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2kyo7 · 6 months ago

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♱ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘 ♱ | LUNE

pairing ; adrian tepes , trevor belmont , sypha belnades x female reader

ཐི ➥ summary ; As the world begins to pay the toll of Dracula's rage, four unlikely heroes must band together and defeat him--no matter the price.

warnings ; swearing, blood consumption, biblical references (like one), mind control stuff

word count ; 3.9k

notes ; i’ll be starting a taglist here but i’m unsure about how long it’ll be kept open, so if u want to be added just reply to this post 😋😋!! i’d like to note that my wattpad always has an extra chapter posted b4 tumblr, so please check it out!!!💕💕

FOR WHAT FELT LIKE HOURS, a thick quietness overcame the corridor-but this was soon after replaced with fast sounds of movement as Trevor extended the whip on his side while Sypha created hot flames in her palms. The fire served as a small light source alongside the glow of Alucard's eyes, and a pair of unknown purple hues in the near distance.

"How insolent, you come into my home and threaten...me with toys and child's play?" The feminine voice laughed, her words booming throughout the castle in waves. In the darkness three more pairs of dark glowing eyes emerged, "speaker! Belmont! Stand down." Alucard tried his absolute best to keep the situation under control, but was only met with retaliation. They watched aimlessly while the trio of eyes flown across the room in circles around them, hysterical laughter following each of the moving figures. Each chanting their own retorts, successfully unnerving both Sypha and her equally edged accomplice Trevor.

"Shameless, entering our abode to taunt us with incantations and artillery..."

"Look at how their faces cage magnificent red! Imagine the taste."

"Expel of them swiftly, the filthy things."

Each voice spoke their truths with little to no hesitance, all wearing differentiating voices and identities. The insults continued unwavering, even as Alucard attempted to speak over them, but once more his efforts were wasted. "ENOUGH." That is, until the undeniable presence spoke above all noise made about, causing the feminine voices to become silenced as they no longer lofted about the room teasingly—instead standing beside one another near a grand window which now only served for decoration as no light shown through its glaring transparency.

"Now...step forth." Within a moment's time, Trevor along with Sypha obey the spoken orders in perfect sync. Similar to a solemn soldier and his commander. They weren't themselves. Mind clouded with an endless fog, and no matter how far they ran or how hard they fought-the thickness prevailed, neither of them were in control. "Much better, wouldn't you agree girls?" Mingled snickers could be heard from behind the imposing figure.

Suddenly a single pair of candles lit inside the room,

"every word you speak, any move you make; are no longer yours alone. Instead they will belong to me for however long I shall please." The light now provided a reveal for their perpetrators face, a woman appearing to be around her early 40's stood over them, looking down from her raised pedestal. Her most striking features were of course, her encapsulating amethyst-tinted eyes, the woman was...breathtaking for a vampire.

"...and soon I'll know your own mind better than you ever will." After her speech, quietness overcame the room once more, of course there had been the shallow grunts sounding from Sypha and Trevor, but those too would be silenced in the coming minutes-once their minds grew tired and the enchantment took full affect.

Finally, Alucard would step up. His mind curiously unaffected from a true blood's power, "I apologize on behalf of my companions...it seems they should've been better educated on certain matters." He lowered his head before giving a curt bow. "It's been too long, Jacquelin." Various gasp fill the room, the loudest coming from 'Jacqueline' herself.

"Do my eyes deceive me? No, I'm never wrong!" She steps over the black railing, promptly gliding down to gather a better look at the boy...no...man in front of her. Placing her hand to his icy cheeks, Alucard neither denies nor accepts the touch. "My it is you sweet Adrian, time seems to have wavered in your fortune."

Alucard hummed in response to her praise, a smile playing along his face, though he himself felt lukewarm. "As much as I appreciate the compliments, I think I'd be more appreciative if those two would be sincerely sparred." Jacquelin huffed, crossing her arms, she walks circles around the frozen duo, observing them. "Interesting. A hunter and a speaker, what are you planning?"

"Why ask when you already know?" There's slight edge to his tone, not enough to be considered hostile, but present all the same. Jacquelin smiled jeeringly, lines forming around her mouth, "their insight isn't near as concise in comparison to yours." She neared Sypha, fiddling with the arm of her clothing. Eyes beginning to glow dangerously bright. "I wanted to hear it directly from you, all that knowledge. Locked away and hidden. Share it with me, won't you?"

"Enough with the spectacle darling, you'll scare our guest." A fourth and final voice entered the room, this one pronounced and deep, echos bouncing off the walls until reaching Adrian and Jacquelin. "Oh but it was only a bit of fun." She began to hone her full attention onto her husband, floating up towards him almost magnetically, the man captured his wife within a gentle embrace, a smile too playing on his face upon seeing hers. The man was tall and fibrous, a well groomed salt and pepper beard adorning his face. He'd also be dressed lavishly in dark clothing, similar to his wife and children. In fact, his children mostly favored him aside from their most distinguished feature. "All in good taste, I assure you Louviers."

Adequately, Jacquelin releases her control with a simple and dismissive wave. Immediately the two returned to their defensive stance, "what the hell just happened?" Trevor questions, confused and wary as ever. Alucard twisted his head to look back at them, "calm yourselves, a solution has just been reached."

"Surely you know by now that this would be a fight you stood no chance of winning." Jacquelin giggled from behind her hand. "Mother, is the fun over already?" Emerging from behind was a heavily pregnant woman, sporting the same purple eyes as she Jacqueline. "Unfortunately your father cut it short. Disheartening isn't it, Lyevre?"

Before anything else could be said, the two other sisters revealed themselves from their shadowing positions. "Perfect everyone's here! Langrené, Lyevre, and (Name). Come greet our guest." The man bequeathed his daughters forward, calling each of their name's in order of birth. "My dear, I have an even more wonderful idea." Jacquelin interject, grin broad as day. "What better way to become reacquainted than dinner, Adrian has much to discuss with us but I am simply famished."

Jacquelin didn't have to utter another sentence, she felt the back of her hand be pleasantly kissed by soft; familiar lips. "Say not another word my love." With a snap of his fingers servants seemed to appear from thin air to aid their master's request. "Please show our guest to their rooms-assure they are in close quarters to one another." Louviers begins to lead himself and his wife elsewhere into the castle, eyes forever trained on Jacquelin. "And prepare a rather humane meal tonight, will you? In customary accommodations to our visitors."

Upon his parting words, workers scampered around them, immediately going to work without a minute to lose. A handful of them ushered the trio deeper into the castle, both Trevor and Sypha looked to Alucard with worry and doubt (he'd lost count of the reoccurring action), but wordlessly, they trailed along.

Alucard could feel a singular pair of eyes following his every move; down to the slightest shift in breaths, to the numbered amount of times his eyelids had fluttered themselves shut. He knew the gaze all too well-but the familiarity did nothing to stop him from turning to face its truth. THERE YOU STOOD head held high, eyes low with distain, betrayal, anger. The same look you'd given him all those years ago as he walked through your castle doors for the final time. If looks could kill, Alucard would've already been sent to the underworld three thousand times over.

Some things truly never change.

The reluctant heroes would be gathered for dinner that same night, instead of sending an undead servant to fetch for them-the second Dauvillier sister stood ecstatically in front of Alucard's door, her knocks persisted until the door was opened. "Adrian! Whatever took you so long to answer?" It had only been a few seconds...he wanted desperately to counter. "It's rude to keep a lady waiting, where have your manners gone?" From behind her Alucard could see an already exhausted Trevor, but a particularly joyful Sypha.

"My apologies, Lyevre...may I?" Alucard held out an expecting arm for her to take, one which she gladly accepted, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Of course!"

Together they gracefully traveled arm in arm towards the dining room, the gesture done out of pure politeness. Sypha and Trevor trailed a few paces behind, observing the decor of the castle halls. "Who is the lucky gentleman?" Alucard gestures to the golden ring adoring Lyevre's finger, a beautiful amethyst gem embedded on its surface. She began giggling cheerfully, like a young peasant girl in love.

Lyevre was the kindest out of her sisters, her upbeat personality complimented by a soft tone of voice made it easy for anyone--vampire or not--to fall for her charms. Long dark hair flowed behind her, nearly exceeding the length of the silky lilac robes she wore. Material optimizing her comfort. Especially in her current state.

A free, dainty hand reaching to message her round stomach. "You'll meet him at supper, he's quite the catch I must say." Alucard's eyes widened, deciding to humor her statement with blandishments. "He must be quite the sire indeed, to earn your affections." Once more Lyevre laughed softly, "quit your flattery Adrian, if my husband catches ear-well, he can get very jealous."

Remaining in easy conversation, they'd finally reached the dining area. The room itself was grand enough to hold unending banquets and balls. The decor (similar to the rest of the castle) was decorated rather darkly, accented with their family's signature color; purple.

"EXCELLENT, you've finally arrived! Hurry take a seat so we may begin dinning." As her father spoke, Lyevre left Alucard's side to seat herself beside her younger sister, you. Only sparing their group a revolted glance before returning yourself to scratching at your empty porcelain plate. Sypha rushed to sit across from Lyevre, seemingly continuing their earlier conversation, while Trevor cautiously moves to seat himself in front of Langrené—the eldest sister—who couldn't even bother to regard him whatsoever, instead choosing to further debate her father on foreign matters.

Langrené was undoubtedly the most cutthroat of your sisters, the strongest too. Like all firstborns, she had been burdened with the duty of upholding the family's name, assuring its success without fail. She was beautiful as she was menacing; having no need for charms Langrené much rather preferred utilizing threats and favors to gain advantages. Her hair sat styled in a half-updo, barely reaching below her shoulder blades. Dressed in thick but modest purple fabrics that left much to be imagined, only a single shade away from black.

Lastly, it came Alucard's turn to find himself a place amongst the group. There remained only two arrangements; the unoccupied chair beside Lyevre, (unmistakably left vacant for someone that wasn't him) and the empty seat crossways from yourself. Taking notice of this you scoff, a corner of your lip upturned high in the air. "Un-bel-ievable!" You say aloud, earning the attention of Lyevre. "Don't be rude fleur. Your playmate has come to see you, isn't that lovely?" She gestures for Alucard to continue his movements, "it's true, we haven't seen one another in ages...I've missed you quite dearly."

You flinch at his closing words, heart racing ever so slightly off pace. The feeling didn't last long. Crossing your arms over the expanse of your chest, you turn to face elsewhere in an effort to avoid his hallowing gaze. "And whose fault may that be?" Alucard leaned back into the furniture with a small sigh, he hadn't expected to be welcomed back by you warmly. Especially considering the circumstance of his last parting, but it's as if over the course of years your stubbornness had impossibly amplified.

Other qualities had amplified also since your last interaction, so long ago. Out of all your sisters you were unabashedly the most pampered, expected of the youngest. You hadn't grown up with the same hardships and pressures as your eldest sister; nor were you taught the importance of discipline and kindness like your older. You were allowed to flourish without the bidding of rules or the weight of power. And flourish in ways you might.

At the sight of tears or the howl of your voice, anything you desired was yours alone to own. Mountains of luxurious gowns, the sweetest of virgin blood, toys carved from that of diamonds and gold. You'd known to work for nothing, so you'd grown to work for none. Everything existed in your delight, and things that did not were simply forgotten. What reason would you have to learn the art of swordsmanship? Or needlessly drown yourself in studies for hours on end? To even master the works of your inherited abilities seemed so utterly pointless, what purpose could it ever serve?

Adorning your form was a dress suitable for only those bearing the royalist of blood, the material clouded down your shoulders in puffy sleeves leaving them bare for all to witness. Your cleavage wore minimal coverage as well; the top half of your chest displayed in a fashionable manner. Intricate designs cascaded along the expensive fabric accompanied by a number of matching laces and bows, effectively tying the outfit elegantly together. Hair styled similarly to Lyevre's, but never quite as long-wavering just above your hips.

Yes, you'd grown with assurance. Perhaps a little too much.

Before he could think to carry his dialogue much farther, an abrupt noise cuts through all others. Jacquelin stood at the far-most end of the table, similar to her husband, she held high in the air a empty wine glass awaiting to be filled by soothing, rich liquid; in her opposing palm rested a golden fork-made from only the purest materials. "Now that almost everyone has been gathered," she cuts quick eyes to Lyevre, "let us dine in each other's company and enjoy this nostalgic rekindling."

Instances after servants appeared to fill empty glasses and carry in their arms trays of an unending feast, stacked with various amounts of food; red meats, fish, poultry, wheat, vegetables and fruits. This was the grandest of grand dining. More food had been dished out in a single night than either Sypha or Trevor would see years to follow.

At first they looked upon the display with fearful eyes. Justifiably so. Anyone should be once having their minds bent and nearly broken beyond comprehension-but such the humanity of hunger would entice even the most durable of beings. Sypha couldn't help but to recall a faithful tale told by the ages of Eve and the forbidden fruit. While Trevor remembered the teachings of his youth, bribery the killer of fools.

Still, she stuffed her cheeks full like a rodent. Thanking every silent servant that wordlessly cleared her plates or offered her new feedings. And he, had drunken himself into a spell of his own. One glass after another downing his hearty throat.

The Dauvilliers—your family watched with mixed expressions of amusement, disgust, and wonder. Looking upon the two humans gouging themselves as if the latest spectacle. The scene akin to how fae tempt the human mind with simple trickeries for entertainment until their untimely deaths. Alucard felt a feeling of shame wash over him like a cold water, knowing that he himself was at least partially susceptible to such humane behavior. But in the same breath he too felt anger, knowing this was the extent of humanly worth to man-feeders like you. He swallowed his accursed thoughts, they would do him no good here.

Louviers' laugh was effusive, wiping his lips of any excess food that might've escaped with a pearly white cloth. "I'd forgotten how delightful watching humans feast can be, what a splendid idea darling." He looked to his wife who'd just finished her 5th glass of blood wine and showed little sign of stopping. "Yes, it's truly a show indeed. How many ages has it been since we last partook in the practice?"

"Far too long I must say." Louviers glances to Trevor's empty bottle, commanding someone to "bring his friend another drink" as he'd articulated. Simultaneously his middle daughter humored Sypha in a similar fashion, admiring how she'd been essentially inhaling her meal.

"Are all humans this desperate for food...poor things." Alucard knew the question was lined with false worry-faux concern-but Sypha was none the wiser. He noticed the way Lyevre's eyes started to faintly glow, whispering sugar-coated nothings into the shell of her ear. You happily indulged in your sister's game, holding a slice of ripe, delectable pomegranate to her lips, coaxing her to unwilling taking another bite. "You are not yet full are you, Speaker? Go on eat just a little more." Lyevre's control left Sypha's mind after uttering those few but haunting syllables; now turned thoughts at the forefront of her mind.

Alucard could only hold his tongue. At the end of the day, it was your family's help he required, and if becoming party tricks for only a few hours would spare humanity from certain doom-so be it.

"Enough of this," Langrené finally took it upon herself to speak above your family's joyous cries after silently watching for nearly the entirety of dinner. There was not even a passing glance of amusement to be seen; instead evident irritation and displeasure. She rose from her place at the table, the palm of her cold hand slamming against the table and with it, plates of food and utensils begin to levitate from the table's surface. Her voice carried oh-so effortlessly across the room, causing a number of servants to stop in their tracks, fearing they've made a grave mistake.

"You know I tend to quickly tire of games, Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, so tell me of your being here-tell me now or leave with that of which you came."

Alucard knew his next few words could change the course of history itself, but he wondered not of what "that" Langrené spoke of meant, but he feared it all the same; perhaps his limbs? Or maybe she referred to the two humans he'd been traveling with for days on end; who were, as of now, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. At this moment (the wrong one), Alucard finds his humanity to be more dawning than ever. The weighted gazes of your family, combined with the various object spinning around overhead; Alucard attempts to straighten his posture, but even then he struggles to find the words.

"It is unfortunate that I am unable to access the mind of other's as can my mother and sister—if I could—this entire ordeal would have concluded the moment you graced the doorstep of this family. For dear Adrian, it does not take enchanted forces to know this is no mere reunion of old ties."Alucard remembers how he practiced throughout voyage here, he'd practice in perfect paragraphs how'd he would sway your family. His words buttered by reasoning, smooth with certainty. Curious is the mind.

"Mon petit amour, calm yourself. There exist not a soul who doesn't know our dear Adrian has been through a great deal." Jacquelin's fingers danced in the air, and soon everything returned to its rightful place among the table, including Langrené. Smiling she said, "Go ahead Adrian, you have the floor."

Alucard nodded in thanks, clearing his hoarse throat once his thoughts finally settled. "As you may have caught wind, no more than a year ago now-my mother was killed-falsely accused of witchcraft." There were no gasp of surprise, nor the fall of drinks, instead scarce pity. "My word, how truly regrettable it is to hear. That woman was remarkable for her kind." Louviers subtly shook his head, gaze casted downward onto his finished plate of food. Jacquelin hummed, taking another sip, "I'd heard rumors, but talk can be ever-so cheap."

"The news was rather unfathomable to me also, I mean the Count Dracula allowing his bride to murdered? Impossible!" Lyevre held a dramatic hand over her heart, breath appearing to leave her body as she spoke. "They say she was burned alive at the stake, is it true? I must declare, such punishments become more common with each passing day." The eldest sister grinned, Alucard could only ponder what seemed so tickling about his mother's death. He held his tongue once more.

"Hmph, such is the nature of humans. How does it feel to be controlled by fear, Adrian? Or do you prefer Alucard, now?" Your eyes-your words too, were filled to the brim with such contempt, such repulse, Alucard wondered who exactly he looked to in that moment. True bloods weren't notorious for their compassion towards humans, but you were a different entity entirely. "The same way you are controlled by hunger. (Name)." He was quick to shoot back, but careful in his tone. Your venomous glare sharpened, if not amidst a discussion, you'd pounce across the table and show him what. "I am...grateful...for your words, Dauvilliers. So you must know that following my mother's departure has been my father's wrath. Not only upon those responsible, but all of humanity."

"Goodness, how could we not? Just before your arrival we'd been deliberating our next plan of action, right Louviers..." she didn't give a chance to respond. "...but then I caught smell of a prophecy, that just might be our solution." Jacquelin's smile never faltered, instead growing as she rested her chin on the inside of her palm. "Feel absolute to correct me if I'm mistaken." She looked to Alucard, who sat as composed as one could. "Of course not Jacquelin, you never are."

Like a tale as old as old as the times; Alucard spoke of the story-fated heroes destined to rescue humanity's people. The soldier, the hunter, the scholar, and the true blood. Billions of lives rested in their balance, but only if they can acquire the final piece.

"Ah...allow me to clarify. You mean to recruit one of us, in hopes that we may kill your father? Alucard I must applaud you for your bravery, disguised as stupidity." Langrené stood from the table, beginning to walk away. "You are dismissed, I'm afraid you'll have to find some other willing vampire to do your biddings. Begone."

"My daughter, do not act out with such haste. Who are we to deny any prophecy if it means our safety?" Louviers' words halted his child in her tracks, "don't be ludicrous father, I won't allow anyone of this family to die for the sake of mortals. Mother, please reason with him!"

Jacquelin sat buried beneath contemplation. Though her oldest daughter has been arranged to inherit the family's title, the decision is still her's alone to make. "Your father is right, this is not our choice to make as forces beyond have already pronounced their judgment." Her expression shifted into that of rage, had she finally grown mad in her age, Langrené could not help but think. "Then who shall it be mother? Perhaps father who does not even carry the eyes, or I, the next to inherit this legacy? Maybe you are considering Lyevre who—may I remind you—is with child? No, I'm completely deluded. It is yourself, you wish to be a savior. Don't make me laugh."

She took a long pause before answering, the room falling silent. Aside from Langrené's heavy breathing, and Trevor's incessant mumbles. "Not at all Langrené, for it is your youngest sister; (Name), who shall fulfill this pending prophecy."

———

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dresshistorynerd · 3 months ago

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Overview of Rococo Fashion

I mentioned in a post three god damn years ago I was writing this, but in my defense 1700s was a hell of a century.

18th century was a weird and interesting period of western fashion. It was a time of extreme inequality in Europe and even more extreme exploitation of the rest of the world through massive colonial expansion. Fashion became also extreme. The wealth amassed by the elite translated into diverse styles and complicated dress codes which required multiple changes in clothing thorough a day. Imperialism also meant increasing centralization of power and authoritarianism. In fashion this led to interesting dynamic, where the courts, trying to control the increasingly rich and powerful elite, set restrictive and archaic dress codes, while the aristocrats continued to experiment with new fashions in their casual styles. The cultural capital shifted from formal court events to the casual gatherings among the fashionable aristocrats. Salon parties, picnics, morning gatherings and even dressing up became important social events.

All of this makes the fashion of the period very hard to grasp. I have yet to find any good overview of it. So after trying to figure out this period for a long while now, I will attempt to give my own overview. Like any even remotely succinct overview, it will be incomplete. I'll focus on the high society women's fashion and the two central players in the fashion of this period, France and Britain. I define this fashion period (which is really late Baroque plus Rococo) as starting from the rise of mantua in 1680s and ending to the French Revolution in 1789, but this post will only cover the fashion up to roughly 1770. Things changed a lot during the 1770s in France especially (which was the fashion capital) and numerous new types of fashionable gowns popped up, so this would be way too long (more than it is already) and it's a natural place to split this. (I will make a second part to this but no promises on doing it quickly.) The different types of gowns were used for different purposes and often evolved fairly separately from the other types of gowns, so I will structure this around them. This approach was the only one that made sense to me so I hope it makes sense to you too. I won't go through every single type of gown, since there's too many. For example I will skip all the numerous short gowns and jackets, which were always common informal wear, and I'm focusing less on different types of negligé. Just know they and others were there. I have split this in a very vibes based eras named after the most fashionable thing at the time.

Negligé, dishabillé, half dress and full dress

But first, to understand the fashion of 18th century, we need to first understand the social life of the high society and it's dress codes. The highest level of formality was expected in court, and courts set their own dress code, which needed to be complied with. It functioned as a sort of invitation pass as court was theoretically open, but you needed to wear extremely expensive clothing to get in. Outside court the most formal events were formal balls, in which full dress (formal dress) was used. Full dresses followed fashion and were quicker to change than the court's dress code, so they weren't necessarily the same as court dresses. Less formal events were things like private dinner parties. In those half dress (semi-formal dress) was used. Then there were informal social events, like tea parties, picnics and salon gatherings, where dishabillé could be used. Dishabillé means undress, and while from modern perspective they were fully dressed, at the time it meant a type of informal dress that was used inside the home, but which was not too casual to be improper outside home either. Dishabillé was also used when otherwise going outside, not to an event, but for example visiting a friend or a relative.

At home dishabillé could be used for example to have dinner with family. Dishabillé negligé was an even more informal dress and not used outside home, except for perhaps a private morning walk. Usually it was used in the morning, but could be used till dinner on a quiet day. It could be used to receive guests or sometimes for receiving the small intimate gatherings too. It would be used with stays (could be lightly boned or worn loosely) or jumps and petticoat. Negligé was the most casual wear which was not literally underwear. Negligé was worn over the night chemise, sometimes with minimal structural garments. Negligé was used inside bedchambers or dressing room (usually the same). In the 18th century toilette, dressing up for the day, had become a very intimate social event. The upper class hair especially took quite a while to powder and put up fashionably, so while they were being dressed by the servants, they might just as well receive close friends, family members or even lovers. Sometimes women might receive close friends also when reclining in bed in their negligé.

Only court dress had explicit rules and even those were not always followed, so what was considered full dress, half dress, dishabillé or negligé was not very strict. So when I mention later what type of gown was considered to fit what sort of dress code at different points in time, these are not hard rules and people did bend them based on their taste and even politics. Some day I'll want to go deeper into this and go through some of my research of paintings and fashion plates.

1680s-1710s: The Mantua Era

Mantua gained it's start in 1670s, but became broadly fashionable in 1680s, so that's where I'll properly start. At the start of 17th century first colonial trading companies, the Dutch and the British East Indian Companies, were created and through the century they had been establishing trading posts in Asia. As the century progressed they became increasingly aggressive in their competition over the trade leading to Anglo-Dutch wars. It lead to a race to extend colonial control over the local authorities and in 1680s the British East Indian Company colonized Indian subcontinent. Increasingly available Asian luxury products led to a fascination with Asia. This fascination became justification for colonialism in the form of Orientalism. Orientalism constructs an Orient, which is fetishized, mystical, primitive and barbaric at the same time, to dehumanize colonized people and justify their subjugation. It became a very significant force in the fashion of whole 18th century.

The rigid or stiff-bodied gown

Also known as rode de cour and grand habit in France. Most of the 17th century the basic garment in women's fashion was the structured bodies and a skirt, either attached together or separate as was the case increasingly towards the end of the century. Bodies were heavily structured with boning and the primary structural layer and were used as both outer and under garment. In formal occasions the gown had rigid bodies which could be separate from the skirt but always matching. When mantua became the fashionable dishabillé in 1680s, the more formal gown started to be called rigid or stiff-bodied gown. The new silhouette was conical and stiffer. The skirt had a long trail and was open at the front and pulled to back to expose the usually contrasting petticoat. Later, especially for full dress, petticoat would usually be matching. The petticoat was also fairly conical, narrow and stiff, not full and flowing like in the mid century. It was a sort of return to the Elizabethan aesthetics of mid and late 16th century England and France after the fuller and softer aesthetics of the height of Baroque.

French fashion plate from 1683. Detail from c. 1715-1720 painting "Madame de Ventadour with Louis XIV and his Heirs".

Robe de chambre

Also called wrapper, dressing gown and nightgown. Robe de chambre became the fashionable negligee in late 1600s following the style of men's informal robe, banyan, which had become fashionable in the mid century. Banyan was of Orientalist origin and imitated Japanese kimonos. Banyan name came from Hindu merchants and was also called the Indian nightgown in Britain. In the eyes of Orientalism the whole continent of Asia (and North Africa) were all interchangeable. Banyan represented intellectualism and open-mindedness, connecting to the view that "the Orient" possessed "ancient mystic wisdom", which in the hands of the "Rational Western Man" could be turned into intellectual enlightenment. For example philosophers and intellectuals often got their portraits in banyan. Robe de chambre was like banyan, a long loose gown of rich (often imported) material. As it became more fashionable and more richly made, it graduated to dishabillé negligé. As negligé it was often worn over a night shift, when getting dressed, but as dishabillé negligé it was worn over stays and petticoat. Then it was often belted at the waist to give definition to the silhouette. It could be closed, hiding the stays and petticoat, or they could be left visible, in which case they needed to be fashionable as well. The stays evolved from the undergarment bodies and therefore weren't considered strictly undergarment, like the later corset.

Robe de chambre or dressing gown continued to be used as negligé and dishabillé negligé thorough the century only changing a little (for example in patterns and sleeve shapes) with fashions.

French fashion plate from 1685. French fashion plate from 1695.

Mantua

During 1670s increasingly formal forms of robe de chambre emerged and started to be worn as dishabillé. In addition to being belted, this robe was paired with a fashionable petticoat and the skirt was tied back like the formal rigid gowns to follow the fashionable silhouette and that way making it more formal. It became a new type of dress, mantua. Robe de chambre continued to be used as dishabillé negligé. Mantua was basically constructed the exact same way as robe de chambre, only really differing by having a long train. Early mantuas in 1680s and before were pinned closed at the front to create a sort of closed bodice mimicking rigid gowns. By 1690s though the bodice would be usually left open in a v and a stomacher in contrasting colour would be attached to the stays to cover them or stays of contrasting color from fashionable fabrics were used, usually for more casual cases. By the end of 17th century the petticoat was usually made from the same fabric as mantua, but the stomacher was still often from contrasting fabric. Around that time mantua also graduated to half dress. It was still worn in less elaborate forms as dishabillé though.

Mantua's success arguably laid in it's adaptability. It was loose, simple in cut and didn't need tailoring, so it was quite easy and cheep to make, while it could still be fitted to the fashionable silhouette with pins and belts. This made it very easy to fit comfortably to the changes in body and to other people with different bodies. It could even be fitted to new silhouettes just by changing the structural under garments. The quick and cheap construction also made it possible for rich upper class women to gain very large wardrobe and therefore develop the very complicated dress codes the 18th century would be known for.

British woolen extant mantua from late 17th century (probably around 1680s). French portrait of Anne de Souvré from 1693.

1720s-1730s: The Robe Volante Era

Rococo style started dominating the arts, especially in France, but would influence the whole western world. In fashion it meant brighter colours, lighter and fuller fabrics and lusher details. Because of the rivalry between the British and French empires, the English took a fairly oppositional stance on the very French Rococo style. This led to a gap between French and English fashions. French fashion leaned to the decadent opulence, while English fashion was more restrained and somber. Rococo was a decorational style related to the broader Classicism, and the English fashion leaned more towards "pure" Classicism.

Rigid gown

By 1720s mantua had firmly usurped rigid gown as the fashionable full dress. However, the courts still clinged to the traditional rigid gowns, even though by that point it was clear mantua had come to stay. The roundness had come back to the skirts to display the fullness of the fabrics. The skirt had started growing again in the beginning of the century and hooped petticoats had started to enter back into the wider fashion after almost a century, probably again from Spain, where they had stayed as the stable of court fashion through the whole 17th century. It kept growing through 1730s into massive round cake-like proportions. The sleeves had barely changed at all from previous decades.

Portrait of Maria Lescynska, Queen of France, from 1726. Portrait of Princess Amelia of Great Britain from 1728.

Mantua

As mentioned, mantua had became the full dress. Less elaborate mantua was still also used as half dress, but the dishabillé versions had been usurped by new types of gowns. The formal mantuas had increasingly their pleats stitched to create more fitted appearance. Skirts of the formal mantuas changed along rigid gowns. Hoops (or that large hoop skirts) weren't necessarily used with half dress.

British extant mantua from 1735-1740. Detail from French painting "Adélaïde de Gueidan and her sister at the harpsichord" from 1735-1740.

Robe volante

As mantua was turned into increasingly elaborate and formal gown, a new less formal version was developed from it. Or rather it also developed from a dressing gown as a slightly more formal version like mantua had before it. Robe volante or battante was unbelted mantua. It was closed at the front (usually stitched or closed with buttons) often leaving a similar v as mantua to reveal a stomacher, but sometimes closed so far it mostly covered the stays. It was pleated at the back, but the pleats were left loose, which was called sack back. Overall it was very loose flowing dress and combined with a large skirt the effect, especially when sitting, was like drowning in an opulent sea of fine fabric. In France it became extremely popular first as dishabillé, but eventually it was used as half dress as well.

Today it might feel a little weird that this very covering and not at all formfitting garment was seen as quite indecent in public. But at the time structural garments, especially stays, which shaped the body and concealed it's natural form, was needed to be considered dressed at all. Loose unfitted garments were already associated with negligé, but then covering the fashionable form with a garment like that left it obscured weather they were even wearing stays. The reaction was basically "what if she's naked under her clothes????" This was also of course related to Orientalism. In many Asian and North-African cultures (especially Arab and many other Muslim cultures) women (and everyone else) wore loose covering gowns, and there was fetishistic fascination among Europeans about their "exotic beauty" under the clothes. Both of these associations fed each other. So young fashionable women were then sometimes suspected of promiscuity for wearing robe volante in public. Occasionally these accusations were justified by claiming they could be hiding an extra-marital pregnancy under the loose garment, even though that seems quite impractical.

French extant robe volante from c. 1730. English portrait of Mrs. Elizabeth Symonds from 1740.

English gown

The English upper society, being more prudish and restrained, made their own version of robe volante. It was otherwise basically the same, but the pleats in front and back were pinned like in mantua. Since the skirt portion was closed at the front it was basically round gown. Sometimes belt was also used, or an apron. The v opening on the bodice usually had ribbons, sometimes pleating, to keep the robe in place. This English version was much more toned down than robe volante. It was usually made of plain single color fabric and white neckerchief stuffed under the ribbons of the v-opening or plain, often white, stomacher. There were a little more showy versions of it with elaborate patterned fabrics. For finer dishabillé round gowns the pleats were sometimes stitched to their place like mantua's pleats started to be stitched. The English did still use robe volante, but it seem to have stayed more in the dishabillé negligé (or at most dishabillé) category, while the English version of it was used as dishabillé and half dress.

British extant gown from c. 1725. Detail from British painting "Wedding of Stephen Beckingham and Mary Cox" from 1729.

English nightgown

In 1730s another version of the English gown became popular, it was basically the same, but the skirt was open at the front to reveal simple, often quilted, contrasting petticoat. The terminology is hard to pin down often in this period, but I think this version of the English gown specifically was called nightgown. It was basically robe de chambre, but pinned and belted like the other English gown. It seems to have started as the new dishabillé negligé as round gown was increasingly used as dishabillé, but it would quickly increase in formality.

The English gowns with stiched down pleasts in the back as well, possibly both type of English gowns, came to be known as robe á l'anglaise in France.

British painting "Portrait of a Woman Seated beside a Table" from 1730s. French painting "Le lecturer" from 1725-1750.

1740s-1760s: The Robe á la Française Era

This is the peak Rococo fashion era and is usually what people think when they think of 18th century fashion. Extreme fashions became popular and the gap between the elite and the common people became even more apparent in fashion and in other areas of life. This was fertile ground for political upheaval, and revolutions in US, Latin America and France would follow. The extremes therefore, even in fashion, could not last very long.

Rigid gown

By 1740s rigid gown was well passed it's time as fashionable garment and supplanted from it's place as the court dress in Britain. In France though it continued to be the robe de cour in Louis XV's court till his death in 1774. Louis XV tried to keep control over his aristocracy, even though the center of high society had increasingly shifted to the salons of Paris out of Versailles. Robe de cour adapted to the new fashionable silhouette of the mid century - the extreme wide box-like skirt frame -, but continued to be otherwise very similar in style as earlier in the century.

Portrait of Marie Leszczyńska, Queen of France, from 1747. Portrait of Princess Henriette of France from 1754.

Mantua

The British court had less authoritarian power than the French counterpart, but it was just as conservative, so when it finally accepted mantua as the formal court dress, it was already going out of fashion. From 1740s onward mantua was relegated to court gown. Like the French robe de cour, it also adapted the new fashionable boxy wideness.

British extant court mantua from c. 1750. British painting of David Garrick and Hannah Pritchard from 1752.

Robe á la française

Robe á la française, or the French gown or saque or sack or sack-back gown, replaced robe Volante as the fashionable deshabillé and half dress. Despite it's name, it may have gained it's beginning in Britain in a roundabout way. English gown was a more fitted and conservative version of robe volante, but early in 1740s, when robe á la française had not yet gained popularity, a new English version of robe volante became popularised in Britain. Like in English gown the pleats on the front were fitted, however, the pleats on the back were left unfitted and hence it became a sack-back gown. I'm not sure which came first, the robe á la française in France, which had fitted pleats on the front of the bodice, sack-back and was open at the front, or the English version, which only difference was closed front. I suspect the latter, since I have found more early examples of the closed English version, and it's sort of transitional link between robe volante and robe á la française, and I haven't found any French examples of the closed variety.

Regardless, early on robe á la française was a relatively simple, but it quickly went from dishabillé and half dress to half dress and full dress, making mantua obsolete outside the English court. In 1750s it had become the default formal wear outside courts in both France and Britain and grew increasingly opulent. The sleeves also turned more fitted, while the cuffs grew and gained more layers of ruff and lace.

British portrait of Mrs. Wardle from 1742. French extant gown from c. 1755-1760.

English gown

The open English gown was also adopted by the French as dishabillé and increasingly as robe á la française grew in formality, as half dress, like it was used in Britain as well, though it was more popular in Britain. It followed the same trends too, especially in it's half dress form. Dishabillé version of the garment continued to be quite simple, worn with less structuring and otherwise too quite similar as they were earlier in the century.

Portrait of Sarah Lascelles from 1749. British extant gown from 1770-1775.

Round gown

Closed versions of the English gown were called round gown. It was possibly always called that, but as said multiple times, the terminology of this period is unclear. They stayed fairly similar as they had been since 1720s and didn't really gain popularity in France. I have not seen examples of this early type of round gown from France. The open English gown seemed to have become the more formal version and examples of round gown from 1740s and 1750s seem to be more dishabillé than half dress. Round gown in this form fell out of fashion around 1760, which gets us to the last garment we'll cover in this post.

Portrait of Mrs Iremonger of Wherwell Priory from 1745. British extant garment from 1760-1775.

Close bodied gown

Close bodied gown basically replaced round gown. The unclear terminology makes this especially hard to parse out. It seems to me that after the early version of round gown (open bodice, closed skirt) was replaced with close bodied gown (closed bodice, closed skirt), that was then called round gown as well. The trouble is that close bodied gowns existed alongside round gowns, and not all close bodied gowns even had closed skirt (this applies later as well and I'm not sure weather they were separated in terminology or were both called round gown). Close bodied gowns in fact existed basically during the whole century, but earlier they were used only by underage girls. Main difference to these earlier girl's dresses was that they were closed at the back, while the later close bodied gowns worn by adult women were closed at the front. Some of the close bodied gowns are however constructed similarly to girls' dresses, where the bodice and the skirt are cut fully separately from simple cuts, only difference being the opening is at the center front instead of center back. The close bodied gown, which clearly evolved from the English gown, instead has the distinctive pleated back seams of English gowns. Early gowns like this were clearly constructed as basically the same as the English gown, but the front was not pleated open into a v-shape, instead it was closed over the stays. This close bodied version of round gown would later become very popular casual garment everywhere among all classes and would eventually come to define the Regency fashion which followed after the French Revolution.

British extant garment from c. 1750. Portrait of Anna Dorothean Finney from 1758.

Sources

Patterns of Fashion 1, Janet Arnold

Faction and Fashion: The Politics of Court Dress in Eighteenth-Century England, Hannah Greig

5 Facts About Fashionable, Morning and Domestic Apparel in 18th Century France - MoMu Antwerp (based on a book "Living Fashion: Women’s Daily Wear 1750–1950 from the Jacoba de Jonge Collection" but I couldn't get my hands on the book)

Women's clothing and accessories - 18th Century Notebook

#historical fashion #fashion history #history #dress history #rococo fashion #18th century #18th century fashion #robe a l'anglaise #robe a la francaise #rococo #mantua #extant garment #painting #fashion plate

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rogue-durin-16 · 1 month ago

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HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XXVI/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et @aliciax3

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, blood, gore, violence

A/N: GOD WE MADE IT. Okay I hope y'all enjoyed the ride, because GODDAMN IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS. What are we gonna do now huh? I'm kidding, I see y'all's requests and I'll be working on them. Thank you for sticking around for this long ass fic that took over my Tumblr. Enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The wind out on deck had teeth, but I needed the bite. Inside the ocean liner, there wasn't a single noise I could stand anymore; laughter, yelling, crying. I knew it was time to bolt when I saw some of the boys exchanging addresses—one last attempt to postpone losing ourselves to the real world.

I had made up my mind about it long ago. Contact would just make everything worse. What the fuck would I write, anyway? 'Hey, I hope you're good. Everything still hurts.'

I leaned against the railing, one palm braced against cold metal, the other flicking my lighter under the lip of a bent cigarette I'd pull out of a half empty pack on my way out.

Flick. Nothing.

"Piece of shit." I muttered, shaking it once. I gave it one more try. Still dead. Two set of footsteps walked by and stopped right at the turn. I didn't care, so I didn't look.

"How did you manage to get through the war with that shit lighter?"

My heart just about gave out.

I turned slowly, disbelieving. Y/n's eyes meet mine as she retraced her steps and approached me, mouth curled around the ghost of a tight-lipped smile. It read as a bittersweet greeting, as much as an apology.

"Fuck." I breathed, frozen halfway through the motion. She snatched the cigarette out of my mouth, trapped it between her teeth and lit its end in the blink of an eye. Handed it back and stared at the side, overlooking the fact that she had knocked the air out of my lungs with what had become a mundane motion between us.

Because I couldn't remember the last time we had shared a cigarette, nor the last time I'd seen her smile. I couldn't remember much, I was realizing just now, aside from blood splattered on the hotel's hallway and sheer fear and white-hot rage.

Three Months Earlier

Fist met cheek with a wet crack. Ramirez didn't hold back. None of us were. Not after what this bastard had done.

The private—the fucker who'd pulled the trigger—was sagging in the chair, split lip pouring red, eye already swelling shut. I had a fistful of his greasy hair, yanking his head up harsh enough to tear it every time his head dropped.

"Where's the damn gun?" Bull insisted.

The private didn't answer. He had stopped answering around thirty minutes ago. Maybe he thought he could sit through this, take the beating, walk it out. So I leaned forward for him to hear me loud and clear.

"You're gonna give us that fuckin' gun," I hissed through gritted teeth, voice steady and mean. "Then I'm gonna shoot your brains out with it."

I meant it. Every syllable.

The bloodshot eye he could still open dragged away from me and over my shoulder, widening with sobering recognition.

"Do I ring any bells?" she asked, voice lethal, carrying through the room and straight into the replacement's ears.

My hand kept the iron grip on his locks as I spun to check I hadn't gone insane. Sure enough, there she was, leaning against the far wall of the lounge. Her tank top clung to her like gauze, stained with the dark crust of blood that hadn't quite dried. Barefoot. Pale. Skin slick with sweat or fever—I couldn't tell which.

I couldn't tell much aside from the fact that she shouldn’t be standing.

"You sonofabitch." in the blink of an eye, she was on the move, stalking across the floor like death itself in cotton and blood. The lightbulb made a flash of metal flicker in her hand. A blade.

"Hey—no," I dropped the culprit's head to intercept her halfway. Her body crashed into mine, all heat and tremble, and I took the opportunity to keep the blade at bay by restraining her wrist. It felt wrong how easy that was. "What are you doing?"

Her breath came in short, hard puffs; her glare, glassy and furious, trained on the slumped man behind me as she spat, "I'm gonna bleed him like a pig."

"When you think she can't get more stupid," Martin muttered somewhere in my left, and God was he right.

She was shaking, too light and too hot, holding herself together by the same furious grief that had left my knuckles busted and my sleeves blooded.

"Let me go." She writhed in my grip, trying to push past me. I halfheartedly held firm.

"Not happening."

"Let her try."

"Shut up, Alton." Don jumped in, pushing himself off the chimney's corner. He moved closer, catching Y/n's elbow from behind to gently make her step back. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Y/n shook him off hard. Too hard. She gasped and staggered, one hand flying to her side as if pressing the dressing would stop the stitches from pulling.

"Shit—" I cursed, catching her again before she toppled over. "Stop. Fuckin' stop, alright? Please." With one arm desperately wrapped around her waist, I walked her back a step. Two. She was burning through the cloth and I couldn't do anything to fix it.

Her forehead hit my shoulder for half a second, like she was just so goddamn tired.

The door flung open with a thud, grabbing our full attention. Speirs' boots stopped right before the beaten up soldier, who was still trying to look smug through a face that was more pulp than person.

"Where's the gun?" Speirs questioned, faux calm reining in his ruthlessness.

The bastard had the nerve to smirk as he threw the same quip that had been earning him the punches. "What gun?"

The back of Speirs' sidearm caught him across the face, splitting the other cheek clean open.

"When you talk to an officer," Speirs' tone lacked patience and dripped with danger. Not a good sign. "you say Sir." He raised the pistol. Pointed it directly at the private's forehead.

Everyone stepped back, almost unnoticeably. We all heard the stories. No one wanted to look. No one but Y/n, whose chin was tilted just enough to watch the scene over my shoulder, her free hand holding onto my jacket for support.

The room held its breath for a second or a minute, before our commanding officer spoke again. "Let the MPs take care of this piece of shit."

On cue, More and Bull got a careless hold on the private by his arms and dragged him out of the room, a chorus of muted grunts echoing behind them.

Talbert, who had trailed into the lounge after Speirs, asked tentative, "Is Grant dead?"

"Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it." He announced while shoving his sidearm back into his holster. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Y/n straightened up the best she could, her palm rapidly tapping my shoulder. "Joe, let go."

I didn't have time to react before our Captain entered my peripheral vision, his crimson splattered hand wrapping around Y/n's bicep to pull her away from my arms.

"The hell are you doing on your feet, Sergeant?" He inquired, sharp gaze scanning Y/n's covered ribcage. She didn't get to make up an excuse. "First Sergeant Talbert, why isn't Y/l/n in the hospital?"

Talbert hesitated. "Sir, Spina—"

"Spina's a medic, she needs a damn doctor." He peeled her away from me, aiding her with more care than the man would admit to later. "C'mon, we're driving you to the hospital."

Maybe I should've said something. To her, to Speirs, to anyone. Should've gone with her. I just stood and watched them carry her out.

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

I willed my brain snap out of it, shaking my head imperceptibly as if to physically pull me out of the stupor.

"Thought you got shipped to the States." I attempted.

"Got shipped to England." Y/n corrected me. "Got word the Toccoa veterans were leaving, so I hitched a ride." She tucked the lighter into her pocket and leaned back against the railing, her moves obviously slower and more mindful despite her pretending otherwise. "Surprise."

I dragged hard on the cigarette, just to keep my hands busy. "No one said anything."

"Wasn't trying to make a big entrance."

"No shit." I turned back to the dark water, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, the sound of waves against metal echoing below. "Malarkey knows?"

"I'll look for him."

The Statue of Liberty was still a distant speck behind gray clouds.

"We won." she commented matter-of-factly, trying to build a conversation from scratch. As if that had ever worked with us.

Still, I indulged her effort.

"Yeah. We did."

"You hear about Japan?"

"Who didn't?" I flicked the ashes off board. "Whole world's gone to hell and back."

She nodded, foot tapping the planks. "Heard some of the guys stayed back in England."

"Can't blame them." I said, because 'I considered it' would arise questions I didn't want to answer. Not to her, not to anyone.

At the turn of the deck where Y/n had come from, movement caught my eye—someone lingering at a cautious distance, arms crossed, watching the scene. It took me a second to recognize Andrew. He looked different; older, duller. Out of place, just like we'd all be in a couple of hours.

"Where'd he come from?" I asked, nodding toward him, doing my best to keep my tone in check.

"He came to see me at the hospital." She threw a look over her shoulder, not so much to check what was I looking at as it was to make sure he was still there. "Found me pretty quick. Guess being the mail boy has its privileges."

I nodded, exchanging the sight of the man for the horizon's; the faint outline of New York parted the sky from the ocean.

I could've looked for her when we got to England. I should've asked around. Wouldn't have been too hard—tracking down a female paratrooper. Why didn't I?

"Why don't you go in?" I said after a while, mentally drawing a line in the sand. "Let the fellas see that pretty face of yours got the color back."

She shrugged, tugging at a loose thread on her fatigues' sleeve. "I'd rather stay here."

The silence stretched. Only the churn of ocean filled it, that and the creak of footsteps from restless soldiers wandering behind us. I glanced over at her.

"You going back to Norfolk?" I asked.

She breathed out a single laugh, almost amused. "Where else would I go?"

I bit back a reckless offering. 'You could come with me' wasn't something she'd like to hear. It wasn't something I'd like to lay out between us either, bare and desperate like a child begging not to go home yet.

What was home, anyway?

"You going back to San Francisco?" she echoed my question, her observant gaze skimming over me.

"We'll see about that."

Another pause. Another crack in the conversation we couldn't quite patch.

"Luz is asking for everyone's address," I said it like an afterthought, pretending I wasn't desperate to push her away before I spilled unwanted truths all over the outdoor deck. "You should go give him yours before he realizes you're on the ship and chases you for it."

"Maybe I will." She gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What's your address, Liebgott?"

I looked down at the cigarette burning between my fingers. Hesitated. "Can't remember." That was a lie, yet it felt cleaner than the truth.

Her face fell when she put together the pieces, reading between lines what I'd already decided. She took a breath. Resignation. "Tell you what," she folded her arms over her chest, the words sticking halfway in her throat. "I think I'm gonna miss you."

A joke, most likely, but it didn't land like one.

"Don’t worry," I ran my free hand through already disheveled locks. "one month with lover boy Andrew and you won't even remember my name."

She stared at me like I had offended her. Maybe I had. Maybe I deserved to see her scoff, turn heel and leave me there.

With a sigh, she reached for my hand. Took it in hers. Pressed something into my palm.

Her lighter.

"Keep it," she said. "Or throw it overboard, I don't care. I hate smoking anyway."

She lingered for a beat, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Quick. Chaste. Soft enough to fucking kill me. I tried to catch her lips with mine on instinct, but she was already pulling away. Like she knew. Like she had felt me move and decided to purposefully beat me to it.

She squeezed my arm, warm and final, and walked back to her friend without another word.

I stared at the lighter in my hand.

America grew closer, and I felt my heart break.

We'd run out of time.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

The noise at the docks was deafening, overwhelming—cheering, crying, shouting names into the chaos. The second our boots hit New York's soil, the world broke open in celebration.

We were being swallowed by the crowds. Men from Easy jostled shoulder to shoulder, some already sprinting toward waiting families, others standing still, lost. Flags waved, hats flew, the scent of salt and steel mixed with perfume from people who hadn't known the inside of a uniform. Someone threw a bouquet. A woman screamed someone's name and collapsed into his arms.

In the middle of it all, I felt a hand close around my bicep, forced gentleness barely masking urgency, and tugged me slightly away from Andrew before anyone could clock it. The ruckus swallowed the movement.

"What's the lighter for?" Joe's clipped question went right into my ear.

Thrown by a question I didn't expect to hear, I turned to face him. We were being pushed and pulled by bodies on all sides, but he kept me tethered. "Smoking, hopefully." I tried. "Don't burn shit up with it. It's got my initials."

He exhaled sharp through his nose, tugging on my arm just enough to pull something else out of me. I didn't have it in me to fight it, so I gave in.

"Don't want you to forget me." I confessed, fear, heartache and embarrassment bubbling to the surface all at once.

His grip tightened, and his voice raised. "Don't need a fucking lighter to remember you."

I opened my mouth, but someone bumped me from behind. I stumbled forward, into him. His hands caught me like it was second nature at this point.

"You don't have to keep it," I insisted, placing a hand on his chest as a leverage to push myself a step back. "I told you to throw it away if you—"

"I'm in love with you."

It hit harder than a gunshot, straight to the chest.

"Head over heels for fuck knows how long," he went on, not looking away from me for a second. "It's fuckin' pathetic. I don't need a lighter to remember that, alright?"

My pulse was too loud in my ears. A lump in my throat blocked any response I would have wanted to give him. Someone shoved through again, knocking him slightly off balance. His hand left my arm for a second.

"Keep it," was the only sentence I managed without having my voice shattering. "Please."

Joe muttered something under his breath—'fuck', maybe—and reached for his dog tags. Before I could ask what he was doing, he slipped the chain over his head, the rusted star of David glinting under the sun, and looped it over my neck instead. They were warm from his skin.

His hand lingered at the base of my nape for a second before he leaned in, kissed my temple, and spoke against my hair, "Take care of yourself."

I grabbed the front of his jacket. My fingers found his collar and brought him into a kiss, quiet, barely there, but enough.

Enough.

He kissed me back.

And then he let go.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, into a hundred people moving in a hundred directions, oblivious to yet another goodbye among all the reunions.

"Y/n! God, I thought I'd lost you. C'mon!"

Andrew's voice called behind me, so I walked back toward him on reflex, leaving my heart somewhere on the dock.

'I'm in love with you'.

Too late for it to matter.

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mustyrosewater · 27 days ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,489

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: returning to the small wyoming town you were raised after a sharp fall from grace, your music career having turned into mindless pop you were forced to churn out by your manager and now ex, a return to home is just what you need, the perfect place to take a break from the life of a pop star, and also to meet some old faces.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied panic attack, swearing, rhett is an asshole in this one im sorry, flirting, jealous rhett if you squint

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so with this chapter comes the introduction of a new character, along with the expanding of another, if you'd like me to, i'll make a post with their face claims because there were definitely faces in mind while writing them haha. i hope you enjoy this one, we get a teensy bit more rhett (i promise there'll be more soon)

As of this morning, you’d so far managed to reorganise your childhood bedroom, something you remembered one of your health coaches mentioning echoing in your head, feng shui helping out with these sorts of things, or something along those lines.

Even if you didn’t entirely understand how it worked, a change of scenery to a bedroom with a pretty large load of memories could definitely be a start to feeling human again.

As the day progressed, you’d even managed to help your father out with aurora, the silence as the two of you worked at brushing out her coat and refilled her food tray’s being just as good a bonding activity as any, all the small steps that were beginning to make you feel like you’d never even left your home in the first place.

It was pretty obvious even to yourself that this was all being done in order to distract yourself from the prospect of dinner with the abbots tonight, your father explaining that it was Cecilia’s idea, overjoyed by the prospect of you being back home and wanting to catch up on some long overdue time.

He’d told you that you were allowed to say no if you wanted to, hinting at the fact that there was obviously some tension with the idea of being in a place with ready access to a bar.

Promising he’d be by your side the whole time, expressing that he’d be ok with taking over ordering if you weren’t feeling comfortable with the idea, even offering to politely ask the other abbots if they could go with just cola’s for the night.

Your life coach’s shrill voice had rung in your head, always with the daily motivations, encouraging you to do one thing that terrified you every single day, that it was important to do things that scared you.

That was probably why you’d agreed, reasoning with yourself that it would be nice to go out and just eat something that wasn’t a health food, something fried, maybe even something cheesy, all the things you’d been conditioned to stay away from by the personal trainers hired by your manager.

It’d been so long since you’d gone without somebody telling you what to wear, always having an outfit ready to go for you when you stepped out of the shower, so it suddenly dawned on you that you had no idea what to even wear tonight.

With your father not exactly being a fashionista by any means, it didn’t seem reasonable to ask him for advice on your clothing choices, the only other person you could think of, hell, the only other number in your phone other than your psychiatrist for emergencies, was Amanda.

As you pressed the button on the screen to attempt a face time call, the soft ringing tune emitting out as you stared at yourself, taking a moment to prop the phone up on your bedside table and kneel, your hands and chin resting on the wood as you waited for an answer. The hum of the facetime being answered sang out, the image of amanda holding her phone in front of her face, clearly on the couch and resting, nothing the silk bonnet on her head and the oversized reader glasses on her face.

Formality was something you’d both thrown out the window less than a year after she became your lawyer, getting to the point you’d sleep over at each others houses, have pizza nights while discussing things all the way from copyright issues all the way to each other’s sex life.

“Whats up, sexy?”

Her voice brought a smile to your face, greeting you as if you weren’t hundreds of miles away and as if you hadn’t spoken for almost a week.

“I need your help.”

You hadn’t meant for you tone to sound so panicked, regretting it straight away as she sat up straight, her face becoming concerned, as she put her wine glass down on her coffee table with a clink.

“Whats happened, is TMZ trying to contact you again? I gave them that cease and desist, I swear to god if i have to get-”

Her ranting, even if overly concerned, was a nice little reminder to how much she cared, the fact that most lawyers wouldn’t feel personally offended on their clients behalf, and yet Amanda always did, she always seemed to genuinely want your safety and well being maintained.

“No, no, no. it’s not that!” you laughed through your words as you raised your hands up in a stop motion, shaking your head as she put a hand over your mouth to hide your snorting laughter.

“You’re gonna think its so stupid.”

Her face seemed to calm down immediately, a smile returning to her face as she reached forward to grab her wine glass again.

“Making me put down my wine and everything, this shit better be good.”

Laughing together, your leaned your head to the side and let out a huff, looking back over to Amanda as she settled back into the couch.

“I got invited out to dinner.” you started, opening your mouth to keep going before Amanda spoke up again, her eyes widening.

“You got asked out?” her excitement was palpable, already jumping the gun “Heyyy! I know that’s right!” “No, girl.” you were both laughing, cackling even, like a pair of teenagers; thats how Amanda made you feel, you could let your guard down around her and immediately share your deepest thoughts because you know she’d keep them entirely to herself, that she’d encourage you wholeheartedly and unwavering in whatever you wanted.

Finally finding the strength to continue talking through the laughter, you stood up and let the phone camera show you in full view, the third dress you’d tried on so far coming into view, one of the black versace ones you’d found, still sporting two little gold emblems on the straps, maybe just a little bit too much for dinner with your dad’s friends.

“It’s my dad’s friend and his family, it’s just down at a little diner type place, i think.”

Smoothing the black fabric over your body, you turned back and fourth slightly, looking at yourself in the phone camera as Amanda nodded along.

“But i haven’t had to dress myself for like, three years, i have no fucking clue what to wear.”

Shaking her head as she chuckled, Amanda pointed a manicured finger towards the lens, effectively pointing at you.

“Only someone like you could complain about having nothing but couture in your suitcase, girl.”

As much as you were embarrassed, she was right to a certain degree, of course you were grateful to have all the beautiful clothes you did, much less the wardrobe’s filled with them back in your house in LA, but there was also a level of respect to be held when going out to eat with people who’d probably only be willing to spend good money on a pair of sturdy boots.

“Yeah but like, I don’t want his family to think im trying to, like, flaunt my money on them. I just want something nice and simple.”

Amanda’s brows raised, clearly unimpressed with your attempt at nice and simple, giving you a look that told that you’d been called out immediately.

“How hot is he?”

Immediately her question made you furrow your brows, shaking your head as you opened your mouth to respond.

“What do you mea-”

“Bitch, you would not be pulling out the Versace medusa 95’ maxi if there wasn’t somebody coming to dinner that you want to see you in that dress.”

Her voice was mixing with laughter towards the end, her head turning up to the ceiling as she fixed her glasses from where they’d fallen slightly.

“I thought this was nice! It’s plain!”

“It’s four thousand dollar’s! I know! Cause i was there when you bought it.”

Only able to put your head in your hands, you let out a deep sigh and stepped forward, kneeling once more and resting your chin on the end of the side table, a face like a kicked puppy.

“What do you suggest instead then?”

At your question, Amanda only held up her hand, raised eyebrows with a smirk as she took a another sip of her wine before speaking.

“Oh, you’re wearing the Versace, Bitch.”

With Amanda staying on the line with you, all the way through to setting the phone, ceiling up, on the bathroom counter so you could keep chatting with you while you showered, you realised just how long it had been since the two of you had just had some proper girl time.

After everything had happened, she’d helped you so much, barely giving you any time to even spend together, it felt amazing to just talk shit the same way the pair of you always had.

She guided you through how to style your hair as you sat at your vanity, leaving your hair down being enough to off set the dress, now looking a bit more casual with a nice black cardigan being placed over the top of it, enough so that you still looked nice, but didn’t look like you were going to some fancy dinner back home.

“Do the Fenty gloss, I put it in your makeup bag when i was packing your stuff.”

Ordering you like you were a drill sergeant, you could only smile as you ran the plus applicator over your lips, your makeup finally completed with a soft popping of your lips to smooth the gloss over.

“It still doesn’t mean anything, his eldest sons married, and the other ones an absolute dick.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t give him a huge fuck you by looking this good to dinner.” she responded back with lightning wit, raising her eyebrows at you as she closed her fridge door, having been in the process of starting her own dinner by the time the two of you started ending the call.

In the process of saying goodbye, you could hear a knock on your slightly open door as your father poked his head in, his tartan shirt and vest already on as he gave you a look over.

“Very nice.” he feigned, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head, just as he’d always used to whenever you’d taken the time to get ready for somewhere.

“Alright, I love you, have a nice dinner, and update me when you get home or i wont leave you alone.”

Amanda’s order’s were clear, only answered with a shake of your head as you picked up your phone, standing from the vanity and grabbing your purse.

“Love you too.”

The air outside was warm, just as it always was in Wyoming at this time of year, your cardigan doing more than enough to keep your body temperature on the reasonable end.

The ride on your father’s truck only seemed to fill you with the same anxiety you felt while you were getting ready, the closer and closer you came to town only seeming to fill the void of your nervous feelings.

It was a beautiful little place, seeming to boast a very classic southern feel, a neon sign with the name plastered on it, this place had been here since you left, and it still seemed to be going strong, you even remembered the guy who owned it’s name, Earl.

Exiting from the truck, you checked your appearance in the window, making sure your hair wasn’t placed oddly and that none of your makeup was smudged, some small part of you not completely sure why you cared so much for your appearance, Amanda’s words seeming to playback in your own head like a broken record.

There was certainly some satisfaction to be found by sitting down at dinner and having a couture dress be a big fuck you to the Rhett, to show him that despite his attempts at hurting you in highschool, you were now in a place where you never had to worry about money again.

Yet it still felt so vain, even for you.

Heading inside, your father placed his hand on the back of your shoulder, guiding you towards the large table where’d you’d all seemingly be placed for the night, a small rectangular sign with the word ‘BOOKED’ in white letters sitting there waiting for you.

Sitting down on the wooden chair beside your father, he pulled his stetson off his head and placed it on the table, clearing his throat as he got comfortable.

“Do you want cola, Ducky?” he offered, turning slightly to look at you as you nodded softly.

“Thanks dad.” you confirmed, watching him get up and head towards the bar, greeting the bartender with a familiarity that wasn’t unusual for him.

Pulling out your phone, you checked yourself in your camera, seemingly developing the checking in on your appearance into a nervous tick that was beginning to make itself known, if not that, seemingly just not knowing what to do with your hands was enough.

Time seemed to move at a different place as you sat there by yourself, waiting for your father to come back from the bar as he chatted away, eye’s occasionally flicking at the door each time it opened, waiting to see who was coming in.

Eventually, just as your father sat back down, a sip of ice cold cola slipping down your throat was enough to calm your nerves, the chilled glass leaving condensation on your fingers.

Yet again the sound of the door opened, your eye’s turning to it instantly, expecting it to be just another guest that you didn’t recognise.

Instead, the familiar look of Cecilia and Royal came into your view, their eye’s peering at every table until they landed on the two of you, a grin coming to Cecilia’s face as she waved at you and approached, Royal following behind with his hands in his jean pockets.

The absence of their two sons was notable, almost swearing you felt a bit disappointed, quickly offset and Cecilia came round to where you were, allowing you to rise from your chair and pull in her in for a soft hug.

Any plans to dress down had been subsided when Cecilia looked you up and down, her brows raising as she smiled.

“This is gorgeous.” she said softly, thankfully not making a show of pointing out your choice of attire.

Sitting back down, the four of you sat across from one another as the couple settled in, Royal muttering something about going to get a beer before he stood and walked to the bar.

Almost as if she could tell that the absence of her son’s was standing out, Cecilia spoke first.

“Sorry we’re a little late, we had to sort out who was riding with who.”

she began, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Perry had to run and pick up Amy from school on the way, so Rhett rode with him just so we could get here quicker.”

You weren’t sure who Amy was, but judging by the fact that school was mentioned, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together and guess that Amy was his daughter.

There was something wholesome about Perry Abbott being a father, based on your memories of him having a small line of girlfriend’s throughout school, you didn’t pick him for the type to settle down and have kids.

But then again, no one from highschool would guess you’d have played the NFL halftime show, but you did that anyway, so there wasn’t any room to judge there.

“Amy’s a big fan a’ your’s honey.” Cecilia spoke, reaching across the table to place a hand on top of yours, a cheeky smile coming to her face.

“She always asks your daddy about when she see’s him, she was just beamin’ when we told her you’d be at dinner tonight.”

You couldn’t pretend that wasn’t amusing, the idea of Rhett Abbots own neice being a fan of yours; it may have been slightly egotistical, but you had a vision in your head of some little girl bouncing around the house singing your songs while he uncle cringed.

Then part of you felt that signature anxiety come back all over again, there was no doubt your recent fiasco’s had been anything but a bad example for her, guilt panging in your heart at the idea of breaking some poor little girls heart with all the news that’d been printed about you.

The thoughts ringing in the back of your mind were distracted as the sight of Royal walking back over caught your vision, his two sons walking beside him as he pointed out where you were all sitting, both brothers turning their heads to look over in the direction.

You were the first person Rhett looked up, almost as if he’d been searching for you in particular, his eyes keening over you and your appearance for a few split seconds as they walked over, only for the two of you to break the held eye contact at the same time.

The little blond girl holding Perry’s hand must have been Amy, considering the fact that she had most of her face hidden behind her father’s hand, one eye peering out at you nervously.

Smiling softly, you felt flashbacks to all the other times you’d been greeted by young fans, their nervous faces always making your heart feel warm.

“Hi Amy.” you spoke out, her eyes widening as she realised you knew her name, her gaze flicking to her grandmother who only smiled back at her knowingly, the young girls mouth opening to reveal a toothy wide eyed smile.

She spoke your name as if it was a magic spell, her stature starting to go giddy as Perry only laughed. Pulling the chair beside you out, you patted the wood.

“I think you should come sit next to me, huh?” you spoke, Amy looking up at her father only to receive a nod of permission, the young girl practically running around the table and hoisting herself up into the chair despite her height, you had no doubt she was used to needing to hoist herself up onto horses anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Rhett sitting down beside his mother, greeting her with a low voice and a nod of his head in your fathers direction.

It was a pointed choice to focus your attention on Amy, the best way to avoid any eye contact with Rhett, as well as just something wholesome you could spend your time doing.

Picking up a menu, you held it up so the both of you could look at it.

“Now, I haven’t been here in awhile.” you began, squinting your eyes slightly as you looked over all the options before you. “So you’re gonna have to tell me what’s good.”

You spent the majority of your dinner answering Amy’s questions, pulling out your phone to show her the selfies you’d taken during tours, mirrored photos of you in a makeup chair with your tongue sticking out, all of which she adored.

As you all ate, your father chattered away with the rest of the Abbotts, Cecilia occasionally sparing a glance at you and smiling, adoring the happy look on her grand daughters face.

Every now and then, your eye’s drifted over to Rhett for only a few seconds each time, watching him nurse the beer in his hand, sometimes looking at your father, other times looking right at you, his eyes narrowed and boring into you.

Ignoring his stares was easy enough, especially when Amy continued to talk at a thousand miles per hour.

Taking a moment to lean over to your father, you whispered to him that you were just gonna order another cola from the bar, his gaze silently asking you if you’d be okay, his waryness not unwarranted of course, but you held confidence in yourself, assuring him you’d be fine.

Standing and pushing out your chair, it would be hard to pretend you didn’t feel Rhett’s gaze on you, smoothing out your dress and walking over to the bar with your purse in hand.

Even now years later, Earl and his wife ran this place with a large amount of love and commitment, it could be seen in the way that the place was still filled with people every night even now.

The bartender had his back facing towards you, cleaning a few glasses with a rag as you placed your phone down, his head turning suddenly to look with wide eyes before a smile set onto his face.

For a few seconds that you stared across at each other as he made his way to you, your mouth feel open as you finally recognised him as an old highschool friend, coincidentally enough, also happening to Earl’s son, Niki.

“Oh my god.” you spoke out, shaking your head as he grinned at you.

“Hey there stranger.”

It had seemed that puberty had rammed him like a truck, the once mousey boy you used to see washing dishes in the back now standing at least six feet, his welcoming smile accompanied by a light stubble against his strong features.

“I don’t choose to believe it’s you, there’s absolutely no way.”

Your words made him laugh, his head tipping back slightly as he did, his laugh sounding like a river of velvet running into your ears, his teeth no longer sporting the braces he had in highschool.

“Believe it mija. Though I should be saying the same thing about you, huh?”

His reminder of your career and status made you mockingly put a hand over your face, cringing slightly as you laughed along with him.

“I saw you on tv only a few months ago, in that weird sparkly get up.”

Taking a moment to rack your brain, you guessed he was talking about one of the recent shows you did in florida, a part of a small tour to promote an album that was just released at the time.

Realising which outfit he was talking about, you feigned offense, jokingly putting a hand over your heart and opening your mouth in shock.

“That was an archived Mugler they pulled out just for that show, it was a privilege to wear.”

Not seeming to take you seriously whatsoever, he crossed his arms and leaned against the back end of the bar, looking across from you and shaking his head.

“More like C-3PO.” he laughed out, unable to hold the laugh you let out in response, remarking at the familiarity of looking like a gold robot, even if it was Mugler.

“Not funny.” you tried to scold through your laughter, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear as you picked your wallet back up, unzipping it and pulling out your card.

“Oh, that’s right, im workin’.”

Sharing another laugh together, he stepped towards the register, holding his index finger up to begin punching in whatever it was that you wanted.

“What can i get you.” he paused, turning his head towards the back before looking back at you and leaning in. “Between you a me, if i could get a pic with you for ma, it’s on the house.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your card to him.

“Just a cola is fine, and i’ll take the picture for Camille, but im still paying for it.”

Making a small victorious pumping motion in the air, he stepped to the side to pull out a class, using one of the pumps to start filling it before placing it in front of you, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone.

Watching him walk around the bar and flip up the counter top, part of you did feel slightly embarrassed, but you knew it was for his mama, so you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, holding up his phone to take a selfie, the pair of you smiling brightly as it clicked a picture and added it to his gallery.

Pulling his arm away, which part of you almost felt sad about, he opened the photo and looked at it, grinning.

“Hell yeah, she’s gonna love it.” putting his phone back into his pocket, he crossed his arms once more and leaned against the customer side of the bar, obviously intent on still chatting with you as you took a sip of your drink.

“I remember how excited ma was when she heard your name on the radio, came straight home and asked if i remembered you.”

The image definitely warmed your heart a bit; you hadn’t actually realised just how many people here were excited for your rise to fame, always assuming you’d been pretty promptly forgotten only a few days after you left.

“She claims she always knew you were gonna be famous, said she knew from the first time you sang the national anthem before one of the rodeo’s in ninth grade.”

Shaking your head, you laughed along with him, unable to stop yourself from feeling a little sheepish, he’d most definitely had what your personal trainer referred to as a ‘glow up’, what with his softly toned arms and absolutely gorgeous shoulder length hair pulled into a loose low bun.

“Yeah well, never would have guessed you’d grow out of your braces.” your joke only seemed to make him smile proudly, pointing at his now perfectly straight teeth with a massive grin.

“You like em, huh?”

It was slightly adorable how proud he was of of his new smile, his pointed hand moving to scratch his stubbled jaw line, before promptly moving to tug on his ear softly as he turned his head to look across the restaurant.

Making eye contact with you once more, he seemed to only smile across from you in silence for a moment before speaking once more.

“Well, if you ever come in for a drink again, make sure you stop by and say hi okay? I’d hate to miss you before you skip town again.”

It was a joke of course, but part of it stung, of all the other people from highschool you’d seen so far, niki was probably one of the closer friends you’d had, considering he was your science partner for the better part of two years in school.

You could distinctly remember the time he’d cursed up a storm in spanish when he’d burnt his hand on the bunsen burner he’d been clumsily setting up, the loudest youd ever heard his voice ring out before.

In your haste, you’d hardly even said goodbye, much less even told him you were leaving, you could only imagine him finding out from his mother or father, wondering to yourself if he’d ever looked for you, unsure why he hadn’t seen you around for days.

Your brows furrowed upwards slightly, just about to open your mouth before a voice rang out from behind Niki, the source hidden until he turned.

“Y’know if you keep flirtin’ with the bar staff, no one’s gonna get served.”

As Niki turned to reveal Rhett standing with his upper arms leaned against the bar, his head directly forward and not looking at you, you couldn’t hide the sour expression that came to your face.

Just as always, maturity seemed to escape him, Rhett still seemed intent on ruining anything that made you happy, for no particular reason at all.

Turning back to face you, Niki only made a mockingly terrified face, his mouth falling open in a silent cry of terror before he grinned at you, lightly brushing your upper arm with his hand and stepping off of his spot at the bar, walking back around to get behind the counter.

“Another beer?” he asked Rhett, who only nodded his head and held up his empty bottle, a douchey way to do it in your opinion, but maybe he could make anything seem douchey.

Nodding back, Niki disappeared behind a corner, off to find the brand from one of the many mini fridges lining the inside of the bar.

Unable to hold back the small scoff that left your mouth, you held your cola in one hand, your purse in the other, and made your way to walk past him and back to the table the rest of the family was at.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

His comment was enough to make you whip around, your eyes wide and brows turned downwards.

Finally he turned to look at you, leaning his elbows on the bar top and tilting his head as he stared across at you, an eyebrow quirked in what felt like an extremely judgemental look.

Unsure exactly what he was referring to, but having enough of an idea, you placed a hand on your now jutted out hip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You wanna tell me what you mean there?”

Your voice was sharp, experience from shutting down invasive interviewers on live TV having gifted you with more than enough candor and confidence to match his hostility.

Raising his arms mockingly, Rhett’s voice heightened, seemingly trying to imitate you.

“Ooh, do you wanna take a photo with me? Did you buy my newest album?”

As he continued, his voice grew out of the mocking impression of you and back into his own voice.

“You really can’t stand not being the center of attention for five minutes?”

His words stung, his lack of understanding doing nothing except infuriating you.

In highschool, the things he was saying might have made you cry, but now, it only made you want to point a finger in his face and insult him right back.

If what had been happening recently, all of the shit that brought you back to this dustbowl in the first place was anything to go by, maybe if he was smarter he could have guessed that you want to be anything BUT the center of attention.

Any good mood you might have had tonight had been thoroughly spoiled by an ultimately unnecessary comment on Rhett’s end, the anger bubbling up in your stomach currently keeping you almost completely silent as you took a deep breath before saying something that might get you in trouble.

“First of all, Rhett. He asked for the picture, it was for his mother.”

As he opened his mouth to say some other undoubtably snarky number, you raised your finger, pointing across at him before he could say anything.

“Second of all, I seriously don’t know where you get off coming at me like this, I dont know what the hell i’ve done to make you despise me, but I haven’t come back here to make nice with you.”

Watching you speak, Rhett’s attitude only seemed to grow worse by the look on his face, your response seeming to egg him on if anything, another scoff leaving his lips as he took a few steps towards you, only stopping when he was so close you could almost smell the minty gum he was currently holding between his teeth.

Narrowing his eyes at you, his head leaning down to keep his voice low, he finally responded.

“You seriously think waltzing around with your father on your arm is gonna make anybody think you are anything except the shallow diva you’ve always been?”

Even if you’d opened your mouth to speak, nothing could come out, you were just standing there waiting for something smart to conjure up into your head.

Yet when Rhett only scoffed once more before stepping past you and heading back around the corner towards where everybody was sitting, you could only stay stood there, staring at the deep red carpet that had no doubt seen some better days.

You wanted to go sit back down without a word, to smile and pretend like you weren’t upset, because that would have been the stronger thing to do, the better way to stick it to who had seemingly become a bully, yet you couldn’t.

Stringing your purse over your shoulder, you walked over to the hostess stand, the smiling young woman waiting to bid you a goodbye, all ready seeming to gear herself up to ask if you enjoyed everything.

Trying your hardest to muster a smile back, you pulled your card from your wallet, handing it to the young hostess as politely as you could.

“Put everything that table sixteen ordered on here.”

It was the least you can do for the rude exit, a nice offset when the rest of the Abbott family found out you’d left without saying goodbye.

“Just apologise and tell them i wasn’t feeling good.”

The hostess nodded, pulling up your bill on her little tablet, implementing the card details as she made a comment about how nice it was of you to pay for the whole dinner, comments that only seemed to go through one of your ear’s and out the other.

Just as you were about to turn and exit, your sudden realisation at the lack of transport had you leaning back towards the hostess, your voice low.

“Could you call me a taxi please.”

It was pretty obvious that you going to absolutely cop it from your father when he realised you’d left in a taxi without him, so to hopefully soften to blow, you’d waited until you were pulled out of the restaurants car park to reach for your phone and send him a quick text message.

‘Went home to rest, love you.’

You’d hoped that would be enough to offset the unexpected exit, that on top of paying for everything. It wasn’t like you didn’t have the money anyway.

One of your only hopes was that the Abbott’s didn’t take it as an insult, your own anxiety no doubt would find some way to convince yourself it was somehow rude.

But you feared that if you’d sat back down at that table, you wouldn’t have been able to hide your absolutely disdain for Rhett.

Sending your father the text had reminded you of your promise to update Amanda; Honestly, she felt like exactly who you needed to talk to more than anything right now.

It hadn’t taken long to arrive back at your house, only about twenty minute drive, thank god.

Paying the driver, you stepped out and headed back inside, pulling your cardigan closer to your body as the temperature seemed to want to make a show of dropping unexpectedly.

Your bedroom had never seemed more inviting, your vanity still as messy as it was when you left the house in a haste, a habit that you never seemed to let go of even after years.

“So wait, you’re telling me you were absolutely killing it with this hot bar tender and then he not only comes in and breaks it up, but then insults you?”

Turning to make a face at the camera, you watched Amanda’s face curl into a cringe; she was laying in bed holding her phone up as she talked to you while you were in the process of taking off the makeup she’d so meticulously helped you with.

“Uh huh.”

Your response only made her let out a sound of dislike, waving her hand up to express it even further.

“He’s lucky I wasn’t there, honestly. I’d have had him by his ear makin’ him apologise.”

It was a correct assumption that talking to Amanda was going to make you feel better, the image of her holding Rhett by his ear bringing a smirk to your face, as petty as it might have been.

Continuing as you rubbed the makeup wipe along your eye softly, trying your hardest to get the last remnants of the black inky mascara off, you let your thoughts go out loud.

“I just don’t even understand what I did to him? I don’t get why he’s going out of his way to be such a asshole.”

You finished with a deep seated sigh, running your hands along your now freshly cleaned face and standing to start the process of changing out of the dress, bringing your phone with you.

“You should fuck the hot bartender.”

Unable to hold back the burst of laughter from Amanda’s version of problem solving, you placed the phone on your bedside table and began to rummage through the suitcases to find something to wear to bed.

“Niki.” you clarified.

“Yes exactly, you should fuck Niki.”

Holding a hand up, you shook your head, pulling out a pair of printed pajama’s that you were certain would do the job.

“I can’t do that, I haven’t even been here for a week.”

“Who gives a fuck? Listen, when he was talking to you, was he making eye contact? Was he touching you? I need to know these things to make a correct assumption.”

Stepping away from view of the camera, you started the process of unzipping and hanging up the dress in your closet, you tried to recall the way Niki had spoken to you previously, buttoning up the top half of the pajama’s when you finally stepped back into view.

“Well, he stepped around the bar to keep talking to me, and when he left he touched my arm like-”

You imitated the motion just as Niki had done to you before, Amanda’s mouth falling open as you picked up your phone and sat down in bed, pulling the blanket over your legs.

“Oh, girl. He’s DTF. Send me a photo, right now.”

Rolling your eyes, you minimised the face time, pulling up facebook and hoping and praying that you could find a photo of Niki somewhere.

Roughly a minute into your search, you stumbled upon what looked like a recent photo on the restaurants facebook page oddly enough, it was him smiling with his dad, holding up a sign to celebrate ten years.

God he looked good in the photo too.

His hair was pulled into a loose low bun just as it always was, his smile shining as he had an arm around his father, the two of them proudly holding up the sign.

Saying nothing as you took a screenshot and sent it to Amanda, you waited without saying a word for her to receive and look at the photo.

Immediately, you knew she’d seen it, as you heard a comical exaggerated moan come from her end, watching as she seemed to sit up in her bed to look at the photo.

“Are you kidding me? This how they make em’ down in Wyoming?”

“Well, I mean, His ma’s from Mexico, but yeah.”

Nodding her head satisfied, she let out a small “Mhm.” of approval, laying herself back down in her bed and taking off her glasses.

“You have my approval and my blessing.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @foreverchangingmind . @tsukikyo . @marsupialnoises . @iknowrocknroll . @astromilku .

#bob thunderbolts #lewis pullman #lewis pullman fic #lewis pullman x reader #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #outer range #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you

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concretejunglefm · 6 months ago

Text

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 1).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2 , part 3, part 4, part 5

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: none really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 3.2k.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Had Noah cheated, you believe that you could've handled everything a lot better, but somehow what he did had been worse.

It wasn't cheating, even if you couldn't ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about him and her together.

Noah's ex had joined the last leg of his tour as an opening act, and while under any other circumstances it wouldn't have bothered you, his nonchalant attitude about it did.

This had been a man who spent time after time cursing her out to you, pushing aside any doubts or worries you had felt when it came to her, and now he didn't care if she was joining him in the most important aspect of his life.

Even worse was how he’d knocked back your own suggestion of joining him.

"It's only for a few days. I'll get to watch you play, and we can see it as a vacation." "You can see it as that. For me, it's work, babe. You know that, and you know how important it is to me." "I know I just thought." "Well, don't. Not this time. Maybe next time."

You did your best to brush off the hurt at the time, and now again as the memory resurfaces.

Noah didn't cheat, but what he did was close enough to make you feel heartbroken and forgotten about.

Messages and calls came less and less during this leg, and now you were sitting up early Saturday morning going through the posts on your Twitter feed like a fool, allowing yourself to be more hurt with each one that you came across.

@badoxmens: Did you see Noah and his ex on stage last night?

@ieatconcreeete: I hope this means they're finally getting back together !!

@artitficalsuicide: If I were his girlfriend, I would hate myself right now.

@deduckingthrone: Noah has a girlfriend? Are you sure? Him and his ex looked pretty cozy if he does.

The videos and pictures which accompanied the tweets did nothing to ease the rising bile in your throat, and every attempt to reach Noah was left unanswered.

Noah ignored every single text and call you made to him, not bothering to even make it obvious that he was ignoring you, the delivered and read notifications driving you mad until you had to stop yourself altogether.

Instead of breaking up with you, he ghosted you, your only proof of this coming a week later when another set of videos and photos showed up on your feed of him attending the album launch party of his ex.

There was no ignoring the closeness between them, the way he lingered by her in the one video, the way they were caught slipping off together and hovering a little too closely in another.

You almost went to write out a long-winded text, one full of all your feelings for everything that had transpired over the past week, but instead settled for a simple 'fuck you'. Even going as far as to block and delete his number to not allow for any temptation in reaching out to him.

You deserved better than this, that whatever had transpired for Noah to play with your feelings in this manner and you decided then that you'd do whatever it took to move on.

"What you need is a girls’ trip." The suggestion from your best friend came as no surprise, Sloan would always choose a spa day or a girls’ trip whenever she felt a need to unwind, which was practically every week according to her.

"Huh?" You snap back from your own thoughts, mindlessly stirring a spoon in your latte.

"Babe, please tell me that you are not still hung up on that guy." You hear both the pity and disdain in her tone.

To Sloan boys were nothing more than toys to be played with, to be thrown down and picked back up whenever she wanted. That was her trick to not being hurt.

"It's been two years."

"I know." You don't even need to give her a real answer for her to know, but it still doesn't stop your mind from wandering and from the pang in your chest each time you think about him.

“Girls’ trip, this weekend and I'm not taking no for an answer."

You wish that she had taken no for an answer.

A girl’s trip sounded delightful until she suggested Vegas and you were squeezing yourself onto a last-minute flight there. You wouldn't have minded had it not been for the fact that your seats were apart from one another and you had been given a middle seat, which meant you were now stuck in between two strangers.

Moving along the aisle towards your seat, you slide your weekend bag from your shoulder and toss it into the overhead bin. Looking down at your ticket, you confirm the seat number and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you tap on the shoulder of the man sitting on the end seat, covered up with a black hoodie.

"Excuse me. I'm 33B." You gesture to the empty space beside him, and the minute you catch a familiar pair of brown eyes gaze back at you, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach and bile rising up your throat.

Noah.

You're ready to make a dash towards the back of the plane, either to throw up in the bathroom or attempt to throw yourself out of the emergency exit.

"Sor—."

He cuts himself off on the sight of you, and you huff as he moves himself and allows for you to squeeze past.

When you fall into the middle seat, you find Jolly sitting on the other side of you and realize that they must be on their way to a show.

In Vegas?

You almost turn and ask him but decide not to. You spent the last two years ignoring his and his band's existence; you can do that for another hour on this flight.

When you dare a glance in Jolly's direction, he's already sliding his headphones on and looking out of the window, completely disengaging himself. You're almost jealous. You'd do anything to disappear from this moment's event, even exchange seats with the Swede so as not to be sat next to Noah.

As the flight pulls out to taxi, you feel Noah's leg bouncing against your own. You know it's his nerves. He's always been a nervous flyer, and it makes you wonder why he's choosing to fly instead of driving to Vegas.

You mentally smack yourself because it's not your place to wonder these things or even care about them anymore.

"Will you stop that?" You finally voice your annoyance as the plane begins its descent down the runway.

"You know I'm a nervous flyer!" He retorts, and yes, you do know, but he's not supposed to highlight that fact.

“Yeah, but it's annoying." You snipe beneath your breath.

"I can't help it!"

You sound like a couple of squabbling kids, and you hit your knee against his as if to prove a point for him to stop, but he only bounces his leg harder.

It's as if he's purposely trying to piss you off, and unfortunately for you, it's working.

"Just—" You reach over and press your hand down on his thigh, forcing his leg still. "There. Stop."

He does stop, but then you feel his larger tattooed hand atop yours, and his fingers slip beneath and around your own as if choosing to accept this as you giving him some form of comfort.

You're not, but you can hardly pull your hand away as the plane begins to take off and you feel his fingers tightening around yours, signifying his general fear and discomfort over flying.

That is until you're hit with the reminder that this guy ghosted you, and you owe him nothing.

You snatch your hand back, glaring at him as he looks down at you.

"What was that for?"

“Oh, please, you're a big boy. Hold your own damn hand if you're that scared." You don't hold back on the mockery in your tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was always there for you, and this is how you repay me?"

“Oh, please, you were there for your own ego."

You feel Noah lean in closer to you and you edge yourself away as best as you can without causing too much disruption to Jolly tucked in the window seat.

"You could at least try to make this work."

You hear him whisper, and your mouth drops open due to the utter audacity this man has to even suggest such a thing.

"Why would I do that when you did such a great job proving you're not worth the effort?" You snipe back, keeping your voice low.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're really choosing now to play dumb? God, you really are all muscle and no brains now, aren't you?"

You couldn't ignore the fact that over the past two years he had buffed out even more than you can remember.

Noah had always been physically fit during the time you were together, with muscles coming in, but there was something more toned and larger about him now.

It was a noticeable enough sight that could have any girl drooling over him.

But not you.

You refused to engage with the thought.

"So what you're saying is you think I look hot?"

You don't need to look at him to see it; you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you shake with anger at how unfazed he appears by all of this.

You can't resist jabbing your elbow into his side, resulting in him letting out a whine which draws the attention of passengers around you to look over.

"What was that for?" Noah grumbles, bringing a hand to his side as he rubs the spot you’d caught.

"Because you're a dumbass." You spit out between gritted teeth.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" You haven't even noticed the seatbelt signs turn off, and when you look up, you spot a young air hostess peering in at you both. The moment her eyes catch sight of Noah, you spot that sudden flash of recognition in her own.

"Here we go," You mumble under your breath, rolling your own eyes as you direct your head forward and press back against the headrest.

You wait to hear it, his charm that he always uses whenever there's a fan who recognizes him in a place he doesn't want to be noticed.

He's suave with it, and it always made you swoon in the beginning because you believed that he was merely trying to seek out his privacy for you both, but now you realize it was just one of his many tactics for keeping up some reputation he felt the need to uphold.

"Well, well... It looks like someone has good taste in music. You just made my day… but if you don't mind keeping it between us?"

You scoff and press your lips together when feeling the heat of a stare on you, but the air hostesses' quiet giggling is enough to prove that his little charm worked.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "Real smooth." You remark once she leaves down the plane aisle to attend to another passenger.

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That was after five drinks, and I'd been eyeing up Folio all night."

"Oh—"

"Will you both quit it before I bang your heads together!" Jolly cuts Noah off, interrupting your squabbling.

"She started it." Noah argues, and your head turns back to him as you shoot him a glare.

If looks could kill, you'd have done it multiple times by now.

The rest of the flight wasn't any easier, between playing elbow hockey with Noah over the armrest and more snide remarks, you were thankful the moment the plane came into land, unbuckling your belt and attempting to move the moment the seatbelt sign turned off.

"The plane hasn't even come to a stop." Noah points out as you attempt to stand, ushering him to move out of your way.

"I don't care, just move." You huff and glare down at him as he remains still, his tattooed hands sitting and tapping on his thighs, barely giving you a brief glance.

"Not even a please? You're so rude."

You know that you shouldn’t, but you begin to attempt climbing over him, holding onto the seat in front as you try to drag yourself past him and over his lap, muttering as you go. "And you are absolutely incorrigible."

"Wow, that's a new one. Is it your word of the day?"

You glance behind him and see him attempting to push back into his seat more, as if that's helping you in any way, and when you see his hand raise, you instinctively swat at it with the assumption he's going to touch you.

"Ow?! There was no need for that."

Finally free from your row, you huff and pull yourself together, reaching for the overhead bin and pulling out your bag.

“Well, this was fun. I really hope we never have to do it again." You glare at him and begin making your way down the aisle with the rest of the passengers towards the exit door.

You've never been happier to see the back of a plane in your life, moving as fast as your legs will let you through the crowd of people, almost missing the sound of Sloan's voice as she calls after you.

"Wait up, speedy!" She laughs as she finally catches up, and you come to a slow down, shaking your head free of all the thoughts which had been swirling around in there due to the unexpected reunion you just briefly had with your ex.

"Sorry. I just had to get out of there."

"That wasn't who I think it was, was it?" You spare a glance over at Sloan, and your irritated expression gives that answer away. "It was? What was he doing on a plane to Vegas?"

"I can't say I really cared to ask him, Sloan." Your tone has a bite still left over from the sniping that you and Noah had done. "Sorry, he just really gets under my skin."

"I can see that."

"The sooner we're at the hotel, the better. Then I can wash this whole thing off me, and we can finally start enjoying our girls' weekend."

"Yes! Girls’ weekend. No talk about stupid boys." Sloan slips her arm around yours, linking you together as she lets out an excited 'woohoo'. It makes you laugh, and you finally feel the tension that being sat next to Noah for the last hour had caused, slipping away.

It's a feeling which is short-lived, however.

After making your way through the airport and standard checks, you reach the taxi rank outside, and as you open the door, you turn back to call for Sloan, only to be met with the 6'3 asshole who's covered in tattoos.

“Oh, thanks, you shouldn't have." He flashes you a grin as he slides into your taxi, followed by Jolly, who offers you a brief apologetic look. Maybe you should've been giving him a harder time if he was enabling this stupid behavior.

You stand speechless as they pull the door close, tossing daggers at the cab as it drives away and a scream rumbles in your throat.

"Where's the taxi?" Sloan asks as she chooses now to join you. You grumble something incoherent under your breath as you turn to wave down the next incoming taxi.

She's now joining Noah and Jolly on your shit list.

"It's going to be perfect! There's a spa, three pool areas. One of them is an infinity pool off the balcony upstairs." Sloan continues to drone on about the hotel and everything it includes. You only have a weekend here, but she's already planning multiple ways for you to take advantage of everything.

Currently, your mind is back on Noah and his stupid, smug ass face as he stole your taxi. You try to distract yourself from it, shaking him from your thoughts and coming back into the present, to this weekend.

Seeing him was a blip, but you refused to allow him to derail your plans or excitement.

Counting the room numbers down the hallway, you look up as you come closer to yours, room number: 308.

Sloan has the room opposite you, disappearing inside after making plans to knock on after shower and changing. A shower sounds perfect right about now, not only to wash off the plane smell but also with being in such proximity to Noah in general.

As you fiddle with the room key, you hear a familiar voice, which causes your back to raise. Turning your head, you peer down the hallway, watching a group of familiar faces grow nearer to you. Noah is the one trailing behind, while Folio and Matt's voices are the ones you hear echoing down the hall.

You hastily attempt to open your hotel room door, being met with the red light before trying again.

You huff and close your eyes to calm yourself from growing irrationally angry.

Hearing the voices past you, you open your eyes and look back to find Noah standing at the door next to yours, room number: 310.

"Hey, neighbor." Noah flashes you a grin, and you shake your head in protest.

"No."

"No?" He repeats back at you in a question, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, we are not neighbors, and you cannot be here. Not in this room, not in this hotel. Hell, not even in this state." You're being irrational, but you never did quite have much rationality when it came to him. You always found yourself diving in headfirst to whatever thought crossed your mind.

"And who said this? You?" Noah raises a brow at you, taking a step closer as he leans a hand against the wall.

He easily towers over you, and under any other circumstance before now, that would have you weak at the knees and buckling for him, but right now it has you infuriated that he's somehow here, ruining your weekend and attempting to charm you.

"Yes."

"Still as bossy as ever, I see."

"And you're still an asshole." You snipe back, your eyes narrowing, still attempting to get your keycard in your door and slip away from this conversation.

"Ouch, that hurt." Noah raises his free hand, bringing it to his chest, feigning a tone of disbelief and hurt while you roll your eyes in response.

“Oh, please, that would insinuate you had any feelings to begin with."

"I have a lot of feelings, actually. Such as feeling sorry for you while watching you struggle with something so easy. Here, let me."

Before you have a chance to protest, he's reaching out to take your hotel room key and slips it into the swipe, drawing it out to a flashing green light.

You huff as you open the door, pushing forward, and the last thing you hear before the door slams is another final snarky remark from him; "Not even a thank you?"

Once in the safety of your room, you let out a loud scream of frustration, only to hear Noah's chuckle from the other side of the door, and you gently bang the back of your head against the door as you lean back on it.

Great, now you really can't escape him this weekend.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian angst #asshole!noah sebastian #concretejunglefm fics #lovers to enemies fic

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roseareeh · 5 months ago

Note

ooo can i request Casual with Billy? congratulations!!

Casual | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Notes: Thank you!! Of course you can! This is based on my current song fics, so anyone else can request song prompts based on this post

Words: 760

Warnings: Sex scenes. MDNI

"Oh fuck, Billy!", you moaned loudly while he had his face buried between your thighs.

Billy had you spread out in the back of his car. Like most days after practice, he needed you after a rough training session. Your hands were gripping his hair in an attempt to get him closer. The noises he made while eating you out were just as messy as his technique. "I'm gonna cum!", you squealed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your breathing got more irregular than before as you felt an orgasm wash over you. "Billy!", you squealed while he let you ride your orgasm out on his mouth.

"Good job, baby.", he said in a low tone once you finished. Billy patted your upper leg once before helping you put on your clothes again and driving you home.

"Max asked if you wanna go shopping with her.", he said as he parked in your driveway. Your eyes lit up as you looked over; he noticed the hopeful glimmer in your eyes. "I'd love to! Ask here when she has time, I'll make it work." In the meantime, Billy lit a cigarette. "I'll tell her." He reached over to open your passenger door. "Remember, this is casual." With that, you left his car.

He always said the same thing when dropping you off. "It's casual." Every single damn time. But how casual could it be when you hang out with his sister and he invited you to dinner with his family?

"Shh, we have to be quiet.", Billy hushed you while putting a hand over your mouth. The two of you went to his bathroom for a quickie - which meant he put you up on the counter, pulled your panties off and fucked you against the bathroom mirror. He kept thrusting his entire length into you, which made it hard to stay quiet. You moaned against his hand when he hit your g-spot over and over again. "My family is downstairs, be a good girl and stay quiet." How could you stay quiet when he hit that magic spot so perfectly? But you just nodded with teary eyes. Fuck, he knew just how to make you see stars.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him in as deep as possible while you calmed down from the mind-shattering orgasm. "Good girl.", Billy cooed before removing his hand from your mouth. He helped you get dressed before you walked back downstairs to dinner with his dad and step-mom.

"You're right, I can't stand your dad.", you told Billy while he drove you home. His dad is someone he told you was an asshole from the second he mentioned him. "He was playing nice today, you don't know the half of it.", Billy said while parking in your driveway. "Max asked me to go to the arcade with her.", you told him while unbuckling your seatbelt. There it was again, the glimmer in your eyes. "Remember baby, just casual."

Yeah, yeah. Just casual. That's why he treated you like a girlfriend.

Max and you had a blast at the arcane. You waited on the sidewalk with her for Billy to pick her up. "Personally, I think all boys are stupid.", you told Max while she complained about Lucas again. But your statement confused her. "Isn't Billy your boyfriend?" You sighted and picked up a piece of gravel from the ground to play with it. "No, he's not." Max was even more confused now, but she knew just what to say. "He's stupid, too."

Billy parked right next to you two and got out. "Get in, shitbird.", he told Max. With one last hug to you, she got in the car. Meanwhile, Billy went up to you and kissed you. A deep kiss. The kind boyfriends give their girlfriends.

"Thanks for taking her out.", he husked before leaning down to your ear. "You're the best casual one could have."

If it's so casual, how come you were around his family? How come you hung out with Max and talked about her boy problems with her? How come he kissed you like that?

When he stood up straight again, your hand worked faster than your brain. To make it short, you slapped him right across the face.

"I'm not your casual if you treat me like a girlfriend, Billy.", you said. Max was looking at you in awe from the passenger side, but you didn't know what. "Get over your dumb commitment issues. I'm not your casual."

You left him standing there, dumbfounded at what just happened.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut

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hoshinasblade · 1 year ago

Text

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building. you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

#hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no.8 x reader #kaijuu 8 gou #kn8 x reader #hoshina soshiro fic #YEY ITS FINALLY HERE

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months ago

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Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing (The Curse of Frankenstein, The Horror of Dracula)—Obviously never canon romantic but the definition of toxic old man yaoi. Whether it's the look on Lee's face as Dracula about to bite Van Helsing in "Horror Of Dracula" (1958) or Cushing destroying his life and engagement to create Lee's monster in "Curse Of Frankenstein" (1957). Such a popular team that the "Dracula" sequel lifted their final fight from the original and used it as a prologue even though Cushing isn't in the rest of the film.

Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire (Top Hat, Swing Time, The Gay Divorcée)—When they danced, they made their character's thoughts visible, letting us in on their intimacy. A quote from a 1995 NYTimes article: "A kind of spontaneous combustion took place when they danced together; they enhanced each other, as all good couples do. Other actresses cast opposite Astaire were invariably drawn into his orbit, overwhelmed by his charm. Only Rogers held her ground."

This is round 3 of a mini tournament. Each poll lasts for three days. If you'd like to send additional propaganda supporting your favorite hot couple, you can reblog this post with your propaganda added, send it to my asks, or tag me in it. To vote in all the polls, click here. Happy holidays!

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee:

Not exactly propaganda but I received this ask after Cushing and Lee's submission:

oh, I completely missed the qualifiers for the couples poll! Nevemind. Unless we count characters attempting to murder one another in multiple movies as peak couple behavior, Cushing and Lee tragically don’t qualify.

Editor's note: in this case I'll absolutely count that as romantic.

Rogers and Astaire:

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Oh my gosh, just watching them dance together. They can move around the floor like two parts of a whole, making incredibly difficult moves look effortlessly smooth. Or they can tap side by side, clearly equals, but with their own style. But, whether dancing or not, they make you believe their characters belong together when they're on the screen.

youtube

Why are they the hottest? They have so much chemistry when they're dancing together, even in plots where she doesn't like him at first there are always sparks when they're dancing, he's always down so bad for her in every single film, and their dancing is so energetic and so full of joy and so much fun to watch.

youtube

God Top Hat just…I cry a little watching Cheek to Cheek, they’re just so beautiful in that sequence

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#fred astaire #ginger rogers #peter cushing #christopher lee #hotvintagepoll #hot couples tourney #Youtube

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svt-meiying · 1 month ago

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Hiii how are you?? Can you please write more hook up of meiying with scoups and Joshua please is just I need more details and drama also I'll be cool if you add the 95 line conversation that you mentioned in your other post🤭

Have a good day and also I'm a new follower and honestly your works are amazing I can't wait for what you have prepare 🩷

Hi! Unfortunately today I'm a little under the weather, but seeing you guys interact with my content with so much interest is always a huge mood-booster! I'll gladly tell you more about how they were together 🤭(hopefully that's what you meant), LITTLE SIDE NOTE BEFORE I START ; Another Anon asked the same question regarding the conversation so just know I saw your ask and appreciate you very much (it's just that that this one wanted more detail as well)!

❗This post contains suggestive themes so MDNI (18+)❗

Seungcheol ;

. . Their one night stand was the maknae's first time sleeping with anyone so it was gentle and slow, with the older man talking her through it. They started making out on the couch but when things got too heated, Seungcheol took her to his bedroom because he refused to let her first time happen in the middle of a living room.

. . There were lots of wet, messy, breathy kisses and the leader's lips practically worshipped every single inch of the young woman's warm skin. He made sure to show her everything that intimacy had to offer, from his fingers, to his tongue, to his d- *ahaem*

, , The aftercare was genuinely the sweetest ; he bathed her, dressed her in his shirt and boxers, she fell asleep in his embrace as he ran a hand through her hair and left soft kisses on her forehead, arms wrapped so tightly around her body that one could think he was attempting to protect a treasure.

Joshua ;

. . With Joshua things immediately began with him in control, which the members began noticing whenever they played games. The only thing Joshua would have to do is say something as mundane as 'sit' and the usually rebellious maknae would obey.

. . Over time things began getting slightly rougher while they explored new kinks ; impact play, bondage, sensation play, choking, etc. (though it did go back to more vanilla intimacy whilst she healed from her ACL tear).

. . Their situationship was definitely way more intense than what happened with Seungcheol, Joshua thrived on control and fake sympathy for the trembling maknae.

. . "I know, that was so mean of me~ But do you really think you deserve to finish after the way you mouthed off to me earlier?"

. . Even with that though, the aftercare is always present and thorough. They always sleep in the same bed afterwards, he gives her his own clothes despite her room being right next to his, in the morning whoever is awake first makes breakfast, and LOTS of words of reassurance.

Conversation Transcript ;

JH : 'I saw that video yesterday actually, Shua showed it to me when we were drinking in the kitchen. [pause] Speaking of that night actually...Shua, what were you doing naked on the couch with Meimei?'

[Seungcheol nearly choked on his drink as the man concerned by the question turned red almost immediately, stammering as he tried to find the words. He saw the slight edge in their leader's gaze and part of him wondered whether admitting to it was truly the best idea, especially when his fist tightened around the glass.]

J : H-How did...I mean it's not....listen-

SC : 'You're fucking Mei? He's joking right?'

JH : 'If I am then there's someone with the same blind eye as our maknae...and the same scars, and the same face...small world really.'

[Joshua's glare was almost deadly when these relaxed words left his mouth, before moving to carefully examine Seungcheol's strangely tense demeanor.]

J : 'We sleep together, so what? It's not like she's dating either of you so why do you care? Also maybe don't just walk into our apartment without knocking.'

SC : 'That girl's been with us for years, I trusted you to live with her, and now you're just casually doing this behind our backs?'

JH : 'Cheol it's not that big of a deal you're just drunk...'

SC : 'Shut up for a second. What about her knee, are you even careful about that?'

JH : 'This is going too far, listen we can talk about this in the mor-'

J : 'What does her ACL have to do with this? She's recovering just fine isn't she? What the fuck is your problem? Are you in love with her or something?'

[The leader suddenly stood from his chair only to be instantly held back by the more rational of his friends, though he did admittedly start this. Just then, the blissfully unaware maknae walked into the heavy dorm, the darkness in her blind spot not quite catching the closely diffused fight. Not questioning why the men were standing in such positions after turning around, she immediately ran over to hug the oldest, which seemed to relax the tension in his shoulders.]

SC : Hey princess, you wrapped up that photoshoot pretty quickly.

[As she rambled on about the day, Joshua saw the softness in the rapper's gaze, the light in them, and slowly realized why he had gotten so defensive...]

............

Wow you made it to the end! Thank you so, so, so much for your support, I know I say this quite a bit but I truly appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed this and that I answered your question properly🩷

#kpop addition #kpop female oc #kpop imagines #kpop oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen female addition #seventeen imagines #seventeen x oc #seventeen #seventeen oc #askmeiying

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adamsrcnan · 3 months ago

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I love reading your thoughts sm! Do you have any hcs for established, domestic jerejean?

you'll be the first 😭 but this is so incredibly sweet i'm glad you like my jerejean ramblings.

i actually made a post about them living in domestic bliss but for the life of me i can't be bothered to find it so i'll drop a few for you here

jean tries to teach jeremy to cook several times but he just can't seem to get the hang of it and he always feels so bad after because jean is always so patient with him

jeremy will always compensate by cleaning up after though

they stand in the bathroom together to brush their teeth in the morning and in the evening and sometimes when jeremy's tired he'll lean his head on jean's shoulder all cute and sleepy

jeremy has to wear reading glasses when he's older and he's always misplacing them but somehow jean always knows where they are

jean has his own little vegetable patch in their back garden and he always tells jeremy off for throwing their dog's toys too close to it when they're playing fetch in the garden

they nap on their couch together A Lot

jeremy hates taking out the trash but jean will always do it for him

jean is forever an early riser and he always has to set two alarms with at least a 15 min interval bc thats how long it takes for jeremy to finally let him get up and out of bed (he's super clingy and whiny, not wanting jean to leave)

every time jean gets up, jeremy will shuffle over to his side of the bed to soak up his warmth and his smell. it doesn't matter if jean was just there a second ago he still already misses his closeness. jean will press a fond kiss to his head every time.

they wash each other's hair regularly, especially after game days to help each other relax and unwind

jean pretends to be against giving the dogs scraps from their dinner as treats but jeremy has a million secret videos of him catching jean sneaking them little bits here and there

at least once a month they'll sit down together to watch one of jeremy's grandma's movies all cuddled up on the couch with jeremy laying back against jean's chest

jeremy is never not stealing jean's sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts etc

they have so many pictures all over the house of their friends. their family.

when they both have free time they go for morning walks and jean always takes them and their dogs to a farmers market. he's even got a few friends there that he asks for advice on growing things

they have a really homey house with lots of light and colour and open spaces

jeremy will always sit on the couch with jean with his legs in his lap and he'll automatically massage out any aches in his muscles. jeremy will do the same for jean especially after gruelling practice and game days when jean's bones and joints are suffering a little

they never don't get into bed together at the end of the day. even if they've had an argument and given each other the silent treatment they'll come back to each other in bed and whisper apologies into each others skin

nsfw (kinda) but they've had sex in every room. EVERY ROOM. one time cat and laila were visiting and laila was trying to pull a dog toy out from under the couch and she found a pair of boxers. they were jeremy's. jean tore them off in a rush to get him naked and dashed them across the room and they forgot all about it lmao

jean has a little pottery studio in their garage and jeremy's still awful at it but a few times he's snuck down there and tried to make something for jean as a surprise. every single attempt has failed. he's thought it was good but then it's dried and solidified and he's hated it so he's tried to get rid of the evidence but jean has found every single one and kept them all. jeremy cries when he finds the little chest jean has kept them all in

that's all i got for now but i hope you enjoy them !

#jean moreau #jeremy knox #jerejean #asks #anon

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angelnthsnow · 1 year ago

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The Party & The After Party

pairing: toto wolff x f!driver!reader

summary: after winning your first formula one race in your first year in the category, you don't think the day can get any better. fortunately, your boss has other plans for the night.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: age gap? it's never mentioned but it's there obvi, boss x employee, use of y/n, cursing.

author's note: i must say my friends have gotten me into formula one, but it's kinda hard paying attention to the cars when this man exists. i wrote this nonstop in the middle of the night, it's shorter than usual but i couldn't get the idea out of my head, so enjoy! i promise i'll post smth nfl related soon lol k bye!!

In your first year as the first female F1 driver, you had done the impossible. Standing on the 1st place of the Monaco Grand Prix podium, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you looked down at everyone who had ever doubted you. Years of resisting attacks, sexist remarks and the constant need to prove yourself, you felt like you could finally breathe. By your side, stood two of the greatest drivers the sport had ever seen, Lewis Hamilton, your teammate, in P2, and Max Verstappen, in P3.

Your eyes wandered through the vast crowd that chanted your name from below, searching for the man who had made it all possible, your boss, Torger Wolff, the first person who took you seriously. Being a woman with hopes of getting into Formula One was exhaustingly hard, but everything started to change when you won the F3 Championship, a few years ago.

Paul, your teammate at the time, had told you that a certain team principal would come to the race that day, and although you kept telling yourself to not get your hopes up, every single attempt to do so went downhill when you saw the Mercedes team principal walking through the paddock like he owned the place.

To you, Mercedes was everything. Besides being one of the most modern teams, you also realized soon enough that Toto was probably the most open-minded out of all the other TPs on the grid. It was sad, of course, having such a little percentage of people who would be happy to see a woman in a position that was so dominated by men, but still, it lit up a flame in your chest, a string of hope you clung onto whenever you felt like giving up your dream.

That day, with him on the bleachers as you drove fearlessly around Spa-Francorchamps, you won the F3 championship, putting you on a watchlist of drivers that could get into F2.

Ever since that day, the austrian had kept an eye on you.

He saw how fiercely you fought to have a place, to have a voice and to be heard in a space ever so dominated by the opposite sex, and it didn't scare him, not one bit, he admired it. When you stood on that podium earlier, he didn't even bother hiding a smile, taking pictures and videos and chanting your name with the rest of the team as Lewis and Max sprayed the ridiculously expensive champagne on your back as you laughed.

That's why today, hours after winning your first ever F1 race on your first year in the category, he still couldn't get off the high he was on. He had finally gotten the confirmation he so desperately needed, not because he didn't believe you could do it, but because he was eager to prove everyone else wrong, to rip the smugness out of every single man who told you you didn't belong there.

At least that's what he had told you earlier through the radio before the lights went out, prove them wrong. He just didn't know you fought to reprimand a sob as you tried to concentrate in the lights that stood just above the Albert 1st Boulevard.

Now, Toto's eyes scanned every single corner of Jimmy'z searching for you, only to find you on the dance floor, pornstar martini in hand as you swayed to the beats of Empire of The Sun's We Are The People.

You had a smile on your face that could lit up a whole room, and he couldn't be prouder. Soon enough, your eyes met his and you chuckled, making a peace sign to point at your eyes and then at his as the line got lost in your eyes blasted through the club's speakers.

Even at distance, you could see him rolling his eyes and chuckling at your playful gesture, but still, he came closer, until the only thing in his field of vision was the visibly drunk version of you.

"You look happy." he leans down and forward to yell in your ear, making himself heard even if though the loud music made it hard to.

You squirm at the proximity, but brush it off by taking another sip of your drink. "I'm on top of the world, Toto. I don't think I've ever been happier." You yell back and he resists the urge to fight back a smile, presenting you with his pearly whites.

As one of the neon lights hit your face, he's forced to take in all of you. The version of you you'd put up whenever he'd tell you he had an important meeting he needed you to attend, or whenever you were needed to put up a show, like today.

You wore a black strapless dress, the one you'd seen a few weeks prior to the Grand Prix at Elie Saab's display window while you were on your daily night walk through Monaco. It was mesmerizing, with a shimmery type of fabric that would definitely make sparks fly if a bright light shined over it. You had thought of buying it, for days, really, but decided against it because party dresses were never a much needed piece of clothing in your wardrobe. Well, that until you told Lewis about the dress, and when you arrived at your apartment a few hours after the race, there it was, on a hanger hanging on the curtain rods.

As much as your looks prevented Toto from thinking about anything else, he couldn't help but notice how huge your pupils were, so big that it felt like your iris' were long gone. That and the fact that your sclera had shifted from white to a more reddish color.

He shifted on his feet, unaware of how to proceed. Were you.. high? Was that even a thing between sportspersons? Deciding on it being a matter that shouldn't be handled in front of the city's most congested place as of today, he mutters a "come with me" in your ear, putting a hand on your lower back as he guided you away from the crowd.

When he finally stops, you find yourself in a more private, smaller room with a few sofas and armchairs. He then proceeds to ask you "You've taken something. What is it?"

You laugh at his sudden concern. The answer was clearly a big red yes written in all caps, but part of you couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at yourself. You had done it, yes, but now you felt sort of guilty, because the last thing you wanted was to damage his or the team's image. You shake your head, trying to to keep those thoughts away. It was just a party, a party for you, with only selected people being allowed in, it wasn't like you'd wake up to your name on the news.

"Come ooon.. don't be such a party pooper!" You slurred.

Toto was shocked by your reaction, part of him wanted you to celebrate as you wished, after all, you had just fulfilled a dream, but the other part, the responsible boss part craved an explanation, he didn't want you to cause any harm to your already fragile media image.

"Are you serious? You're the star of the entire team today! We have thrown a party just for you and you're getting off on drugs?" He says, lowering his voice on the last word as he crosses his arm.

"It's just a blunt, Toto. I swear I'm fine." Your laugh echoes throughout the small room as you grab his big arms, uncrossing them. "Don't get so serious on me." You look up at him through your lashes.

Toto gives you a stern look before a smirk creeps up on his face. The anger and seriousness fades away in an instant as he realizes the situation wasn't that serious. He sighs and looks at you with a sly, yet curious look. "How many? One, right?"

"Just one, sir." You say mischievously, holding your pinky finger up before kissing it to symbolize a promise.

Toto is taken aback as you kiss your pinky finger in a sarcastic manner, although he doesn't say anything. He looks at you with the same sly look as before. "I see... and have you done this before?"

"Who hasn't, duh?" You furrow your brows, flashing him a backward smile.

'He hasn't, of course. That's Torger Wolff we're talking about' you think to yourself as you look up at him. The soreness of your muscles and the pain of being on your feet for so long getting to you.

Sometimes it was kind of annoying having a conversation with your boss due to the fact that you had to look up the entire time, and countless were the times you found yourself with neck pain after hours of chatting. This conversation would surely be added to that imaginary countless list of yours, because even today, with high heels that could make you look six feet tall, he still looked way too big.

Toto chuckles before getting a playful look on his face. "Oh, really? I highly doubt the star of my F1 team has ever smoked a blunt before, although you do seem very knowledgeable about this." He moves closer to you, looking down at you as he speaks, his voice low and husky. You wondered if his neck ever went through the same problem yours did when you two talked, causing you to chuckle.

"I do?" You lift one eyebrow, narrowing your eyes. "Well, I must say.. the star of your precious F1 Team has done a lot, Mr. Wolff." It comes off more flirtatious than you intended, but you pay no mind to it. You try to take a step back, but end up slipping on the hem of your gown, the high getting to you later than ever.

Toto immediately rushes to you and catches you mid-air, wrapping his arms around your torso.

"Is that so?" Toto says, his voice now raspy and face close to yours.

You exhale deeply, relief from not having made an absolute mess out of yourself filling your body. If you had fallen, your dress would probably be completely torn apart and headlines would have a field trip with it.

He is still holding you, his hands burning on your back.

"Yeah.." You close your eyes, getting away from Toto's embrace as you regain balance and straighten yourself.

Toto steps back as you do so, although he does want to reach out to hold you again. Instead, he settles for engaging on more double entendre conversations with you.

His eyes are full of admiration, your body is more visible in this dress than it has ever been, and he makes a mental note to thank Lewis for the gift. He recalls the moment you two shared a few minutes ago, the way you swayed and jumped with the music like you were the only person in that dance floor would never fail to amaze him.

"You truly do look like a notorious celebrity in this dress, don't you?" He finally says, a hint of shyness in his tone, although the look in his face is stern.

"You could thank your other driver for that." You joke, trying to hide the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

"I certainly will." he smiles, his gaze softening as his eyes meet yours. They're still red, but it starts to grow on him.

Looking at you like this, completely wasted, happy and carefree, he couldn't help but remember the afternoon you two had met, when he started to be so sure you'd be by his and Lewis' side on a race weekend one day.

Now, there you were, in front of him, with a trophy standing somewhere back in your apartment. "I'm so proud of you." he finally says, not because he thinks you should hear it, but because it's all he wants to say to you after today's events.

You look away from him shyly. You had heard it before, specially from him, but every single time felt like fireworks in your belly. Him being proud of you was capable of putting you on a whole another level, it was just another signal that you had made it, that you had proved you were capable, even to those who were always so sure you definitely were.

You try to hide a smile as you mutter a simple thank you, because in this state, visibly high and drunk, staring at the man who had made it all possible, it's all you manage to say.

He smiles back at you, and your mind almost short circuits when he steps closer, not stopping even when you can feel his breath close to your face. That's when you realize he's about to hug you, and you just let him.

It's genuine, simple yet abnormally meaningful. His big hands rest crossed on your lower back as he pulls you closer, making your cheeks rest on his suit covered chest. You almost feel like crying, because how could you not? You had it all now, a place in the sport you so desperately craved to have since you were a kid, a win, an amazing teammate and an even more amazing boss, who believed in you through your entire career.

"You've done it." He says quietly as if you're a wild animal that would run away at any abrupt movement or sound. "I can't even imagine how you feel."

On cloud nine, that was the most appropriate answer.

"It's like nothing I've ever felt." you say, arms hugging his chest. "Thank you for always believing in me, you have no idea how much you've done for me." you sniff, clearly on the verge of tears.

"It's nothing compared to what you deserve. You're one of the greats, Y/N. The whole world's gonna know you name." he says, causing the tears you so eagerly fought to keep off to fall rapidly on your cheeks. You sniff, opening your eyes to see that a small wet circle had formed on Toto's shirt.

"Shit, sorry." You laugh awkwardly as you take a step back, desperately trying to dry your tears with your fingers before they ruined your makeup too.

"Hey, it's fine." He steps closer again, bringing his thumb to your face as he continues your job of drying the tears you had shed. Once he's done, his hands linger there for a bit longer than they needed to, stroking your cheeks. You thank the Gods for whatever the hell he was on today. "You do look pretty when you cry, though I must say I prefer the way you look on top of a podium, with champagne drenched hair and a first place trophy in hand."

You roll your eyes, as if it was possible to fall even more in love with him. It had become stupid at this point, really. Clearly the two of you had something special, to say the least, going on, but none of you were courageous enough to come clean about this.

"You aren't a bad view from up there as well." You shoot back, earning a smile in return.

The shameless and obvious flirtation to whoever watched from outside continued for a few minutes, until Toto insisted that you should go back to your party, and although at this point you had decided to give up the celebrations to look at him for the rest of night, there he was, once again with his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd back to where he initially had seen you. Doesn't take long for you to get lost in the music, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Toto had excused himself to greet other team members and sponsors, fulfilling the ultimate boss role even at parties, and stealing glances from you every now and then while talking to someone.

A few drinks later, the club was getting more empty by the minute, the clock almost hitting 4:30 a.m. Your makeup was already lightly smudged, your black Louboutins long gone in the corner you once laughed with your friends. As you thanked the remaining people for coming, Toto showed up again, startling you as he came from behind, putting his right hand in your shoulder.

"Seems like the party has reached an end." he says, making you look up at him. His face was fairly red, and by the way he slurred his words, you could tell he was somewhat drunk. His hair was messier than earlier and the tie that was once a fancy bow was now untied, resting around his neck, a nice combination to his slightly unbuttoned shirt.

"Unfortunately. I hope you had fun, though." you reply, turning your attention to shake some of your guests' hands.

"It's always fun with you around." He says as he smiles to the same people shaking your hands.

You crookedly smile, turning around to walk to your table. As you do so, he follows.

"Do you need a ride? I saw you coming in with Bradley, but he already left," He watches you as you walk through the empty club, employees cleaning the floor of what was once the party of a lifetime. "guess parties aren't really his thing." He chuckles.

"I don't wanna make you take me home now, it's late and you're probably very tired."

"Oh, please, it's Monaco. Not like I'm going to be driving for hours." He replies, earning you a laugh. You and Toto lived pretty close to each other, but you'd drive past his building before getting to yours, so you truly didn't want him to make a huge detour just because of you.

"Fine," you smile, grabbing your sparkly clutch. "just please tell me you came with your 300sl roadster." You say and he chortles, rolling his eyes.

The Mercedes 300SL Roadster owned by Toto was probably one of your favorite cars in his collection. Hell, in anyone's collection. It's such an incredibly classy vehicle you couldn't resist its charm.

"I did." He says, and you let out a slightly loud yes! as he grabs your scarpins, laughing at your reaction. The way the smallest things were capable of making you happy always made him smile. Even after closing a multi-millionaire deal with your team, some things would never fail to make you excited, such as being driven home in a car you've always wanted.

The both of you start to walk towards Jimmy'z's exit in a different sort of haze, like the two of you were in your own little world together, laughing and exchanging inside jokes. The dry warm Monaco summer air hits you as soon as you step out, and soon the vallet comes driving Toto's car, opening the door for you to get in.

As the both of you get in, he starts driving, the sound of the car's engine echoing throughout Princesse Grace Avenue. Duke Dumont's Ocean Drive in the radio as your hair flies due to the speed in which Toto's driving. Now and then, he casually glances at you, smiling at the way you still manage to dance even when sitting on the passenger's seat.

Despite being a race weekend, the city seemed awfully quiet and empty at this time. Soon enough, he takes a turn and you're finally in Larvotto, which meant in a few seconds he'd be pulling up at your home. However, before he had the chance to, you saw the sun rising in distance, its warm light gleaming in the sea water.

"Toto, look!" you point to the horizon, and he slows the car down to follow your gaze. "It's so beautiful.."

"Indeed it is.." he says, and you can tell by his tone he's got a change of plans coming. When you realize, he's parking the car in the shore, exiting the vehicle to open the door for you. "Come on, let me give you a real after party."

You smile, because there was no way the day could get any better. You were sure you'd wake up later convincing yourself this had been a dream. Taking your hand, he pulls you out of the car, and after you close the door, he runs towards the sea, fingers intertwined with yours.

In this moment, you force yourself to forget about all of the implications and concerns that could come at you. In this moment, it was just you and Toto, not a Mercedes driver and the Mercedes' Team Principal. To anyone else who'd catch a glimpse of the scene, the both of you looked like stupid, reckless teenagers in love.

Sitting on the sand, you try to catch your breath, stomach hurting due to you not being able to stop laughing. You lay your head on his broad shoulders, hands holding his arm.

Suddenly, he feels the need to confess, "I'm always so happy when I'm around you" with the german accent getting heavier as it always did when he was drunk.

You smile, "Me too."

A beat, and then, "You're the most amazing woman I've ever known."

It comes lower than he intends to, but he's also never felt so nervous around someone as he does now. You thank the heavens for the fact that he's not looking at you, you look like a kid stupidly in love.

"You don't need to say that," you sigh. "you've already told me you're proud of me for today."

"I know. I'm not saying it because I feel the need for it to be said, but because I truly think that." he replies. "Ever since that day in Spa, you've proven to be an extremely fierce, fearless, wonderful driver and an even more amazing woman." You roll your eyes at his compliments. "I mean it, Y/N." He grabs your attention just by saying your name, making it all even more real. "Mercedes is extremely lucky to have you, and so am I." he looks at you, his face closer than ever as yours rest on his shoulder.

"You have me?" You say, looking at him through your lashes.

"I like to think I do. Do I?"

"Utterly." You giggle, your eyes glowing just by looking at him.

His hands go to cup your face, and the last thing you'd expect from him happens. At first, his lips brush over yours lightly, as if he's asking for permission, testing the waters to see if he's allowed to go further. When you don't protest, he deepens the kiss, sweeping you off your feet.

The both of you laugh, and you hide your now completely red face in his chest. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this." you say, feeling his body hairs stand on end.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this." he says, and you shed a tear on his partially shirt covered chest. "Are you crying?" He asks, and when he hears you sniff, he takes it as a yes. "Hey, don't cry. Look." he lifts your chin up, making you stare at the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

The sunrise looked like a piece of art, with pinkish and yellow tones coloring the sky. Toto puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You could now add having him at your list as well.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #fanfic #alternative universe

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epicbuddieficrecs · 10 months ago

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Weekly Recap | September 9th-15th 2024

10 days until season 8!!! 👀

I'm gonna try and put together a rec of my favourite post-S6 and 7 fics before S8 starts!

If you know anyone who isn't tagged, please let me know and/or tag them in the comments!

Complete

everything comes out teenage by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (First Date | 1K | Mature): “Hey,” Buck says carefully, remembering how he felt when it was his turn on Eddie’s side of the table. “You doing okay over there?”

Loving You is Easy by actualalligator/ @actualalligator (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 1K | General): Nothing good happens after 9:30, Abuela always said. Sometimes good things do happen after 9:30. Sometimes they're important too.

how to slay a dragon by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 2K | General): Buck didn't know what to expect when he walked into the Han house. He definitely hadn’t expected to see Eddie sitting on the floor with Jee in front of him carefully french braiding her hair. He also hadn’t expected Eddie to be wearing a pink sparkly tiara. He definitely hadn’t expected Eddie to smile up at Buck when he saw him with soft eyes, eyes that didn’t feel like looking into an ocean of sadness, and carefully tie the end of one of the braids he was working on with a little bow. If Buck had ovaries he was pretty sure they would be exploding.

Here's the Punchline... by misterbabygirl (Getting Together, Post-S4 | 2K | Teen): OR: The 118 find out about the will and start a running joke about Eddie being careful otherwise Buck would end up as a single parent. Eddie tries to make the same joke.

be someone by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (Post-S7, Pre-Buddie | 2K | Teen): A call leaves Buck wondering if he’ll ever be a parent. Not just a donor, a dad. A great dad. Chimney tries to convince him of his qualities – and Eddie has a hard time staying quiet. or: eddie thinks buck already is someone to chris

encounters closer and closer by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Outsider POV, Media Fic | 2,5K | Teen): OR: a group of friends asks the question what's the deal with buckley and diaz?

the clarification of equilibrium by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Post-S7 Spec, Jealous Eddie, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “He leaned?” “Exactly. You know,” Eddie waves a hand. “Leaning.” Buck blinks. He knows he isn’t that drunk, but it honestly feels like he is. “You keep saying that word. I don’t think it means what-” “Leaning, Buck!” Eddie is clearly frustrated that Buck isn’t getting what he’s trying to say, but for two people who are usually on the same wavelength, who are often (lovingly) mocked for their ability to communicate without saying a word, Buck is hopelessly lost as far as this conversation goes. * ... or, the one where Eddie gets jealous about a conversation, and attempts to explain how body positioning works.

every dead-end street led you straight to me by ameliahart (Post-S7 Spec | 5K | Teen): Or, five times one of their exes mistakenly assumed Eddie was Buck's new boyfriend, and one time the ex was right.

i don't believe in god, but i believe that you're my savior by justhockey (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 6K | Teen): The first thing that happens is a Catholic church in the too-hot Texan heat; Eddie’s hands are damp with sweat and he wipes his palms across his best trousers. His Abuelo smacks the back of his hand to get him to stop and Eddie balls them into tiny fists, slips them beneath his thighs so he isn’t tempted to fidget. So he listens. Listens to the priest, and his droning, and his fire and brimstone, burning-in-hell, shameshameshame talk. The first thing that happens is Eddie is born. Born wrong, born twisted, born sinning. He spends the rest of his life trying to make up for it.

I'll Be Your Safe Haven by eightpackdiaz (Safe Haven Baby Box, Alternate Canon | 6K | Teen): A Safe Haven Baby Box is installed at the Station 118 firehouse. Buck's really good with the surrendered babies.

doesn't take a scientist to understand what's going on by Chash / @ponyregrets (Post-S7 Spec, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): Eddie is already struggling with having realized he has a thing for Buck and trying to figure out what to do about said thing when Buck finds out he needs glasses. Which means that Eddie also finds out he's really into Buck in glasses. He would prefer to not know this.

🔥 One Hundred Miles an Hour In My Head by Chash/ @ponyregrets (Post-S7 Spec, Jealous Buck | 8K | Teen): Buck sort of assumed that, at some point, he'd evolve out of being needy and insecure. And, to be fair, in some ways, he probably has. He feels a lot more confident existing in the world than he did when he was a kid. He's sure he has the right job, and he mostly thinks that if he got hurt badly enough that he couldn't be a firefighter anymore, he'd figure out another thing to do and another way to help people instead of spiraling like he did after his leg got crushed. He knows who he is, and he knows that he's valued for it. Sometimes, he even thinks stuff might someday be good with his parents. And then there's Eddie.

karma is a cat (purring in my lap) by cuddlyobrien (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 8K | Teen): Eddie finds a kitten, realizes he’s gay, falls in love with Buck and apologizes to Chris. Not in that order but kind of?

all of the girls you loved before by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (Post-S7, Getting Together | 9K | Explicit): Buck finishes the math on his fingers, and holds up one spread-wide hand. “Uh,” he says. “I mean, I’ve got a top five?” Everyone groans. - Buck's top five sexual experiences, plus one mediocre handjob.

Please (I've Been On My Knees) by Bookworm0303/ @insertlovelyperson (Canon, S2-S7, Post S7 Spec | 10K | Teen): The five times Buck and Eddie confide in one another about their failed relationships, and the one time they don’t have to.

Clammed Up by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Murder/Mystery | 11K | Teen): Captain Gerrard dies suspiciously at a murder mystery party held at Tommy Kinard's condo, with most of the 118 present. As the case unfolds, Athena finds she no longer knows who among her friends she can trust.

🔥 Next Best by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (A/B/O AU | 20K | Explicit): Eddie had been very clear that they needed to keep their relationship stuff off the job. That meant no make-outs, no groping of asses, and no sexy stuff. Buck was fine with that. (Part 2 of Second Best Series)

🔥 fuck it if i can't have us (series) by Wildehack (tyleet)/ @wildehacked (Post-S7 Spec | 2/? | 35K | Explicit)

i love you but i need another year (Post-S7, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 14K | Explicit): If Eddie were still a practicing Catholic, this is the kind of shit he’d go to confession about. — Eddie watches porn, experiences revelation, replies to a lot of text messages. down bad, crying at the gym (Post S7, BuckTommy Break-Up | 21K | Explicit): On Tuesday Buck tells Tommy he loves him. On Thursday he’s giving his best friend a ride to the airport, and they’re pulling up to LAX, and Eddie says “I love you.” — Buck cooks a lot of food, thinks about love, takes pictures of local wildlife.

WIP

how come everybody's dancing but you? by showedupatyourparty (Post-S7 Spec, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 1/4 | 7K | Mature): Buck feels guilty. Everyone he loves is going through something painful, difficult, or unexpected right now. And Buck is just…bisexual. It’s great that he’s figured it out, and it’s great that everyone has been so supportive, and Tommy is—Tommy is fine. The sex is good, at least. Consistent. When Buck gets a call from Eddie’s phone late on a Tuesday night in June, it’s cause for concern. * Buck unpacks his own feelings about his recently-discovered bisexuality. Eddie gets adopted by drag queens. They're both just trying their best to be happy.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 10/? | 18K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic

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carlottawllms · 10 months ago

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Author's note: It's crazy to think that this is the final chapter of this series. I have an epilogue planned, but I can't promise I'll finish it in time until next Tuesday. But I promise I'll post it eventually! 🙏🏼

Thank you for making it this far. It's been a rollercoaster and I apologise for the pain and anger I caused. I genuinely enjoyed writing this and I'm so happy and grateful you stuck with me and my favourite little family. I love you all 🩷

Enjoy the grand finale 🫡

As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Enjoy! 🩷

Sleep didn’t come easy to Mason that night and when he woke up in the morning, feeling like a truck had run him over, he questioned whether he’d gotten any sleep at all. Half the night he’d been lying awake, staring into the darkness and trying to map out a plan how to win you over – or back first of all for that matter.

Even though you always seemed so tough and strong on the outside, Mason knew that you were a very sensitive person. When you felt, you felt deeply. Not just superficially.

A fact he should’ve considered before he’d cuddled up in bed to you. Sighing, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Fucking hell.”

Yesterday, his plan had been to just show up at your door and confront you, but right now that thought terrified him more than the overall fact he had to make things right if he didn’t want to lose the best thing he’d ever had so he chickened out. Like a coward.

Mason was quick in shooting you a message before throwing his phone somewhere far away and fleeing into the shower.

You’d just sat down on the sofa; a cup of coffee in your hands, when your phone alerted you of a new message.

To say you were surprised to hear from Mason would be an understatement. Obviously, he’d noticed that you’d pulled away from him and every single time you wound yourself out of his attempted hugs, your heart had broken a little more.

The way he’d looked so sad and upset; his quiet sighs and “oh okays” whenever you had another excuse ready for why you couldn’t stay for dinner or some time on the playground…You’d felt like the worst person in the world.

And yet, you weren’t sure if you wanted to reply.

Were you free today? Yes.

Were you yearning for him after more than a week of distance? Also, yes. Very much so.

But the thought of him asking you what’s wrong and telling you that he was sorry he’d overstepped was scary. Terrifying even. He was going to tell you again how you were the best friend he could ever ask for, wasn’t he?

Taking a sip of your coffee, you decided to at least check in if it had something to do with Ellie before telling him you were busy, but as always – especially with Mason – you ended up being swept up.

“Why am I like this?”, you sighed. “Why can’t I just tell him no for once?” The answer to that was easily found: You loved him.

Slowly, hoping to trick time a little and slow it down, you sipped your coffee and tried to figure out what to tell him why you’d pulled away.

The truth wasn’t an option, that much was obvious. Maybe you could tell him it had been that time of the month and you’d not been too keen on physical contact? Or that you hadn’t felt yourself and needed some time? Maybe you’d been overwhelmed?

Even during the rather short drive to Mason’s you racked your brain for a solution. Without much success though, so when you knocked at his door, you figured that having-been-overwhelmed was going to be the reason of choice.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”, Mason smiled nervously when he opened the door. “C’mon in.”

You noticed how he didn’t even attempt to hug you, but instead moved away so you could get past him and take your trainers off and whilst it was just like what you’d done to him lately, it still stung like a bitch.

The silence in the house as you made your way into Mason’s kitchen confused you a little. There was no kid’s music blaring in the background, no Elsa telling Anna to go away and certainly no little feet pattering through the house.

“Where’s Ellie?”

“With my parents.”, he explained. “A well-deserved grandparents-day. Tea?”

Not even waiting for your response as he knew you better than anyone, he grabbed two cups from the shelf.

In safe distance, you watched him preparing the tea from the other side of the kitchen island. This house had basically become your home those last few months. More often than not had you prepared dinner in this exact kitchen, but right now you felt ridiculously out of place.

And you couldn’t help but wonder why he’d asked you to come over. Maybe after your little stunt he’d made the decision to cut you off and let his mum take over?

“So erm…”, you leaned your arms on the kitchen counter, watching him pour the hot water over both your teabags. You hated how awkward it had become between the two of you and you wished for nothing more than to have your best friend back. “…did you want to talk about something?”

Mason let out a quiet sigh. “It’s erm…a little complicated.”, he squirmed, a blush coating his cheeks. “Yesterday, when you weren’t at the game um…my mum told me you were on a date?”

He didn’t look up or anywhere near your face once the question was out in the open and silence fell upon the kitchen. Instead, he kept stirring your tea. Something you noticed he’d been doing for ages now.

You furrowed your brows; utterly confused why he seemed so distraught and couldn’t look you in the eye anymore.

“Yeah, I was with…it was someone I’ve spoken to a few times. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned him?”

When he didn’t react straight away, but instead grabbed the milk to pour into both cups, you slowly rounded the island until you were standing right next to him.

“Why?”

“I just…will you see him again?”

Your best friend still refused to look up, seemingly too focused on getting your tea right, but you were slowly getting fed up with his weird attitude.

“Probably not, no.”, you said, voice slightly agitated. “What’s with all the questions Mase? I’m your best friend, you said it yourself and you said I should go out there again. Why are you so bothered by it now?”

Mason gave you a flat look; obviously not impressed by what you said and the harsh sound of your voice and whilst you truly were annoyed with him, it didn’t change the fact that you never leashed out at him like that.

“Sorry.”, you breathed. “I would never forget about Ellie, if that’s what you’re scared of? Like no matter with who I am, I’d never ever leave her behind, Mase.”

In an attempt to reassure him and finally get him to stop stirring that bloody tea, you put your hand over his – the first proper physical contact in more than a week and even if you tried, you couldn’t ignore the way your tummy melted when his eyes finally locked on yours.

“No that’s not…that’s not what I’m scared of.”, he admitted barely audibly. “It’s erm…what if…what if you forget about me?”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to say this.”, he chuckled; embarrassment clearly written all over his features and when he felt the deep blush coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, he dropped his gaze.

“I love you, you know?”, he suddenly said.

“What?”

A gasp left your lips as you pulled your hand away from his in shock. To say his admission took you by surprise would be an understatement. It was everything but what you’d expected him to say. In fact, it wasn’t anything you’d ever thought he’d say to you out of all people.

You were his best friend after all…

“I- I know it’s crazy and it was never supposed to happen and it…it shouldn’t be this way cause you’re my best friend and the best person I’ve ever met, but today when you weren’t at the game I was just lost and…I’m just hopelessly in love with you, y/n.”

You could hear your own heartbeat threatening to burst your eardrums. It was all you’d wished to hear from him, but now that he was standing right in front of you, wearing his heart on his sleeve, you couldn’t believe a word he said.

It was as if he could see right through you as you took a couple of steps back; the hesitation and disbelief shining in your eyes and Mason was quick in grabbing your hands to keep you close.

“Mase erm…I…this is…you”

Mason’s heart dropped into his tummy at the way you stumbled over your words, unsure of what you should say. He’d been so confident you were feeling the same – terrified obviously, but still confident. Especially after what his mum had told him the evening before, but the longer you just stared at the ground, the more hope he felt slipping away.

“I know this is a lot and I get you probably don’t feel the same and-”, he interrupted himself and shook his head; hands dropping yours in the process.

“I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”, he whispered. “I’m sorry, I just…I don’t know I thought that maybe you…never mind.”

Mason took a few steps back and ran his hand through his hair as realisation kicked in. He’d just ruined the best thing he’d ever had and his heart hurt like never before.

It would never be the same again. And Ellie…

“Can you forget I said anything? I don’t want anything to change, I just…Ellie loves you so much and I know you’re not her mum, but you’re so important to her and…God I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have…I just ruined everything and-”

His incoherent rambling brought you out of your trance eventually. You could see the sadness and disappointment radiating off of him and it broke your heart just how upset he looked as he ran his hands all over his face.

“Mase, hey. Look at me, love.”, you begged quietly, but he refused.

His gaze remained set on the floor and when you inched closer and tipped his head back slightly, you knew why. Your heart hurt at the sight of his teary eyes and it wasn’t long before you had to reach out and gently brush some stray tears away.

“Please don’t leave her because her daddy is an idiot.”

Never before had you heard him so broken, so incredibly upset and scared and whilst it was everything you’d ever wanted to hear, the disbelief nagging at the back of your brain didn’t allow you to see the genuine honesty behind his chocolate eyes.

“I just…Mase you called me pathetic when you suspected I was jealous and basically said I had no right to be upset cause I’m not more than your best friend…It’s…you can’t just ask me to come over and tell me you love me, expecting I’ll believe it after everything.”

“y/n-”

“You hurt me, Mase.”, you interrupted him quietly. “Over the past months I thought we’d gotten closer, like…you even attempted to kiss me. At least I thought you did, but then you got home and threw all that in my face. I know you are sorry for that, but I felt so fucking humiliated and small.”

Mason tried to blink away the tears constantly welling up in his eyes. He’d known he’d fucked up that day but hearing you admitting out loud just how much pain he’d caused you ripped his heart into pieces.

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry and I’ll spend my lifetime making it up to you.”, he vowed. “I promise, I’ll make sure every day you know your worth and how much you actually mean to me, if you let me.”

Mason wasn’t a good liar by any means. He usually wore his heart on his sleeve and his big brown eyes were the gateway to his pure soul; always showing his true colours and today was no different.

He was your best friend, and he’d give you the world if you asked for it, you knew that much, but you remained quiet, trying to get your head around everything as it was a lot. When you’d come here today you hadn’t expected him to confess his feelings.

Carefully as if he was giving you the chance to back away, Mason cupped your cheek and when you remained close, he tilted your head up slightly.

“I don’t expect you to say it back or even feel remotely the same y/n. I promise I’ll try to get over it and stay your best friend, but I needed to tell you. I felt like I was going mad and I just…I’m sorry if this is overwhelming and too much, I really am, but please don’t leave my little girl because I’m an idiot.”

It was obvious just how terrified he was for his little daughter and her wellbeing and it warmed your heart how he did what he’d always sworn he would: He put her first.

“Say it again.”, you breathed.

Mason looked confused for a second, but then his eyes lit up. “I love you, y/n.”

You wanted to tell him too, but after months of waiting and teasing, you couldn’t wait to feel his love, so instead you leaned in and brushed your lips against his in the softest of kisses you’d ever shared with anyone before.

It was soft, maybe even hesitant and not even long until you both pulled back, but it had your heart racing in your chest. Mason’s eyes shone with adoration and affection as he looked at you; lips slightly parted and the tops of his cheeks coated in a rosy blush.

You both chuckled quietly as neither of you could believe that after months of pining you were finally where you belonged.

“I love you, too, Masey.”, you admitted and the smile taking over Mason’s features was wider than you’d ever seen.

Before you could even attempt to say more, Mason had leaned back in and captured your lips again. More forceful this time as he claimed you; hand tilting your head back even more to have better access and it gave you the confidence to kiss him back with as much passion.

You ran your hand up his arm and shoulder until you could bury your fingers in his soft hair at the back of his head and when you scratched his scull it caused him to breathe out a hoarse moan.

It wasn’t long before he grabbed you by the hips, hoisted you up and set you on the counter before deepening the kiss. You spread your legs almost immediately, allowing him to step closer and it was as if it had cause him to lose his mind even more.

His hands found your hips beneath your shirt; soft skin roaming your sides and when he ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, a soft moan flew past your lips.

You only parted when you both needed to catch your breaths. You were panting, breaths mingling in the small space left between you as Mason pressed your foreheads together.

“What happened to only being you best friend, Mase?”, you chuckled.

Mason laughed quietly. “Well, you haven’t been just my best friend for a while now. And as shit as it sounds I didn’t properly realise it until yesterday when you went on that bloody date, and I’m very sorry for it. I never meant to make you feel as if I was leading you on.”

He gently cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing over the soft skin just beneath your eye. His heart skipped a few beats at the sparkle shining in them and he knew he probably looked the same.

“I know you didn’t, Mase.”, you smiled softly. “It took me a while too and once I knew I could’ve said something, but I was scared of losing you as my best friend. You and Ellie for that matter.”

“You still are my best friend and will be forever, but I really want you to be my girl, too. If you have me, that is.”

“Course I do.”

“Say it again.”, he asked shyly, the blush on his cheeks deepening and you were more than happy to repeat the words for him.

“I love you, Mason.”

Mason shook his head in disbelief before leaning back in and kissing you again. “I know we have to talk a lot but-“ A quick peck was pressed to your lips. “Can we just move to the sofa and leave the talking for later? I just wanna hold you and kiss you some more.”

You grinned brightly at his confession. More than happy to agree. “I’d love that a lot.”

“Let me spend some time with my girl then.”, he grinned brightly, before leaning in to kiss you once more. “God, I love you so much.”

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