"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"

"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.

While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isn’t able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."

Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.

"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.

"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldn’t happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.

"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesn’t take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.

All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didn’t pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.

**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.

**Medic:** ;)

Fuck.

————————————————————————————————-

4 am and you still couldn’t sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you weren’t sure if he would pick up, but he did.

"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.

"Why did you do this, John?" you sobbed.

"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."

"Then why didn't you say sorry?"

"Love."

"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.

"I'm sorry; it was an accident."

"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."

"I—"

"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasn’t what you expected. Why doesn’t he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didn’t Simon say something? Why didn’t Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why don’t they care?

If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.

And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.

"Captain, I—"

"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."

"Captain—"

"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.

[wasyago]

*Leans thru ur window* I like your point about Etho being unintentionally ruthless sometimes. Not to draw connections across universes but I was rewatching his s9 hc playlist and there was the moment where he and Bdubs were picking horses to ride on the Horse Course. He joked that there was one horse who looked really sweet that he *wouldnt* pick bc quite literally "nice guys finish last" and instead he chose one who "looked mean". I think the thing about Etho is that sometimes he's brutal for the bit, but then he goes ahead and commits to being brutal as well. Fascinating considering that I think its actually totally against his nature. Anyway idk why he's like this but I agree with your analysis lol he and Tango are both gonna seem really powerful until it hits the fan and then they'll fumble magnificently /aff

YES. YES THIS EXACTLY

what is wrong with him why does he do it... he just goes "jk... unless?" but misses the whole point of "unless" also being a part of the joke and just commits.

like, okay. etho often stumbles his way through social interactions, and sometimes when i listen to him speak it feels like he's just saying the first thing that comes to mind instead of like. thinking? you know this little "uh huh" sound he makes? it's like he doesn't know what to say anymore and just goes "whatever. random noise". and generally his manner of speach is hurried, because he either doesn't think before talking, or he thinks but it's like his words try to catch up to his thoughts so the whole sentence sounds like a part of it is missing. not always tho obviously.

and maybe it's the same with this ruthless thing. he doesn't know if he should commit to the joke or not, but he feels the urge to do something to fill the void, so he does both somehow. like he can't decide if it's appropriate to mess around or if he should be serious about it.

etho is so weird, i need to study him under a microscope

[laswells-ashtray]

Genuinely, no pressure, any advice for people writing Scottish accents?

(Also I pat the Orca)

Orca eats me, she is mean, and you guys sentence me to her wrath.

It's hard to describe over text, but I can probably give unhelpful advice. I am from a different place from Soap, but if I talk like less of a ned, I've got him so thus, I speak.

Yes and no are easy. Aye and naw. Unless you're saying something like "Aye, nae danger." Then no is nae, don't ask me why, it just is.

Want a measurement? "Lt, ye were aboot a bawhair aff ae catching ma arse there." A bawhair is a measurement, and it's always applicable in Soap's vocabulary.

He can't do something? Instead of asking why not, go with "How no?"

He can't be bothered? "Cannae be arsed."

I know when people write dirty talk they tend to have him use the word slut, I think that's more American than anything. Slag or tart works better.

I beg of any American who sees this, if you reference his mother, then don't mom her. That's his mum, or his maw, or if yer getting sappy, he's a right mammy's boy.

This is a stupid one, but occasionally, family is referenced for story reasons, grandparents are Gran and Papa. I know people go with Grandpa, but as a Scot, I literally don't know anyone who doesn't call their grandfather Papa.

You want variations of fuck off? "Away and take fuck tae yersel." "Sling yer hook." Also applicable in conversation, "Away and don't talk pish."

He's cold? He's cauld. It's cold? It's baltic. It's chanking, although this one is used more in the town I'm from than anything else. It's more niche Scottish.

Someone around him is lucky? "Ye jammy bastard."

He knows something? "Aye, a ken." or "Aye, a kent that, obviously."

Want to shit on somewhere in Scotland for funny reasons? Govan. Not even the people from Govan like Govan. In general, Glasgow is a shithole and people are aware of that but it's still well loved. Don't mention Rangers or Celtic in regards to football unless you're willing to open a can of worms. Whisky with no E.

Oi? Wrong. it's "Hawl?"

If you just get tired of using the word fucking in conversational context, "bastarding" is a personal favourite.

Bullshit behvaiour? Bibilical arseholity. It's a reference to a Scottish show if you need to explain it.

[alex-just-vibing]

zero

zero.

dude.

in the nicest way possible

What the Fuck /pos

probably inaccurate clone quiz but have fun

[throughgoalsandbaskets]

i have an idea i think is cute/cool, feel free to ignore of course!

can i get fluff hcs or a drabble of a yandere solomon w a willing mc who trusts him blindly and trusts no one else?

Super short, I wrote this during class :(

Also super sorry this is crazy late, I've been on a tight schedule and haven't had the time to sit and think about how I'd write this so it's rushed and messy, I may come back to this and edit it to be longer in a few days

Also this is less yandere and more possessive, mainly because I don't see him as a very violent yandere, more just possessive or manipulative

yandere!Solomon x trusting!darling

Brief warning for mentions of body horror to a child (made up story by the slimy bastard /aff)

★—–-

"Mammon tried to make a pact with me. Said it was to keep me safe."

A still pause occurred.

"And did you?" The sorcerer's eyes raked over the room to your curled up form, sat on the bed with a blanket in your lap and book in your hand.

The sigil on the back of your neck burned with the masked fury of the immortal, and you gave a snort despite the discomfort.

"Who do you take me for?" Silence envelopes the room once again as Solomon blinked before smiling eyes narrowing a sliver. He nods in silent approval as he stands from his chair.

A hand ghosts the back of your neck, and the magically tattooed figure on the skin soothed as his anger dissipated. He hummed and cupped it, your head bowing along to accommodate the action.

"My good, adorable apprentice." You shudder softly.

Yes, that's how it'd been for quite some time now. Sure, it was wrong. You weren't stupid. But you merely didn't care.

Chapped lips pressed into. Yours with a thumb tilting your chin, and your eyes shut as you feel the familiar warmth of a spell being cast on you. Solomon never told you what it was. That's how it always was, and how it'd always be.

When the kiss ended, the warmth faded and settled deep into your bones. You'd come to associate this particular warmth with protection.

The sorcerer was all yours, and no amount of prying or pushing from otherworldly beings such as the demons who'd kidnapped you or the angels who were too kind would ever have him slipping away from you.

He certainly wouldn't let you go without a fight, anyways.

- There is no doubt in my mind Solomon would be a casually possessive yandere. He'd thrive if you were so trusting towards him, and would get a power trip if it's only him you seem to trust

- I like to imagine he'd have taken advantage of the immediate mistrust that came with the whole "summoned into another world by stranger demons who claim this and that" to swoop you off your feet. After all, wouldn't you trust the only human around?

- the sigil on the back of your neck is like a pact I like to think, something he has to mark you as his. It burns and warms with his emotion like one, too, so if he's mad it'll get uncomfortably hot and if he's happy, it'll simmer down

- he'd definitely cast magic on you without telling you what it is, though. I picture him doing anything from tracking spells to minor love spells (as needed if needed at all) to wards to get otherworldly beings to back off

- you probably still live at the HoL officially, but you definitely spend your time with him 24/7

- after all, who knows what those rotten demons may do to you if you're not kept safe and sound? You certainly don't trust the people who kidnapped you, and Solomon feeds into that by sharing stories of all the bad things demons have done to him and others

- speaking of, he'd probably not be the kind of yandere to get his hands dirty, I imagine he'd wind up probably being a lot more manipulative and let his magic do the trick

- oh, a demon offered you something that was supposedly human safe, but you didn't take it anyways? Smart choice, has he told you of the time one of those pathetic monsters offered a child candy that melted the poor kid's insides?

- he'd be possessive, manipulative, and would definitely twist stories to keep you relying on the only human around— him

[spaceagebachelormann]

More Jack Harkness PLEASE. I don’t even know what to ask cause I’ll read anything. Also you’re fantastic.

☆ — dating jack harkness headcannons

✧ masterlist — navigation

✧ carmillas thoughts — AUGHHH my stupid wife i love him so much. i’m gonna be so fr i’ve wanted doctor who (and star trek but that’s a long shot) requests for freaking ever but both fandoms are dead as balls so thank u i heart u apologies for taking ages to write this. like always this can be read as both doctor who and/or torchwood jack

✧ warnings — none!

despite the fact he always has something sexual to say he has his own little moments where he’s really sweet and affectionate in a way that doesn’t involve being freaky

he’s a very touchy person, because after being alive for so long due to his immorality he’s gotten used to everyone he loves dying/leaving at some point and just like holding your hand or just having his arm around you or just physical touch in any way is something he really loves

other than touch, jack is also very vocal about telling you how much he loves you and how amazing you are at any time and just everything he can possibly compliment he probably will sooner than later

his memory is also pretty good and he’ll remember important dates and information about you or things you’re interested in and will probably just have some general information about them in his head cause he’s secretly a loser nerd (/aff) and he’ll be happy to just have long conversations with you about any topics you’re interested in

his favourite topic to discuss is probably history though, since he’s lived through part of it and could time travel for awhile before the doctor stopped him from being able to do that, and can tell you all kinds of stories and talk about famous historical people and so many things

god forbid you guys go to a museum of any kind because he will start pointing out all of the inaccuracies and how a lot of the information was wrong or how “he/she didn’t look like that” or “that’s not what happened”

museum dates are probably his favourite though because you guys get to hang out and look at times he saw first hand and he gets to talk about them (he will stop if you get bored though. probably)

also, he will start the relationship with a general amount of knowledge about you but overtime will slowly start to notice little things you do, like which hand you use more often or mannerisms and will be able to pick up on if you need him to step in almost immediately

by analyzing everything you do subconsciously (it kinda just happens because he likes to look at you while you’re doing whatever. he finds you very interesting!) he also figures out what things you like/don’t like from other people and incorporates those into how he acts

because he works at torchwood he just becomes good at reading body language and facial expressions after awhile

as we’ve noticed, he doesn’t really have a specific type in people (other than men in suits apparently. he was kinda crazy over both ianto and the doctor) but i do think he’s drawn to people who are either aesthetically/personality-like different from him

being with someone who acts the opposite is just interesting to him because then it’s always like a fun surprise, alt he he still wouldn’t mind if his partner was like him because than it’s very easy to understand eachother

i genuinely think jack doesn’t care what people look like (as we’ve learned. that episode with chan tho) but will clock literally anyone who says anything about his partner and is not above pointing things about their appearance back

i feel like he’d want you to meet the torchwood five (four. not including him obviously) because those are his friends who he sees everyday. not to mention hes gotten freaky with them all

the doctor, however, i feel like he may be opposed to because the doctor kind of just abandoned him even though he knew jack was immortal and just kind of tends to hurt his companions/people he’s around unintentionally but with some light pushing he’d probably give in

by give in i mean he’s like “if we run into him sure” but he won’t outwardly search for him so you guys can meet (probably)

dates are really fun with him because it’s always either something normal and romantic or something absolutely insane that no regular human being will have thought of

there’s a good chance he gets his time travelling watch thing i forgot the name of fixed and you guys just go to the 1800s for a day or something

also he’s the type of guy to be allergic to the most random shit please keep him away from aluminum foil

[catboymoments]

I'm not into Kipo (never got interested, it’s just not my thing), but I imagine the whole Azura asking out Bramble scenario being like the scene where Kipo told Benson she had a crush on him and he's like “I’m flattered, but like…I'm gay.”

YEAH PRETTY MUCH… Azura was all sad thinking it was something else that put him off to her and he was like. Kinda awkward about it because he’s a loser /aff and was like

“ITS NOT BECAUSE OF ANYTHING WRONG WITH YOU it’s just. You?”

“Huh?”

“I MEAN. I. FUCK. I LIKE BOYS.”

“Ohh. Ohhhhhhhhhh. Oh!!”

[elmuvahva]

let me talk about leo and donnie’s matching clothes pLEASE

plus a lil bit of mikey and raph near the end :>

so we all know the obvious ones like in ‘repairin’ the baron’ and in ‘man vs sewer’

but i want to talk about the little things hehe. starting with the two mentioned above anyways lmaooo

yes they’re matching but i love the little differences they add on. leo wears a blue undershirt, fully going ride or die with his blue theme, while donnie goes for a white undershirt for a more classic look.

i think that says a lil but about their characters and how they thought to present themselves to april’s mum (who they thought they were meeting). they both wanted to look good hence the stunning matching outfits, but leo also wanted to be himself (hence the blue undershirt), compared to donnie who wanted to appeal to april’s mother (hence the more classic look with the white).

in man vs sewer, they are both wearing the singlet and board short combo, however leo opts for simplicity and ‘laidbackness’ keeping the bare minimum and keeping his shirt loose and untucked. donnie on the other hand goes further and adds the extra decorative shirt to really hammer home the ‘i’m not a useful member of society’ and the holiday/break vibes he’s trying so hard to feel. he also chooses to tuck his shirt in, which i think is just a personal stylistic choice, one which extenuates and shows off the board shorts more and one which mirrors his belt that’s a part of his usual outfit.

now onto snow day :>

at a brief glance it doesn’t seem like they’re matching but you’d be wRONG! they’re wearing the same shoes, pants and scarf, however they choose different jackets and headgear according to their personal tastes (i also wanna point out how donnie’s pants are more boxy/puffy at the bottom to fit with his whole rectangle theme, while leo’s are tucked in firmly, providing a more angular/triangular look).

leo chose a sirius black looking leather jacket bc why wouldn’t he lmaooo. it very much screams leo in the sense of his faceman attitude and his ‘confidence.’ he also chose a beanie which provides a more hippie, laidback and cool vibe.

donnie, ever the nerd, matches his jacket and headwear, as they both have the light purple fluff. donnies jacket is also much more practical and feels like something you’d see skii-ers (how tf do you spell that), hikers and snow-bikers wear. he’s also wearing the ugliest fucking hat /lh that’s reminiscent of what those occupations also wear.

so what we can take away from this is that leo will look cool whatever the weather and donnie will dress for the practicality of the occasion.

now in the clothes dont make the turtle there are A LOT of matching outfits, not just from donnie and leo, for example, in the images above, all the boys are wearing classic black suits with white button downs, however they all style them differently.

i’d also like to note the slight differences on the collars of the suit jackets (leo and donnie’s are matching, mikey’s is more rounded with a lil point and raph’s mirrors his spikes).

they all style their suits differently by using different ties. leo goes for a black and blue striped tie, which i think showcases his sense of style and his playfulness in comparison to raph, who decides to play it safe with a classic one-toned tie.

mikey goes for a cute bowtie bc why wouldn’t he he’s adorable, and it also fits in with him being the youngest and ‘the baby’, as bowties are most commonly worn by kids.

donnie decides to completely forego the tie altogether bc he doesn’t need it, he’s already stunning 😩 lmao but i actually think he’s just really playing into his emotionally unavailable bad boy image.

there’s also these matching monstrosities for god knows what reason

and it’s not super matchy, but raph and leo also both rock the singlet under the open button down shirt (though the colours are swapped and leo pops the collar causes he’s an idiot /aff)

and lastly!! these outfits. now at first glance, you’re probably thinking ‘elva what the fuck are you going on about’ BUT just hear me out!!

they both have ripped aspects to their outfits, leo’s at the shoulders and donnie’s at the waist. it’s obviously not an intentional match but i think they just subconsciously did it :>

they’re also both wearing head accessories, though in totally different styles (leo with his backwards cap to look ‘cool’ while donnie adorns a beanie to complete his LA hipster vibe)

ugh i’ve met the image limit for this post so here’s the link to the post that continues my rambling lolol

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 13

Chapters Masterlist

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

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

--

Comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

@cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @keiraslayz

@iimichie

@mxtokko

@chocolate-noodles @akurab

@xoxobooksstuff @suhmie @whenyouwannafindlove

@dontyouworrydaddy @0chemicalwaste0 @prozacprinc3ss

@genjisstuff @laceykodiak @whenyouwannafindlove

@raydenrrobertson @creepingeva @dontyouworrydaddy

@weebgirl21 @arnnf