#(john's totally fine; nothing happened)

[enniewritesathing]

"I could have easily killed you. I bided my time, thinking of ways to do it. I didn't care about the consequences. I hated you that much. Why should I have to fight for my own survival? What did I ever do to you? Huh?!"

"Why didn't you? There's something else. Isn't there?"

"..."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I’m so sorry for this guys but

AITA for telling someone their horse was masturbating?

Basically does what it says on the tin. For those of you who don’t know horses can masturbate. It’s most common in male horses under the age of three who have not had their testicles removed and who are confined to a stall or small pen and get really bored. They typically grow out of the behaviour once they’re older or given more freedom. Some owners try to train them to stop it from happening but most just ignore it because it’s better than other boredom behaviours like cribbing and wind-sucking (both are SFW to Google btw).

Anyway, I’m a groom and stable hand, mid-twenties now but been working at my job since I was fifteen (part-time then, now full-time). The stable I work at boards horses and gives lessons but also offers training for young horses, so we get a lot of OTTB here – that is “off-the-track Thoroughbreds”, so ex-racing horses that people typically buy cheap and then retrain to be show jumpers or dressage horses or whatever. One such horse is Bert, who is the horse in question in this situation.

Bert has excellent bloodlines but he sucked as a racing horse so he was sold OTT. The man who bought him, I’ll just call him John, knows nothing about horses – he’s a total beginner in every way, has never ridden and pays other people (including me) to take care of Bert, but claims to be an expert in everything equine because Bert cost him so much money (I don’t know the actual amount but he’s in the section of the stable where the $20,000 Warmbloods are boarded so I’m assuming around that amount which is a lot yes but also not the most expensive horse we’ve had here).

Anyway the actual story – I’m at work cleaning out stalls when John walks past, he completely ignores me as he always does so I do the same and get back to work. A few minutes later he goes sprinting back in the opposite direction which I thought was weird but whatever, I kept mucking, until I heard him shouting for help. I went out into the aisle and he’s there shouting at another groom and demanding to know the emergency vets number (it was a weekday morning btw, so he didn’t need the emergency vet, he just needed the regular vet but that’s meaningless anyway). I went over to see what was happening and he tells me his horse (Bert) is ‘acting weird’ and needs a vet immediately, so I offer to go see Bert for myself and then call the vet if necessary.

So basically yeah Bert was masturbating. Had an erection, was rocking about rubbing it on his tummy, and did NOT want anyone going in his stall or touching him. John points at Bert and says something like “see, he’s sick!” and then tells me Bert tried to attack him when he entered the stall and I just, I dunno, I cough and say that Bert is fine and just wants some privacy right now, figuring that the obvious erection might be a giveaway as to what’s happening? But John turned to me and blurts out word for word “are you an actual retard” and then starts cursing at me and telling me I know nothing and Bert needs a vet etc and so on. I kind of blanked on everything else he said after he called me a retard to be honest because WTF? I don’t really know what went on in my brain in the next few seconds but I ended up shouting – yes, shouting, extremely loudly, it fucking echoed in the stable – “he doesn’t need a vet because HE’S JUST MASTURBATING” in John’s face and then walking back to the stall I’d been mucking.

As I got back to the stall I heard laughter from a couple of aisles over. Apparently my co-workers and some riders who were there had all heard me shout and found it hilarious, and that made me laugh too because it was so freaking ridiculous. I honestly kind of forgot the entire encounter afterwards because we had a horse who actually needed a vet a little while later and yeah, John and Bert just slipped my mind.

I didn’t remember until that afternoon when my boss came to see me and said he’d had a complaint from John who wanted me fired. I did not get fired but I did get ‘warned’ (just a formality, my boss didn’t actually punish me but wanted me to act like I had been if John questioned me later, which he never did). John complained that I’d treated him like an idiot, spoken down to him, and “acted above my position” (those were the exact words he used) causing people to laugh at him. I explained the entire situation to my boss, who also laughed, and that was that, nothing else ever came of it aside from my co-workers telling the story of me shouting HE’S MASTURBATING so loudly it scared a pony into jumping so suddenly that it farted to everyone they possibly could.

Since then John has ignored me even more than before which I honestly consider a blessing, and I would leave this situation thinking I’m NTA except that one of my co-workers brought their boyfriend to the stable recently and when they introduced us the boyfriend said something like ‘oh right, you’re the asshole who talks down to people who don’t know everything about horses’ and yeah. My co-worker was blindsided by that as well and we basically both said you don’t have to know everything about horses to know what an erection means, but since then I’ve been wondering if I am TA in this situation? Like, clearly there were better ways to tell John what his horse was doing, but he called me a retard and also I get paid to take care of horses not to teach the birds and the bees to fifty year olds so I don’t know. I’ll let Tumblr decide.

So, AITA for telling John his horse was masturbating?

Additional info: I'm on a rota with other stable hands so I sometimes groom Bert, muck his stall, attend to his vet/farrier appointments, give him worming paste, etc and so on. I am not his trainer and have no input into when he gets to leave his stall. I've mentioned to my boss a couple of times that he boredom stims and should be in a paddock with other young horses, but John refuses to agree to that for reasons I don't know. My boss has since spoken to Bert's trainer who is now trying to convince John to let Bert have more time outdoors.

What are these acronyms?

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k 

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real. 

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut  

A/N -  im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me  

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound. 

“When did this happen?” 

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”  

“Any meds?” 

“Shot of adrenalin.” 

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.   

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members. 

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital. 

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.  

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”. 

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway. 

That was where you were right now. 

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast. 

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.   

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him. 

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm. 

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.” 

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?” 

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.” 

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.  

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.  

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”  

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings. 

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation,  “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”   

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave. 

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been. 

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname. 

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.  

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.” 

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown. 

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you. 

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”     

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.” 

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?” 

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you. 

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed. 

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.” 

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe. 

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.  

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.” 

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission. 

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him. 

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say. 

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price. 

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.   

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.” 

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him. 

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.   

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.   

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

 The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious. 

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble. 

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something. 

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream. 

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself. 

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left. 

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off. 

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes. 

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion. 

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck. 

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. 

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums. 

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage. 

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.  

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. 

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight. 

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering. 

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.  

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.  

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. 

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath. 

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself. 

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered. 

“You’re fine,” he repeated. 

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.” 

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre. 

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage. 

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding. 

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan. 

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again. 

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.” 

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2 

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

[johnsgunbelt]

I just started reading y’all’s work and I’m really enjoying it, I don’t know if you ladies write hybrid 141 but if you do I was wondering if you would write and wolf hybrid-soap and a bunny hybrid-reader where she’s a new medic and soap is in some need for some stitches. He can’t help his attraction to the pretty little bunny and he can’t help himself when he snatches her in his arms and sets her in his lap so she could “reach” his face a little better. Breathing in her wonderful intoxicating scent and rubbing her fluffy ears because it “makes him feel better” while she ditches him up?

If this isn’t y’all’s cup of tea that’s totally fine, I’m sure I’ll come up with another ask that mine peak interest

Bunny - John 'Soap' Mactavish

Pairing: Hybrid-wolf!John 'Soap Mactavish x hybrid-Bunny!Fem Medic Reader

Warnings: Hybrids? Sugestive content?, Fuff MDNI 18+

Soap had a rough fall today while training, now you’ve heard of Soap. Tall,Handsome, and respectful. So when he was assigned as your patient you were ecstatic. What you didn’t know though? Well A. He’s a wolf and B. Has the fattest crush on you, but how could you even know that?

When Soap walked into your room he took note that you were a bunny, he was very fond of that. He went to sit down on the bed and waited for you to examine him. “Alright let’s see…Clean cut over your eye definitely need stitches, how’d this happen?” “Ah, Just training lass nothing special.” He smiled at you and your face turned a little red. You turned around to grab your medical kit for the stitches.

“You need to be more careful, any closer and you would’ve gone blind.” “Hm..You worried little bunny?” You stuttered for a second. “Well-Yeah I’m your doctor so yes.” He chuckled as he picked you up and sat you on his lap. 

“What are you-” “Shh, just so you got a better view yeah? I’ll hold you nice and tight. Promise.” Your whole entire face was red by now and you just let him hold you as you finished cleaning it and began to stitch. You felt his calloused hands run up and down your ears. “Soap…Why are you playing with my ears?” “Calms me down, cute when they twitch.” You rolled your eyes and just let him do what he pleased so you could get the job done. Then you noticed he started breathing your scent in, like some sorta good smelling candle. You chuckled as you finished up the stitches. “Alright big boy I’m done.” “Oh no…My stomach hurts and I think I have a fever…Darn I’ll just have to stay here like this.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you tried to hop off of his lap but he did not comply. “Soap!! You can just tell me sometime and you can come to my barracks okay?” He then let you down off his lap and his tail slightly wagged happily he got up off the bed and nodded. 

“Tonight. 11:30 P.M. be up bunny.” He placed a small kiss to your forehead and in that moment you realize how tall he actually was and how terrifying that is. But you just nodded as he pet your ears one last time and walked out. Man you could not wait till he stopped by later tonight.

I actually really liked this, AU maybe…😋

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 36 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

You are getting the feeling that Mariko Kimura doesn’t really like you. 

And maybe it’s stupid, but you’re really not used to that.

Worse yet, this woman basically has a license to beat the hell out of you as The Personal Trainer–how else are you going to learn how to defend yourself in this vicious world? Strikes, blocks, throws, joint locks–she’s taking her job seriously, and after a week has gone by you’re not sure how much more you can actually handle. Maybe you’re a hiker girl, but it’s been a long time since you’ve done any athletic activity that demanded you give everything you have, take a breath, and then give fifty percent more. Your body hurts everywhere. Your torso is bruised in twenty places under your top, and you think she might have knocked one of your back teeth loose with a dirty punch.

You do not want to complain to John. You know he went through so much worse, and it would feel like tattling. So you take a moment to compose yourself on a bench before returning to your room, breathing deeply. That hurts too–jesus fuck, did she crack your ribs? 

What you really want to do is have a good little cry, but that’s completely off the table. 

Show no weakness. 

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Your eyes fly open to find Winston Scott, looking dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit, standing nearby. You hadn’t heard him approach. That’s probably not a good thing, even in this supposedly neutral environment. 

“I’m fine,” you say brightly with a smile you know looks more like a grimace. “Just…catching my breath.”

“May I?”

You scoot over on the antique wooden bench, very aware that you are sweaty as the proverbial whore in church, surprised this fastidious man would dare come within six feet of you at the moment. 

“I must admit I was surprised when I saw that Jonathan enrolled you with Miss Kimura. She is close friends with Akira Shimazu.” 

“I…don’t know what that means,” you admit. 

“Ah. Well, Jonathan should.”

You blow out a long breath through your teeth, bracing your kidneys. Maybe a shower and a dip in the cool waters of the pool downstairs would be nice. 

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” you sigh. If John suspects Mariko is playing rougher than what is demanded for some personal reason that has nothing to do with you, that could breed a whole new problem. You have enough problems. 

“As you wish. I am not sure you know this about our Jonathan yet, but politics are not his strong suit. He is the best at what he does, but the more subtle machinations of our world still escape him.”

This doesn’t come as a total surprise to you, although if you let Winston in on some of the psychological games John played with you not so long ago, the old man’s hair might have stood on end.

Or, maybe not. 

“Are you telling me it’s my job to keep him from killing everyone when the Camorra finally show for this sitdown?” 

“Well. I’m sure you’ve heard tell of what happened with Santino d’Antonio.”

“Yes.” 

“Perhaps Jonathan is in a better state of mind these days thanks to you. But I also fear what our dear boy may do, to defend you.”

Hearing anyone call your fearsome assassin John dear boy brings a little smile to your lips. You are glad that someone seems to be in his corner. You’ve gotten the impression from hearing John talk that Winston is like a father figure to him. You’re relieved it goes both ways. 

“I will keep what you’re telling me in mind.” 

“That is all I ask,” he says with a nod, standing. “And perhaps, a little break from the Trainer would do you good.”

A small laugh escapes you–you know it sounds bitter. “You give very good advice, Mr. Scott.” 

“I know I do. If only the young people around me would deign to benefit from my wealth of experience.” This is his parting shot, and you watch as he makes his exit stage left, leisurely strolling back down the hall like a king in his castle. 

***

Lounging in a warm bubbly bath–with John Wick’s solid naked body behind you, maybe makes the beatings you’ve been taking worth it. 

Ok, it’s totally fucking worth it. Nothing hurts anymore…except for when his soapy hands gently massaging your sore muscles find a bruise. There are a lot of them. 

It also helps that a few minutes ago he ran those soapy hands all over your breasts and aching center, coaxing a soul-wrenching orgasm out of you, all while talking you through it with his low voice in your ear.

He never actually asked if you’re alright, and you take that as a compliment. Maybe it’s fucked up, but you’re kinda proud of your pain tolerance–and John’s quiet approval. 

That doesn’t mean you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut about something else that’s bothering you. 

“Who is Akira Shimazu?” you ask sleepily, your head lolled back on his broad shoulder. His hands pause tellingly upon you, before resuming their soothing circuit. 

“She’s the daughter of one of my oldest friends, Koji,” he finally answers, his tone deliberately neutral. “He…was killed by the High Table, when I went to his Continental in Osaka for shelter.” 

There is a lot to unpack in that sentence. You start with the part that alarms you the most. “Wait…the High Table are allowed to break the rules of the Continental?” If those fuckers were coming, supposedly to play mediator–what good would it do, if they were not bound to follow their own rules? 

“Not usually,” he assures you. “The Marquis who was hunting me was granted…privileges.” 

“Sounds like bullshit.” 

“It was bullshit.” 

You decide this is all the information you need to connect the dots. If you were Akira Shimazu, you would probably blame John Wick for your father’s death too. And if you were Akira’s friend, and had no recourse to hurt John Wick directly–beating up his girlfriend was pretty much the next best thing. Great. 

“Why are you asking me this?” 

“Oh…just a conversation I had with Winston today.” You turn in the bath, reaching for the soap to return the favor to John, only in part to distract him. He weighs you with those dark eyes, only half believing you, or at least, sensing there’s more than what you’re telling him. You sit up straddling his lap, running your hands over his chest. His eyes slide closed, quiet for some time as you touch him. His wounds from the home invasion have healed now, his stitches out just the other day. Now they are simply slick pink flesh under your fingertips–as though it had all just been a bad dream.

These moments seem even more precious between you, now. You want to hoard them like a dragon with its pile of gold, keep them forever shining in your memory. You know what you’ll draw in your sketch journal tonight. You’ve been trying to keep up with a drawing a day, a way to pass the time, though the past week you’ve been too tired in the evening.

“Is Mariko…associated with Akira?” 

Maybe Winston doesn’t give John enough credit. 

“I think they might be friends.”

He touches a bruise on your arm with a new understanding, his dark brows drawn in a frown.

Well shit. So much for being subtle. 

“Is she hurting you on purpose?” 

“She’s…not pulling any punches. That’s ok, John. I’ve learned more this past week than in the five years I did in Tae Kwon Do.” You realize that is absolutely true. 

John’s eyes narrow as he searches out your bruises with new eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

It’s interesting to you, how it was par for the course before, but with the new information that it might be personal, it’s suddenly not ok. 

“Don’t be.” 

“I didn’t think I would be a good hand to hand combat teacher for you.”

“Why not?” you ask, not accusing, just curious. 

“Because when I put my hands on you I just want to fuck you,” he admits bluntly, raising gooseflesh all across your body, your greedy cunt suddenly clenching in insistent reminder of her state of abject emptiness...drama queen.  

 “Even…if we were fighting?”

Considering his penchant for chasing, maybe you already know the answer to that. He blows through his nose, pulling you close with those mitts for hands on your hips so that you can feel he’s hard just with the thought of it. 

He ducks to graze his teeth upon the curve of your shoulder, and your state of relaxation is starting to fly out the window again. This man. 

“Especially if we were fighting,” he admits against your ear, his voice gravely with desire. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking you down. I’d fuck you right there on the mat, and you wouldn’t learn a thing except that you drive me wild.”

Your nipples tighten with the thought, your breath caught in your throat, and he lifts you easily in the water with that controlling grip on your hips, rubbing your now slick center against his throbbing cock. Tub sex can be tricky, but the bath water stands no chance against the suddenly raging state of your arousal. Without further ado he lifts you onto his cock, impaling you on his thick tip. The glorious glide and stretch of his girthy shaft inside you still takes your breath away, like you can feel him in your lungs, your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” you squeak, winning a dark chuckle that scrambles your insides. 

“Yeah.”  

It’s the last intelligible word you manage, in the next few minutes, as he uses you just as he pleases, the water sloshing all around as he pistons inside you. It’s all you can do just to hold on, clenching tightly upon his insatiable erection the way you know makes him lose it. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he invites, though you know he’s close. You’ve reached that point in your physical relationship when you know each other’s bodies so well, your rhythms and sounds, down to the very tone of a gasp or the desperation of a thrust. 

“I don’t think I can cum again,” you admit, though you’re thoroughly enjoying him inside you. 

You really didn’t mean it as a challenge, but when he smirks at you with that certain sparkle in his anthracite eyes you just know you’re in for it. 

“Yes you can,” he insists, slowing his pace inside you, arching you back in his arms so that he can flick one of your nipples with his devilishly clever tongue. Oh. Well that’s not fair at all. You reach down to rub your clit while he fills you like this, delaying his pleasure to hit that perfect spot just past your entrance that makes you forget anything else exists in the world but you and him and the promise of a soul-snatching orgasm on the horizon.

“Give it up for me, my pretty girl,” he coaxes with his lips against your skin, and you know the snake must have sounded like that when he spoke to Eve. Tempting and forbidden and yet oh so reasonable. You’ve asked a lot from your body in the past few days. Maybe this is how you die–and what a way to go. That wonderful tingling pressure fills your hips and you moan, forgetting, again, that the other assassins down the hall probably do not want to hear more evidence that John Wick never misses. 

There are stars in your eyes and a ringing in your ears as this shining, bone-shattering release takes you. You are a ragdoll in his arms as he fills you to the hilt and bathes your cervix with the hot rush of his cum. It’s all the two of you can do, not to sink into the water and drown. With a shaky sigh you kiss his lips before melting against him, re-learning how to breathe with his arms wrapped around you, your head on his shoulder. 

He strokes your hair, whispering endearments so low you can’t really make them out, but the tone is so soothing you drift asleep for a few minutes. You only wake when he freshens the bath with more hot water, before drifting off again. 

***

Much later, when both of your faculties have returned, and your fingers have turned to prunes, he tells you, “I think we’ll give you a break. We’ll start weapons training tomorrow. That, I will handle myself.” 

This is news to you. “Here? In the hotel?”

“There’s an armory, a range, even a course.” 

“In this hotel?” 

He chuckles a little at your disbelief. “Yeah.” 

The New York Continental: anything and everything a killer could need…

And here you are, trapped amongst them with the man you love. You know this is technically John’s world, but a part of you just can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t belong here. That he shouldn’t have to be back here–it’s not fair. 

You sit up in the water, reaching for a little yellow rubber duck on the side of the tub, not meeting John’s eyes. You’re not sure where it came from; there must be some inside joke you’re not privy to…but it’s cute. 

You do feel some relief, knowing you’re not going to get beat up again tomorrow, though going through tactical firearms drills makes you more than a little nervous. You’re sure it will be different from plinking in the backyard on a Sunday with your dad and his drinking buddies. Ah, alcohol and guns–a time honored American classic.

“I feel like I’m walking out of here with my Certificate in Baddass Assassin Studies,” you say with a nervous little laugh. “What else is there? Are you going to teach me how to pinball flip someone with a muscle car? Maybe how to ride a motorcycle while swinging a katana?”

His lips twist in a smirk. “If you want, when we go home.” 

You find the thought buoys you with hope. “Will we ever get to go home?”

“Unless you really want to move to Argentina,” he needles you.

“Argentina does sound pretty bitchin’...” you tease him. 

He narrows his eyes at you; after all this time, it still gives you a thrill. “Are you sure your fascination with Argentina doesn’t stem from the good looking men who seem to live there?”

You make a raspberry at the thought. He still remembers Javi, it seems. You do too, of course, but all that feels like a distant dream in your memory. “Darling, I have all the Tall, Dark, and Handsome I can handle right here.” You place the rubber ducky on top of his head as though bestowing a crown, and he rolls his eyes before snatching you to him, water splashing all across the floor again. 

“Who’s going–to clean–that up?” you tease between kisses and giggling, suddenly drunk on his arms around you, his strong hand running down your side to squeeze your behind before long fingers quest further towards your aching center. 

“Baby, that is the least of your worries right now.”    

“I can’t!” you whine in protest as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You absolutely give yourself away with your joyful laughter that turns into a moan.

“We’ll see, cheeky girl.”  

This insatiable man really might prove the death of you. 

----

Pretty sure the rubber ducky is all on @sweetwolfcupcake …😂😘😘😘

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Twelve

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes. 

A/N: sorry this took so long. but it's here now. HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCHES!

Word Count: 10k+

Chapter Twelve:

“Darling!” Rebecca called as you and Roy approached the restaurant. She stood outside next to a shorter man (obviously), who could only be John Wingsnight. 

Roy stayed back as you sped forward, stretching out your arms for an embrace until you and Rebecca finally met in the middle. “Why does Roy look more pissed off than usual?” Rebecca whispered in your ear quickly, as the men shook hands beside you awkwardly. 

“Don’t ask,” you whispered back, but she only squeezed you harder in response. “I’ll tell you later,” you added painfully. 

“Fine,” she muttered quickly, before the two of you finally parted. She put on a stellar smile. “Shall we head inside?” You nodded, and the four of you entered the restaurant together. 

John reached the table first, and slid a chair out for Rebecca. She took it graciously, before he turned to look at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet some of Rebecca’s good friends,” he said. He sounded posh– Richmond posh. You smiled as nicely as you could, but Roy’s presence close behind you was practically burning a hole through your skin. 

You went to grab a seat opposite Rebecca, but was abruptly cut off by Roy. He reached out his arm and slid out the chair before you could. You hit his eye as he waited for you to sit down, and when you did, you felt so overexposed that you could hardly stand it. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as Roy tucked you in safely. He growled gently in response, and the four of you settled in for a long fucking night. 

As soon as you could, drinks were ordered in excess. Small talk ensued, but it was made up mostly of Rebecca whittling on about your past placement at the club, and all of the drama that happened during your year there. Next to you, Roy stayed silent unless spoken to. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled about this, but even more so after the ordeal on the drive over. 

Truth be told, as much as you’d been looking forward to this evening, you wanted nothing more than to pack it in and be alone with Roy. You needed to address so much, and talk honestly for once in your fucking lives. That was only made more difficult when John piped in with new questions. As soon as she could, Rebecca brought up your article from the Independent. 

“Oh, fantastic!” John exclaimed in response. “I read that article, by the way– the one about you, Roy.” Roy tried and failed to look enthusiastic, as John turned to you. “Brilliantly written, you absolutely deserved to win.”

You smiled. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

“So, is that how this happened?” John asked, pointing at you and Roy playfully. 

You and Roy turned to each other at the same time. Both of you looked like deers in headlights, as the entire point of your double-date lie was finally put to the test. 

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, exactly.” Stupidly, idiotically, you’d never fucking thought about what story you’d have to explain; the story of how you started dating. Roy looked too relaxed for your liking, so you decided to involve him. “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

Roy shot daggers at you immediately, but they were only perceived by you. He recomposed himself as he turned to Rebecca and John, but before a single word left his mouth, his hand found yours upon the table top. You inhaled deeply as his fingers wrapped around your own. 

“She bugged me so much about the fucking article that it was inevitable,” he said lowly. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

John laughed heartily, raising his glass at Roy happily. Rebecca choked on her starter. You’d momentarily stopped thinking as soon as Roy’s hand had touched yours, and had now gone temporarily blind from him calling you babe. 

Roy squeezed your hand gently, and your senses refreshed like lightning. “Y-yes,” you stuttered quickly. “Totally inevitable.”

“Well, how delightful,” John said sweetly, before he turned towards Rebecca. “Rebecca speaks very highly of you, I’ve found.”

“I’d bloody hope so,” you let out, getting rid of some of your pent up anxiety. Rebecca laughed, fully recovered from her choking fit. Roy’s fingers were still latched over yours, and you found yourself not hating it after the initial shock. 

“And you, Roy!” John continued. “Congrats on the pundit gig, by the way.”

“John is a big football fan,” Rebecca said, and John nodded enthusiastically. 

“Here we fucking go,” Roy growled under his breath. You rearranged your fingers quickly, so that you could squeeze his hand reassuringly. He turned to you gently, flicking his eyes over your encouraging face. 

You knew this entire night was out of his comfort zone, including the whole fake dating ordeal on top. Getting Roy out to dinner like this was hard enough as it was, but adding this play-pretend must have had him reeling. It was tough for you, as well, especially after your almost confession in the car beforehand. All the two of you had to do was hold on for dear life for another few hours, and then it’d be over. 

“It was a massive coincidence, actually,” you piped up suddenly, turning back to John and Rebecca. “I’d had this small nagging voice in my head that kept saying how good a pundit Roy could be, enough for me to annoy him over text, even. Then, a few weeks later, he was on the telly! It was weird, honestly.”

“That wasn’t a fucking coincidence,” Roy said sternly. “I’d had those Sky producers down my throat for a month, but only bothered to reply after you mentioned what a good idea it was.”

You squinted at him, shocked. “What?”

“I became a pundit because of you.” 

Rebecca’s mouth upturned into a sly smile. John caught her eye in confusion, but still looked happy to simply be there– probably because he was in Roy’s presence. You struggled to find the right words to say, as your mind catapulted all your thoughts to ricochet off your skull. 

The only word you could physically get out was “Oh.” Your wide eyed stare stayed on Roy for a few seconds more, until you quickly looked at the table, trying to compute what you’d just been told. “Right.” You added. 

“You were right, too,” Rebecca said gently, and you caught her eye. “Roy does make a rather entertaining pundit.”

“And that’s an understatement,” John added, cheesing from ear to ear. 

“Yes, he does,” you said, agreeing with Rebecca, but still hesitating over your muddled thoughts. “Will you excuse me for a moment? That wine has gone to my head,” you let out, alongside a breathy laugh to break the tension. 

Roy fingers separated from yours, and as you walked to the bathroom, you felt utterly alone. Maybe it was the lack of his touch, just in those initial seconds after having it. Maybe it was the realisation that once again he’d done something that you’d suggested, just for you. There was no reason for you to get mad about it. Being a pundit was more than the article; it was more public, more personal, more professional. He wouldn’t have done it all unless he’d accepted it himself, and that was the truth of it. 

Still, hearing that you’d been his reason for going ahead with the gig was warming. As you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the wine. Your fingers were clammy, not only from your nerves, but from having someone hold them so tightly for the last ten minutes– all of these factors added up to be caused by one man only; Roy fucking Kent. 

He was so different to you. So stubborn, so grumpy, so unapproachable, yet it had been so easy for you to cut through his layer of steel and get to the other side of his personality. Gentle, caring, and so unapologetically honest that you could hardly believe it. From the way Keeley and Rebecca– even the fucking football team, too– had reacted when Roy had steadily started opening up to you, you knew this wasn’t an ordinary occurrance. They knew him from a day to day perspective, whereas your knowing had transcended the walls of the Dogtrack after only a few months around each other. 

Innately, a switch flicked on in your brain. It’d been over a year of this dynamic. Even including those three months of silence, you’d still thought of each other on a daily basis. Something had to give, and that something was you. This was your opportunity to make yourself abundantly clear– this stupid, idiotic fake dating situation. This was the trial shift, and you just had to show up. 

You washed your hands quickly, and as you did it cemented this shift within you. As you opened the door to the bathroom and emerged back into the restaurant, you held your head high. You walked in your heels like you’d been walking in them your entire life, and when you saw the back of Roy’s head, your heart swelled. 

As sat back down at the table, and impulsively leaned into Roy. He sensed you, and changed his posture to accommodate your own. “Sorry about that,” you said, laughing at yourself slightly. “It’s not often that I drink wine anymore.”

“Get a different drink if you want, darling,” Rebecca said. 

“I think I will,” you agreed, before you took the plunge. Gently, you leaned into Roy, clinging onto his bicep softly. “When the waitress comes around again can you grab her for me, please?” you asked.

Roy tensed slightly beneath your touch, but you could feel him relax as he peered into your eyes. “Alright,” he said lowly. “Beer?” he asked. 

You nodded with a smile. It was sweet that he knew exactly what you wanted. 

Your main courses were uneventful, but tense. You ate in happy splendour, chatting about whatever— you wouldn’t be able to recount the conversation in any state, purely because you were hyper aware of Roy next to you the entire time. Rebecca’s side-eye stares tickled your bare skin. John’s obliviousness kept you grounded. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? The moment that you and Roy had permission to fully jump, to indulge, you found yourselves in a situation where touching the other felt incredibly odd. As much as this entire situation was exciting for both of you, you found yourself focusing on the fact this was all fake– the relationship, the meal, and… the first time you allowed yourself to feel. 

Every hand touch and shoulder bump was being watched clearly. Was it all real if this double date was a lie? Was it all real even if you and Roy weren’t actually together? 

“Darling,” Rebecca said softly, and you almost jumped out of your skin when you came back to reality. You’d utterly zoned out to the point where you hadn’t even noticed your dessert was already in front of you. “Are you alright?” she whispered across the table. 

You swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes,” you said quickly, before picking up your fork. “Sorry.”

“So,” John started, chewing on a mouthful of praline. “Pluto Press, right?” 

Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted into your stomach. You’d been avoiding talking about your job with anyone for the past few months. You swallowed, and put on a smile in panic. “That’s the one,” you said, but the awkwardness practically seeped out of you. 

“What’s it like in publishing? I’ve always been curious,” John asked, leaning in slightly, so that you couldn’t fucking escape. 

“It’s… well, it’s…” You were hyper aware of Rebecca sitting opposite you, and Roy sat to your left. You felt the ex-football Captain stiffen next to you. Concern pooled between you, and he shifted himself to face you more so, curiosity prevalent on his brow. 

You looked up at him, lost for words. Innately, you let yourself crumble. Perhaps it was time to tell them that you had your reservations about work. You sucked in a breath. “At first, it was a dream,” you said, turning to John with a faint smile. “I suppose it always is when it comes to the job you’ve wanted since you were a kid.” You turned to Roy again, meeting his eye. “Right?” you whispered. 

Roy nodded gently before you. He had football on his mind, no doubt. You could see it in his gaze, you could sense him envisioning the green of the Dogtrack. 

“A few months down the line, though…” you started, and gently turned to Rebecca. She was looking at you with a signature arched eyebrow, waiting for you to spill your guts. “It’s been… different, I suppose.”

“Different?” Rebecca questioned. 

Roy twisted towards you even more. “Different how?” 

Different, as in, I fucking hate it. That’s what you wanted to say, but saying that to the two people who gave you the opportunity to have the position? Hell fucking no. 

You opened your mouth, trying to decide upon what words to use, but you never got the chance to say them. A woman sidled up to Roy and threw you all from your conversation. Rebecca’s stare snapped upon her like a lethal panther. Roy perked a brow up at her, a subtly seething look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, and her Chelsea or Kensington accent was the first thing you noticed. “I just had to come over or I’d hate myself for it. You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you?” She was beautiful in a way that reminded you of the girls who used to bully you in school– in your mind, this was exactly what some of them would have grown up to look like. Blonde, big-boobed, high-fashioned, rich. 

Your face dropped immediately, overcome by a feeling you’d never actually experienced before. Your chest felt tight, your fists balled in your lap, your shoulders squared off defensively. You turned to Rebecca, and the frown on her face only added to the grim feeling you held inside. 

Roy growled at the woman in response, not just as confirmation, but definitely from annoyance. Who the hell interrupted someone during dinner? At a fucking restaurant? 

She ignored his hostility, instead opting to jump up and down abruptly. “Oh! I knew it. My father and brother love you, especially from your Chelsea days. Can I…” she said. As she did, she leant in even closer, bridging the gap between her and Roy, until he was forced to look up at an almost ninety degree angle. “Can I get a photo?” 

Your stomach dropped at the shift in her tone of voice. She was flirting. Suddenly, the feeling inside you made perfect fucking sense–

Jealousy. You were jealous. 

Rebecca went to protest first, but you beat her to it. You leaned forward, and wrapped your fingers around Roy’s bicep defensively. “Excuse me,” you said strongly. “We’re in the middle of a meal, and you’re very much interrupting us.” 

Roy’s muscles relaxed beneath your grip, and you only took that as a sign to hold your ground. The woman before you was taken aback, obviously not used to mere commoners having a pop at her about her wrong behaviour. She let out a nervous laugh, tilting back slightly as she peered down at you from above. Instinctively, you caught her eye and glared– glared for your damn life. 

“Uh.” The noise burst from her lips like a breath she hadn’t meant to exhale. Like a crack in her exterior. “I’m sorry– what are you supposed to be?” 

You saw red, and stood impulsively. You’d never wanted to throw a punch more in your life, nor had you ever had the desire to do so in front of a restaurant full of people, but something entirely new had come over you– and Roy was at the centre of it.

You pointed at her as soon as you were at her eye level, leaning over Roy beneath you. “Listen here, you little–”

“Alright!” Roy burst from beneath you, putting himself between you and the blonde. His arm twisted behind him and found your waist easily. He pulled you into his back, erecting himself as a literal human shield, in every sense. “That’s fucking enough of that,” he muttered, looking the blonde in the eyes. 

Suddenly, she switched back to something more honeyed. She puffed her chest out, showing off her cleavage even more so, and batted her mink eyelashes at Roy above her. He bought none of it, of course. It was Roy, and he could always see the bad in people. Mostly, it was a hindrance, but sometimes… It worked. 

“I’ll give you a photo to fuck off,” he said candidly. 

You scowled behind Roy, trying to adjust yourself to the point where you weren’t utterly flush against the wool of his jumper. The blonde made a guttural noise of offence, however, which definitely pleased you somewhere deep inside. 

“God, don’t fucking bother then,” she squeaked at Roy. You thought that was the end of it, until more drivel fell from her lips. “You need to keep your dog on a leash.”

You froze, but not from what she’d just said. You froze, because Roy’s blood immediately turned to ice. You felt the muscles in his back contracting, trying and failing to shut down his inevitable jump to anger. You could imagine the robotic expression on his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the straightness of his eyebrows. 

This was Roy Kent when he was too angry to function. This was Roy Kent from the fucking football pitch.

Your gut lurched when his grip on your waist loosened, and you knew you had to intervene. Quickly, you slipped beneath Roy’s arm and shoved yourself between him and the blonde. You leaned back against Roy’s chest forcefully, and to no surprise he’d planted himself to the ground like a fucking tree. The blonde crossed her arms, shooting you with a shitty looking smirk that was supposed to make you feel hard done by, but you actually didn’t care. 

You just wanted her to leave Roy alone.

“I think it’s time for you to leave now,” you said calmly. “Before you embarrass yourself even more.” You softened your expression, but not by much. The blonde faltered subtly, dropping her arms to her sides as she became self-conscious of how many stares in her direction littered the restaurant. 

“I was going already,” she said, flustered, but not before she caught Roy’s eye again. “You footballers are always too fucking complicated.”

You and Roy watched her clip away in her heels, muttering to herself the entire way back to her table. A tense silence filtered across the restaurant, until all of a sudden, the hubbub came back. People went back to their meals, your heart settled in your chest, and Roy– his hand found yours instantly. You turned back to the table, shivering with every swipe he gave your knuckles, and caught Rebecca’s eye. 

You’d almost forgot her and John were still fucking here. 

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Shall we get the bill?”

John kissed Rebecca goodbye, but not after shaking Roy’s hand and holding onto his wrist for just a moment too long. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, as your party of four decreased to three. Rebecca turned back to you and Roy with an expectant face.

“So?” she said, eyes gleaming.

You hunched your shoulders up to your ears and smiled awkwardly. “He’s… nice!” you said, and for once you couldn’t find any other word to describe someone, but you tried your best. “He’s personable, and financially stable…” you trailed off.

“But?” Rebecca asked, sensing some trepidation. 

“Well,” you started, turning to Roy for back-up. 

He let out a sigh, growling subtly. “He’s fine!” he exclaimed. “And fine is good, fine is safe, but I guess it all comes down to why the fuck someone like that deserves you.” He said strongly. “You deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been been struck by fucking lightning.” 

Rebecca and your speechlessness was apparent, as the two of you glued your eyes onto Roy. You could feel him buzzing next to you, and heat radiated off him in waves.

“Don’t you dare settle for fine, just because it’s easy.” Roy scrunched his face passionately, before clocking eyes with you next to him. His face softened, and his expression resorted back to something more unbothered. “Or do,” he backtracked. “Do whatever you want.”

He shrugged, and you scoffed abruptly, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from chuckling more. Rebecca was taken aback. She had this golden look on her face that you could relate to heavily. You’d had that look a thousand times before, when Roy had done something to completely subvert your expectations. He was right, though, as much as Rebecca probably wanted to object. He was right, and you were glad that he’d said it the way it should be.

The sound of Rebecca’s heels disappeared into the distance, as you and Roy walked back along the river. It was cold. The temperature had dropped profusely as November set in, and you could see your breath every time you managed to exhale. That was just it– breathing around Roy tonight had become some sort of manual chore, alongside every other normal function that you could usually do in a heartbeat. 

Unsaid words flickered between the two of you as you continued strolling; past Roy’s Jeep, further down river, until you reached the small side streets around Richmond Green. It was a comfortable silence, but far from a calm one. You and Roy had thoughts so loud that it was a miracle you couldn’t decipher the chatter in each other’s brains. 

Thinking back to the car ride, the stares, the feeling in your gut, all of it– you knew something had to be said. But, you simply didn’t know how to put it all into words. Perhaps Roy was suffering the same, as his mouth stayed glued shut. 

Approaching the other side of the green, your eyes settled on the Crown and Anchor. Ted and Beard’s stomping ground was lively, and you slowed down to peer through the windows. Twinkling lights rounded each frame, shining onto the people inside. Beers were half drunk, locals chattered and chortled, and Mae stood in her rightful place behind the bar. 

You smiled. “I wonder if Ted and Beard are in.” Your heart felt warm. 

“Ted lives just up there,” Roy said, pointing to a side street beyond the pub. “He made me tea, at the end of last season.”

“Hm,” you said. “That was before the last game, wasn’t it?” 

Roy nodded next to you slowly. “Stopped the twat from getting hit by a cab. He’d had one too many pints.”

You let out a gentle breath, smiling as you pictured the scene. Neither of you made an attempt to walk inside, or further down the road. You simply stayed glued to your spots, and you thought you knew why. This was nice. Stood beside one another, recovering from that tension you’d both had at the restaurant. But– this was safe. You were both avoiding addressing what you truly wanted to; 

What would come of this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that you had to pull off the bandaid. “Listen…” You turned to face him. “Roy–”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, lowly. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

You swallowed away your words. “Okay.”

Roy’s chest expanded as he sucked in as much air as he possibly could, and let it all out of his nose. He smiled. “I like this,” he croaked. “I like things the way they are.” Your heart sunk ever so slightly, but you were thankful he wasn’t yet finished, so you didn’t have to speak. “I like you and me hanging out, and talking football, and just– I don’t fucking know– this.” 

You didn’t understand him fully, and you had a feeling that Roy didn’t understand himself either. Neither of you knew what you wanted precisely, and that was easy to see. 

Panic set in on Roy’s face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just– I just fucking–” You stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his chest. 

You attempted to rationalise what he was saying. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe keeping things like this, platonic, friendly, whatever the fuck word you could use, was for the best. It was just like that blonde girl back at the restaurant had said; footballers were complicated, and you didn’t like complicated, even if it was with Roy.

“I do, too,” you said, reassuring him. “Like this, I mean. I like this, too.” You smiled, but it felt sad. 

Roy exhaled softly, finally landing on words you could both understand. “I fuck things up, sometimes,” he said lowly. “I don’t want to fuck up things with you.”

An abundance of thoughts trickled from the deep crevices of your brain. Ones that wanted to yell at Roy to let himself be happy, to let himself do things that he wanted, to not hold himself back. The look on his face showed you just how hard he’d thought about it all. It was the same look that had graced his face for most of the meal– he’d been thinking about this conversation all night. 

You had, too. You’d adopted the psyche of someone who knew that she wanted this. Him. And you’d thought that Roy had wanted the same thing, too, considering the immense build up you’d both experienced. You were certain you hadn’t imagined it, certain that he was ready to give in alongside you, but evidently…

You’d been wrong.

And being wrong was okay, especially when your relationship with Roy was on the line. 

You shrugged away the question in your brain of how a fake date, that lasted less than three hours, had utterly changed his mind after months. You bit away the urge to ask him why. Roy’s thoughts weren’t yours to divulge; they were his, and he’d made up his mind. That was something you had to take with grace. 

“Okay,” you whispered. It hurt to say, it hurt to accept, but you weren’t about to become someone that got angry when someone you liked denied you. You took a small step back, and smiled in an attempt to hide how gutted you felt. “Okay, Roy,” you said, stronger this time. It cemented it all.

It was done, and you had to be okay with it, or risk losing him altogether. 

As the end of November hit, Roy became used to his routine. He’d film Soccer Saturday four days a week live, and one day a week for pre recorded segments that were played during highlights. He got up at seven in the morning, sharp, sometimes going for a run when it wasn’t too blisteringly cold, but those mornings had been few and far between as temperatures hit zero. Winter hadn’t yet arrived, but it bloody felt like it.

He’d have a coffee, and don his suit, before jumping his Jeep to the studio. On the way, a mere two minutes into his drive, he’d pass your flat. It was customary for him to glance to the left as he passed, always, but the thoughts that hit him alongside were something he wished would stop. 

That look on your face, the one from that night– it haunted him. You haunted him. 

Through every fault of his own, he was grief stricken. If you’d asked Roy a few weeks before the meal if he was ready for this, for you, for what could be, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But that night, everything had shifted for him. 

The way Rebecca had glanced between you and him made his gut coil, and he knew it was bloody obvious that you both had shared affections. The feeling that you both harboured could’ve been seen from fucking space, he’d bet. But, then it all went downhill. That blonde girl, the one with the giant rack, and even bigger nose to butt in your evening together, had stumped him. 

Up until that moment, Roy was accustomed to knowing when his anger would jump out. He could feel it coming on, sense it raging within him, but when she’d talked down to the likes of you– it had felt uncontrollable. Roy was a violent man; he was no stranger to throwing a punch to someone who deserved it, and he was content living that way. Just not around you. He didn’t like that side of him when you were near. He didn’t want to fight or kick or punch his way out of an uncomfortable situation when you were next to him. 

That, and Roy had felt the unmistakable struggle of something else for practically half his life. It was nagging, and made his chest hurt. Those thoughts of self-loathing, of exposure, of isolation, were something so ingrained that he’d never thought they would be a problem when it came to actually being happy. But, they were. They really fucking were. 

The truth was, Roy Kent didn’t want to drag you– marvellous, intelligent, too-good-for-him you– into his nightmare of a life. Full of uncertainty, or unfulfilled self-worth, of all of it. 

So, that was that. 

You continued working, but reluctantly. Thoughts of Roy pelted your mind, utterly impossible to ignore. You didn’t have time to ponder the possibility of leaving Pluto Press, or doing something different, not when your workload was stacked high. The beginning of December brought buzz about Christmas, but you hardly felt festive. Roy was working hard over at Sky, as were the boys at Richmond. You still kept up with them all, and getting updates from Sam was practically routine now. 

As you jumped off the tube at Richmond after a busy week, your phone buzzed to reveal another text from Sam, but what he’d written made you stop in your tracks. 

Forgot to tell you. Jamie Tartt is back. He started training again today. 

You flashed back to the ordeal from a few months prior, when Sam had stormed off the pitch after seeing Ted at the pub with the ex-Man City superstar. You knew that Ted would have made it clear about bringing Tartt back to the guys, but that didn’t stop you from feeling uncertain. You wanted to think that Jamie had turned a new leaf, but your gut still coiled at the thought of him back at the club. 

Perhaps you were insane, or over-tired, or still reeling after your fake date, but you changed your course home and headed for the Dogtrack without hesitation. Tartt needed to know what was what, and you didn’t care being the person to do that. You imagined it would be harder for Ted to do so, or the guys themselves after all that he’d done last season.

You stormed through the doors off the car park, navigating the corridors down to the lower level, until you stomped your way through the tunnel to the pitch. You launched the door open quickly, not stopping to wave off the confused stares from Ted, Beard and Nate at the edge of the pitch. The guys ran around on the grass, finishing up their final game of their practice. You cut it all short as you propelled your way onto the cold, damp ground. Isaac was the first to stop and stare, whacking Colin on his back to make him aware of your presence too. The trickle of twenty pairs of eyes headed your way immediately, as you cut across Dani and Bumbercatch without a word, headed for one player in particular: number nine, Jamie fucking Tartt.

“Hey!” you exclaimed to him, and a handful of players flinched. 

Jamie whipped his stare away from the ball at his feet, and slowed to a confused stop as you approached him.  “Hey…” he said smally, utterly boggled at your presence. You stopped in front of him, brows furrowed sternly, as you tried to adopt Roy’s resting bitch face. “What’re you–?”

You cut him off by jabbing your pointer finger into his chest. He stepped back once, and rubbed the spot you’d hit him in. “You,” you said strongly.

Jamie’s face warped into concern. “Me?” he said, and his Mancunian accent hit your ears for the first time in several months. You prepared yourself, and even further blocked out the questioning looks that littered the pitch. 

“See this team?” You gestured to the guys quickly. “They’ve worked really fucking hard this season, after the relegation.”

“Okay?” Jamie squeaked out. 

“I’m not questioning Ted’s decision to bring you back,” you continued, holding your ground. “But, know this, Tartt.” You said his name like Roy would, with subtle disdain, with a strength behind it that communicated you were serious. “Being back here is a privilege, not a right, and you need to know that.”

Jamie’s confusion disappeared instantly. His face softened, and was replaced with something resembling guilt. It was a look you’d never seen him wear before, but one that you welcomed in that moment. He needed to know that things wouldn’t be like last time. He needed to know that people like you gave a shit. 

Jamie placed his hands on his hips, and nodded at the ground. “Okay,” he said lowly, before meeting your eye. You raised your brows at him, perhaps in warning. He breathed out quickly. “This is a privilege, not a right,” he repeated to you. 

“Good.” You nodded, and smiled just a little. “Welcome back.” 

Tartt nodded at you in acknowledgement, and you stepped back to show you were done. The guys shuffled behind you, muttering to themselves as you swivelled on your heels and headed back the way you came. When you looked at the various faces around you, Sam was the only one who was properly smiling. He knew you’d done it for him, for all of them. 

Beard hit Ted’s shoulder quickly, and the Texan jumped forward abruptly, until he walked beside you. “All okay, Writer?” he asked, and you smiled wider.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“Oh, no bother,” Ted said. “Though, perhaps a heads up would have been appreciated.”

You laughed gently. “Noted. Won’t happen again, Coach, I promise.”

Ted laid his hand on your shoulder, and his confused expression turned to gold. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” you said softly. 

“Got any holiday plans?” Ted asked, as the two of you reached the edge of the pitch. You turned back to the guys and practice resumed. 

You shook your head. “Not really. With how busy the office is around Christmas, there’s no point in me going home for it. I’ll probably have to work between Christmas and the New Year.”

Ted hummed in understanding. “Same as us, for sure. We’ve got a match on Boxing Day.”

You hummed in response, as yourself and Ted looked slightly sunken after your small catch up. You’d always spent Christmas with your family, so it would be odd not doing so this year. You tried to think of the perks, though– a pub roast on the day, a drink with Mae at the bar, and an early night before the match and your inevitable workload afterwards. 

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that’s what you were telling to yourself. 

“Hey!” Sam called from the pitch, jogging over to you and Ted cheerily. “If you have no plans for Christmas day, Mr Higgins is hosting all of Richmond's overseas players. I know that a good few of us are going this year.” Sam smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Do you reckon it would be okay for me to join?” you asked. 

Sam shrugged. “You are a part of Richmond, and you are away from your home. I do not see why not.”

“Very good point well made, Sam,” Ted said softly. Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll come.” 

Sam leaned forward and gently grabbed your forearm, squeezing slightly as his fingers coiled around you. He got in close to you. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled back and sent you a knowing look. “You are too good to us.” You scoffed to yourself, just from a lack of how to react. 

As Sam jumped back and headed towards the team, he sent you one final glowing review from home: “We all miss you around here!” he exclaimed, before fully rejoining the guys. 

You gulped back your feelings, the hurt, the want, all of it. If you’d allowed yourself to speak back, all your walls would have crumbled instantly. You would have found yourself immediately saying Please let me come back.

Please, let me come home. 

On Saturday afternoon, your phone was ringing off the hook. Not that you could do anything about it, as you found yourself in an altercation with the newly moved-in upstairs neighbour. For days on end, all you’d heard was stomp stomp stomp from above. It was so frequent and so loud that you’d been rudely awoken in the early hours of the morning on multiple occasions.

You were trying this thing where you were being stronger. You were trying this thing where you wouldn’t let people give you shit that you didn’t ask for, nor deserve. When you thought about it in depth, you were actually just trying to be more like Roy. 

As you slammed your front door shut, you sighed deeply. The footsteps from upstairs had gone uncharacteristically quiet, so perhaps you’d actually got through to them. In the kitchen, your phone continued to buzz incessantly. You bound over and were met with something that should have instilled the fear of God into your bones: over ten missed calls, and multiple texts from yours truly, Roy fucking Kent. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered to yourself, as you scrolled through the messages. 

OI!

Pick up the fucking phone.

You’re not gonna believe this shit. 

I’m going on the air in two minutes, hurry the fuck up. 

Guess you’ll just have to watch my mug talk about it on TV.

All messages were sent in a five minute period, not two minutes before. His last call had been one you’d missed by a mere minute. He’d be on Soccer Saturday by now, so you’d just have to see what the fuck was up as it aired. 

When the first advert break hit, you were smiling from smugness. Not that there was any competition between you and Roy when it came to football– he would obviously win– but this time around you felt superior. 

It was about Jamie’s return to Richmond. All that Roy had been calling and messaging you about was Ted bringing the superstar back to the team, and guess what? You’d fucking found out before him. 

During the break, your phone inevitably rang again. You picked it up swiftly, and didn’t even bother talking. Roy growled on the other end. “Did you fucking watch it?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, still smiling to yourself. 

Roy went silent for just a second too long, and you could hear the cogs whirring in his head. “You already fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed again, fully smiling now. 

“For fucks sake!” he exclaimed. “I should have known your fucking fanbase would have spilled.”

“Sam told me yesterday,” you said. “I actually– well, I went to the Dogtrack after he told me.”

“Oh?” Roy questioned. 

“I may have let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Did you give that little twat what for?”

You squished the features on your face together, thinking back to your abrupt arrival and yelling match on the pitch. “Yes…” 

Roy paused, and your heart stalled. “Good girl,” he said. 

You swallowed away the visceral reaction that reverberated through your chest, but still let out a small choking sound. You played it off as a cough, before you quickly changed the subject. “So, are you doing anything for Christmas?”

“I’ve got Phoebe. We’re gonna attempt to watch all the Harry Potter films in one day. It might get fucking ugly.” Roy paused again, and you had this horrible feeling he was about to– “Want to join us?” 

You clamped your eyes shut. Your heart plummeted into your gut. If he’d asked you this a few weeks back, before the conversation, before the date, before all of it, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Now, even if you’d wanted to go, you wouldn’t be able to after agreeing to join the guys at the Higgins household. But that was just it– after facing the music, and realising that Roy didn’t want anything more, you knew it would be easier for your heart if you stayed away from moments like that.

Moments where it was you and him, him and you. 

“Oh, Roy,” you let out. “That sounds fantastic, really, but I’ve already got plans with the team. I’m sorry.”

Roy knew it was a long shot. He knew you could’ve been going home to see family, but knowing that you were actually staying in Richmond was even more of a blow. You’d be mere miles away with the team, close enough to fucking be around if he tried. Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t wise. 

It was him that stopped all this in the first place– it should be him to uphold the friendship and not blur the lines. It wouldn’t be fair to you otherwise. 

“No problem,” Roy said through gritted teeth, trying to sound fine. “Really, it’s fine. You’ve been missing Richmond again, haven’t you?” 

You scoffed gently. “You could fucking say that again.” You wanted to ask him the same, as you harboured a feeling that he missed the team just as much as you did, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

Roy copied you, letting out a huff of air softly. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” Over the line, the shrill sound of a bell rang and a tannoy yelled Back on air in one minute! 

You frowned slightly. “Is that your cue?”

“Yeah, it is,” Roy said lowly. 

“You better get back to it.”

“Hm,” Roy growled. Neither one of you wanted to hang up, though. It was plain to fucking see. “I’ll, uh, see you in the new year then.”

“Have a good Christmas, Roy,” you said, almost painfully. 

“You too.” Then, he was gone. 

Waking up alone on Christmas morning was a new feeling. Your apartment was empty, besides yourself and your haphazard decorations, strewn up quickly in the small amount of time you had at home over the weeks leading up to the big day. It was oddly comforting, though, as you operated to your own schedule and weren’t met with the immediate task of dealing with family for a week straight. 

Your phone was full of Christmas messages. Ones from Keeley and Rebecca, from Ted and Beard. One from Nate made you smile, alongside various well-wishes from the local Richmond guys who wouldn’t be in attendance at Higgins’s. 

You drank your coffee happily, and got yourself ready without any time pressures. Walking over to the Higgins’ household was refreshing, as snow graced the ground in all its splendour. Richmond around Christmas time was truly magical, and it made you feel equally as reflective about your time in this part of London. A year and a half had gone so quickly. 

You passed the Crown and Anchor, and smiled at the buskers singing outside. Last Christmas drifted through the air rightfully, and you shrugged your shoulders up to your ears warmly and watched for a minute. 

Down the small side street by the pub, the unmistakable silhouettes of one Ted Lasso and one Rebecca Welton strolled alongside one another. You turned to face them, and could hardly believe your luck. Rebecca’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, and her long arms spread wide to encase you in a hug. 

“Merry Christmas, darling!” she exclaimed warmly, equally happy about bumping into you. 

When you pulled away, she was very quickly replaced by Ted. He wrapped his arms around you instantly. “What a small world, huh!” 

“Small indeed,” you chuckled.

Ted parted from you, and your cheeks already hurt from smiling as you looked at them both before you. “Where are you two off to? Ted, I thought you were having Facetime Christmas with Michelle and Henry?”

Ted frowned ever so slightly. “Well, some things in this life are impossible to control, and I think seven year old boys definitely fit in that category.” You smiled at him in understanding. “Lucky for me, though, the Boss was right there when I needed her.”

“We’re off to play Santa,” Rebecca chimed in. “Definitely beats what I did last year. That was right after Rupert… well. You know.” She smiled subtly. 

“Are you off to the Higgins’s already?” Ted asked. 

You nodded. “I wanted to get there a little early and help Julie if she needed it. Having a house full of footballers doesn’t strike me as something easy.”

“You can sure say that again,” Ted let out. Rebecca chuckled in agreement. 

“What about Roy, what’s he up to?” Rebecca asked. You inhaled a sharp breath, but smiled all the same. You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest, and the hoard of butterflies that ravaged through your stomach. 

You shrugged. “Don’t know.” It was a lie, but you couldn’t be fucked to explain it all. The invitation, the conversation. You hadn’t told her, nor Keeley, about what had happened after the double date. You didn’t want to. 

Ted’s face softened. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, Writer. Have a good one. You deserve it.”

Rebecca encased you in another hug. “You really do,” she whispered. You knew what it meant. 

Roy looked at his phone grumpily. Not that looking at his phone un-grumpily was something he did often, but he was extra grumpy as he traversed his Christmas messages that morning. There was nothing from you, no small text, no Facebook post, no message sent by carrier-fucking-pigeon. 

“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe called, as the pitter patter of her bare feet erupted down the stairs and straight towards him. She crashed into him as he sat at the dining table, and latched herself onto him. “Can we do presents now?”

Roy took one last glance at his phone, before he dropped it on the table. He turned back to his niece, taking in her puppy-dog eyes and features that looked just like his sister. “Fuck yeah,” he said. 

Phoebe squealed at the top of her lungs, before swivelling on her tiny toes and sprinting towards the tree in the living room. Roy watched her go, smiling to himself as she dropped to the floor and started rifling through the wrapped gifts. 

It was true that he wished you were here. You’d probably have arrived right about now, wearing something cosy like a lumper jumper, and holding a bottle of prosecco for later. You’d have brought gifts, no doubt. Some Barbie situation for Phoebe, or another thing suited for a seven year old girl. Phoebe would have loved it.

You would have brought something for him, too. Something that you might have been worrying about for a few weeks, concerned that he wouldn’t like it when, in fact, you could have got him a bag of literal dog shit and he would have still said thank you. 

Roy swallowed away the images that his head made up. He did it often now, thought of what could have been, what might have been his future, if he wasn’t such a fucking git– or, if you weren’t so fucking perfect that it scared him half to death. 

“Julie! I’ve washed the sprouts!” you yelled from the Higgins’ family kitchen. It was a quaint house, and you wondered how the fuck they fit four boys and two grown adults so easily inside.  

“Fabulous.” Julie rounded the corner from the living room, holding two empty plates that only held crumbs. “Another plate of mince pies is all gone. I don’t know where those boys put it all!”

The doorbell rang like clockwork, and with every ring brought another team member, or two, or four. You hugged everyone as they filed into the kitchen, dropping coats and bags and another plate of food until every counter and surface was covered in another cultural dish. It was fantastic, and you found yourself feeling more part of a family than you ever had at Christmasses in the past. There was no drama, no political debates, and no screaming matches with your mother. It was blissful. 

When Dani arrived, the room erupted in greeting. He approached Julie first and offered her his dish. “Mrs Higgins, I bring you my mother’s punch, and some Mezcal on the side, as she says I am already cheeky enough.” 

Julie chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Dani.” She took the punchbowl from him, and lifted the foil. Immediately, the room was met with the metallic scent of alcohol. Tequila was very much already present in this punch. “God– it seems like you’ve already added some to this.”

Dani grinned. “Yes, I may have cheekified this one for you already.”

You chopped carrots a few metres away from them, but turned to Dani with your knife raised. “Someone get me a fucking glass of that.” Sam obliged as you continued chopping, and the group of the guys got themselves a drink too. The festivities were well underway. 

“Here you are,” Sam said, placing a glass of punch beside you. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You wiped your hands and stopped cooking for just a moment, as he raised his own glass in waiting. You smiled and hovered yours next to his, feeling infinitely warm already. “What are we toasting to?” you asked. 

“To you,” he said gently. “Just because you deserve it.”

You chuckled, embarrassed. “Everyone’s been saying that lately,” you said quietly. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because it is our job to remind you of it, especially when you cannot see it yourself.” Sam looked at you softly, and you knew he was being genuine. You clinked glasses, as your eyes welled ever so slightly. It was moments like these that made you feel known, really really known, but also desperately sad. 

Why weren’t you with them every fucking day of the week?

Leslie let in another three of the guys, and as they clambered inside a problem arose. “You’ve become quite popular, Leslie!” Julie exclaimed happily. 

“Yes, it seems so,” Higgins said. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it. Where are we all going to sit?”

You took the roast potatoes out of the oven and dropped them on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea to fix that,” you said. 

You tucked in your chair last, and looked around the room. A table as long as a train carriage graced the Higgins household, made from the likes of a surfboard and a pool table, amongst other things. Sam sat opposite you, casting you with a golden glow whenever he so much as smiled. 

At the end of the table, Higgins stood up. Every pair of eyes in the house shot his way, and he raised his glass to the sky. “Here’s to another successful Christmas in Richmond!”

Sam raised his glass higher than all else. “And here’s to the family Higgins!”

As darkness set in outside, you all ate and were merry in each other’s presence. Spending time with the team was always special to you, but this moment stood out above all the rest. It marked the start of another year in Richmond, and just over six months at Pluto Press. It marked a year and a half of an unlikely friendship between yourself and Roy, and all the rest.

You ate more than your own bodyweight, but to your utter surprise, at the end of the meal your head was spinning. You took a sip of your drink, and stopped to stare at the contents of your glass. It was full to the brim, but had been almost empty just a moment before. Had that been happening all evening?

You glanced at Sam, but the punchbowl was nowhere near him. When you glanced to your left, however– “I think this punch needs just a bit more cheekiness!” Dani exclaimed, as he poured in another few shots of tequila to the mix. 

You grabbed his bicep gently. “Dani, have you been filling up my glass all night?” you asked. 

Dani nodded happily. “Sí, mi amigo. My mother never believed in empty glasses. A glass cannot be half empty, or half full, it always has to be full full!” he exclaimed. The boys around him cheered and raised their very full glasses. 

“Well.” You scoffed abruptly to yourself. “Shit,” you said. 

Dani turned back to you, eyes gleaming. “Oh my goodness, are you–?” He mimed tipping back a full glass, and you laughed so loudly that the entire table was alerted to you. Dani grabbed your shoulder fondly. “My friends, it seems our Writer has been– how do you say it in English?”

Bumbercatch leant forward, smiling wildly. “Trollied, bevved, battered–”

Dani stood up abruptly. “She has been trollied, bevved and battered!” He raised his glass high, and clinked it with the guys down his end of the table. 

Meanwhile, you were just calming down from an uncontrollable laughing fit. You glanced at your very full glass, and a small part of your brain told you not to drink it. You’d already had far too much, and you knew what you got like when tequila was in your system. On the other hand, you thought of Roy. 

And he would have told you to buck the fuck up and drink the whole fucking thing. 

You raised your glass to the sky. “To Richmond!” 

The guys followed suit, almost knocking over the surfboard table. “To Richmond!” 

As you stumbled through town, after declining multiple attempts from the guys to drive you home or get you an Uber, you found yourself heading elsewhere. Not home, to the comfort of your bed and a full loaf of bread for you to soak up all of Dani’s Mezcal. Instead, your legs were taking you the familiar route to Roy’s house. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it wasn’t too late for him to be asleep. You were proved right, as you rounded the corner to his drive and saw the living room lights still on, no matter how dimly lit he liked them to be. 

As you approached his front door, the small bit of your logical brain that you had left was screaming at you to fuck off and turn around. This was silly, you knew, but you couldn’t fathom going home just yet. Innately, you landed upon yelling surprise! or starting to sing carols in Roy’s face as soon as he opened his door. Somehow, those ideas seemed like the perfect idea, and not at all fucking stupid.

You knocked on the solid oak door strongly, ready to surprise the hell out of him, but when he opened the door and peered down at you– all your words failed. 

Roy wore the remnants of a suit, and a fancy one at that. His tie was loose around his neck, and his shirt was slightly untucked at the bottom, but not enough to not notice the belt that sat snug around his waist. You scanned him up and down quickly– or as quickly as you could in this fucking state. To Roy, your checking him out took a solid ten seconds, or longer. 

When you met his eyes again, he couldn’t hide the amused smile on his face any longer. “Can I help you?” he asked. 

“I may have had a bit to drink,” you said, and as hard as you tried you couldn’t stop your words from slurring. “Dani made punch.”

“Did that punch happen to punch you in the fucking face?” Roy huffed.

You nodded. “Juuust a little bit,” you let out. 

Roy moved to the side. “Fucking get in here,” he said warmly.

You struggled to take off your boots, as Roy grabbed a few drinks from the kitchen. He oversaw you in his entryway, shrugging off your coat clumsily. When you stepped onto his floor in your socks, you skidded and let out a squeak. 

Roy looked away quickly, trying to harden his expression. Watching you inebriated and without inhibitions was enough to make his gut coil. You stumbled to the kitchen, and leaned against the kitchen island just to keep yourself up-right. 

He slid you a beer, which you took without question. “I really don’t need this, do I?” you said, looking to Roy for approval. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “But, it’s Christmas.” 

“Right you are,” you said. The two of you clinked your bottles together, and you swigged back your beer as if it were water. Roy chuckled so hard that beer frothed out of his mouth. 

“Fucking hell, come on.” He grabbed your bicep gently, and led you to the living room. 

You practically jumped onto the sofa, and got yourself comfortable immediately. “I love Christmas,” you whittled on. Roy sat on the other side of you, and took a swig of his own beer. “All the lights, and the snow, and everyone together. I just love it.”

“I take it that spending the day with the team was nice?”

“Just the best!” you exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky and almost dropping beer onto Roy’s plush carpet. He took another amused swig, just to distract himself. “How was your day with Phoebe?”

“We got to Order of the Phoenix before she fucking fell asleep,” he said. “She gave it a good shot.” 

In the corner of his eye, Roy spotted the last present beneath his tree, and remembered who it was for. As you busied yourself by pulling off the sticker from your bottle, Roy got up swiftly and headed to pick it up. He placed his beer down as he grabbed it, and opened the card on the top. 

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy. 

His handwriting was shit, and he knew it, but he thought that now was as good a time as any to give it to you. It was Christmas after all. 

“Hey, so. I don’t know what’s got me being such a pussy this year, but I got you something,” he said, keeping his back turned to you. “You don’t have to open it now, just thought it would be nice.” He turned back to you, expecting you to be looking at him with those large, glassy eyes that he’d looked into a thousand fucking times.

Roy relaxed when he saw you, and a bubbly laugh ejected itself from his mouth. You were fast asleep on his sofa, beer balanced precariously on your chest as you breathed rhythmically. Your expression was soft, and your mouth was open, ready to emit some serious snoring. Roy strolled back to you slowly, placing your present on the coffee table. He grabbed the beer from your chest and replaced it by pulling a blanket over you warmly. You didn’t stir, utterly unconscious from such a fun packed day. 

He’d never seen you like this– with your guard completely down. He felt privileged to know you felt comfortable enough to feel so at home like this. In his house, completely pissed, next to him. 

Something new came over Roy as he made sure you were comfortable, and before he could stop himself, he leant down and placed a kiss on your forehead. Just a peck, and so fast and soft as not to wake you up. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. 

Roy left you on his sofa, at peace, and turned off the lights as he headed for bed himself. On the way up, he thought about the last year and a half of having you in his life. All the ups and the downs, all the confusion and the clarity– and what a time it had fucking been. 

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl@royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff @ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses@sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant @pedritosgirl2000 @loveslide @ryleyrooroo @hanybunch @tweasley20 @witchyanya-7 @sareim123122 @jaymum @lwritesstuff 

[belaofarc]

✩࿐࿔ Phone call

Step dad!John wick x reader

Summary: You’re needy step dad John interrupts your phone call for night time activities.

TW: NSFW, stepcest, strong language

Word count: 1902

It’s late at night and you’re on the phone with your best friend, conversing about random topics.

“Soooo… how’s that step dad of yours?” She asked flirtatiously

“Shut up, he’s not that hot!”

You exclaimed, trying not to sound too enthralled.

“Ugh fine Anyways, there's this guy at my work and he’s really hot, I want him so bad I wanna cry like he needs to come place a ring on my finger.”

“What does he look like?” You asked curiously

Lilium sent you his account while going on forever about her hot co worker.

Until you heard a noise at your door.

Your step dad walks in, his eyes tired, but you could tell he was extremely needy.

And when your mom wasn’t home or awake to satisfy his needs, your always his go too.

He gets on top of you, your bottom half kinda hanging off the bed, as your laying across your bed.

you flash him an annoyed look, Causing him to grab you by the hair.

“Why are you being so bitchy tonight, don’t act like you don’t beg me to fuck that wet cunt every chance you get, now that your on the phone with that little friend of yours you wanna act different, god forbid she knew you were such a cock slut for your own step father.”

He teased in a menacing tone.

“Yeah John, as if” you replied back while rolling your eyes, you go back to listening to Lilium’s ramblings.

until you go blank as your step dad starts playing with your cunt.

His large veiny middle finger slowly going in and out your tight cunt making wet noises.

“Wet for me already” he teased

You cover your mouth to silence your moans, you want to be loud but you know what would happen if your mom caught the two of you together.

“Mmmmm” you accidentally slip out, john bends down near your ear to shush you, while placing kisses on your neck.

“What did you say?”

Asked Lilium concerned cause you haven’t said anything for a while, as she was rambling.

“Oh yes, i agree you should totally ask for his n-number, he seems t-totally with it”

You stutter out while your step dad is still fingering your wet cunt with his pointer and middle finger.

“Purk that pretty ass up for daddy” He growled.

You hesitated a bit, a little nervous cause your friend would probably be able to hear every little noise, but you complied.

“You're such a good girl for daddy doing as your told and being such a good little slut.”

He degraded you as he started sliding his 12 inch cock along your cunt.

“Mhm~” you muffledly replied back with your hand covering your mouth trying not to make any noise, very nervous and a little overwhelmed at how easy it is to make you melt as his touch.

You were practically a slave to his dick and he knew it.

“Y-you should maybe ask for his Instagram, just say you would like to hang out after work or s-something”

You told Lilium trying to pretend like your not being stimulated by your own step father.

“Yes I was thinking that too but I’m too nervous… might have to hold him at gunpoint for it”

“He’s finna meet his ma-“

You were shortly cut off from your sentence as your step dad had started entering your tight cunt, every inch he got deeper filling you up, a mix between pain and pleasure. Making you feel like you're suffocating, trying your best not to moan as loud as you can to alarm Lilium nor your sleeping mother.

“That’s right, that’s my good little princess. Begging your step dad to fuck you while your mother is asleep in the other room… but you like that, don’t you?”

He teased while simultaneously pounding your insides making you want to do nothing but cry from the fact you're practically being torn apart by your moms fiance.

“Y-yes daddy…” You accidentally choked.

“Y/n… no we aren’t doing this tonight” Said Lilium making it clear she can hear your moans but thinks your fake moaning, in which case you could NOT let her find out your being fucked by your own step dad.

“I’m just being silly tonight.” You replied while huffing.

Mouth halfway open from salvation at how good it feels finally being satisfied.

“You better stop being so loud princess, or you’ll get us caught”

His words not doing anything but making you want to make more loud noises at how his words vibrate into your ears making you wanna cum.

You put your phone down, the feelings of his cock too much to not ignore.

“F-fuck yes” You huffed as he continues to stretch your aching cunt, causing you to put your hand over your mouth trying not to make any loud accidental noises

“Mmm you love when daddy fucks you don’t you?” his hands placed on both your sides as he continues pounding you mercilessly.

You’re so cock drunk you can’t even hear what Lilium nor your step dad is telling you anymore, All you know is that you never want this feeling to end.

“Fuck- I mean yes I agree your manager is a bitch”

“That’s what I’m saying like I’m so, so tired of her I just… I just can’t”

She replied back in a fustrated tone.

“That’s right keep talking baby, I’m not even here” said John as he’s still plowing your cunt, the idea of your dad fucking you whilst your trying your best not to make any sound, driving you mad.

“I’m fixing to cum princess… be prepared”

His words slipping off his tongue but as before it’s all muffled all you can focus on is his cock hitting your womb, every thrust making you tear up, at how beautiful and lustful it feels.

You can feel him pounding you harder, slowly becoming sloppyer his orgasm timing with yours.

You place your head in your pillow to try and muffle your moan.

As your orgasm is still hitting, he’s still teasing you. Going in and out your cunt, overstimulating you to the brink of no return.

“I love this tight cunt of yours, if I could I’d be inside you all day princess.” He teased peppering kisses on your neck.

He finally pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath. As his cum slowly leaks out of you.

“Be a good girl and clean daddy up, princess” He says trying to maintain composure at how high his orgasm was.

“And bring your phone over as well there's no need to stop talking to your friend while helping me out baby, I don’t wanna take that away from you”

You hesitantly complied and lifted yourself from the bed, grabbed your phone and got onto your knees.

“Good girl” He praised you as he brushed his fingers through your hair.

You place the phone up to your ears, as you start to slowly place kisses onto his cock.

“You still their Y/N?” Asked Lilium cause you’ve been “quiet” for a while.

“Hey yeah, I’m still here. I'm just reading this fanfic about Tate Langdon.” You said trying to save yourself and explain why you haven’t been replying.

“My husband … as you should” She said in a joking manner.

You start to lick his base slowly leading back up to his tip, John and your juices filling the taste buds of your tongue. you can’t help but be entranced at how good it tasted.

You look up to see john with his mouth open trying to not moan, at how good your warm mouth feels teasing his dick.

“Did I ever tell you tate Langdon was suppose to have a brother?”

You exclaimed to Lilium trying to make conversation trying not to sound too dry so she doesn’t hang up.

You start to slowly take the length down your throat trying hard not to make any gagging noises.

“We ain’t gonna talk about that mother fucker cause if they placed him in that show I’d hurt that MF threw the Tv screen, Willy wonka type shit.”

Lilium replied riled up

You start to choke at how hilarious this comment was to you.

Your step dad finding it amusing your choking and tearing up at how you're taking him to the back of your throat trying not to choke to death.

“Girl- are you okay, I got you on the floor dying” Lilium started laughing

His dick finally slips from your throat, while you're still having a coughing fit.

“Yes” cough “I’m okay you got me on the floor descended i swear.”

“The usual”

You start to slowly take his length once again, practically begging for him to face fuck you. You can’t help but think of the fact of your own step dad face fucking you makes you extremely wet.

You hate to admit it cause your so stubborn but you just can’t help yourself when it’s right in your face .

You start to devour his dick taking every inch going back and forth, making very few but muffled gags as he starts to face fuck you.

Your saliva and his juices leaking from your mouth making bubbly noises.

At this point you can’t help but not care that your friend is on the other line, wondering what the everloving hell is going on with you.

All you can hear is the sound of gurgling and wet noises as he starts to fasten his pace, his orgasm slowly building up.

You look up to see he’s staring right at you, his dark eyes full of hunger and despair, he needs this high or he’ll go crazy, and you know this, so you allow him to continue, knowing you could pass out at any time from the fact he won’t allow you to pull away to catch your breath. Your mouth is aching and sore from taking his large length.

He starts to pour his liquids down your throat, you could feel every ounce shoot straight through you.

His grunt becoming deeper and deeper as he continues to pour more liquids into your warm throat.

He finally pulls out, his head falling back, catching his breath after chasing such a high.

You always wondered how this man could have such a huge load.

But regardless you took it like a good girl.

He pulled out and you place one last kiss onto his dick.

You stand you up and John peppers a kiss onto your forehead.

“Your such a good girl for taking care of daddy tonight. Sweet dreams princess”

He starts to place his clothes back on.

Lilium still on the other line silent.

“H-hey im back im sorry about that, I had to go do something with my mom and I had left the Tv running”

You made up a some lame excuse, to not cause any controversy.

“Girl- I thought you were taking dick I was finna sayyy~”

Lilium said teasingly

“Yeahhhh no… you know I’m in my virgin era”

You replied back, still stunned from the encounter.

“Yeah whatever-“

[ranger-elizabeth]

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”

Hey! I just saw your prompt post and this one reminded me so bad of like something Gale totally had thought was normal (be it like a childhood trauma result or smth) and then John just going “uhhh… no.”

Love your blog btw !

Hi anon! Thanks so much for the ask and for saying you love my blog! @joeyalohadream requested the same prompt (tysm for the ask as well!!) and I had this almost completely finished before I got yours. I'm glad we had the same idea! This is set a couple of weeks after Gale and John first meet as flying cadets at Randolph Field, TX.

Prompt: "I'm fine. This just happens sometimes. It's normal for me."

Word count: 1081

Despite the sun having already dipped behind the horizon, the darkness does nothing to relieve the sweltering heat of the Texas summer as their small group makes the short walk to the bar off-base. With the day off tomorrow, Bucky had managed to convince several of the men to accompany him in letting loose tonight.

Most impressively, Bucky had managed to convince his straight-laced, new roommate Gale Cleven, or Buck, as Bucky had taken to calling him. The minute Bucky had laid eyes on the gorgeous, golden wonder that was Gale Cleven, he knew he had to stake his claim before it was too late. And so, he’d slung an arm around his shoulders and fumbled out some story about Gale looking just like “his old friend Buck, from Manitowoc, Wisconsin.” 

As it turned out, not only was Gale the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on, he was also a damn good pilot, surprisingly shy for his looks and skill, and somehow impenetrable to any of the vices that regular people fall victim to. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t dance. And yet, here he is, braving the stifling Texas heat with the rest of them only to inevitably stay seated quietly for the evening, likely nursing a ginger beer.

It had taken surprisingly little pleading from Bucky to get him to agree to come. While they’ve only known each other for the couple of weeks they’ve been flying cadets, their status as roommates means that they’ve been living out of each other's pockets for that time, and Bucky already knows he’s found a best friend for life in Gale.

He can be happy with that—a best friend—despite the way his heart pounds in his chest everytime he so much as looks at Gale. He knows he has to be happy with that, unless he wants a one way blue ticket home before he barely even gets started. Yet, he can’t help but wonder if Gale would have still agreed to come out tonight if anyone other than Bucky had been asking.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bucky realizes they’ve reached their destination. After ordering their first round of drinks—several whiskeys, and, as Bucky predicted, a ginger beer for Gale—the men scatter around the bar. 

Bucky stays with Gale for a while, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing, before deciding it’s time to take to the dance floor. Despite Bucky’s best efforts, Gale refuses to join him. Bucky figures he ought to cut his losses and just be grateful that Gale came out with them at all, so he leaves him be. He finds a beautiful blonde to dance with who looks a little too much like Gale to be a coincidence, and they have fun together for a few songs before Bucky finds himself longing to get back to his friend.

He slides into the booth next to Gale, knocking his shoulder against his friend’s. Two other guys from their program sit on the other side of Gale, but they’re engaged in some sort of animated debate and seemingly don’t notice Bucky’s approach.

“You having fun?” Bucky asks.

Gale shrugs. “I reckon you’re having enough fun for the both of us,” he says teasingly, a small smile gracing his lips.

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by the sound of a glass shattering across the bar. Some idiot must’ve dropped their drink, he thinks, not yet noticing the way Gale is tensed beside him. But then, the man on Gale’s other side tosses his hands up in the air in whatever conversation they’re having, and Gale flinches hard. 

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky questions worriedly, trying to catch Gale’s eyes. When he looks into them, they’re glassy and despondent. Bucky notices the way Gale’s breaths are coming shallower, his hands shaking where they rest on the table. “Buck?” Bucky tries again, with no luck. 

“Okay,” Bucky breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, come on.” Slowly, so as not to startle him further, he wraps an arm around Gale’s shoulders and encourages him out of the booth, guiding him outside into the fresh air. There, they sit on the curb of the sidewalk, Gale seemingly still lost in his head, if his unsteady breathing and faraway gaze are anything to go by. Bucky strokes a hand gently up and down his back and waits. 

Finally, Gale lets out a shaky exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before speaking. He doesn’t look Bucky in the eyes, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the street in front of them. “Sorry about that.” 

Bucky drops his hand from Gale’s back, not wanting to push his luck. “No, don’t apologize,” he says, shaking his head. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me,” Gale responds casually, brushing off Bucky’s concerns. “We can go back in, if you want.”

Bucky stares at him incredulously. Not two minutes ago, Gale had been shaking and unresponsive despite Bucky’s best efforts, and now he’s suggesting they go back into the bar like nothing happened? “Do you want to go back in?”

Gale looks sheepish. “Well, no, not really. But I don’t want to ruin your guys’ night.”

“You’re not ruining anything. You’re the one I wanted to hang out with anyways,” Bucky says, trying to ignore the faint blush rising on Gale’s cheeks at his admission. Though it makes Bucky’s heart flutter with hope, now is clearly not the time to dwell on it. “Seriously, though, are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just… My dad liked to drink,” Gale starts hesitantly, wringing his hands in his lap. “And when he drank he got mean. Violent. Sometimes, things remind me of it, I guess.”

Bucky’s stomach drops at the implication in Gale’s words. The thought of anyone, especially Gale’s own father, intentionally hurting the kind, thoughtful man in front of him is enough to have him seeing red. Gale’s father better hope Bucky never crosses paths with him or he’ll have another thing coming. But, for now, Gale needs him, so Bucky pushes his anger down.

“C’mon, let's get you back to the bunks,” Bucky says softly, standing and offering a hand to Gale to help him up. Gale takes it, allowing Bucky to pull him up from the curb.

And if they stay there a little longer than necessary before letting go to start their walk back to base, well, that’s no one’s business but theirs.

[wxnheart]

So i had this dream were I had a HUGE crush on alejandro but he was giving all gis attention to my friend and wouldn't even glance at me, so i came up with an idea. How would the 141 and alejandro (or just alejandro would be fine) react to their s/o being sad because they had a dream like me? Or a dream where the boys cheat on the s/o? Thanks in advance!

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐒𝐅 - 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏/𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

note: So when I first saw this request, I immediately thought of this video I came across not too long ago. And now... I immediately associate these two things together. I am deeply sorry, anon.

Captain John Price - He was actually having a rather nice dream about you. When you told him about your dream, Price immediately sought to allay your fears and next thing you know, he's got you wrapped up in his arms. No, darling, his heart is for you and you alone. ...No, he wasn't laughing in his sleep, what in the hell are you talking about?

Gaz - You actually startled him out of his sleep. Yeah, uh... Gaz is normally on top of his responses. Normally. This time he's, uh, confused. Which leads to a delayed reaction. ("I... uh... I'm sorry?") Which in turn makes you feel like shit. The fuck he means he's sorry?! Let's just say it takes him some time to calm you down... and get back in your good graces.

Soap - You actually don't stay mad at him for long because he's the goodest of boys and you know for an absolute fact that Soap wouldn't stray. Still doesn't help totally shake the feeling away but he does his best to reassure you. You two practically cuddle until you're asleep again.

Ghost - Aw shit, here we go again. ("What the hell do you mean 'again', Simon?!") You're ranting and raving and Ghost is glaring staring at you because he was TRYING to get some sleep (he'll be damned if he doesn't get a bang for his buck from these pillows). You get even more upset when he mentions that you've had the same dream before and like the last couple of times, nothing. happened. Baby, listen to him. Nothing. Fucking. Happened. And what fucking friend? Congratulations, you're BOTH in the doghouse, you for once again fretting over shit that will never happen, and Simon for bringing up the fact that you've had this dream more than once.

Alejandro thee Stallion - Ay Dios mío. You wished you could stay mad at him. You absolutely wished you could but the bastard has a way with words and fuck if they aren't working on you right now. That dream is an afterthought what with the way he uses his talents (read: his mouth) in... other places to show you just how much your reality is infinitely better than your dreams. Your friend could never have this.

B̳o��n̳u̳s̳

Rudy - Is in the doghouse because while you were busy having an existential crisis, he was sleeping peacefully through it all. He STILL doesn't know what the fuck he did and you're too mad to tell him. ("You know what you did, Rudy.")

Graves - Puts the dog in doghouse. Is half asleep when you tell him and the fucker doesn't even turn over to look at you. All you get is a husky chuckle and a "Which friend is it this time, darlin'?" You're contemplating smacking and/or smothering him with your pillow; we don't blame you one bit, babes. Fuck his ass up.

[floydira]

Hello there!! Sorry to bother you. I wanted to request a Floyd x Male reader (preferably transmasc but if not it's fine!!) fic. I was thinking maybe the reader was another singer in a band and had beef with brozone but ended up falling for Floyd? (If this is too much it's totally chill, but thank you anyway!!!) - anon ☆—(≧⁠▽°)★~

₊˚﹒✶﹒Love in the Line of Fire .ᐟ

floyd x transmasc reader.

note ; ah no worries anon! it's never a bother when I see anons requests in my inbox. I'd honestly love it more if I keep being drowned with more requests in my inbox. also, your usage of kaomojis is so cute! hopefully this is to your liking <3

the beef probably started because of john dory, riling up your band because he kept blabbering about how brozone is gonna hit the perfect family harmony and playfully belittling your band.

even though you didn't know brozone that well personally, you held a slight grudge towards the said band because of john dory. your band mates grudge towards john dory is much more than yours.

you're not really one to care about problematic matters at hand when you can use that focus to improve your own skills. that's why your grudge wasn't as big as your bandmates. they were quite competitive.

you do admit that brozone's tracks are catchy and pleasant to the ears, but you would be caught dead in a ditch before ever admitting that out loud.

when your band and brozone had to go back to back once, tension was in the air before the performance.

you were focused on your vocal warmups when you noticed a pink haired guy staring at you from across the room. slightly flustered by being caught, the pink haired guy gave you a bashful smile before looking away, putting his focus back to his brothers.

you found out after you finished your performance that his name is floyd, you kept a mental note in your mind to observe him more when you do see him.

little observations turned into fullblown admiration towards floyd whenever you had the chance to meet him in events.

by this time, the beef between brozone and your band died down, so there wasn't really anything stopping you from confronting floyd about your feelings.

except...that performance was his and his brothers last, before he traveled away from his place and away from his brothers. before brozone disbanded completely.

after a few years passed by, your band also disbanded but you were still waiting on floyd to come back, a slight tinge of hope in your heart says that he would. after a few more months pass by and no trace of floyd, your patience for him to come back went to waste. you start to give up and forget about your feelings for him by distracting yourself with other stuff.

that is, until you hear from the chatter around you that brozone is back after 20 years.

you restrained yourself from caring about the news before poppy told you all about what happened and invited you to watch their come back stage. that made you lose your restraints and let curiosity take over you.

you went to the place poppy told you to go to, the first performance were performed by NSYNC, a group you just found out about.

afterwards, brozone members were on stage and after that, poppy got invited to join the band on stage.

poppy brought you and viva along with her to perform.

feeling like there's nothing to lose, you performed perfectly. thanks to your past self secretly watching every brozone performance you could see.

during the performance, you made eye contact with floyd. his face showed a subtle shocked expression, before it turned into a warm smile. you changed your spot to be beside him, so you both performed side by side.

after the performance ended, you confronted floyd hesitantly.

"hey...I know you went through a lot before this and that our bands were technically rivals in the past," you emphasized the 'a lot'

"but I just- I have to let you know that- i- uh- I liked you. well actually, Idostillkindoflikeyourightnowbutidontknowifyoufeelthesameway!" you quickly said the last sentence in one breath.

floyd was surprised. his brothers, viva and poppy all watched you on the sidelines. you can hear poppy cheering you on.

"you...like me?" floyd repeats back

"duh! I spent years waiting and waiting for you to come back just so I could let out my feelings. I waited and waited, yet you didn't come back...I was worried, but more disappointed in myself that I even thought you would come back."

"I was frustrated! frustrated by my own self and by you, until poppy told me everything. that you were kidnapped and getting your life literally sucked out of you just for some teens to get fame with fake talent." you finally uttered out.

you hug floyd and he reciprocates the hug back.

"actually...I like you too. as funny as it sounds, I think I really did fall in love with you when I made eye contact with you the first time. I felt sparks and everything" he chuckles at his own words.

you were now the one surprised

the brothers, viva and poppy all cheered for the both of you.

john dory could be heard in the back saying, "well damn, my brother really is gay..."

you two officially dated afterwards! hooray!

if you decide to tell him about being transmasc, he's super open and supportive about it.

your dates consisted of duetting together, dancing (a fun tango every wednesday? how lovely.), baking together, anything you both mutually like to do.

floyd would definitely love doing your eyeliner for you(since he canonically does his own and wears eyeliner)

[witchofsparkles]

Ghost was not having a very good day. It wasn’t the job in particular because it was expected of him to be used to it by now after 15 years of service; it was because the man right next to him grinning ear to ear as if he didn't just come out of a bloody combat with explosives, terrorists and flying limbs. The limbs were not belong to them, god bless, but especially the explosives were their doing.

Not theirs as a team, but the man who has a nasty smile's.

The explosives belonged to the reason of his headache for months, Soap.

Ghost tried not to fall for Soap's banter, but his mouth didn't know better. Even though he couldn’t even hear what the man was saying, Ghost replied sarcastically. "Yeah, Johnny. Sure, whatever you say."

What other answer there that could be said to everything? Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just please stop talking.

"You do think I'm pretty? Oh, that’s flattering. Thank you, sir. Please write that in the report so Price can see my charm too. It would work better coming from you, the big man with the mask." Ghost almost tripped down from the heli and crashed onto the mountains thousands fits down and at that moment he didn't think he would mind a good head trauma with a highly possible death.

He though to put a stop to it, to ruin the mood, but decided against. Ghost couldn’t avert his gaze fast enough, and his eyes locked with Soap for a split second. The carefree smile Soap sent to Ghost made his stomach flutter.

And Ghost would drink bleach if he knew it would kill the butterflies in his stomach.

Yeah, there was another reason for his headache and bad times in general.

Ghost was down bad in love with his Sergeant, John MacTavish.

Ghost watched Soap walking into the base with the other soldiers, laughing loudly and looking all hot in bloody gear. Ghost just stood next to the heli silently, tried to appear like he was busy with something, and checked Soap's back out. Ghost knew he wasn’t injured or anything, but who could be sure? In the heat of the war, blood full of adrenalin, everybody could make mistakes.

The reason of his gaze was purely professional and had nothing to do with how Soap's ass was moving with his every step. Totally.

"You might wanna take your chances, you know that right?" Ghost almost jumped out of his skin and his hand went to his knife reflexively.

"You know better to not sneak up on me, Price." Ghost relaxed his stance and put the knife back. Price was smiling at him.

"And I know that I can give you a very hard time if we had to fight. Anyway. You pray that there's a mask on your face. With how obvious you're about staring at Johnny, even my dead mom can come up and laugh at you."

Ghost inhaled sharply. "You call him Johnny again, we will see about that fight."

A laugh escaped Price. "God. Calm down, son. No one's taking him. Fine, I won't call him that. Jesus."

Ghost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t feeling like talking and yet he couldn’t shut up today. Also, he didn't want to think about Price's implication. "Why are you here? I was coming to report."

Price stroked his mustache, and that made Ghost's stomach drop with worry. "Why is your hand on your mustache? Who died?"

Price threw him a dirty look. "Why do everyone think like that when they see me? No one died. Not yet. And hopefully never. I changed my mind. You go rest, we will talk later when all of you available."

"You said no one died, yet. Why don't we talk now?" Ghost's knuckles were white from holding his west so hard. Something bad happened, he knew it.

Price stared at him again, a little longer than a second. "It's nothing out of ordinary. Just our everyday madness. You look like shit, and Soap looked like shit. If the only sane one is Gaz among you, I fear everyone will die. So, go rest. I will call you when you can open both of your eyes at will."

Ghost couldn’t sleep. It was expected, after how Price teased him with an apocalypse. In his mind, at least. If he didn't think the worst could happen, he wouldn’t be Ghost. He was so tense that Ghost thought his skin was gonna tear apart. His headache from the explosions was worse, and every single one of his muscles were hurting.

All stopped when he saw Johnny sitting at where Ghost was usually sitting. It was his secret place, a tiny corner with no noise and just darkness. The place he would come when the sleep didn't.

"Why are you here?" Ghost would love it if he didn't sound like a goddamn incubus.

Soap jumped, expectedly. Turned to him sharply, then took a deep breath when he saw who was it. "You almost had to file a suspicious dead report on me. Stop creating work for yourself."

Ghost snickered, that’s how his Johnny was. He was acting like a class clown, but Ghost wasn’t believing in that. All that laughing and joking, it was almost impossible in this job. When all you could see was the dead, your voice was turning into a whisper.

It was sadness that consumes you.

"It would take a lot more to kill you, Johnny." Ghost's voice was always deep, but for some reason it deepened. Like he was sharing a secret. Almost a whisper.

Johnny's eyes shimmered under the dim lights. They looked like stars for a moment, then Ghost corrected himself. Not stars, explosions. Fireworks.

"Is everything okay? Why don't you sleep? Were you thinking about something?" Johnny was looking up to him from where he was sitting, and Ghost was looking down. He wanted to take Johnny's face between his hands and brush the stubble at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to crash into his lips, taste him with his tongue, just sweep it across Johnny's lips and inside his mouth, feel the hot wetness of his saliva around his own tongue, to get Johnny's tongue in his mouth and crowd him in, to be able to get a fistful of Johnny's stupid mohawk while kissing with a lust that would shame Jesus himself that he would have to look away, he wanted to touch Johnny's every bit on his back and kiss him from his neck to down his happy trail, he wanted to be able to touch at the tip of him with just only a finger and make him moan for more-

"I was thinking about you."

Rest is on ao3:

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 49 Burnt Cereal with Milk Posting

Alright, dear void. It's time. I put on my powerscaler hat and turned on the stove.

Never ever let me cook again though- apparently I'm just as shitty at it online as I am IRL. We are going to Eye Scars at the temple next. Well, "we" meaning Hakuri, Uruha, and some fodder since the train fight DIDN'T HAPPEN. Yet. Is it too delusional to think that we could get the super cool stuff with Uruha fighting off the mooks somehow? Because damn, I was really looking forward to more than what we got...

It's alright though. I can cope with the power of even stronger delusions.

Wasn't there LITERALLY any better way to do this than pulling on Uruha's hair, Hakuri?!

Still enjoying the fact that Chihiro can yell out a random word and Hakuri will instantly understand his full intent. They don't have to plan shit- they just figure it out and it works.

Yeah, they both would know that "Centipede" is referring to Kyora's usage of Magatsumi's ability, but Chihiro improvising the move on the spot and Hakuri adjusting perfectly is awesome. Sad they're separated for now, but hopefully we get more of this stuff through the whole series. They're so busted when they work together because soulmate coding.

But this new Kuro technique is probably why John keeps pressing the assault and forcing Chihiro to act: he adapts and improves at an incredible rate when he's under pressure. Still don't know why John needs him to be extremely powerful and full of hatred for his plans, but maybe Hiruhiko will spill the beans. He's a chatty bastard who gets his jollies from extreme methods after all.

Fuck these guys.

Hiruhiko is the king of "it's just a prank bro, don't get so upset brooooooooooo" assholes everywhere. His origami powers are pretty neat though, I gotta admit. The editor's note for this week was something along the lines of "Uruha's will is also carried on [Chihiro's] blade"... I want that pretty face to get bloodied and beaten, man. I actually detest flippant long-haired guys as an entire character archetype so please let him have an agonizing death. I want to look forward to it no matter how long it takes.

Speaking of the Hishaku, do they have the world's freakiest training camp for new members or something? Ch. 32

Ch. 49

Literal bloodbath of a series.

This is the second time Chihiro's been blinded with blood in a fight. It's a cool and intelligent tactic but like, why? Use the wrong person's blood and Chihiro will die to some horrible infection or disease before those seeds of hatred can mature, my dudes. But I kinda wonder... Chs. 32 & 49 again:

Hiruhiko proceeds to taunt Chihiro like nothing happened after being violently stabbed out of a moving train.

There's something freaky about how the marked Hishaku members are totally OK with being skewered and losing limbs. Even Chihiro winces in pain when he's hit hard enough to lose his arm, y'know? Is it just because this is an ultra-violent action series and the villains need to stay threatening?

No insights, just pure glazing. This panel absolutely stunning... I can clearly see the motion and imagine exactly how it's happening. I held my breath in anticipation while reading this and was not at all disappointed by the gorgeous spread on the next page. God I love the fights in Kagurabachi.

Yet another "Hakuri needs time to recover" reminder. It's been constant since the arc started in Chapter 45... just for the dramatic tension, probably. I've already said my piece about relying on this particular tool too much, so let's move on.

As this site's #1 Hakuri Agendaposter, I think he's gonna be okay in the short term. We don't know if the Hishaku have accounted for him or not, but the focus right now is on the Bearers. He'll be fine. Surely. I can see him going too far to be "useful" and knocking himself out to transport Kumeyuri and possibly Eye Scar's blade- or maybe Hiyuki to their current location if Hokazono-sensei's feeling funny-, but no torture or suffering flags have been raised. Yet. He's just going to be running on fumes for a while...

Official Tier List Drop

Chihiro corrected Hakuri's "nonsense" estimations for all the powerscalers out there, how kind of him. I kind of went on a fuckhuge tangent here but I can't be assed to retake all the screenshots to post separately. So suffer (or skip if you're sane)!

But who could beat Goku?!?!?!/1/1 Obviously, equipped nuke bearers and Hiyuki are in a class of their own. A step down are uniquely strong fighters like Azami, Shiba, Hiruhiko, and John. Then there's the endless Datenseki fodder who are only scary when they're in a group and not exploded yet.

I don't give a flying fuck about who would win against Ultra SSJ Gigaturbo Pepsimaxx'd Goku. However, I do like it when there are clearly established tiers of power. NOT the graded tiers style where things are neatly ranked from coughing baby to hydrogen bomb, mind you. That is the laziest way to explain a universe's relative power dynamic. It also lets me know that the protagonist is going to single-handedly wreck the balance via powercreep not even halfway through the series (unless it's HxH, which only applies to one series: HxH).

I much prefer Kagurabachi's fuzzy approach. The stakes are clearly established: the Enchanted Blades and Hiyuki's Enkotsu are a Big Fucking Deal. They are incredibly strong and all the characters treat them as such. So Chihiro, Hiyuki, and armed Bearers are at the top.

Yet even within that small selection there's a notable differential in power between those who have mastered the weapon and those who haven't. Chihiro is hella strong, but Shiba let us know early on that he's still got a long way to go before he's truly formidable. We've seen Chihiro get bodied by Sojo, a genius who only had Kuregumo for a few weeks; he's in tune with Enten, but he's got a hell of a lot to learn about fighting strong opponents still. He's probably closer in strength to an Elite Sorcerer than a veteran Bearer like Uruha. (The whole thing about hardly ever fighting fully healed and rested up is also a sticking point, but not gonna digress on that.)

Beneath that tier are strong Elite sorcerers. Azami was noted by Uruha as being as "reassuring" as Hiyuki in terms of his abilities, and Chihiro put Shiba, John, and Hiruhiko on par with him. So I think it's reasonable to infer that the strength of their sorcery and their experience as fighters would put them so close to the Bearers in terms of power. The elite Kamunabi guards and task force, by comparison, make up for their shortcomings by working together as a team. They'd be at the bottom of this category -possibly another step below- individually, but their teamwork and experience put them much closer to a Bearer's strength. The Sazanami Tou would be in this category too despite mostly being off-screened by Shiba (he's just that good).

And then there are run-of-the-mill guys like the Trauma, Mud Clone, and regular Sazanami sorcerers. They're very strong compared to an average person but need those Datenseki shards to compete with the elites. This is the true "miminum strength" floor in Kaugrabachi. If you can't hold your own against a rando sorcerer hireling, you have no business being involved in the fights. Of course the Hiruhikos and Shibas of the world will outclass you horribly, but that's the risk you take when being unnamed fodder in Kagurabachi.

This high of a power floor is why I'm glad we don't see regular people like Hinao anywhere near the skirmishes- a sorcerer can easily manhandle them, and the fights Chihiro gets involved in are far more lethal than they can safely stand around to provide commentary for. This means all the insightful remarks come from the fighters themselves and only rarely an omniscient narrator, which is so much more interesting than listening to a non-combatant give a play-by-play. It's refreshing to see the fighting left to the warriors while the regular folks actually run away to safety for once, you know?

That's a key component of why the fights in Kagurabachi feel so different from other shounen so far. I don't need someone who's never thrown hands telling me how amazing Chihiro looks and explaining what he's doing: the author is showing me while Chihiro himself tells me what he's thinking. And when we do get third-party commentary, it's limited to providing vital context. We aren't wasting panels to glaze the fighters and explain everything in excruciating detail. We just see it play out and understand that yes, this is absolutely awesome and it works because of the quality of the composition. And because we don't need a door stopper of a novel to explain what each ability does (this is JJK shade, come at me).

OK, tangent within a tangent aside... where does that leave outliers like Hakuri, Tafuku, Ice Lady, and unarmed bearers?

Tafuku's sorcery has insane utility, but it looks like he himself doesn't get any direct combat boost. So he really needs a partner like Hiyuki to make the most of it.

I'd say he's probably in the Elite tier considering he has no issues dealing with the rank-and-file sorcerers and guards at the auction. He's plenty used to defending himself while Hiyuki wreaks havoc at least. So the combination of skill, utility, and experience make up for the lack of raw power.

So far it seems as though folks like Char and Ice Lady aren't much better off than non-sorcerers. In fact, we've only seen these traits cause a great deal of suffering at the hands of people who want to exploit them...

Their natural traits seem to provide passive benefits that can negate sorcery side-effects in specific situations (like the nausea caused by Shiba's teleportation in Char's case), but so far there's no evidence that they provide any advantages against actual techniques. They're below the minimum power threshold but a smidge above average civilians for now. This could change if we get more information and examples, though.

So Chihiro said, but...

Dude's still looking mighty fine to me.

If all the former bearers are on the same level as Uruha, then they're not truly "defenseless". However, they definitely do need help when facing Elites and many average sorcerers. They're probably in the middle of the "ordinary" sorcerer tier without their blades- competent against the minimum, but at risk against anything tougher.

So yeah. Uruha's not gonna get shanked by a regular non-magical enemy- he's just defenseless compared to most of the relevant combatants in this universe right now. And as soon as he gets Kumeyuri back, he'll be at the apex. He should be able to handle the trash still on the train just fine until then.

Potential Man incarnate

Hakuri's in a weird spot.

He's the first genius in his clan's 200-year history since the OG patriarch and has a huge amount of potential. Even in the wider world he's quite exceptional for having two sorcery abilities available to him. But the actual mechanics of how he allocates his sorcery and trains it are big unknowns right now. Hakuri's basically got infinite potential, maybe enough to put him in the same tier as the Bearers and Hiyuki. But will he have the time and narrative attention to get there? We don't know. He can't even use his powers without knocking himself out at the moment, so it'll be a while before we see any movement on that too.

He's off to the side with a big question mark over his head for now. I need more information and screen time of him fighting while rested to place him. Which reminds me, actually... Kazane's in the same position. He was supposed to be the trump card in the Sojo fight but lost his arm and most of his comrades before he got to do anything. So he and Hakuri can chill on the sidelines until it's time to see them in action once more.

Thanks for tuning in to the worst cooking show on Tumblr, dear void. Next up: Eye Scars, maybe! Chihiro fighting through the streets to get vengeance on Uruha's behalf! Uruha and Hakuri possibly also making an appearance! Stay fresh, bachibros.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

your John b sibling fics bring me so much comfort and I was wondering if I could request one of my own? If you don’t mind I wanted to request something were John b and reader are brother and sister and he’s like a year older or smth than her and it’s after John b is back on the island after they find out he’s alive and at night reader can’t sleep cause she’s overwhelmed and afraid that something would happen to him again and he hears her walking around the house looking for something to do to distract her mind from overthinking and he gets up and asks her if she’s fine and stuff and finally gets an answer out of her that she’s worried he’s be gone again so to comfort he takes her on a night drive in the Twinkie and they get food and eat infringe of the ocean and he tells that he’d never leave her again and that they missed each other? I’m so sorry ik it’s too long and very detailed but I thought I’d be easier for you to picture it the way I wanted ❤️ it’s ok if u don’t wanna write it is still appreciate you and your work ❤️

𝒟ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝓉ℯ𝓁𝓁 𝓂ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇ℯ 𝒸𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔

warnings: mentions of insomnia, anxiety, Mostly fluff, some angst. gif not mine

The second you saw that door open to the chateau, you ran into his arms. He chuckled, his hand on your the small of your back.

“Alright, alright, kid, you’re gonna suffocate me.” He wheezed out after a while, patting your back. You let go of him, looking back at him, and slapped him in his face.

“I deserved that.”

“You asshole! I- I didn’t even know if you were alive until I had to hear about it from Rafe fucking Cameron and Kelce!” You shoved him, hand on his chest.

“Rafe? Why were you with Rafe?”

“I was working and I heard Kelce say something about you grabbing a beer or something, and then Rafe turned to me! Better question for you, why didn’t you call- or- or text?” You stuttered.

“I didn’t have a phone. It was too dangerous. I’m sorry, y/n.” He spoke sincerely. "It's late, let's just... go to bed," he suggested, you nodding in agreement.

Except that night you couldn't sleep. You twisted and turned, but your mind raced as your worries overtook you. You stared at the wall, letting out a frustrated and annoyed groan, turning back onto your back so you were looking at the ceiling.

You shut your eyes, but you couldn’t go to sleep still. You counted sheep, did every trick in the book, nothing worked. After a while and about 3 hours of trying, you sighed, standing up and deciding to go out into the living room of the chateau.

You walked around, looking around the living room for anything to distract you from your brain right now. You fought the urge to bite your nails, your leg bouncing when you sat down, grabbing the tv remote and switching the tv on, turning it down so you hopefully didn’t wake up John B.

But, it turned out that you had without even realizing it. You saw him in the hallway, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hands. You paused the show, looking at him guiltily.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” You asked him.

“Yeah, you did. What are you doing up? I thought you went to sleep.” He rasped out, voice deep and dripping with drowsiness. He looked at you, eyelids low and eye bags heavy.

You felt bad as you stared at him. “I couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a total lie.

He narrowed his eyes at you, walking over and sighing as he fell into the couch spot next to you. “Why can’t you sleep?” He asked you, his hand on the armrest.

“I… don’t know. I just can’t.” You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?” He asked you with another sigh.

“Nothing’s.. wrong.” You told him.

“Y/n.” He spoke in a firmer tone.

“Fine! I’m worried! I’m fucking terrified, actually.” You scoffed, finally looking at the boy.

He furrows an eyebrow, listening closely now. “Of what?”

“For you! I- I mean you disappear for month’s! I thought you were dead! What if something else happens? What if like- I don’t know the fucking-“

“Y/n. Stop.” He said, you pausing your speech and looking at him with confusion. “C’mon.” He stood up, motioning for you to do the same.

He went out of the Chateau, grabbing his keys, you following behind him to the Twinkie. You got in the passenger seat and he got in the drivers.

The drive was silent, he pulled his keys out and got out the car. You followed him inside to a nice cream shop near the beach that was shockingly still open even thought it was dark out.

No one else was near, and you both bought your ice cream and left. John B looked over his shoulder, and made sure no one was looking as he went through a broken fence that led to the beach. You followed him, ice cream still in hand as you walked through the sand.

He walked closer to the water, and stopped directly in front of it. He sat down, moving his hand and telling you to do the same. You sat next to him, both of you looking up at the stars and the moon in the sky, the sounds of the crashing waves in the distant, the smell of the saltwater filling your noses.

You began to eat your ice cream before it melted, John b watched you with a small smile and laughed when you winced of a brain freeze.

“Slow down, cowgirl.“ he teased, lightly shoving you. You smiled and rolled your eyes at the boy.

You both looked out at the horizon, ice creams done. You enjoyed looking out into the space, your mind no longer racing, feeling more relaxed out here.

“You wanna know what the first thing I thought about after… everything?”

You turned to your brother, furrowing an eyebrow, intrigued in his question.

“When the storm hit, and me and Sarah were left on the boat, I can’t tell you how badly I wished I was back there with you again.” He chuckled, looking down at the sand. “I felt… terrible for leaving you. I wanted to call you, I wanted to send you a message, anything. I knew I couldn’t because if I did, the police would be after you too.”

You stared at him, frown on your face at his words. “But I don’t care if they would have been-“

“I do. What kind of brother would I be if I let that happen? A shitty one. They were already on your ass, weren’t they?”

You nodded. “Yeah. They kept searching me and shit.”

“Exactly. I didn’t wanna… I didn’t wanna put you in any danger, you know? And you have to know- I want you to know that I will never leave you again. I swear. I’m sorry. For everything.” He looked back up at you.

You gave him a small smile, wiping away a stray tear. “Thank you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re crying.” He joked, smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

“Me? Crying? Never.” You laughed nasally, he leaned over to pull you into his side, giving you a hug.

obx Taglist:

@wearemadeofstardust0

[intensid4d]

Like I'm Gonna Loose You - Alessia Russo x Reader

that's a little longer, I hope you enjoy!

+4k of words, not readproof, against with happy end, mentions of homophobia!

.

Football was your first love, your first memory was of you and your father playing together. So you went to college to play and try being a pro. And that’s when you met the true love of your life, the one that were even bigger that your love for football. And that was a girl, your girl. Your Lessi.

At first it was you, Lotte and Alessia. You all soon developing a friendship and becoming inseparable, the three of you coming from England so it made sense that you all would feel less home sick. Then you started to be more soft with Alessia, you weren’t able to say “no” to her. It all started in your last season at the college. You couldn’t stand there seeing all the boys and girls all over her. You didn’t even know you’re gay. It was just so much for you. You never having done a relationship before, why? Well, a guy never interested you but you thought it was because you were too focused on football. Guess you were wrong.

You started to do everything you could to spend more time with her and she never said “no” to you too. It was like she could know what you were thinking, always doing everything you wanted when you don’t even told her anything.

One day you were on the bus to play na away game, Alessia sitting by your side, you sharing your headphones with her. That’s when everything changed forever between you.

“Let do a playlist together, just for us to hear. What do you think?” She asks you, already taking her phone out of her pocket.

“Us. ❤” That was the name of the playlist. You were used to Alessia being soft with you, but this was too much for you to not think that maybe, just maybe, she had fallen for you too. Especially when she started to add songs to it.

“All of me” – John Legend

“Never be Alone” – Shawn Mendes

“Give Me Love” – Ed Sheeran

“Little Things” – One Direction

“Ruin The Friendship” – Demi Lovato

“Perfect” – Ed Sheeran

You looked at her face... God, how could someone be so beautiful?

“Don’t look at me like that.” She tells you, bringing you out of your daydream. When you understand what she had said you frown.

“Like what?”

“Like you feel the same. Like I’m your everything.” She speaks quietly so no one else could hear. You really didn’t know what to say. Your first love was saying she felt the same. Your first love who was also your best friend.

“I...” When she looks away you grab her hand. “I’m in love with you. I mean, I have never felt this before but you makes me feel like I don’t need anything else with I have you here with me. And I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and you... God... I don’t know Lessi, I didn’t know I’m into girls until you happened but I’m totally fine with that, because you made me see that there’s no mistake to love someone. When I’m the one making you smile I feel the same way when I score a goal, my heart goes crazy and...” She stops you by pushing her lips into yours.

And that’s how everything started. It was nothing like the movies, you both telling your feelings in the back of a bus, nothing romantic at all, but it was you and you couldn’t love it more. That was the best time of your life, you couldn’t be more happier. Then, be the end of the year when you went home for holidays you decided that you were coming out to your parentes. You knew Alessia was yours forever, so you knew you needed to do it. You were done not been able to post about her on social media Simply because your parents didn’t know.

So, one day right before Christmas Eve you called your parentes to the living room, ready to tell them you were gay and were dating the love of your life. And so you did, but it was nothing like you hoped. They didn’t like the idea of you being gay. You simply didn’t know what to do.

You loved your family, they were your everything, always having your back but now they couldn’t be happy for you. Your mom even said:

“You can’t do thay, Y/N! Jesus gave you to me, you can’t do that! I won’t let you.” She screams while crying at you.

Then it was hell to you. You were hurt, so much. You really wanted to be with Alessia, but you knew she didn’t desserves to be on that mess. You won’t let her be, never. It was all too much.

“We can fix you, no, we WILL fix you.” Your father said before going to bed.

“I regret being your mom. I regret ever wanting to have you.” It all was too much.

You didn’t have the strength to talk to Alessia, so you declined every call and never texted back. You couldn’t. They did got in your head. Were you wrong? But how could it be so wrong? When Alessia made you the more happiest you had ever been. When you truly loved her?

You don’t know why you stayed at your parent’s house, you really don’t. But you were like shit, not leaving your room to avoid see any of them. Only leaving to eat but always at some time you knew they wouldn’t see you. And you couldn’t eat properly.

It was in January 7th when you got a call from Barcelona, they wanted you. Soon you after you got a call from Lotte too, Alessia told her of you behaviour or, the lack of it. To the blonde, it was like you just erased from her life, she was too much hurt. She even thought to go see you, but if you weren’t even texting her... So she just accepted it. You may have meet someone better. Someone who could make you more happy. That’s what she thought.

You din’t say anything to Lotte, not while staying in your parent’s house. But you tell her about Barcelona. And you tell her you’re moving as soon as possible. She could sense something was wrong, really wrong. You weren’t your usual self. Your voice was emontionless, even while talking about Barca.

.

When you moved out of your parentes house, you were still not in a good place. But you told Lotte everything, you told her you were ashamed of yourself, that you really loved Alessia and that’s why you couldn’t do that to her. You didn’t want her to be with someone who wasn’t worth it her love. Suddenly you didn’t loved yourself anymore and that’s was a lot. How could still treat Alessia the way she deserved to be treated when you couldn’t even treat yourself right anymore?

You couldn’t see her and texting wasn’t aan option so you wrote a letter and asked Lotte to give it to her, you felt like she was the only person left on your life. You have pushed away everyone. And when Lotte left to England again, she had a mission to give it to Lessi and stay with her until she was sure she was okay.

.

“Hi Lessi... First of all, I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t know how else I could do this. So I’m writing this now... Anyway, I hope you don’t hate me... I could never hate you, I think I’ll always love you. And I hate myself for hurting you and letting you in the dark for so long. I’m so sorry for not being enough, you deserve so much better. I did everything to not put you into this mess. And that’s why I’m doing it... That’s why I’m ending things... Beucase you deserve better, you deserve someone who can treat you like you are the most incredible person in the world (because you are). I hope I can be your friend some day... I hope I can see your smile in person again, or hug you... Yours hugs always made me feel better. I... Just don’t forget ever that I really love you, okay? I’m just so much hurt right now that I can’t be in a relationship... Lotte will tell everything you want to know. I wish you all the best, my love.

Always yours, Y/N.”

Alessia was hurt, but after reading your letter and, after she stopped crying, having Lotte to tell everything that happened and how you were, she didn’t know what she really was feeling but lost was a really close guess.

“I wish she would let me help her out, I wish she could be still here with me, Lotte.” She cried again on the brunette’s shoulder.

True to her word, Lotte only left Alessia’s house when she needed to present herself at Arsenal and before that she made sure the blonde would that care of herself.

.

It took you two years to rebuild yourself, for you to love yourself, to know that there was no wrong for loving another woman. You did therapy every week since Lotte left your new home. You also didn’t talk that much anymore with your parents. Not having been to their house again, it held too many bad memories.

But you also didn’t see Alessia again, not in person at least. But you always kept an eye on her, by social medias and even watching her games when you were free.

Barcelona become your home, Alexia Putellas and Mapi Leon become your best friends too. They helped you a lot, they were the only ones on the team who knew of everything that had happened with your parents and Alessia. So they always kept you in their hold, and you were grateful for that.

It took three years for you to meet Alessia again, it being on camp for the Lionesses. When you got the call, you were very excited but then you realised you would have to meet Alessia again and that made you almost throw up out of fear. At first, when you arrived at the hotel, there was just Lotte and Beth waiting for you, the others being at their rooms.

“Y/N!” Beth hugs you. “I’m so happy that we can finally play together.”

.

“I missed this, you know... I mean, us being roommates and playing together.” You tell Lotte, after greeting Beth, make a small talk and then go to yours and Lottes room.

“I missed it too. You could always come and play for Arsenal, I know they have been wanting you for a long time.” You sigh at her words and she sits in her bed. “You can’t run away from her forever.”

“I know.” You sit and look at her with a frown. “I know I can’t run away. Fuck, I know she’s here and it makes me want to throw up. What if she hates me?” You put your hands in your face and Lotte comes to your side, passing her arm over your shoulders.

“She doesn’t hate you. I think you should talk to her, it’s been a long time.” You turn to her.

“I don’t know...” You can feel the tears running down your cheeks and your best friend take you in her arms.

“I think I still love her, Lotte.” She tights you in her arms.

“It’s okay, let it all out. I’m here with you. I got you.” And with that you cry in her arms until you fall asleep, exhaustion taking the best of you.

.

The next morning when you wake up, you’re still in your friend’s arms. You get up and get ready to have breakfast. When you get there, you see Leah, Beth, Keira, Georgia and Lucy at one table, so you grab your food and go sit with them.

Your mind was a mess, you wanted to see Alessia but you couldn’t handle the hurt or the hate in her eyes when she looked in your eye, so when you saw she wasn’t there yet you knew that maybe she was avoiding see you.

“She always comes with Ella.” Beth says after seeing the look on your face. “And Ella’s always late.” You just nod and starting eating, not daring to say anything out loud.

After eating, you decided to go to the meeting room, where Sarina would do the official first talk to everything. You found a seat in the middle of the room and grab your phone to go through social medias.

.

It’s only by the end of the meeting that you actually lay eyes on Alessia, having been too focused on what Sarina was saying to notice how Alessia sat on the back of the room or how Ella (who was a really loud person) was silenty and awful worried about her best friend.

When you look at her way you notice she’s already looking at you, you could see everything in her eyes, all the good and bad memories. You feel a shiver run down your neck, making you look at your feets. It’s Lotte’s hand on your back that makes you walk out of the room with you not daring to look up again, too afraid to see her so close or see the hate in her eyes.

.

The first time you talk with her was on 11x11 at practice, you were playing against her.

You were running with the ball, having passed every defender and beeing left only with Mary to deal with. But then, suddenly you felt someone tackling you from behind and an huge pain on your right ankle.

“What the fuck, Ella?!” You could hear Alessia’s voice but you didn’t see her. You were holding your ankle and with your face on the ground, trying to hide the tears in yours eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t-“ The blonde forward didn’t give her the chance to say nothing more, coming to you in fast speed.

“Hey, angel. Can you turn around?” You can feel her hand on your back.

“It hurts so much, Lessi...” You groan quietly to her but manage to turn around as she asked. No one of your teammates daring to come closer and end whatever was happening. Alessia took a deep breath after hearing you calling by her nick name, it wasn’t the right time.

“I know it does, but I’m here with you. I won’t leave your side until you’re alright, okay?” She wipes your tears with the back of her hand and you finally open your eyes to look at her. Seeing Alessia so close and so worried about you made you forget about the pain momentarily.

You are forced to look away from her when the medical team comes to check on you. “Can you walk?” One of them asks you after doing the first check on your ankle.

“Yeah, I think so.” With that, Alessia helps you putting her arm around your waist and yours around her shoulder. You manage to go to the physio room with her help (she was almost carring you in her arms ‘cause you were putting all your weigh on her).

.

True to her words, Alessia haven’t left your side and even when you were sent to the hospital to check if there was any major issues, she still went with you. You both didn’t talk about your past or about any feelings at all. You didn’t have time neither space, there was always somebody else with you. Plus, all Alessia wanted at the moment was for you to be okay. When she saw you going down and crying yourself out of pain, she felt all again. Everything she so desesperately tried to bury at the bottom of her heart. She knew she would probably regret it later, but now she couldn’t care less.

So when the doctors said it wasn’t as bad as it looked to be, and that you only needed to rest for 3 days she was relieved. And the blonde, herself made a promise to the doctor applying that she would that care of you and wouldn’t let you do anything stupid. You could only hope it was true, the thinking of her being with you sounding like yet a dream for you.

.

When you got back to the hotel, she walks you to your room.

“So...” She starts saying but you cut her off.

“I miss you.” She gasps at your sudden confession and you take it was a bad signal and give her a sad smile. “Thank you for today, you really didn’t need to do all this...”

“It’s okay, I wanted to.” She gives you a small smile. “Can I – “ She pauses for a moment, like she’s thinking of what to say. “Can I hug you?” She finally asks, for all day she was close to you, touching you (because she knew physical touch helped you in any ways) and yet here she is, asking you if she could give you a hug.

“Always.” You whisper and open your arms, she wastes no time and puts her arms around your waist, hidding her face on your neck. You put your arms around her neck and your face at the top of her head, you take this moment to smell her hair again. It felt like home.

“I’m sorry about everything, please forgive me.” You say quietly to her, your eyes closed so that you could enjoy the moment. You wanted to remember it forever.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She gives your neck a little kiss before pulling away reluctantly. You felt a single tear come down your cheek, and she wipes it carefully.

“You need some rest, I should go now.” She take a step back.

“Okay.” You give her another small smile and put your key card on the door, when you’re about to open it she calls you again.

“Y/N! I miss you too.” It’s all she says before disappear into the elevator.

.

You wake up in the next day with Lotte getting ready for practice. She haven’t asked you anything, knowing that you would open up when you’re ready.

“I’ll go with you to have breakfast, then I’ll go to the pyshio.” You say to her after getting ready too.

.

You’re in the pyshio putting some ice on your ankle when Ella comes into the room with your favorite flower in hands.

“Hey, Y/N... I’m sorry about your ankle I really didn’t mean to. I was just so stressed about this whole you and Alessia thing th-” She stops herself, realising she was talking too much. “Err, this is for you.” She hands the sunflower to you.

“Thank you so much. And you don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.” You take the sunflower of her hand. “How did you know it was my favorite?” You smile looking at it.

“Oh, I got some advice.” You look at her with a small smile forming in your lips. “You should talk to her. If you love her and promise me to not break her heart again I can help you.”

“I really do love her, I never stoped. I never wanted to break her heart...” You look around, putting your thoughts in place. “I promise that, if I ever have her love again, I won’t ever break her heart. Not again.” You look into her eyes so she could know you were being true in your words.

“Okay.” It all she says. You frown.

“Okay?”

“Yes. When you finish this, come to my room. Here, take my keycard.” She gives it to you. “She’s almost finishing her gym session. Then, I’ll text her to come to our room but it will be you there, not me!” She says simply, gives you a little kiss on the head and exits the room. But then after a few seconds she enters the room again.

“And don’t make me hate you again or next time I will go for you knee! Text me when you’re done so I can know when text her.” Then she lefts again. You look at the door in completely shock.

“What the fuck.” You mumble to yourself.

.

10 minutes later you’re done in the physio, so you text Ella on Instagram to let her know you’re going her room now. On your way there, you think what you’re going to say to her but you know that at the moment you see her you’ll forget everything. You have wanted to do this so many times during these 3 years you spent apart but you didn’t know if she would like to even see you again. When you get out of your own head you notice you’re already at the door of her room.

When you get into the room you see wich is Alessia’s bed and you put the sunflower Ella gave you in the middle of it. The memorie of her loving sunflower just as much as you loved and it becoming your flower and yours only. Everytime one of you passed by a flowershop you got one for the other. It was a silent way of saying ‘I love you’.

It takes another 15 minutes for Alessia to come to the room, you were by the window the moment she comes in. At first she doesn’t notice you and you could tell the first thing she saw was the sunflower at her bed.

“Toone I told you to give it to Y/N and apologize for almost breaking her ankle, why did you-“

“She already did.” You stop her and she finally see you, you can see she’s surprised. She takes a moment, then grab the sunflower from her bed and looks at it with pain in her eyes.

“Don’t you like it anymore? I’m sorry I-” You cut her off again.

“I love it, reminds me of you. Can we sit and talk? Only if you want to... I mean, I don’t want to do nothing you wouldn’t be confortable and if you want me to go I’ll, there wouldn’t be a problem...” She raises her hand so you can stop.

“It’s okay, don’t worry...” She takes a deep breath and you do the same, looking at your hands.

“Okay...” You say more to yourself, trying to have some courage. “First, I wanted to say I’m sorry for how things ended. I know I wasn’t in a good place and I know I could have let you choose if you wanted to stay or go but you have to know I did this because you don’t deserve to be with someone who’s broke. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and I knew I couldn’t make you happy that time. It took me two years to be over what my parentes did to me but three years isn’t enough to get over you. I want you to know that there isn’t a day I don’t regret ever letting you go. You was- No, you are the best thing that ever happened to me I think I’ll love you forever, even if I have another life I’ll still love you.” You haven’t notice when but she’s close to you know, so close you can feel her smell. You look into her eyes, her ocean eyes that right now are full of tears and it’s enough to make you cry too.

“And you were never alone, never. I kept an eye on you, even from afar. I’m so proud of who you have became... You’re an amazing person, Alessia. You’re an incredible player too. And you’re even more beautiful...” You wipe her tears away and when she leans on your touch, you leave your hand on her cheek. “Everytime I passed by a flowershop I still had a sunflower, even if I didn’t have you anymore to give it to. I liked to buy and bring it home because for me it’s like a little piece of you. It’s unique and it’s one of the most beautiful things I ever saw.”

She gots even closer to you and put her forehead on yours, you close your eyes when she cups your cheek. You heart beating faster than it ever had.

“You have to promise me you’ll never let me in the dark again. Please, I beg you. You have to promise me you’ll never leave of my life without saying anything anymore. God, Y/N I wish I could ever hate you for breaking my heart.” You both fully crying now. “I wish you weren’t the only one who could put all the peaces together again.”

“I’m so sorry.” You put your arms around her and you both stay like that. Your body and foreheads together, Alessia’s hands of your cheeks and your arms around her.

“If we are trying this again, trying us again it has to be slowly. I’m scared. I love you but I’m hurt and afraid and you need to show me you’re not going to run away from me anymore.” She wipes your tears again.

“I wouldn’t dare to loose you twice. I’m in for real, I’m all yours. If you want to try us again, we’ll do it step be step. And I’ll love you in every one of them. Please Lessi, let me make this right.” You grab her hands and look into her eyes.

“Okay.” She whispers.

“Can I kiss you?” You say quietly and she answer you by putting her lips on yours softly.

You'll do everything you can to make her feel safe with you again.

[truwaifu]

Heartstrings Entangled

Chiyori has never been smooth. Clumsy? Yes. And her clumsiness is exactly what gets her into a very precarious situation with Mr. Arctic himself. Chiyori isn’t getting any closer to facing Satoru but she knows more than anything, she can’t push her feelings for Nanmai away either. 

Chapter three in this series.

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 here

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Chiyori (fxreader)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: None, please free to leave your thoughts and comments. I would love to know how you feel about the series so far; .xx

After what happened with Nanami at the welcome meeting, Chiyori refused to leave her office. She unpacked her office belongings, making sure to hang up the framed photo of her and Satoru. Will he hate me? Does he love him? She worked until it was time for lunch, so engrossed in her work, she hadn’t noticed Ellie at her office door wanting to invite her to lunch. Chiyori came to learn Ellie was in the office right next to hers. She dressed pretty modestly for a woman who was only two years older than her. Her nails were neatly manicured and the pearls around her neck and a certain gleam to them that Chiyori had half a mind to ask her if she polishes her pearls before she puts them on. 

“Believe it or not, the men here aren’t total pricks.” The way Ellie spoke did not match her aesthetic in the slightest. “John is kind, Adam is a little weird, I would stay away from him actually. Joey, well I don’t know much about Joey but Reggie loves him.” 

ChiyoriI was honestly grateful for Ellie and all her insight. “And Reggie is the husband right?” “Yes! He’s that handsome specimen right over there!” Chiyori wasn’t too sure what to expect when looking at Ellie’s husband but he seemed like the perfect match for her. The way they were giving each other flirty eyes across the office lunch room said “you know nothing of our relationship.” They’re cute. As Chiyori watched them she found her mind wandering back to Mr. Arctic and she thought a little harmless digging wouldn’t hurt. Was “work Nanami” different from the Nanami that Satoru knows? 

“What about him, what’s his deal?” She asked, toying with her food trying to remain aloof while she nudged her head towards Nanami.

“Ah, Nanami san. An enigma to most. I’ve seen both men and women throw themselves at him and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. Total gentlemen though and pulls his weight around the office, not to mention the group projects.” Of course he’d be perfect.

 “We’re adults here, we’re still subjected to group projects?”

 “Nothing says teamwork like late hours in the office to close a deal.”

“I guess that’s fair. Is he married?”

“Nope, I’ve only ever seen a white haired man, equally as appealing to the eye, show up once or twice and each time I swear I thought Nanami was going to pop a blood vessel.” A white haired man? Could it be Satoru? Why do I even care? Chiyori knew she should’ve dropped it but curiosity was eating at her. She pulled out her phone and looked to see if she had a picture of her sorcerer easily accessible. 

“Hey Ellie, the white haired man you mentioned, any chance it was him?” Ellie examined the photo in awe. Her expression told Chiyori her suspicions were correct. 

“Is that your husband?”

“Ew, no, that’s my best friend. I may or may not have already met Nanami but I didn’t make the best impression.” 

“You saw Nanami Kento outside?! A rarity indeed.” 

“I don’t think he likes me very much. I tried to make up for it by the end of the night but judging by the look he gave me at my welcome meeting, not only does he remember me, he very much feels disdain towards me.” 

“Wait, what happened?”

“That story is for another time, I have to get back to work.”

“Alright fine, but are you sure it was disdain? The man keeps to himself, but he just doesn’t seem the type.”

“If not disdain, then what? Trust me, he hates me.” 

Chiyori grabbed her garbage and forgotten coffee to head towards the trash. Not noticing her surroundings, she turned and hit a wall, that wall being Nanami Kento. Her coffee spilt all over his chest.

“I am so sorry, Nanami.”

“You forget your formalities.” He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the coffee and more annoyed that Chiyori didn’t address him properly. Hearing his voice clearly in the light of day sent shivers down her spine.

“Huh? We should grab a towel or it'll stain.” 

“It’ll be fine, excuse me.”

“Don’t do that, let me help.” Chiyori grabbed Nanami’s arm and dragged him to the office kitchen area and got to work on finding a towel. She searched through several cabinets and drawers before she found what she was looking for. 

“Perfect! Now, if you have another shirt, you can change into it but this will look worse before it looks better. I used to work in a kitchen and doubled as a server when I was in school and I learned all sorts of cool tricks.” She was rambling and couldn’t find the will to stop. Being this close to Namani made her nervous. She couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“I’m really sorry. I should’ve been paying attention to where I was going.” Namami doesn’t speak. Instead he grunts.

“What did you mean before? About formalities?”

“You should refer to me as Nanami San.” This man seriously hates me.

“Right, of course, I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Do I? Well now I want to say it again because of how many times I’ve already said it.” Chiyori laughed hoping he’d join in but it’s silent. It’s silent and Chiyori can’t look at him. It’s silent and she can’t look at him and she’s rubbing his chest with a wet towel. She could feel his steel gaze burning a hole through her skull. Insufferable.

“Should be good now, you know, once it dries.”

Without another word Chiyori turned and practically ran back to her office. She stayed there far past normal work hours. She was mortified and was hoping she didn’t run into anyone from the office. If she was lucky, she’d make it to her apartment in one piece. Chiyori had made such a fool of herself in front of Nanami. She couldn’t shake why she cared so much to begin with. He’s gay for heaven's sake! Trying to rid her mind of these intrusive thoughts she locked up and headed for the train. 

Once she made it home, Chiyori tried to focus on anything other than her guilt but she felt as though the universe was hell bent on making her face feelings. Satoru had called twice and twice she ignored his call. When he called for a third time she knew he wasn’t going to stop until he spoke to her. She had no choice but to pick up his call.

“Hey you.” She spoke softly into the phone.

“Tough first day?” There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Something like that.”

“How welcoming was Kento? I told him if he didn’t take care of you I would kick his ass.” Chiyori stiffened.

“You knew he worked there?”

“Of course I knew.”

“And you didn’t think that was something I should know?”

“Why does that piece of information matter, Chi?” There it is, the amusement is back in his tone.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Satoru.” 

“Okay, crabby. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, you need some rest.” Chiyori winced. How dare she speak to him like that when he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“I’m sorry, Toru. You didn’t deserve that. I’m such a bitch.” 

“Seriously, you’re good. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll ease into your job in no time, We all know you’re the best thing for this company. Get some rest, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before Chiyori could say anything else. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Satoru was as supportive as ever. He’d always been the one there for her through all of her troubles and yet she felt like a fraud. I’m the fucking worst. She didn’t know what the future looked like working alongside Nanami. She knew she couldn’t keep this up but she didn’t have it in her to talk to Satoru about it either. Coward. I’m such a fucking coward.

Chapter 4

[oswalddclara]

Moments with you

(in the dimmed light)

Pairing: Penelope Fetherington x Colin Bridgerton

Summary: When Penelope Featherington accepted to be one of Francesca Bridgerton’s bridesmaids, the last thing she expected was for Colin Bridgerton to kiss her. Modern AU.

Chapter 2 is up now.

Word Count: 3002 (5566 total)

Read on Ao3 | Read From Beginning

Hyacinth and Gregory were already outside setting up fairy lights at the front of the house. Their mother wanted the whole estate to sparkle for Francesca and John, much to Francesca's dismay, who had hoped for something more understated.

Violet (and, by extension, Hyacinth) had compromised; a small ceremony with only family and close friends, and then a reception for the wider circle. Francesca and John were fully intending on leaving early.

When the youngest Bridgertons heard the car on the gravel, they turned their heads towards them and Hyacinth almost leaped to the car as it came to a halt.

“Penelope!” She exclaimed and enveloped her in a hug while Gregory waved still holding the fairy lights with one hand. “I'm so glad you're here. Finally someone with sense. Mum and I definitely needed reinforcements.

“I'm glad to see you too, Hyacinth.” Penelope smiled.

“Hyacinth, I think Penelope should be able to leave her things and settle in before you jump at her like,” Colin raised his eyebrows, and Hyacinth rolled hers in response.

“I'm just so excited- Greg!” She suddenly yelped. “The bottom is all wonky!” Then in a lower voice, she said to Penelope, “I'm working with amateurs; it's exhausting.”

“I'll help you in, Pen,” Colin smiled and opened the boot to retrieve her stuff. “I can still take you back to the train station if you want,” he whispered jokingly. “Save yourself.”

“Unfortunately, Francesca and Eloise might never forgive me if I abandon them.”

“I tried to save you,” he smirked complicitly, grabbing her suitcase and putting it gently on the ground.

And it was the intimacy of his gaze that caused Penelope to retreat. She didn’t smile back. Colin frowned.

“Are you well?”

“Yes, I’m fine. And don't worry, I can make my way in.”

Before he could do anything, she grabbed hold of her luggage and disappeared.

“What did you say to her?” Hyacinth accused from afar. Nothing went past her if she had interest.

“Nothing, I-” Colin was stuck in place, confused.

“Right…” Hyacinth eyed him suspiciously.

“Is anybody going to help me with these lights?” Gregory shouted.

Colin went inside and left her youngest siblings fighting over the spacing of the lights.

As he made his way through the hall, he heard Eloise's voice from the study. Colin found his sister writing table names in beautiful cursive on pastel pink paper. Penelope stood across from her, backpack over her shoulder and her left hand holding her small suitcase.

“So yeah, that happened,” Eloise said. She looked down at the paper with a frown before Penelope could react to whatever she said. “I don’t think I can write the seating plan yet again.”

“Complaining again, Eloise?” Colin folded his arms leaning against the frame of the door with a smirk.

Penelope seemed to tense when he spoke, grabbing her suitcase a little bit tighter.

“I’ve had to re-do two of the tables already,” his sister lamented. “She keeps changing her mind about where Ms Danbury should sit.” She narrowed her eyes at Colin, “How about you do it?”

“My writing is atrocious.”

“That’s not true,” Penelope remarked and Eloise gave her a cynical look. “I have seen your writing in birthday cards and stuff, it’s fine,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, ‘fine’,” Colin agreed with her with a small smile, happy that he had received praise from the person who was angry at him for unknown reasons. She was a smart and honest person, she didn't say things she didn't mean. “Definitely not as good as Eloise’s.”

“No one is as good as mine, apparently, so I’m stuck with this. Of all the skills I've learnt, which are not many, the most useless one stuck.”

“Not useless now, ” Penelope pointed out.

“Oh!” Colin exclaimed. “Very good point, Pen,” he smiled with mischief.

“You know what,” Eloise stood up unexpectedly, “I think I deserve a break now. Come on, Pen, I'll go with you to your room,” his sister gave him her best unimpressed stare as they left the room. Penelope looked ahead and didn't meet his eyes.

So Colin made his way back out to the garden where he had left his family before going to pick up her sister's best friend. They were all still on putting fairy lights on, which seemed to be a never-ending task, but his mum thought it was better if he got started putting together the tables in the marquee.

To fit the many guests coming after the ceremony, the marquee was large to hold the nine tables and a dance floor as well as a DJ booth and a couple of extra tables where coffee and tea would be served after the meal. He thought it was unconventional to have so many joining them after the main event but he understood Francesca wanted that moment of love to be intimate. Now, the space was eerily quiet with only the voices of his family coming in muffled through the plastic.

Colin looked around gauging the amount of work and the time it would take.

Once he got into the flow, it was surprisingly fast to fasten the legs. It was helpful to have something to do and blank his mind to concentrate on the manual work. Before he knew it, he was on the last table, and that's when he heard the rustling of the marquee’s plastic signalling someone coming in. He peered over the table he was working on and saw Penelope’s surprised expression when she realised he was there.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a wide smile, “coming to help?”

“Yeah.” She smiled tightly and pointed behind him. “Chairs.”

He turned around briefly, clocking the stacks of chairs a few feet behind.

“I’m almost done with the tables, so I can help you. Teamwork makes the dream work.” He joked.

Penelope barely smiled back and made her way towards chairs. Each stack had six chairs and was just about tall enough to be a challenge for her height.

As Penelope moved through the task, he stole glances at her, which distracted him from his own responsibility. He was so confused. They had shared a moment in the car, and now she was annoyed. No, angry even. What could he have possibly done in the space of ten minutes?

He noticed her struggling with a new pile. This one had eight chairs, which made it taller than the rest. Silently, Penelope attempted to shimmy the highest chair out of place with an unsteady grip. Colin moved quickly to stand

behind her and grab the chair before it could tumble down. But his hands were on top of hers, and he could feel her warmth.

Conscious of their position, he moved his hands away to have a better grip on the chair and set it down.

She turned around and looked at him surprised. He smiled shyly in return.

“I had it under control.”

He thought of making a witty remark, but all that came out was, “I thought I could help.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was small.

Her lips parted as if to say something more, causing him to focus his gaze on them. He waited but whatever she was going to say died before she uttered any words. The moment was broken and Penelope closed her mouth firmly and yanked the chair from him.

“Penelope,” he said, “are we okay?”

“We are fine,” she walked towards the next table.

“I haven't seen you or heard from you in months,” He said. “I always look forward to your messages, more than anybody else's. I missed you.”

“You missed me.” She smiled with a hint of mock in her eyes. “You miss me but you would never sleep with me.”

“What?”

“I heard you.” She interrupted him. “At your last little leaving do. How you would never have sex with me.” Penelope spit out.

“You heard?”

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