#ch england

[rei-does-stuff]

Ch england gets a rat

[ask-the-countryhumans]

Idk. Maybe Germany lost his med license by stealing a mans skeleton?

England grimaced, “The worst part is, I can actually see that happening—“

Germany chimed in, “Not true! I never had a medic license! That’s Switzerland’s job, and I’m no job stealer! Yet—“

“What about the skeleton?” England asked.

“The what?”

“The skeleton, you-you didn’t…You didn’t say that it wasn’t true. You didn’t do that right…?” England asked, a bit worried. However Germany didn’t give him any response.

“Right???”

[amaryria]

Headcanons of the Day/HOTD 3

Hotd: Denmark made a lego pine tree keychain for Norway and England

Reason? The Trafalgar Square tree

Wikipedia page explaining but tldr its norway's way of saying thanks to england for helping them in world war 2

[perioddramata]

Romola Garai as MARY I OF ENGLAND BECOMING ELIZABETH (2022) | 1.06 - “What Cannot Be Cured”

[merakislaughter]

lil shout out to my pal! she’s cool. has only written like three short stories but when she makes something it’s worth reading.

i dont have polled yet so

The Death of West; The Life of East

(A/N: I'll write something cheerful one day.

But that day.

Is not today. :D)

"EJ?"

That voice. He couldn't get himself to place it. It was too fuzzy. Too drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

"East...? Are you alright?"

He looked at the speaker, but his vision was blurred. He couldn't make anything out but smudges of color.

He leaned against the doorway (Doorway? Wasn't he at the cliffs?) for support as he tried to calm down and take a deep breath, but he was too choked up to manage anything.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he breathe? Why couldn't he stop shaking? Why was his face wet? Was he crying? He didn't cry.

A worried Connecticut put down the muddy shoe he was cleaning and approached the distressed colony standing in the front door.

"What happened?" He asked, thoroughly concerned as he guided his little brother to a chair, "Where's West?"

West. West was just with him, where did he go?

East Jersey thought back and tried to recall.

He remembered going with West to Elias Green's tavern an hour and a half ago.

Then they were thrown out thirty minutes later for... EJ got into an argument with Abner, right? It broke into a fight? West got involved and tried to break the two up. Elias thought he was joining in, so he threw all three of them out before they destroyed anything.

EJ was livid. He wanted to get some fresh air and clear his head, so he asked WJ to come with him to the...

Oh God, East's eyes widened as his face paled, The Palisades.

The final memories came rushing back to him;

West agreed to come. The two were talking. Joking around. Goofing off and walking by the edge. The sun was setting.

East was in the lead, ranting about the fight and how he was sorry for dragging his twin into it.

West was listening, saying it wasn't a big deal, and then... he cried out. EJ thought he was joking, since the two often did that to try to scare one another, but when he turned around to give his twin an incredulous look, he was... gone.

And that's when East heard the impact of the fall.

He made himself look over the edge, and... and... 

East hung his head and sobbed. He killed his brother. 

He killed his brother. It was his fault. 

If he just sucked up his bitterness and went home with West, none of this would of happened.

If he was simply more mature about the argument and walked away to enjoy his night, none of this would of happened.

If he never suggested to go to Elias's in the first place, none of this would of—

"...East."

That uneasy voice. Those footsteps. The shoes entering his field of vision. None of them were Connecticut's. They belonged to someone else.

Someone who started feeling distressed the second West fell, despite being oblivious to the entire situation. Someone who felt that unexplainable despair three times before.

Eyes overflowing with tearful remorse, EJ looked up to his father.

"...Vader, I... West..." East choked out, "H... He's..."

EJ trailed off and let out a shuddering breath. The colony couldn't even bear the thought of saying it, much less get it out. He dreaded the words too much. He couldn't do it. It would make everything... real. 

He didn't want it to be.

Luckily, he didn't have to. His shred of an answer confirmed Roanoke's fears.

The retired colony crouched down by his son and gently wiped his tears with a trembling hand, not noticing his own starting to fall freely in silence.

After a long moment, he found his ability to speak.

"...I know," Roanoke admitted, broken voice scarcely above a whisper, "I... I felt it..."

EJ tried his hardest to fight down his sobs. He failed. It wasn't long until he was on his knees and crying into his dad's shirt, clinging to him as if letting go would make him disappear into the wind.

Roanoke sat on the floor and wrapped his arms around East in a tight hug, bowing his head and shaking with his own cries as he held his mourning son close.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Roanoke stood watching from a distance, pulled to the side by Kingdom of England.

He was shaky and as pale as a ghost, rueful eyes tinted red from prior tears while his kingdom spoke to him in hushed tones with a cold expression.

It looked almost as if England was lecturing him. As if Roanoke was a bratty child needing a stern talking-to, instead of being the mourning parent in need of comfort he was.

Connecticut looked away. It hurt to watch. It's not like the view of West Jersey's freshly covered grave in front of him felt any better to observe, but there was nothing he could do to help his father in that situation. As an English colony, he'd only make it worse. Connecticut could only listen while England grieved his grandson in his own screwed up way by blaming his son.

"An accident? I couldn't care less about it being an 'accident.' I care about you keeping my grandchildren alive!"

"I... I care about that, too!" The other argued, "You know I do! More than anything—!"

England cut Roanoke off by jerking his hand up, earning a wince from his son before he motioned to a distant hill covered in poppies, decorated by a single carefully crafted gravestone. 

He then jerked his hand in the other direction, towards a perfectly lovely spot under a large willow tree. Or at least a spot that seemed perfectly lovely, until you see the tombstone marked with the lifespan of nine years. 

Finally, he pointed to a garden about fourty yards away, yet another tombstone peaking through the flowers.

Popham, Saybrook, and New Haven.

"Then start acting like it, Ro. It's a simple task! It's incredible how easy it is for you to mess things up!" England snapped, glowering, "I can't believe how irresponsible you are! Without me, the rest of your children would of been in the ground years ago."

"I..."

"You, what?"

"It wasn't my..." Roanoke continued, seeming unsure if he believed his own words, "I don't see how this is my fau—"

"Of course it's your fault! Who else is there to blame? The cliff? East?"

Connecticut glanced to the twin of the deceased beside him, feeling a sting of sadness at East's cringe of guilt.

Without a word, East Jersey's older brother took his hand and guided him away from the one-sided argument, the sounds of England convincing their father he was to blame growing distant.

He was a little happy New York wasn't listening. Connecticut wasn't sure if he could've held him back from fighting with England, a scenario that would've worsened Roanoke's situation. 

Instead, the spitfire of a colony was comforting New Netherland— Connecticut, New York, and the Jerseys' own mother— as she adorned her late son's resting place with flowers. At least, he was trying to. The retired Dutch colony was justifiably inconsolable.

Once the gravesite, weeping mother, and arguing relatives were out of view and earshot, East... Province of New Jersey yanked his arm out of Connecticut's grasp.

"...East—"

"I'm fine," New Jersey snapped, rubbing his wrist, "You don't need to worry about me like a mother hen. I know what I did, there's no use in ignoring it."

"It wasn't your fault," Connecticut insisted, "You know how Grandfather gets, he was just going off on a tangent and spewing bull—"

"I'm not say it was Father's fault, I'm saying it was mine."

"That's not what I—"

"Then shut up!" New Jersey hissed, "Just... leave me alone!"

"Ea—"

New Jersey held his hand up with a glare, silencing Connecticut before turning and storming away.

"East, please—"

New Jersey shoved between and past Massachusetts and Rhode Island, who were walking side by side in Connecticut's direction.

"The hell...?" Rhode Island muttered, glancing behind him, "Why's he so livid all of a sudden? What happened, River?"

"I... " Connecticut replied, feeling lost, "...I think I ticked him off?"

"How?"

"I don't... know."

Rhode Island seemed unsatisfied with the poor excuse of an answer.

"...Well," RI reasoned, "There had to be something—"

"Or nothing," Massachusetts finished calmly, straightening the sleeve New Jersey messed up when bumping into him.

His younger half-brothers looked to him, eyes imploring him to elaborate.

"He's... His temper is a little unruly today," Massachusetts went on, "He yelled at me over putting his shoes in his room instead of leaving them by the back door this morning."

"Yell?" Rhode Island asked incredulously, "Are you sure? East never yells about trivial things like that."

"He... has a lot on his mind. For him to have to see West... to see... Lord Almighty, I couldn't imagine..."

Massachusetts trailed off, but the others understood.

"He's..." Rhode Island spoke up after a brief pause, "He'll be fine, right?"

"...Grief comes in many different ways for everyone," The Bay Colony explained, "At the moment, East's way is anger. Just... give him some space. He doesn't really want to offend or hurt you. He's just... getting over something. We all are. Be patient with him."

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Patience. That can get used up quickly.

Everyone tried their best to stay patient with Jersey. Many tried to comfort him to no avail, so they resorted to walking on eggshells around him while he mourned.

For the days that followed, everyone fought down the urge to hold a grudge with him when he lashed out. The weeks that followed were designed with the same pattern. Then the months. Then the year...

It wasn't long until the one and a half years mark struck, when someone's well of patience finally dried up.

"Can you please shut the hell up already!?" New York exclaimed, shooting up from his seat and slamming the table, "We get it! You're a total ass! Now eat your damn porridge before I do everyone a favor and shove it down your throat!"

After he broke the ice, one by one, the colonies slowly stopped spending all their patience on New Jersey.

"It's been months. I really don't think he's mourning anymore... I'm starting to think he's simply gotten used to walking all over us," Rhode Island ranted to Delaware, "I'm sick of letting him. He's fine, probably more than fine with the way we've been inflating his ego."

In truth, New Jersey wasn't alright. At all.

He still tormented himself over West Jersey's death. He hasn't had a single good night's sleep since it happened. He was still angry. Mostly at himself, but his self-hatred seeped into the way he interacted with others. By the time he realized what he was doing and reigned it in, it was too late.

His siblings looked at him differently, and not in the good way. Whenever he approached one of them, they seemed prepared for an argument. Every time he tried to show some kindness, they were suspicious.

Whether they realized it or not, they treated him like he was a terrible person. It didn't take much for him to start believing them.

He didn't feel like East Jersey anymore. He felt like some sort of irredeemable monster. 

Maybe that's all he can be.

He was tired of trying to prove them wrong.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

"There's no way."

"There is! I swear, that's what Massachusetts said!"

"Then I want what Mass is smoking," North Dakota joked, cutting vegetables for dinner, "Jers was never cuddly, even when he was a colony."

"How do you know?" South Dakota retorted, putting some bread in the oven, "You weren't alive when he was a colony."

"Because I asked Georgia. She says he's always been the same."

Connecticut listened to the two as he washed a couple recently used measuring cups, back facing them.

It was odd for him to remember pre-1702 New Jersey. He was a totally different person back then, one Georgia never got to know. She was born in 1732, thirty years after the Garden State's jarring personality shift.

He almost wanted to speak up and explain that to the Dakotas, but he knew they wouldn't believe him. None of the younger states ever did.

He guessed it was a little unimaginable to them, to think that the quickest to anger state they knew their entire lives was once one of the most huggable people in the world.

Connecticut glanced out the kitchen window above the sink, getting lost in his thoughts as he watched New Jersey weed his garden.

He missed the brothers he lost in 1702. Both of them.

After a moment of zoning out, a tap on his arm brought him back to reality. 

"Uhm... Uncle Nutmeg?" Central Jersey asked, timidly pointing to the measuring cup in Connecticut's hand, "It's clean now. You don't have to keep rinsing it."

"Oh! Right," Connecticut realized sheepishly, handing the kitchenware to the self-appointed dish dryer, "Sorry CJ."

The kid hummed happily as he finished drying the measuring cup, placing it in it's drawer.

"All done!" He smiled, "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Connecticut turned off the faucet and shook his head.

"Nope! That's it," CT said, ruffling the little one's hair, "Thanks for the help!"

Central Jersey gave a little laugh at the hair ruffling, filling Connecticut with a sense of nostalgia.

A scene of East and West Jersey giggling the same way played in his mind. They were about Central's age at the time, helping Connecticut take care of the horses. After a couple hours of work, the two proudly went up to him and declared that they were done. He remembered thanking them with a grin before reaching out and ruffling the two rascals' hair.

The bittersweet memory sent a pang of longing through Connecticut's heart. He missed them. He missed them so much.

Having Central Jersey around was a blessing for everyone, in that regard. He was just like his father when he was his age. It helped... stifle the pain, a little. CJ helped patch up whatever holes the Jersey twins left behind in everybody's hearts.

Speaking of which...

"Central! I didn't know you were dropping by today!"

Central's eyes widened at the sound of America's voice, spinning around and rushing into his grandpa's outstretched arms for a hug.

"I thought you were out today!" The boy exclaimed, hugging the tall country.

"Out of my mind? Probably. Out of the house? Nope!" America grinned, "So, what brings you into our neck of the woods?"

"Mom has some work to take care of tonight, so she's picking me up tomorrow morning!"

"Ah, so she dropped you off with your old man?"

"She...! She... dropped me off with my old man," Central Jersey agreed, excitement seeming a little dampened at the mention of his dad. 

America exchanged a knowing glance with Connecticut.

"Have you seen him yet?"

Central Jersey hesitantly shook his head, "...I don't think he'd want to see me."

"...Aw, c'mon. I'm sure that's not—"

New Jersey opened the kitchen door and kicked his muddy boots off, trudging in with a basket of tomatoes. He placed them on the counter and turned around to go back out to the garden.

America cleared his throat.

New Jersey paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. He gave an annoyed, drawn-out sigh as he turned around, "What did I do this—?" 

He stopped short and stared at Central Jersey.

"His mother," America answered, motioning to CJ, "You did his mother this time."

CJ offered a small wave.

An awkward silence fell upon the group.

"...Heyyy, CJ," New Jersey eventually greeted, seeming extremely uncomfortable, "How's it... going?"

"I'm... alright," Central Jersey smiled shyly, "You?"

"Fine, fine. Just... screwing around. And... stuff. So, your mom's still alive?"

"Uhm... Yes?"

"Ah. Cool, cool. That's... that's always nice..." New Jersey slowly opened the door, "Well... I'm gonna go. Seedlings don't water themselves. It was... nice seeing you."

"Yeah... It... It was nice seeing you too. I love—!"

New Jersey practically slammed the door on his way out.

"...You."

North Dakota crept up beside Central Jersey and wrapped an arm around him.

"Hey, kiddo," She started gently, "How about we let Dak finish up in the kitchen, and we can go see if anyone's up for a card game?"

Central Jersey's eyes lit up at the thought, "Cards Against Humanity?"

"I really shouldn't be letting someone your age play— Aw hell, why not? Everyone needs a bad influence in their life. Cards Against Humanity."

The two strolled away giddily, off to play a game Utah definitely banned from family game night.

Connecticut and South Dakota looked to their father.

"...I know, I'm... I'll go talk to him," America sighed, "Being a deadbeat father is a job for England, not a job for one of my sons."

With that, United States left through the door New Jersey just slammed.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

"What was that?"

"A basket of tomatoes," New Jersey mumbled, not looking up from his weeding, "They're fruits. Italians worship them. You might recognize them from pizza sauce?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

New Jersey bit his lip and continued weeding, trying to ignore the presence of his father.

"...New Jersey."

"I'm busy."

"Jersey."

"Not now."

"Jers."

"I have to get these—"

"East.”

New Jersey froze.

"..." He stood up and brushed himself off, "...There's a name I haven't heard in awhile."

America followed New Jersey as he attempted to escape to the garden shed, "Why are you so against being there for Central?"

"I'm not... against it."

"Then why aren't you?"

New Jersey grabbed a watering can and trudged out of the shed, "...It's complicated."

"It's your son."

NJ turned on the hose.

"Unfortunately..." New Jersey muttered after the watering can was full, shutting off the hose and trudging to a group of seedlings.

America's eye twitched. He snatched the watering can from New Jersey and set it down beside him firmly, slapping NJ's hand away from it when he tried to reach for it.

New Jersey slowly withdrew his hand and looked down, not meeting America's eyes.

"Do you hear yourself right now?" America snapped, "What the hell is wrong with you? Inside that house is a kid who loves you more than anything, despite you not giving him a single damn reason to! All he wants is to have you in his life! If you keep this up, that's going to change."

"F%>k, I hope so."

"What the hell is wrong with you? You love him, don't you?"

New Jersey eyed the watering can in silence.

"...You love him," America tried again, attempting to control his frustration, "Don't you?"

"...Shut up."

"Jersey—"

"Shut the hell up!"

"You don't have to—!"

"I love him more than anything on this earth, dammit!"

"Then why—?"

"Because he doesn't need me! Because I'm the kind of person I want staying the hell away from him! Because I'd screw him the f%+k up! I'd ruin his life!" New Jersey exclaimed, "He doesn't need to know the... the monster of a person his dad is! I couldn't bear the thought of burdening someone as wonderful as him with me!"

America, taken aback by New Jersey's outburst, stayed silent in surprise.

"Lord, imagine if I actually influenced him? Imagine if he grew up to be like me?" New Jersey shook his head, full-on ranting now, "I couldn't live with that. He can't— He can't! I love him, dammit! I want to keep egotistical, selfish, awful, br— brother-murdering assholes away from him! I want to keep myself away—!"

America reached out to his distressed son, "...Jer—"

"I love him, I do! I'm so proud of him and everything he does! It— It hurts, having to stay away from him like this, but it has to be done! I don't deserve him! I'm- I'm irredeemable! Everyone knows this! This is all I can b—!"

America pulled New Jersey into a tight hug.

The Garden State trembled like a leaf in the wind, but made no moves to free himself.

"Th... This is all I—" He choked out, "All I can..."

"No. That's not— That's never been true, Jersey," America denied, gently rubbing NJ's back as he cried.

"You're— You're lying," New Jersey stuttered, "It's— It's always been... Since..."

"...Since when?" America asked gently, "How long have you felt...?"

"Since— Since I killed West..."

Oh Lord. West's death was 320 years ago. 

America felt like an absolute idiot for not noticing sooner.

Was he really too wrapped up in getting over England's accusations to realize that he might not be the only one feeling guilty?

"You didn't... kill West."

"I did."

"Did you push him off?"

New Jersey's eyes widened, "No, of course not!"

"So he fell off by himself? With no outside interference?"

New Jersey nodded.

"So you didn't kill him?"

"Ye— No!"

"Let's say, hypothetically, Michigan invited Ohio on a walk. On the way, Ohio tripped and fell into a pit of piranhas and was completely consumed, bones and all—"

"That's morbid, Dad."

"—Was it Michigan's fault?"

"Michigan probably put the piranhas there for revenge."

"Assuming he didn't, did he murder Ohio?"

"...No."

"So, when West Jersey fell; it wasn't your fault."

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just... is?"

"..."

"...Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"I can feel your stupid eyes judging me. Listen, if it wasn't my fault, who's was it?"

"...Nobody's," America sighed, "Sometimes, bad things happen, and as much as you hate it; there's no one to blame."

"I don't... That doesn't sound right."

"I know," America admitted, "But it's true."

"So what?" New Jersey huffed, "Let's say I didn't kill West, that doesn't change the fact that I'm a total piece of—"

"Hey! Don't talk about my son that way."

New Jersey's eye roll was almost audible.

"Like it or not Jers, you're redeemable," America decided confidently.

"Redemption?" New Jersey gave a mirthless laugh, "Please, I haven't even been able to get my grief about something that happened over three centuries ago to shrink."

"Grief doesn't... shrink."

"...What?"

"Trust me, it never does. It... It stays the same size forever. Life just grows around it."

"Life just... grows around it?" New Jersey looked up to America, "How can I make it do that?"

"I think... Therapy. Therapy might be a good start for you."

New Jersey snorted.

"What? I'm serious!"

New Jersey studied America's face.

"...Really?" He asked incredulously, "You're serious?"

"As the plague."

"Which one?"

America shrugged, "Any of them, pick your favorite."

"Black Death."

"Sure, I'm as serious as the bubonic plague."

"You..." New Jersey hesitated, realizing that America wasn't joking, "Really think it'll help, don't you?"

His father nodded, "I do, Jersey. I really do."

"Then... Maybe... For you, I'll... For— For Central, I'll..."

"It'll be okay, Jers. You'll be okay."

New Jersey nodded and took a deep breath.

"Alright," He said, giving a small, hopeful smile, "I'll go."

[k1ng0k]

To make it clear, UK is a closeted homosexual and hasn’t been open about it. He’s always liked men and only dated women to keep up appearances (also out of boredom).

[galaxy-blackbird]

Happy Pride month

France: bisexual

Canada: pansexual

Italy: gay

England: lesbian

UK: demisexual

Russia: closeted asexual

[renerosin]

Jude Bellingham | playing “Guess the Footballer”

[lady-lilly-gray]

look at my child my prince my beloved he's baaack

[whitehartlane]

are there any arsena1 players you've ever had a soft spot for?

i’ll be honest as soon as a player is contracted to that devil club i develop a hatred as deep as the seven seas for them … so no, none so far 😭

[novadraem]

Those headcanons(I don’t know what other way to describe them) and art I found, not only were they so outdated they just didn’t make any sense really?

[rejectshumanity]

sometimes i think about how dio’s life might have turned out if he got the childhood therapy he desperately needed

[the-busy-ghost]

No disrespect to the particular English accent that birthed this atrocity, we all have our own sins to atone for, but as a Scot I’m tempted to accuse google of perpetrating a hate crime by describing this monstrous mispronunciation as the correct “British” one

[mxrvelouscreations]

𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒄  ( 𝑭/𝑭 )  𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘  𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒆 / 5c. / sophie x valeria.

@lustthriill

The gripping on her ass only pushed her to keep going, rocking harder against Valeria's crotch to create more friction. Gazing up at the other, she couldn't help but lean forward and kiss her gently, her hand moving to rest against her cheek. "Is this ok?" She whispered, "you feel good..."

[levithestripper]

watching louis get married to queen elizabeth has me in TEARS

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 2

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little creepy at the end, stalking vibes

By the time the other three members of Task Force 141 made the drive to Ghost’s hometown, he had already determined where you were living by following you from the market and was back in his own flat, swirling a glass of whiskey. The team sat down to make a game plan, almost treating you as if you were one of their missions while sitting around Ghost’s beat up old dining table. You’d be theirs, one way or another. 

A Week Later, Saturday. 

Bleary weather had plagued Manchester for the last few days, gray clouds hovering overhead while you attempted to find your motivation for your job. It wasn’t helpful that you’d received news from your mom that your cousin and Kit would be getting married soon. A brick settled in your stomach at the news, ending the call with your mom quickly as you forced down the tears you refused to keep crying over him. 

In an effort to cheer yourself up, you headed out of your flat and down the street to the sweet little flower shop you’d found your first week in Manchester. The owner, Magda, was a kind, gentle old lady who essentially took you under her wing when you had trouble finding your footing in the new country. She’d been a boon to you, telling you the best shops for everything from groceries to clothes. You’d helped her find her cat when the mangy thing had slipped out the back door to fight the stray living behind a neighboring shop.

The bell chimed above your head, banging against the worn wood. You were immediately greeted by the scent of the most beautiful flowers and Magda’s voice talking a man through the best choices for an apology bouquet. You caught her eye over his shoulder and waved, a soft smile on your face as your eyes drifted to the back of the man’s head.

He easily stood a foot and a half taller than the elderly owner, cropped mohawk adding to the already egregious height difference. His shoulders were broad, though not quite as broad as your masked man back in New York. Why were you thinking about him all of sudden? You shook your head, clearing your mind like an etch-a-sketch and headed straight to the hyacinths and lilacs, wanting the sweet scent of your favorite flowers to brighten up your flat and completely missing him turning to take you in.

“Pretty flowers. Almost as pretty as you.” A low voice startled you out of your reverie, spinning on your heel to face the man Magda had been helping previously. Now, you could see that his eyes were a shocking blue and the lopsided smile he provided you made your heart stutter against your ribcage. But the size of him was what intrigued you. 

You’d accepted that this was the way you were now. Despite doing months of working out and eating well, your body hadn’t changed much from when you’d left the States. The cleaner food of England helped you feel better though, breathing a little life back into you after everything you’d dealt with. But that also meant that men weren’t as courageous in approaching you, their bravado faltering in the face of society's expectations. So when an attractive man approached you, blatantly flirting, your first response was to think it was a joke, snort and walk away, effectively blowing him off.

A gentle hand on your shoulder a few minutes later had you whipping around to ask what the guy's problem was, but was greeted by Magda instead. Immediately, you looked around for the mohawk guy, but he was nowhere to be found and you could have sworn the bell hadn’t dinged against the door. Weird. Bringing your gaze back to the elderly woman, you raised a brow at the scrap of paper in her hands. “That sweet young man paid for your flowers and left this as well,” Magda handed you the piece of paper with a number and a messy name scrawled at the bottom. 

Johnny. 

You’d gone home with your overly expensive bouquet and the scrap of paper after, staring down at it as if it would burst into flames at any moment. You took a deep breath, telling yourself “Why the hell not?” as you punched the number into a new message chain. 🪻: Uh, hi. Is this Johnny?

🧼: Ay, it is, Petal.

🪻: Petal? 

🧼: Well, I don’t know your name, do I?

He made a good point, making you sigh as you released your own name to him in spite of your reservations. But maybe, just maybe, you could manage to make a few friends if he ended up not being interested in you.

The next few days were spent lounging around your flat, going to work, and texting Johnny. What you didn’t know, though, was that he was reporting everything back to his boys. It had only taken Simon’s word and the one picture to have each of them wagging their tongues and readying their arms to protect what they now saw as theirs.

By the time you were winding down on Wednesday night and brewing tea that Johnny had insisted you know how to make, you were smiling at your phone that lit up every few minutes with his messages. The two of you had discussed everything from your favorite color and food to what had brought you to England. When he’d heard the details of that night, sans your interaction with Ghost, and paired it with Simon’s recollection, he’d been furious. His fingers tightened around the phone to the point that Price had taken it from him in an effort to not have to buy another replacement.

Simon had been in the same boat as Johnny, opting for stomping out of the flat to walk off his rage and guilt, feeling it gnaw at him for not stepping up before and then abandoning you after. His feet carried him to your building, watching from the ground as you paced around your space. When your pacing brought you in front of the window, you paused and looked through the glass, heart hammering as you saw a dark shape of a man standing on the sidewalk. But the light of the lamp posts made one thing stand out very clearly,

the white skull painted on his mask. 

I didn't want to offend any Scots with trying to type out Johnny's accent. I have a feeling this is going to turn into some long winded fic, so buckle in if you're ready for that.

Thank you so much for your support!