#AND it just fucking snowed so it’s a bitch to drive in

[cheapcheapfaker]

[running-in-the-dark]

I just had to see this comment on that 'how anxious are you while driving' poll:

and tbh... haha shut your mouth :)

[mayghosts]

Snow Angel: Showers (2) Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: the start of your project and the reminder of where you left off

TOC Part 1

Warnings: unhealthy alchohol usage, sexual implications

AN; THIS took a century to post, its not my best work but its something!!

January 10th, 2024

You woke up an hour too early, the stress causing you to wake up in a cold sweat. You had been dreading today since Friday, the anxiety about it had ruined your birthday weekend as well. Your friends threw you a little birthday party on the 8th, but you were barely able to enjoy yourself.

Standing in the mirror you fixed your hair one last time before saying bye to your roommate and heading to class. Sliding into your normal spot in the back row, you immediately spotted the blonde. You watched as she spoke quietly with the teacher, before she looked over to make direct eye contact with you. Quickly, you glanced out the window, pretending not to be watching their conversation. Shit fuck bitch shit dick.

You intently stared out the window as you watched her out of the corner of your eye. Up the aisle, past her row… fuck, past her row. Quickly chatting with some girls you didn't recognize, before she turned into you aisle. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Pretended to be pleasantly surprised at her dropping her books next to you, you snapped your head away from the window, giving her a tight lipped smile, before turning back to stare out the window. She barely reacted to you all. You wanted nothing more than to make her react. Scream, cry, yell, scold, laugh, taunt, literally anything would be better than the cold silence that lingered between you two.

The historical significance of constellations, patterns in the sky and the distance between stars, all of it blew by your ears as you watched the snow fall outside. Your leg bounced rythmecally under the table as you counted the seconds. Desperately trying to distract yourself from the blonde sitting next to you. You could remember everything, you raked through facts and memories. Her favorite food, how she smelt, where she liked to be touched, favorite players, middle name, horoscope, the address on her fake id, her favorite pillow on your bed back home, that one night where- everything.

Hand on thigh. Your mind went blank and you felt yourself freeze.

Paige, sick of you shaking the table with your leg, took her hand, and gently, placed in on your thigh.

You don't remember the last time she touched you. Her hands were freezing. The chill ran through your body. It was unbearable, but you couldn't bring yourself to shake her hand off. You made her react. If anything this just proved that you weren't just a figment of her imagination. You glanced up into her eyes. Cold, blue, nothing. Fuck. You couldn't help the heat that ran through you, accumulating in your stomach.

“Can you stop? Please?” Hearing her words directed at you felt like having a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. Surprising in a bad way.

You wanted to cry, scream, moan, yell, throw your chair at her, go back to your dorm. “Uh yeah, sorry.” You glanced back towards the board as you felt her lightly squeeze your thigh before letting go. Weird.

The rest of the lecture was about the same. You stared at the board, you glanced at Paige, you stated out the window, you glanced at Paige, etc etc. You could feel her eyes on you as you closed your notebook, “So, when do you want to meet? I could probably do tonight.” You were quiet for a moment, you were supposed to finish a big mural piece for one of your many art classes tonight. You've ever been able to say no to Paige. “Uhh yeah that works, I don't think the sky will be clear until after ten so want to meet then?” Your eyes met again as she spoke, she looked at you like you meant nothing. Hot “I can drive us to the field, I can pick you up around 9:40?” “Sure.”

January 10th [9:42 PM], 2024

“Fuck Maggie im so late- I think I see her car, shit I'm gonna throw up.” “You need to chill the fuck out okay, just go and do work. I'll call around 10:40 and if its terrible, pick up, we can fake an emergency.” “God I love you so much, okay bye.” You smilled at your friend as she slowed down in front of your dorm building. Slowly you pushed open her car door, stepping out into the cold air. Turning your gaze to the other pair of headlights in the parking lot, you started your trudge.

(flashback) November 14th, 2022

You were absolutely hammered again. Stumbling out of the bar you tripped into a tall blonde. The dim lights of the parking lot only further distorted your vision. “Paige? Paige I'm so sorry.” You reached for her shoulders to steady yourself, “oh you're not Paige. I'm so sorry.” “no no its okay! I'm Maggie, lets get you home okay?” You let the blonde gently put you in the passenger seat, closing the door behind you.

January 10th, 2024

You were pulled from the memory by the click of the passenger door as you pulled opened the door to Paiges truck. Sitting on the nice leather seats you felt out of place with your paint stained hands and Maggies hockey jacket. “Hey, thanks for driving!” You were determined to not make this awkward. The original plan consisted of you bringing snacks and a blanket and maybe a lantern, but you didn't want it to seem like you were trying to make it a thing. Maggie nixxed the snacks because you didn't know if she still liked the same candies. Based off the fancy new car, you knew you were right in your thinking. Maggie is rarely wrong. You felt her eyes rake over the jacket you were wearing. Taking in the last name printed on the left arm. “Yea no problem.” her voice falt as she slowly pulled out of the parking lot. You blinked your eyes shut, this was going to be a long project.

TAGLIST: @justareadernotawriter1 @hellokittyfeenie @3xoticyanna @smiths-fan--13 @stydiaownsmyheart

[mattsfavbitchhh]

goodbye chris - c.s

cheating!chris x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, crying, alcohol cheating ( don’t do it ! ), angst with no happy ending

a/n: i felt we needed more chris angst fics, y’know?? anyway, hope you guys enjoy !!

word count: 730 words

not proofread

y/n's pov

4:32 am

and chris still isnt home, again. he's been doing this for the past week. ive texted him, ive called him, ive checked his location. he's still at this at this fucking house

do i go or not? i guess i should right? he's been doing this for week, i have to go. i grab my keys and my sweater, preparing to go to the house

i walk out the front door and start my car, i shiver because of the winter snow falling from the beautiful skies. i get in my car and start driving, in silence

i decide to turn on my playlist on the aux, it plays "reckless" by madison beer

"how could you be so reckless with my heart?"

i stop at a red light and start to ball my eyes out, with my sweater catching my salty tears. i get a sense of anger in my veins and run the red light, not giving a shit

i reach the house and park my car, and walk inside. my nose is immediately filled with the smell of weed and other drugs. my ears deafened by the loud shitty music playing loudly

i see drunk people dancing, people smashing their faces into eachother. i notice a closed door and wonder if chris is in there

i open the door and my eyes are meant by a scene i'm not supposed to see, chris fucking another girl

the girl gasps and chris turns around to see me in the doorway with a look on my face he'll never forget

i turn at start speed-walking to my car with tears at my waterline, i hear chris yell my name, but i ignore him

"y/n! i-i can explain!" chris yells.

"chris no the fuck you cant! you just hooked up with another girl when you have a girlfriend! do you know how fucked up that is?!" i yell back at him

"please y/n! listen to me, im sorry!" he yells, his voice cracking

"you dont even mean it. you're drunk." i say mumbling under my breath

chris grabs my wrist and turns me to face towards him,

"look i know what i did wasn't right an--" chris explains but then is cut off

"what? and you'll never do it again? that's what they all say, until they break your heart again." i say to him while starting my car and getting inside. i reverse out of the snow filled driveway, and speed down the street

chris' pov

i stand there watching her drive into the night, with a heart full of pure guilt. i did this. i caused this on myself. i went to the bar almost every night this week. i hooked up with some random girl. its all my fault.

i go back inside the house and grab the rest of my stuff from the room

"who was that?" the hooker i hooked up with asks

"none of your damn business bitch." i say rudely to her, as walk out the room and outside the house.

i grab my phone from my pocket and an call an uber home

y/n's pov

i stop at a red light and take my phone to text madison and nick about what happened. madison offers for me to stay as long as i need stay over at hers, i take the offer and tell her i'll meet her at house in 30

i get to the sturniolos home and quickly head upstairs to grab my stuff, of course saying hi to matt and nick. i grab all my stuff i need, start walking out of chris and i's shared old bedroom. but that's when i hear the front door open and chris comes stumbling through the door

i open nick's door and tell him chris' is home and he lets me stay there until he hears chris close the door of the bedroom. i hug nick and tell ill text him when i get there and leave his room

i scurry downstairs and give matt a hug goodbye and start walking towards the front door when i hear chris say my name again but i run out door. i start my car, and back out of the driveway and head to madison's home.

taglist:@certifiedstarrr @flouvela @sturnsbitch @adie-blogs @flwrs4sturniolo

©mattsfavbitchhh

just so you guys know there will a pt. 2 i js need to gts.. it will prob be out next week....i hope

[holylulusworld]

Frostbite

Summary: You are cold and pissed.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: language, pissed reader, remorse, fluff

“Hey, can you preheat the bunker?” You sighed as Dean grumbled at the other end of the line. “Dean, did you hear me? I have everything we will need for the holidays. I’m on my way back.” Slowing the car down due to the snow you tried to focus on the road, not Dean chuckling as you are cold again. “DEAN!”

“What are you, bread?” The hunter snickered and made a joke about you being a bread, heat, and your cold feet.

“No,” you grunted into the phone. “I’m a warm and delicious pie with a wet filling you’ll never get to taste again.” You angrily hung up the phone.

After buying all the things for Christmas, booze for Dean, and gifts, you couldn’t wait to drive home to a warm and cozy bunker.

It was freezing outside, and damn cold.

One phone call later you weren’t just cold. You were downright pissed too. All you asked for was for Dean to preheat the bunker so you could warm up after being out in the cold for hours.

“Wait for it, Winchester! You’ll not get any,” you grunted and slammed your hands onto the steering wheel. “This includes pie and booze!”

“Dean?” Sam laughed as his brother ran around the bunker, pillows, a soft blanket, and your favorite plushie tugged under his arm. “Where is the fire?”

Dean stopped in his tracks, shook his head, and ran toward your shared room without sparing his brother a second glance.

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” Dean yelled at his brother while running along the hallway.

“Nothing?” Sam pressed on. “Is that the reason I’m running around in a tank top and shorts because I feel like you are trying to cook me?”

“Y/N is cold…again.”

“Let me guess,” Sam dipped his head, a smirk creeping on his face, “you fucked up and said something stupid…again.”

“Just shut up, bitch!” Dean stormed off, grumbling under his breath. The last thing he needed was his baby brother teasing him for messing things up.

“Jerk!” Sam retorted and walked away. He didn’t want to get involved in your fight. The heat in the bunker was worse enough. All Sam wanted was to have a shower and to be left alone.

“Dean, what the—??” You stopped short in your tracks when you carried the first bags inside the bunker. It felt like the heat at the bunker hit you out of nowhere. “Warm…no hot…”

“Sweetheart,” Dean exclaimed loudly. He hurriedly made his way toward you to snatch the bags out of your hands. “Let me handle this. You’ll go to the bathroom and have a warm bath.”

Dean pushed the bags in Sam’s hands who only sneaked around the bunker to watch his brother make amends.

“Sammy, bring these into the kitchen. Take care of the rest in the trunk.”

“Dean! What are you,” you squeaked and tried to fight your boyfriend when he picked you up in bridal style to carry you toward the bathroom. “Let me down! Damnit, Winchester. I’m mad at you.”

“I’ll prepare a warm bath for you. I waited for you to come home,” Dean smirked as you squirmed in his arms.

“A bath won’t make things up to me. I asked you to do one thing for me after I ran around town for hours to get all the shit we’ll need,” you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted at Dean.

“It’s just…” He snickers. “You’re such a cute frostbite and I love warming you up. You always snuggle closer to me to get warm and cozy.”

“You want me to freeze so you can warm me up?”

“I love warming you up,” he chuckled. “You’re my little frostbite and I’m your heater to warm you up. We’re the perfect match.”

“You’re still an ass, and on my naughty list.”

“Uh-huh. Did you hear that Sammy, I’m on her naughty list,” Dean grinned. “I bet she loves it when I’m naughty—” You covered Dean’s mouth with your hand.

“Dean, stop talking! You can't say things like that in front of Sam.”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart. Teasing Sammy is half the fun,” he grinned and chuckled as you suppressed a giggle. “Baby, are you still mad at me?”

“A little less because you preheated the bunker for me,” you whispered in his ear and tugged at his earlobe. “If you warm me up real good tonight, I'll consider forgiving you.”

Dean made an odd noise at your words.

“I got you warm blankets and pillows. I cooked for you too, baby. I swear, after your bath, I’ll warm you up so good you will never need me to preheat the bunker for you again…” 

Tags in reblog.

[achromatophoric]

Enid: Hey Willa, can you unlock your magic iBall? I promised to call your mom after we settled into the dorms.

Wednesday: Querida, it’s just a crystal ball, and there is no need to unlock it. By the very fact that centipedes have yet to sprout from your face signifies that you are an approved user.

Enid: Uh, Babycakes, we’re gonna have to like, come back to that centipede thing after you help me with this.

Wednesday: Enid. This is a snow globe. Of Dracula’s castle.

Enid: What!? I thought that was your mansion!

Wednesday: Certainly not. The mansion has impaling spikes along the eastern face, not the northern.

Enid: Then where’s your… oh no.

Wednesday: What is it, mi lupita?

Enid: *groans* This is Yoko’s. We must’ve switched. I guess I’ll call her in the— whoa! What’s the rush?

Wednesday: Call Yoko. Make sure she doesn’t answer the ball. I’ll drive.

- - Debatably adult humor incoming - -

— — Far away in off-campus housing — —

Yoko: Oh fuck…!! God, Divi. Can I ahh-fuck— can I call your tongue Hadoken?

Divina: ?

Yoko: Because it’s downright fierce. *manages a wink*

Divina: *sputters and comes up for air* Yoko! Not while I’m— oh bleugh! I snorted you, you bitch!

Yoko: *cackles* Sorry, I couldn’t resist! I uh… hey, do you hear something?

Morticia: *muffled* Enid dear, is that you?

After some scrambling, Yoko manages to fish the crystal ball out of a box of underwear, sex toys, and Funko dolls. She sets it on the bedside table with Morticia facing the two.

Morticia: Ah, Wednesday’s friends. How is it that you have her crystal ball?

Yoko: Shit. Sorry, Miss Addams. Some of our stuff must’ve gotten mixed up in the move.

Divina: Did you need to talk to Enid? I can call her for you.

Morticia: No need. And I should be the one to apologize. I did not mean to interrupt your… hmm. Activities.

Divina: *flushes*

Yoko: Pffft. Don’t apologize. You weren’t interrupting. In fact… you wanna watch? *waggles eyebrows*

Morticia: Absolutely, my dears.

Divina: Yoko!! You can’t just— wait. Seriously?

Yoko: Never doubt the Tanaka rizz, Babe. Miss Addams, I have been so looking forward to this.

Morticia: Please, call me Morticia. Now then, why don’t you two lovely dears come a touch closer and let’s begin? I dare say that our time might be short.

Yoko: You got it, Mo— can I call you Mommy? Yeah? Perfect. Babe, get back in here so we can give Mommy a show. God, I’m so—

Divina: Sorry, one sec. Uh. Yoko, Enid’s calling your phone. Should I—

Yoko/Morticia: Don’t pick up.

[billskeis]

can you do smut with 2014 or 2015 Bill

ᡣ𐭩 bill's faux fur coat

bill and the rest of tokio hotel were filming a new music video, they were back for a new era and you were for sure they were gonna kill it! the five of you were chilling in the dressing room, prepping and looking for outfits to wear at the shooting.

“how’s this jacket meine liebe?” bill asks.

bill pulls out a long faux fur coat, the pattern on it adorned that of a cheetah. or maybe a snow leopard? who knows. your eyes widened at how amazing such a piece was on its own.

over the course of the years you and bill have been together, his style has changed quite a bit, more frequently.

bill has been able to explore a more ambiguous type of wear that he’s always dreamt of, since society is now more open and welcoming in comparison to the past.

“i love it!” you exclaim clapping your hands together, bill does a twirl for you as you giggle admiring your boyfriend, “touch the jacket y/n! it’s soo soft,” “oh wow, it feels almost real,” “you know i would NEVER get real fur though,” “i know i know, you’re such a sweetie bill,” “you know i am,” bill smirks at you.

while going into the shoot, your eyes were glued onto bill. who while wearing the jacket, wore nothing underneath it. pants, obviously, but he has no top on.

this reveals the multiple tattoos he curated over the years, your personal favourite was his chest piece, he got that tattoo twinning with tom whose tattoo was the same above his elbow.

not only did it show his tattoos, but his one nipple piercing that you swore you hated but it seemed to have grown on you.

not to mention, bill wore low rise jeans that revealed a section of his happy trail, which, bitch..

had you drooling.

“i want it,” you said out of the blue, “h-huh?” one of the managers replied to your strange comment, “the jacket. i want it after the shoot, can i have it?” you plead looking straight into the stylist’s eyes who dart a confused look at the manager, “i don’t see why not, we won’t need it after this,” you smile brightly at this, “oh thankyouthankyou!!”

bill came running backstage after the filming was finished and brought you into a hug off your feet, spinning you around, “babybaby how was i!?” “just perfect bill! but take this jacket off—i’m going home by the way,”

bill pouts as he begins removing the clothing garment, handing it to you. you put the jacket on immediately and snuggle into it.

“so soon?” he questions giving you his puppy dog eyes, you usually couldn’t resist but it was for his own good, “uhhh yeah! i gotta’ start dinner, see you?” “awww okay baby but i expect my favourite!” he places a kiss on your cheek as he walks away for another outfit change.

it’ll be his favourite alright.

8:36pm

filming done schatzi! coming home rn

8:37pm

okkk :)

8:45pm

u don’t sound 2 happy D:

8:51pm

nonsense billy! just cookin.. come home quicker ;)

9:01pm

omw asap <3

the sound of keys turning can be heard through the apartment hallway of which you shared with bill. as the door turned open bill closed it behind him and turned to where his eyes met something, or rather someone filling the usually empty hallway.

there you stood, in the jacket. in the jacket that he wore during the shoot. what was under the jacket?

nothing, the only thing you wore was your panties, each jacket flap covering both your tits, only middle cleavage showing.

“y-y/n! what’re you doing baby someone could see you..” you giggle as bill ushers you further away from the front door despite it already being closed.

his attempts to close the jacket in front of you proves useless as you pry his hands and arms away from your body, twirling in all your glory as the jacket flies from the gust of wind you create exposing your body momentarily.

“meine liebe.. you’re driving me nuts.. what’s for dinner?”

“me.”

“s’much bill! you’re being too rough!” “yea? well, you’re being such a fucking brat.. s’not what you wanted?? didn’t wanna be under me and have this pussy fucked??” bill pistons his hips into yours, abdomen constantly teasing your clit every time he brought his body closer to yours.

it’s the second time you came. before this, he played and teased with your tits, nipples puffy, definitely way more sensitive than before and heavy dark hickeys left all over the surface area.

bringing his lips to yours, bill kisses you deeply. the kiss was filled with sex, he’s rough and not sweet, sucking on your bottom lip which was for sure going to be a little swollen after. you run your tongue over his two lip piercings and he scoffs.

“still wanna continue your antiques huh?” bill lifts up one of your legs for better leverage and fucks closer to your cervix, “o-oww.. bill,” “oh please, i warned you beforehand but you want things your way. such a whore for me huh..”

he drags his length in and out of your cunt, nice and slow, but his thrusts are hard, and unexpected. still keeping a rhythm, he thrusts, edging himself slightly so he can pump you with more of his load.

“gonna come, come with me baby..” he now brings his other hand to leave circles on your clit while his latter still straddles your leg, “oh fuuuck bill!”

you convulse as electricity pulses through your body, third time coming. the pressure being too much as your squirt sprays a bit of bill’s pelvis while he fucks you through your orgasm, “shit!”

feeling how you clench around bill, he can’t help but come right after you, fucking his cum deep into you as it shoots within your cervix.

he takes himself out of you and watches how his cum ribbons out your cunt, giving it a little slap, “a-ah!” “get up schatzi, not done with you..”

with the little strength you have left in your body, you sat upright against the headboard. bill, a little higher than you inches his hips closed to your mouth, dick still stiff.

he uses his hand to guide the tip of his head to your mouth, rubbing it side to side on your bottom lip, “open,” he demands and you widen your mouth cavity to welcome in his length.

he glides his dick in and out your throat, mouth agape to let out such whorish moans. you mentally question whether it’s you the whore or bill.

you ensure your tongue remains still against the bottom of your mouth to lick clean bill’s shaft. tasting bitter, you take in a mixture of your’s and bill’s cum.

“fuck y/n.. you do so well f’me, love you so much, stick your tongue out more yea?” and that you do, as he places his tip onto your tongue, you jerk the rest of his shaft to a rhythm he particularly likes.

as you can feel him shake and see his hips jerk slightly under your touch, bill can’t help but moan “u-ugh fuck, coming..!” whimpering, bill shoots ropes of come onto your tongue, thick, and surprisingly a lot.

riding out his high, he finishes, breathing heavy. you close your mouth to ingest all of bill, sticking out your tongue to your boyfriend who smiles down at you proudly. he brings himself a little bit lower to wipe the sweat off your forehead and gives you a quick peck.

“thank you baby, so proud of you,” “mm, now what’re we going to do about the jacket..?” you both look at each other and the state of how the jacket was left in.

matted, dirty, definitely stained or soaking in.. well god knows what, you guys only had it for one day yet it was already fucking ruined.

“let’s see what time dry-cleaning opens tomorrow.”

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter One

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Anxious theme, Bickering, Brotherly Taunting, Uncomfortable situations, Yearning (oh the yearning) Smoking, Alcohol (it's a bar- feels self explanatory but just for safety) Shitty dad jokes, and silly goofy boy time!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Jake has spent most of his 20's single or just random dates here and there. Unfortunately for him, his brothers and their partners are all on board for trying to find him the love of his life.

Author's Note: hehe hi :) I couldn't resist any longer. I hope you love Jake as much as I do.

Beggars Song - Matt Maeson "Oh yeah, I'm a beat down, washed up, son of a bitch, I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent, but I'ma Be damned if I let it keep me down."

The soft ‘click’ of the door latching behind me as I sneak out of Willa and Quinn’s apartment. It stopped snowing a few hours ago, so the plows have had time to take care of the roads. Hopefully, they could get out of there quickly enough to make it home. I can’t be shocked that we all got roped into a slumber party, especially with Josh involved. I honestly didn’t even mind it; sometimes, spending time with everyone is nice, not in the bar. My heart was whole, watching everyone laugh and smile together. 

Their apartment complex wasn’t too far from the bar, but I don’t trust the roads enough to drive the speed limit.

‘Oh, what a night, 

Late December back in ‘63..’ 

“Oooh, this one hits,” I say as the song fills the car. Turning the volume, I tap along on my steering wheel. Taking my time, I can appreciate how the snow softly coats the trees, which kind of makes up for the lack of leaves. The sun feels extra bright today, bouncing off all the snow piles and practically making the ground light up. 

‘What a lady, what a night.’ 

“Oh, I, I got a funny feeling when she walked in the room,” I quietly sing along. I’ve always been a little partial to the “oldies” as they say on the radio, but I grew up listening to all of it. Maybe I’m just a sucker for nostalgia. 

Pulling into my usual spot, ‘Oh, what a night,’ I sit for a second, contemplating whether I should run upstairs real quick or go into the bar. I probably should at least change. I’ve been in these clothes for almost twenty-four hours. 

As fast as I can, without busting my ass on the ice, I walk to the stairwell. It’s unfortunately not the most insulated, so I hustle upstairs; the first chilly days always catch you off guard.  The warmth hits me when I get into the apartment, my body letting out one last shiver, shaking the chill from outside off. 

After finding a clean button-up and switching into new pants, I feel like a new human. I take a few minutes to brush my teeth, spray myself with some cologne, and then make a cup of coffee. The warm drink on a cold day routine never misses. I scroll through my emails while waiting for my coffee to finish brewing before heading to the bar. 

The brisk air has me running down the stairs, fumbling with my keys to unlock the back door to the bar. I quickly turn the keys, hearing the heavy ‘clunk’ of the deadbolt flipping over. I scoot myself inside, pulling the door shut behind me while letting out another shiver. 

My body freezes when I hear sounds coming from the actual bar. Jesus Christ, NO. My heart rate spikes as I creep down the hallway, not wanting to give myself away. As if whoever or whatever is in here didn’t hear the door, you dumbass.  I still can’t see out into the bar, but the faint sounds are becoming much less muffled as I get closer.

“Fuck, what do we do?” 

“Just get dressed, baby. Go, go, go.” 

Is that Danny? I take a few more steps before finally seeing his tall figure standing shirtless near one of the end booths. He’s clearly buttoning his pants when I see a pair of smaller arms reach out behind him. Oh my god, Melody.  I watch as he fumbles around, trying to flip his shirt from inside out, when he turns around and locks eyes with me. I can see any ounce of life drain from his face from a mile away. 

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Still, it is realistically ten seconds before I spit out the only question I can manage to think of, “What the fuck is going on?” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Jake, really, I’m so sorry,” Dan is about to plead his case now. 

Looking at him, I take a deep breath, knowing he genuinely feels terrible about this. “It’s fine,” I say, touching his arm. 

“I will just take the day to really clean the bar, I suppose,” letting the smile sneak onto my face to ease the tension. 

He lets a small laugh, “I’ll help since it’s my bad anyway.” 

“Oh god,” I let slip. That was supposed to be an inside thought, but here we are. 

“What?” 

I silently point to the camera behind the bar. I won’t lie: Watching the emotions cycle through his face wasn’t a little funny. Melody looked wide-eyed as the realization hit her as well. 

“Oh shit, oh my god,”  

“You quite literally helped me install them,” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, “I don’t know how you forgot.” 

He runs both hands over his face before finally asking, “Can we just.. delete that.. ALL of that..please?” His voice is coated in desperation as he keeps looking over at Melody.  

“I’m certainly not going to watch it, Danny.” Relief washes over him as if he really thought I would watch that.  

“Let’s agree to never bring this up.. again.. Ever?” I cock an eyebrow at him, taking a quick glance at Melody as well. She nods aggressively.  

“What are we never bringing up?” Sam’s sing-songy tone radiates through the bar. God damn it. 

Josh’s loud voice followed suit, “Oh, I love a good secret!” Of course, he came with Sam. 

“That is between you guys and Danny,” I put my hands up, “I have cleaning I need to get done.” I look over to Dan, trying not to laugh. The look on his face is screaming that he knows he’s screwed now that Josh is here. Everybody is about to know his little secret. 

“If you need to go for a little bit, do what you need to,” I lean in and whisper to Melody as I pass her. She gives me a thumbs-up and mouths, ‘Thank you,’ as I head down the hall. 

“Goodmorning, brother,” Josh’s voice comes from behind me as I grab some cleaning supplies from our storage closet. 

“I’m surprised you guys got here this early?” 

When I left the apartment, I didn’t think anybody would be moving for quite a while. The few of us in the living room, all sleeping on the makeshift bed we crafted with extra blankets and pillows. Sam dipped at some point in the night to Willa’s bed, what a party pooper. 

“I couldn’t fall back to sleep after you left, and I heard Sam moving around,” he tells me, “We figured you could use some help getting the bar situated after last night anyway.” Reaching out to take the broom and dustpan from me. 

Surprised that they wanted to help, I quickly said, “Oh, well, thanks bub.” Not that they didn’t usually help out if I asked, but it was a bit more dependent on me asking, which I’m candidly not great at doing. 

“So, what exactly needs to be cleaned?” Sam finally caves. 

I smile at him, knowing what he’s trying to do, “Let’s just say we’re taking the opportunity to really make sure everything is clean.” Grabbing a rag and some disinfectant to start wiping everything down. 

“Well,” he instigates further, “I just didn’t know if there was like a specific booth or something.” He unsuccessfully chokes back a laugh.

Josh quickly cut him off, “I’m sure he asked for specifics,” 

I bite my tongue so as not to laugh at the argument that will start. If there’s anything I know, it’s that these two can’t help but start shit with each other. 

“It was just a question, Josh.”

“You’re just picking at him for no reason. He said we’re cleaning everything, so just clean.”

“You know why we’re cleaning. That’s why you’re being defensive,” Sam says, his voice rising as he realizes. 

Josh gasps dramatically, “You DO listen to your girlfriend. Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” 

“Oh, fuck off,” 

Josh laughed loud: “It doesn’t take much to figure out what happened, Samuel. Just use that little brain of yours for a minute, and maybe you’ll piece it together.” 

I sit in a booth to wipe the table down, just listening to them go back and forth. Josh isn’t wrong.. If he really did just stop to think about it, he would figure it out. Or, literally, just ask Danny. I never said he couldn’t ask him.

“I’m not that stupid, I know that-” Sam starts but immediately stops when he sees Danny walk back in. 

“What are we yelling about?”

“The two of them are bickering about why we’re cleaning,” I say plainly, with my eyebrows raised and a tight-lipped smile. 

His eyes widen, clearing his throat before saying, “Yeah, uh, people were a bit frantic last night trying to get out of here when the storm started, and we also didn’t want to get stuck too long, so we just.. didn’t have time to clean.” He couldn’t be worse at lying, but I think Sam will let it slide because of how uncomfortable he looks right now. 

“Now, why couldn’t you just say that?” Sam turns, looking back over at Josh. Jesus Christ, here we go. 

“Because that’s obviously not the reason, they clearly–” 

“Good morning, Krusty Krew!” Quinn sings through the bar, thank god. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Willa asks through a laugh. 

“Yes, thank you,” I speak before the other two can. 

It’s fun to watch as they both make their way over to their respective partners. Josh and Quinn always seem like they haven’t seen each other in years, even if it’s only been 20 minutes. The way they just curl into each other at any given moment. And then there’s Sam and Willa. Her laugh radiates through a room whenever Sam is around; they constantly pick on each other about something. He presses a kiss to the side of her head before she starts to walk away, but not before he swats at her ass, and she flips him off. She’s a saint for putting up with him. 

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I listened to everyone’s chatter until Josh and Sam started bickering again. I motion to Danny to say that I’m going outside for a minute before grabbing a cigarette from my office. Walking out the back door in the crisp air, I pull out my lighter and try to beat the wind. That first inhale is always the most rewarding. I told myself when I left the shipyard that I would cut back; the guys I worked with were heavy smokers, and it’s easy to fall into that trap. Now, I settle for one a day, and honestly, some days, I don’t bother; I find that when I’m stressed, I tend to go for it, but I’ve stuck to my guns and not gone back to smoking aggressively. 

I walk across the street, finding my usual spot to watch the boats slowly sail out to the ocean. I like to come here when I need a moment. I’m unsure why I’m feeling more anxious today than usual, but my chest feels heavy. Why do I feel so alone?

It’s not that I can’t be alone. I obviously have made it this long without someone; I have just spent the last two years watching everyone close to me find love. I never really feel lonely because they are all part of the family at this point, but I do have days where I can’t help but be almost..jealous. My mind keeps wandering as I take another drag. Is there something I’m doing that just makes me not worthy of dating? I’ve never understood why, out of all the dates I’ve been on in the last handful of years, none of them have worked out. God, I sound so pathetic.   

I enjoy the last moments of my smoke break, forcing myself to focus on the boat coming into the dock. I can’t seem bothered when I go inside, or they’ll notice. 

Finally, making my way back inside, I see Josh and Quinn in one booth and Sam with Willa in another. They don’t seem to notice that I’ve snuck back in, so I just spend some time cleaning up and organizing behind the bar while there’s nobody to actually tend to. 

I start mindlessly wiping down the wine glasses, trying to make them as clean as possible. Josh and Quinn are in my line of sight; it’s hard not to notice how in love they are. Always sitting on the same side of any table, whether it’s a booth or a typical table setting, they’re attached at the hip. They’re always touching. Whether it’s just sitting close enough, one of them can move their leg closer, or right now, where Quinn is just tracing their finger along his jawline and down the bridge of his nose. They lean in, pressing a kiss to his nose before he tugs them in quickly for a real kiss. This is dreadful. I really can’t remember the last time I kissed someone. Am I that touch starved that I’m jealous of my brother? The squeak from the glass reminds me where I am. I shake my head, putting it back in its place and grabbing a new glass. 

I glance over to the other booth; Willa has her head propped up in her hand as she looks at my brother. Even though they instigate each other most often, it’s always with love. She has a soft smile plastered on her face as she nods to whatever he’s saying. Running his hand down her forearm every so often, it’s weird seeing Sam so.. domestic? Willa really is perfect for him, though. I knew the moment she put him in his place while on a date with SOMEONE ELSE. How she looks at him like he’s the greatest thing ever created is incredibly sweet. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see the way her eyes light up before she calls him ‘babe.’  I put the last glass back in place, tossing the towel under the bar. 

I think I have scrubbed every inch of this bar today, I think to myself, leaning into my hand. The music is lower since there’s nobody here, and everybody is currently preoccupied. I let my mind wander for a minute. 

The feeling of being so excited to see someone that your heart flutters. Being able to just hold someone close. God, getting to kiss them endlessly— nothing is better than that. Feeling them smile at you, ugh. Being so wrapped up in each other, pulling her into your lap so you can just have her as close as possible. Someone to call sweet things and have them call me ‘babe.’ Fuck me. I need a wife. Can I just skip to the being in love part? I don’t want to waste my time on girls who will just leave after a couple of months. I just want to fall helplessly in love and spend every day making sure they feel the same. 

“Jake?” Sam loudly says, waving his hand in front of me. 

My body jumps involuntarily, “For fucks sake.” 

“Good daydream, huh?” Josh teases. I fight the warm feeling creeping into my face, rolling my eyes subtly. 

“What do you guys want?” 

“Will you make us drinks, please?” Josh asks, trying to recover from his taunting. 

“Quinn and Willa too?” I double-check as I’m grabbing glasses. They both nod in sync. 

I kept letting out little sighs, which, to be fair, I didn’t think were that obvious. Turning and setting one of the drinks in front of them, my eyebrows pulled together. 

“Why do you look so angry?” Sam asks. 

“I’m not?” I quip back. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out as convincing as I would have liked. 

“I really think you just need to get laid or something, Jake,” Josh laughs out, “you need someone to take the edge off!” he laughs, nudging Sam with his elbow. You’re telling me. 

“When do I have the time, Josh? Come on,” I can’t help the attitude that comes out, but given the day I’ve had so far— getting harassed for not getting laid is not helping. 

“Honestly, you just seem tense lately,” Sam pipes up, “maybe if you actually flirted with one of the pretty girls who comes in, you could get off once in a while.” Josh barks out a laugh towards Sam, but I see Dan pointing in our direction as I listen to my personal peanut gallery giggle. 

Rolling my eyes at them as they keep egging each other on, “Trust me, I’d love for my wife to walk through those doors, but I don’t see that happening.” 

I turn to finish making drinks for the boys, trying to ignore them, squawking about my lack of sex life. As I set out a few glasses on the counter, I heard a lower, raspy female voice ring behind me, “Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?” 

I turn around to a petite redhead dressed very professionally. Her button-up was a pale yellow, tucked into some grayish-blue slacks. Her hair curled perfectly, and her dark red lips stood out against her pale complexion.  

“Which one?” we all answer in unison. 

She flips open her folder, looking at whatever papers are in there, and I can’t seem to look away from her. She’s … so hot?  

“Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at me, making direct eye contact. Green. Her eyes are green.  

I manage to muster up the ability to ask, “What do you need from me, dear?” Dear? Am I ninety?  The sounds of my brother’s giggling prevented any level of silence between us. 

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” she says confidently; her voice is so pretty.“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,”  I say, trying to lighten the mood as I extend my arm out to shake her hand across the bar. It feels like a small jolt to my heart as her hand firmly grabs mine, and she tells me, “Charlotte Rhodes.”

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Chapter Two

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | Prologue | FDOG Playlist

If you ask nicely, I may be so inclined to drop Chapter 2 sooner than next Thursday .. is all i'm going to say. 🤭

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying.  He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it.  God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up,  sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears. 

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.” 

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.”  The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth?  These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.  

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did. 

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce.  Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment…  I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned.  “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.”  He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.” 

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned. 

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello!! Recently found your page and when i tell you i binge read almost all of your lookism content i mean it.

That being said i would love to ask if you could do a scenario where y/n and Goo hate each other but fake date in order to make Gun jealous and of course annoyed (in Goo’s case), however in the end they both fall for each other.

Aww!! THANK YOU FOR READING!! Isn't this community great. Isn't Lookism great.

I LOVE fake date fics! Slight deviation to just trying to prove Gun wrong (the plot is thin, okay).

Goo Kim x Reader: Fake Dating

"Get your hands off me!"

"It's called acting, you bitch!"

"Dumb bastard!"

"Stupid hag!"

"Four eyed fuck!"

"Shit for brains!"

A door slams shut. You and Goo freeze for a brief moment before throwing yourselves at each other. Your lips smash painfully together, and hands wander. It's for authenticity, you see.

(And it works.)

Gun stops in his tracks, "What the fuck?"

.

.

You had been chit-chatting as you usually do during one of the lulls in your missions with Gun.

"-and winter weddings are sorta magical, y'know? I like the idea of getting married and having snow falling all around me. But summer with the weather, I-"

Gun has had enough of your mundane chatter. "How the hell do you find the stupidest shit to talk about. You can't even get anyone to date you."

You throw a punch at him, "We dated!"

He dodges your attack, "And we broke up."

"Fuck you, loads of people want to date me!"

Gun peers over his sunglasses at you, he knows you are bullshitting.

Ugh. You'll show this asshole.

.

.

"Hey, you big lump," you kick Goo's chair. Oops maybe a bit too hard. You cackle as he tumbles into a heap on the floor.

"AHH! What was that for, you dumb bitch!" Goo gives you the filthiest look.

(On paper you and him should get on like a house on fire. But the first time you met, he had opened his mouth and asked who brought along this pretty little bimbo. You tried to rip out his tongue for that. Well, the rest is history.)

"So..." You eye up the blonde dusting himself off and readjusting his glasses. Is this one of your worst ideas? Probably. "Wanna piss off Gun with me?"

"I don't need you to do that."

"But what if we can take it to new realms of irritation?"

"..."

"I'll pay you."

"Why didn't you say so, Princess! I'm all ears."

Goo had always thought you were a little weird. As if this doesn't prove his point exactly.

Whatever.

He's making money and irritating Gun. Two of his favourite things. Add in beating someone up in there, and it's his holy trinity.

Hmm, maybe he could beat you up after this. That would be fun. He gives you a sly glance as you're explaining the 'fake dating' and what it entails.

Seriously, what an oddball.

.

.

After Gun discovers you two all over each other, he turns around and swiftly exits.

He did not care for getting involved in your love life. That ship had long sailed.

The only concerns are with his own sanity.

Having you and Goo together is a dangerously irritating, annoying combination. It doesn't just increase his chance of getting a headache and into trouble two-fold, it increases it exponentially.

...And the fake dating begins.

.

.

"Sweetheart, this song reminds me of you!" Goo gives a mocking smile that only you could see.

Gun is sitting in the back while Goo drives and you occupy the passenger's seat. That's fine as far as Gun is concerned. The further he is away from the both of you while you have this little... thing going on the better.

He honestly could not care less. But even listening to you two flirting is like nails on a chalkboard. The headache is returning. He should really invest in some headphones.

"Aww~ You are so sweet!"

You run your hands along Goo's thigh then brutally dig your nails in as you pinch him. This fuck. Did he think you couldn't hear the lyrics? The woman in this song is a useless doormat.

Goo blows you a kiss in return.

.

.

"Cupcake!" Goo matches pace with you and goes to hold your hand. You hear Gun's unhappy grumblings from behind. "There's a new hot restaurant that opened up. We should go on a date!"

"I would love that," That really would be thoughtful if you guys were an actual couple.

"We can have a nice night out and walk along the Han river."

"Perfect."

Goo's grip on your hand tightens, he looks deviously at you. Oh no. You prepare yourself for whatever comes out of his mouth next.

"And afterwards we can go back to mine for dessert? You know what I mean? By dessert? That's how everyone phrases it right? To mean we will just fuck all night? With my big, huge, throbbing-"

You hear a stumble and cursing from Gun. You look at Goo and feel him mentally high five-ing you.

Heh. That'll teach Gun for being such a dick. This isn't such a terrible idea after all.

.

.

"Sweetheart! Don't I look handsome!"

Gun questioned his life choices.

You and Goo had insisted on running into a designer store for something quick. 'Something quick' had turned into an hour of Goo parading around in suits. And now Gun is waiting sullenly in the corner for you both to finish up whatever the fuck you are doing.

"Hurry the fuck up,"

"Gun, you sourpuss! It's for the HNH function tonight. Goo needs to look his best."

Goo definitely did look good, you'll give him that. The blonde has a great body and a keen eye for fashion.

"Honeybun?" you turn your attention towards your 'boyfriend' as he strides out the fitting room. The suit looks like it was tailored especially for him.

Oh. Has he always been this handsome? You start to think maybe he isn't so bad until-

"You said you'll treat me for showing you a good time last night?"

You must be a better actor than you thought. Your mouth doesn't drop open at his boldfaced lie and your face remains neutral.

This prick. No doubt he's going to rack up an absurd bill and make you pay.

"Let's have a closer look then," you walk over to him, playing the part of a sweet girlfriend. Your hand smooths out the lapel and shirt.

"Silly, your tie is all askew," you adjust the knot and tighten it until it almost chokes this idiot.

Goo doesn't say a word, just looks down at you with a smirk. You feel the urge to wipe it off.

"I do like this one," you say. Your hand reaches out to caress his face. He stills at your unusually tender touch, his next backhanded comment gets stuck in his throat.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

As if on autopilot, Goo's arms moves to circles your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Something about the way you fit with him feels natural.

You nip at his lower lip. Hmm, Goo really is a good kisser.

Gun closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. You two are getting on his fucking nerves. He really shouldn't kick your asses here. He takes a deep breath and counts to ten.

Scratch that, maybe one hundred.

.

.

Goo, with his arm around your shoulder, eyes your Uno cards.

He had already won a couple rounds ago, and now you and Gun are determining who between you is the loser.

"No cutie-pie, don't put the green one down. Gun will +2 you!"

"Don't help her out!" Gun growls at you both sitting across from him. He gets awfully testy even with silly games.

You hum and haw at whether to trust Goo as he studies your hand, trying to come up with a strategy.

"Put this one down," he ignores Gun and points at a particular card, "cross my heart babe!"

Fine. You follow his instructions.

Gun huffs and picks up a card from the pile. Guess he couldn't follow your colour or number.

Goo taps twice on his cheek. You giggle and reward him with a loud smooch.

.

.

"Like this,"

Goo comes up behind you, pressing himself fully into your back and helping you adjust the grip on the golf club.

You subtly elbow him.

"Watch it," you whisper.

"You're paying for my boyfriend services," he responds under his breath, a grin never leaving his face.

Your voice returns to its normal volume, "I thought I was doing it right?"

"Nooo Princess, your swing is all off!"

He rests his head on your shoulder, actually telling you about where your hands should be and correcting your stance.

If you were a weaker woman, you would be feeling butterflies, and your face would flush. You would think about how sweet Goo could be, and how fun he is in a relationship...

You see Gun from the corner of eye and quickly derail any straying thoughts. Instead, you turn and lightly graze your lips on Goo's cheek and shuffle your hips into his crotch playfully.

Goo, delighted at your movement, chuckles.

Off to the side, Gun facepalms.

.

.

You open your mouth obediently as Goo spoonfeeds you.

"Isn't it extra delicious when your Goo-bear is feeding you?" He flutters his eyelashes. God, this guy is so ridiculous you couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you have to fucking do that? I'm trying to eat here." Gun glares at the display.

"Don't be jealous just because you'll never know love like this!" Goo snaps before feeding you another mouthful.

Gun rolls his eyes. Why does Charles curse him with the most idiotic partners.

"Yeah I'll just pay for mine and the wifey's food," Goo smiles at the waitress, handing over some cash.

"Just pay for it all you cheap asshole!" Gun is exasperated. It's a goddamn hole-in-the-wall, not some fine dining establishment. The total is pocket change.

"Nope!"

"You fucking-"

The waitress clears her throat awkwardly.

"Pay for it yourself, you prick," Goo retorts as he nuzzles into your neck.

Gun angrily slams down some money.

.

.

"What's this?"

So much for doing work. Goo loudly makes an entrance into your office and wafts a piece of paper in front of your face. You snatch it irritably.

"My invoice!"

What? This wasn't the duration that was agreed.

You narrow your eyes at him, "But we're not done yet!"

"No, we're not."

"So?"

"So I thought I'll give you a 100% discount for the foreseeable, sweetheart."

Your eyebrows knit together. Does this mean what you think it means?

Goo is a picture of nonchalance, he perches on your desk as he examines his nails.

"You mean you actually want to...?"

"I'm having a good time. You look like you are too."

Hmm, you couldn't deny it. And you never thought kissing him could be so pleasant.

"So we're really...?"

Goo gives you a smile and a casual shrug. "If you want to, Princess."

How does nothing ruffle his feathers. How can he be so relaxed about this?

You mull it over. What's the worst that could happen? The last few weeks have been undeniably fun. You don't think you had ever laughed so much.

You school your expression and give him a nod.

Goo's easy smile turns into a toothy grin. He pulls you close and kisses you, like all the times he had before. But this one feels sweeter. Real.

Goo fucking Kim is actually your boyfriend. Who would have thought?

When you finally pull away, you both stay within touching distance, beaming at each other like morons.

"Bastard."

"Bimbo."

Goo suddenly frowns, and the magic breaks. "This doesn't change anything. You still need to pay the bill!"

[slicznymartwy]

Hello, can I request Billy Lenz with an s/o who is also a murderer? Like one of the members of the sorority had snapped and started killing or maybe Billy accidentally witnesses a murder when he's out of the house and develops an obsession? Love your writing!!!

fish .. ur so genius as always. i loved writing this so much, like genuinely i want to expand on this more one day .. just 2 very sick people against the world ueueue warning: brief mention of suicide/self harm, bullying, the sorority sisters are kind of mean in this one im sorry T T u guys know i love all of them, minor oc character death (she deserves it)

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

The puddle shimmers under the dim light coming from your bedside lamp; it’s a mix of glitter and little shards of glass that get swept up in the spreading fluid. The base of the snow globe lays in the rubble, the little Bambi figurine is broken too. You can see his decapitated head lonely on the floor.

“Oops,” Susan says. You can’t stand to look at her, but it sounds like she’s smiling. This must be really funny to her, you think to yourself, still watching the snow globe’s blood spread. 

Your hands tighten into fists. Your breath shudders. Your ears are still ringing from the sound of your most precious treasure shattering on the floor.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cry,” Susan goads, but your eyes feel dry. You used to cry when her bullying began. She would stand on the other side of the bathroom door and let you hear how hilarious she thought you were being. You hate her laugh. It’s ugly, like a braying horse spooked in its stable. No one else seems to mind it, though. None of your sorority sisters ask her to stop, even when she’s laughing so hard that she cries too.

Your father bought you that snow globe. He used to shake it up for you then put it in your hands, making you promise to be careful with it. He died when you were ten. The glitter in Bambi’s eyes makes it look like he’s weeping for you.

“It’s just a piece of shit toy, anyways. You’re too old for a stupid Bambi snow globe, aren’t you? I mean, that’s probably why no one wants to date you. Everyone can tell you’re just a weird loser freak. I don’t even know how you got into this sorority. I’d ask if you slept with someone to get here, but I don’t think there’s a single person on Earth that would take you up on that.”

You keep watching the puddle. It turns the wood dark as it flows into the cracks. Susan laughs and laughs, you can see her holding onto her stomach like she’s making herself sick. 

“Hello? Are you ignoring me now?”

You look up at her. Her smile is ugly and mean.

She follows behind you as you walk downstairs.

“Where the fuck are you going? Are you leaving? Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you? Hello!”

She’s in your ear like a gnat. You don’t know why she can’t just leave you alone. You walk into the kitchen, and you rip your arm out of her attempt to hold you back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Are you broken or something? You can’t just ignore me!”

You pull a knife out from the storage block. She guffaws, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously? You fucking bitch. Is that for me, or are you finally going to off yourself already? Everyone’s placing bets, you know,” she says, still laughing. “Go ahead and do it. Slit your wrists, I won’t save you if you do.”

You’re not laughing. You stare at her. The knife is surprisingly heavy in your hand. You lift it up by your head.

Her laughter dies down.

“You can’t be serious. It was a joke!” she says. She stumbles back, but you follow her. “Stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

She runs up the stairs and you follow her. In the long straight hallway, you lunge and drive the knife into her back. Susan screams as she falls, and you follow her down. She’s screaming and writhing in pain, but you sit on her hips and drive the knife down again and again. She’s leaking like the snow globe, her fluids spreading across her shirt. Once she’s quiet, you sit back on top of her.

Sniffling, you lay down the knife on top of her back. You feel numb inside still; part of you had hoped that doing this would snap you out of it, but it didn’t. You don’t react when you hear someone climbing down from the attic. You only barely glance at him when he kneels down next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur to him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I think I did,” you admit.

“Bitch whore deserved it. Fucking cunt.” There’s so much animosity in his voice. You wonder why you’re spared from it. You wonder who this stranger is.

Still, you don’t respond to him. You keep watching the blood grow.

“I can help,” he says after a moment. His voice is quiet and nervous, like he’s never said those words before and wasn’t sure how to pronounce them. He gestures you to climb off of her and you do, standing up shakily beside him.

“How?” you ask. He doesn’t answer you, just hands you the knife and takes a hold of your dead sister. He holds her wrists and hauls her towards the attic ladder. Her blood smears like jelly on hardwood toast. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. You need to clean the mess before it stains. You hurry to the bathroom, running the hot water and putting on gloves. When you get back to the hallway, all that’s left is blood. You clean diligently, and it’s all mostly out. What’s left might be unnoticeable to someone who doesn’t know where to look.

The man comes back down, his sweater covered in blood. You frown.

“I have to wash that before it stains,” you say. You take him to the bathroom, and he sits shirtless on the floor next to you as you rub out the stains in the tub.

He keeps looking at you, you can feel his eyes on the side of your face. You don’t look back at him.

“I can help,” he says suddenly. He sounds more sure now.

“It’s almost out,” you say, shaking your head.

“I can kill the rest,” he says. Your hands stop moving in the freezing cold water.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, still not looking at him. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“They’re not all like her,” you tell him gently, ignoring his comment.

“They’re pig sluts. Disgusting shit-smelling whores,” he spits. You look at him then.

“What about me?” you ask him quietly. He looks into your eyes.

“You’re so pretty. I like Bambi,” he says. 

You couldn’t cry before, but now you mourn your snow globe. Your face crumples, and the stranger hugs you.

“They’re so mean sometimes,” you whimper. “I don’t know why they hate me.”

“I can help,” he says into your ear. “Billy wants to help Bambi.”

You know there’s no saving Bambi, though. His head is cut off and he’s crying in his own blood. All that’s left are shards of glass.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated <;3

[pinyeti]

Episode 2: Attack of the Clones

Loving how i can see the budget increase GOOD GOD THE CGI IS CRAAZY

Ohno padme's clone is gone

HELLO??? ANAKIN??? HES PRETTY NOW ofc he has the rat tail 

Obi wan flop era uggo

Why does he give me young president snow vibes

OHMYGOD IVE SEEN THIS SCENE BEFORE ON THE INTERNET WHERE PADMES LIKE FIND WHOS TRYING TO KILL ME AND OBIWANS LIKE NO AND ANIKINS LIKE YES OFC ANYTHING FOR YOU SENATOR

Ok beginning of rebel anakin

Please tell me he doesnt go to the dark side for love

THE WORLD BUILDING IS CRAAAZZYYY THE SCReENS AARE SO CRISP IM SO IN AWE OHMYGOD

SNAKES IN HER BED SNAKES IN HER BED

OBIWAN JUST ZIPLINED WITH NO ZIPLINE ATTABOIY

How does the past look so much better than the future

I cant believe this is 2002 IT LOOKS SO MODERN

tHE HUMOUR THE CLARITY THE ACTION EVERYTHING IS SO FRESH 

Ok anakin is crazy

DID HE JUST DRIVE INTO ELECTRICITY?? ANAKIN OBIWAN IS OLD FUCK YOU DISRESPECTFUL RAT TAIL HAVER

do you think you’re shelock holmes anakiN??? STOP JUMPING OUT OF MOVING VEHICLES ONTO ONCOMING SKY TRAFFIC ANAKIN

Idiot lost his lightsaber

“You’re the closest thing i have to a father” FUCKIN BITCH

Okay sorry about gay allegationing obiwan and vader when I DIDNT KNOW HE BASICALLY RAISED HIM 

Bro anakins hair is something else

IS THE CHANCELLOR OLD GUY EVIL IS HE??? IS HE THE EMPEROR TO BE

Padme IS THEIR MOMMM

Bro yoda hates all the jedis hes so sassy for what “too sure of themselves they are, even the older ones” *pointedly stares at obiwan*

NOWAY PADME LEFT IT TO JARJAR IS SHE CRAZY

Ok anakin your job is to protect her not use her as a vent journal

ANAKIN CAT NOIR

I just know hes kicking his feet at the assignment

IS R2 THE CHAPERONE CDJBDEK

Bro anakin is cheeeeesssiiiinnggg HES SUCHHHA SIMPP IM GETTING SECOND HAND EMBARASSMENT ;))) one might even say ‘)))) we jedis are encouroegd to love eheh ;)))

IS obiwan walking into a huge ARMY trade deal KNOWING NOTHING and IMPROVING HIS WAS THROUGH

Oh STORM TROOPERS ARE CLONESSS

OH MY GOD THIS MEME

“SOUNDS AWFUL LOT LIKE A DICTATORSHIP TO ME”

“WELL IF IT WORKS” THIS IS WHERE ITS FROM

anakin : ugh i am so angry i serial killed ugh

padme: dw to serial kill is to human

(????ok enabler)

Ohmygodddd NOOO WHY WOULD SHE DO THIS IM SO SICK OF JARJAR

WAIT YODA USED STORM TROOPERS FIRST???? WHA HOW DID THEY END UP WITH THE EMPEROR THEN was it anakin

Ok not the biggest yoda fan

Wowww how convenient obiwan discovers an army ready for use right when theyre being threatened

Everytime they say dooku i laugh

Anakin is a stupid man child - RUNNING INTO PROBLEMS WITH GLOWSTICKS AND HOPING IT DIES PT39382992 - guess it runs in the family

OHMYGOD ANAKIN DOUBLE HAND LIGHTSABERING LIGHTBASAVERING

HAHA HE GOT HIS HAND CUT OFF LIKE HE CUT OFF LUKES he just wanted him and luke to share something :( he just wanted to teach luke :( its okay i forgive you for cutting lukes hand darthy

YODA IS SOSOSO COOOL

WHO IS THE EMPEROR HELLO?

(5/9)

(ALSO DW GUYS IM NOT FOLLOWING ANY STARWARS MUTUALS TILL IM DONE WITH PREQUELS SO ILL DO A SERIES OF HELOOOOS SOON)

[thatfoxnamedfinley]

LET'S BURN aka Morning Star thoughts

YOU KNOW HOW WE DO

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT lets GOOoOooooOooooooOOO

Trigg was a gay icon "Stay close. Nut to butts here, dont be shy."

RAGNARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I cried UGLY TEARS on my drive home from work. The only time I cried during the book. Ragnar talking about how he will build him a house next to his but don't come to the Veil too quickly because it will take him a while to build it. Telling his sister to live for more. Smiling even at the end.

PB, why bro. You have damaged me by doing the following.

1.) Killing Pax (THE ENDING DONT TOUCH ME, WELL GET TO IT)

2.) Killing Pax's archetype replacement

You make me like Pax, you take him away. You make me LOVE Ragnar and you take him away. Ragnar UNDERSTOOD, he understood the Rising and what it all meant more than most and you TOOK HIM AWAYYYYYYY. *Slams fist on table*

Ok ok ok ok also small side note when they crashed and encountered Cassius and Aja (i love to hate this bitch) and Mustang has her bow drawn on Cassius and is like

I WILL PUT YOU DOWN

and in my brain I'm like "nah she wouldn't"

and then she FIRES the shot into Cassius' neck

((the plot armor on this man is actually crazy))

And I had this amazing moment when listening to the audiobook that I got goosies...I imagined the snow around her and her hair blowing around her face and DETERMINATION in her eyes as she fires the shot

I was so PROUD of her

I was like

Sevro and Darrow's fight was awesome. Sweet, even. Talking about how he can see the protectiveness in Darrow's eyes when he was looking at the refugees on Tinos. His head on Darrow's knee. Talking about Eo & Sevro talking about how all he wanted was to cause wrath in the wake of his father's murder. He questions his leadership abilities and doesn't want it. I understand because he was the one that was still looking for Darrow. Saved him from torment and torture. He came back different, broken and defeated. Sad. ANGRY. Then how quickly leadership fell back to Darrow when he was the one that worked during that year that the Rising wavered when everyone thought The Reaper had been killed.

OH OH OH

one of my favorite parts of this book was The Reaper's speech. Because he wasn't Darrow, he was REAPER. He's also dramatic as fuck and I love him. He was standing up there in front of Refugees and I got GOOOOOOSIIESSS bitch when the people were like, reaching out to touch him, I was like THIS SHIT IS CRAZY. He has no branding and he's like

"I STAND BEFORE YOU A MAN UNBOUND" and people are gasping in shit cause he's like the first person in hundreds of years to bear no sigils of color.

"I speak now to Golds, to the Aureate who rule. I have walked your halls, broken your schools, eaten at your tables and suffered your gallows. You tried to kill me. You could not. I know your power. I know your pride. And I have seen how you will fall. For 700 years you have ruled over the dominion of man, and this is all you have given us. It is not enough."

I could see why people wanted to follow him. That speech was fucking EPIC.

Other thoughts. Romulus us gunna be a problem. I also think Lysander is going to have a big role. Idk what but my spidey sense is tingling. After all that trauma he was just TOTALLY OK to talk to the Ash Lord and help get the plan moving...?

Pls dont tell this little boi is about to be Jackal 2.0

OMFG THE JACKAL

BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII this man is inSANE!

Nuclear warfare because he wasn't getting his way??? Wanting Darrow to kill himself LIVE? DARROWS HAND GETTIGN CHOPPED OFF

BRO I THOUGHT CASSIUS BETRAYED THEM I WAS SO FCKING PISSED. I was like YO CASSIUS IT IS ON FUCKING SITE THE NEXT TIME WE SEE YOU BRO COUNT ON IT COUNT YOUR DAYS

Then I was like oh ok nevermind

All because of that little fucking holocube, the GOAT of GOATS. Showing Cassius' family being disposed of.

I have a few GOATs of this book.

(secret GOAT is Sophocles. i want to give him a jellybean)

1.) Mustang. Firing that arrow and in the discussion with Romulus she was KEY.

2.) The defiant Pink that opened the bay on the Moonbreaker. Shaking but defiant, angry at her overlords. Amazing moment.

3.) Victra. Her moment when she saw Darrow having to make a hard decision and blowing the stuff on Ganymede to cripple Romulus and The Rim. "Share some of the load, darling. This is on me." What a fucking GOAT.

4.) Sevro. CRUCIAL to taking Aja down. That shit was 3 v 1 and they would NOT have won without him. Him low to the ground moving like an animal smirking like "YOURE GUNNA DIEEE TODAY BITCH" im like

Because Aja was such a THREAT bro. I was so NERVOUS someone was going to die and they almost did!

OH OH OH (im so sorry i was up all night until like 9am finishing the audiobook so Im kind of delirious) Darrow rushing Octavia on LIVE TV and going like *shink shink shink shink shink shink shink* in her stomach with his teeth bared and I'm like YAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS BITCCHHHHHH

Finally, I was oddly, ODDLY uderstanding of why Mustand kept baby Pax a secret. For a split second I was like "WOAH WAIT WTF-" But then I was like ".....Yeah, no that makes sense." She understood what Darrow wanted but wasn't sure if the Rising would be like the genecide of Golds, her people. So she wasn't sure she couldt rust him. I get it. Nodding in understanding. Valid. She wanted to see if he was capable of BUILDING. She knows he can destroy. But can he follow up the revolution by actually building a better future.

Now she knows he can, and he has a BABBBBYYYY

I do know there is a massive time jump in the next book and multiple POVs. I'm nervous but ready.

*Random side side note

Sevro and Victra came out of nowhere for me and was something I didn't get at all

*side side side note

The Telemanus' are also GOATs

Kavax and Daxo are babies

*side side side side note, one of my other favorite moments was before they drilled with their clawdrills intot he Moonbreaker and Darrow says

"Drills hot. Helmets up. LET'S BURN." GOOOOSSSIESS

audiobook narrator performance was FANTASTIC

[fuck-customers]

🐶 I had two whiny little princesses today.

First was a woman picking up something her adult son had called and put on hold. She called in the parking lot saying how she had three kids with her and could somebody bring the item she was picking up to her and she’d give them the money for it “No sorry, you do have to come into the store and buy things at the counter” then bitched about it when she came in (with only two kids though?? I’m pretty sure she said three), saying “I don’t understand why someone couldn’t do it for me” BECAUSE THEY’D LOSE THEIR FUCKING JOB HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW STORES WORK BY YOUR SIXTIES YOU DUMB FUCK. Also it’s like, a legit safety issue?? People drive like dumbasses in parking lots and it just snowed so it could be icy

Second whiny little princess asked me to look up what dog food he buys from his receipt history. Side note: this is something people ask sometimes and we CAN pull up your old receipts but it doesn’t exactly spell out what stuff is, everything’s abbreviated as fuck on the receipt. Like it’ll have an abbreviation of the brand and maybe the flavor, if you’re lucky, and then you have to match the UPC number to the tag. So I enter his phone number and the register yells and tells me no receipts found, so I tell him we don’t have anything from the last two months (how long the return policy is, so that’s all it pulls receipts for). Guy says he’ll go figure it out “but good to know it deletes my info after two months”. Like did he think we just store every single receipt from when the company opened in every single register?? The intended purpose of looking up receipts is for returns, why would registers store them beyond when the receipts are useful for that

Posted by admin Rodney.

[mika-0730]

On this note the fucking Neil deGrasse Tyson types drive me up a wall too. Like, just because something *can* be explained with science (you know, like 99.999999999% of things in this world can be), doesn't make it inherently less beautiful and romantic???? Yes, Crystals are a repeating geometric shape, but snow is pretty as FUCK. The skies are filled with flaming balls of gas and plasma billions of miles away or whatever but they still look like fairies dancing in the night. The Sky might be a layer of water vapor, and whatever the fuck the atmosphere layers are made of, but that doesn't delete how beautiful the skies are, no matter whether it's fuckin blue, gray, dark and stormy, green, red, LIKE IT'S SO PRETTY Don't let being objective kill the fact you can still be appreciative and romantic about the small things in life. Signed, your local science loving computer bitch who thinks the skies are just as romantic as they are interesting, and that the miracle of the internet allowing me to flirt with women hundreds and thousands of miles away is just as interesting scientifically as it is romantically

[bangtanmix73]

Being best friends with Paul Lahote

Warnings: Gn!human!reader, platonic, swearing, dog jokes, slight mention of sex (not with reader), Rachel (Paul’s actual imprint), might make one for each of the pack members, I have more for a whole part 2

Chaos duo.

He’d take you cliff diving, even if you’re scared of heights. If you refuse to, he pick you up and jump with you.

You poke fun at other pack members together.

You jokingly insult each other, none being taken to heart. Of course, if you have boundaries, he wouldn’t cross them. He can be a dick, but he’s respectful <3.

Just randomly texts you “you wanna go raid Jacob’s kitchen?”

You’re friends with Rachel. She was iffy about you at first, but once she realized you and Paul have the ‘everyone thinks you’re a couple, but you’re not’ friendship with no romantic feelings on either sides, she warmed up to you.

Dog jokes.

“You should phase so I can play tug of war with you” “ok, first of all, fuck you..” “or maybe fetch”

Rachel definitely calls you when she doesn’t know what to do with him

He’d talk about his ‘fun nights’ with Rachel and you’d just sit there like “this is the same guy I made slime with 15 minutes ago.”

Coming up with weird nicknames for each other, mainly insulting.

“Wolf boy”, “ratatouille built bitch”, “dense prick”, “bland pork chops”, “godless thot”.

Absolutely goes to a random fast food restaurant at 2am with you.

Can be protective of you if you’re into guys, only because he knows how they think and how the world is :/.

He’s fine with you dating, he’s not your dad, but if they’re toxic? Hell no, he ain’t tolerating it. Break up now.

Don’t even think about going near the Cullens. He doesn’t 1. Want you to get hurt, turned, or killed. 2. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend to one of them.

If you ever go missing, it’s probably his fault. He drags you out of bed at 8am, into the woods, just for his entertainment.

“If I got a cat, would it piss you off?”

When it snows, he drags you out early in the morning with the pack. You go on a drive, not just any drive…someone drives, someone holds the rope, at the end of rope is a sled, and someone’s on that sled.

One word: wrestling.

Now he’s not very rough with you like he is with the others, but that’s only because of his super strength.

Having deep conversation late at night then laughing at whatever was said and making jokes.

If you’re upset, he’s not very good at comfort, but he’s good at listening. Sometimes you’d have to remind him to listen and not go beat someone’s ass.

If you have your period, again he’s not good at comfort, but he’ll buy sweets and drinks at the first sign. He’d throw them like grenades then duck and hide. It’s entertaining to watch really.

Since he imprinted on Rachel, the three of you have spent a lot of time together. Which means, (if you have your period), yours and hers are in sync.

You and Rachel are the only people he’s actually scared of. 

One time you fell while climbing a tree, he won’t admit it, but he was worried about you.

You were doing something you parents told you not to do once and he threatened to snitch on you. It didn’t work well for him, you took off your shoe, throw it at him, he fell and you dragged him outside and left him there.

You get along well with the pack. You’re not fond of Bella because she hit Paul. You can’t lie, you probably would’ve punched her if you were there.

You think Jacob’s fun when he doesn’t go on and on about Bella.

When Paul has time off from patrol, he’d take Rachel and you on dinner dates.

Always together. People ask where’s the other when they’re not there.

“The coffee shop guy asked me where the ‘ripped gang dude’ was because ‘I’m always with you.”

Rachel’s Halloween idea was her as Lilo, you as stitch, and, for her entertainment, Paul as the big sister, Nani.

If you’re shorter than him, he makes fun of you for it all the time.

“Aww does Y/n need help down?” “Hey Rachel, I hope you didn’t want Paul alive.”

Probably has copies of your baby photos for blackmail.

In marko polo, you yell “Paulo” instead of polo.

Two hot best friends