#it took me way longer than i am willing to admit to work out that chin/jaw

[qualxon]

Well @spodimusarts , @nemesisthetoy congrats lads you've managed to somehow reignite the sparks of my old ass transformers fixation

Anyways here's my half-rushed take on a more organic predaking

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Whispers in the Studio

Chapter 2: In the Silence Between Words

Warnings:

The air in the studio felt thick with emotion. Marshall stood close to Y/N, his breath warm on her skin, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. His lips had barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the world had shifted. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your hands trembling slightly at your sides as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

It was almost as if the kiss had happened in a dream. One moment, they were just two people working together, and the next... everything had changed. The quiet, unspoken connection you’d shared for so many years was suddenly out in the open, raw and undeniable.

You stepped back, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. Your mind was racing, your thoughts tangled in confusion and fear. Was this real? Was he just acting on impulse, or did he feel something too? You didn’t know if you could trust your own feelings, let alone his.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Marshall’s voice was softer now, the edge that usually laced his words gone. He looked at you with a mixture of uncertainty and hope, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. “I don’t want to make things weird, Y/N. I just... I don’t know. I’ve been feeling something for a while now. I don’t know what it is, but it’s real.”

Your heart did a strange flip in your chest. He was being honest. He was being vulnerable in a way that was completely unlike him, and it made every fiber of you want to reach out and hold onto him even tighter.

“I don’t want to make things weird either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your gaze flicking to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. “But... I don’t know what to do with this, Marshall.”

He took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to do anything. Not yet. I just... I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel this. I’ve always felt something, even when I didn’t want to admit it. And I know you feel it too.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. You had spent so many years burying your feelings, telling yourself that you were just an assistant, just a part of the machinery that kept him going. But now, in the quiet of the studio, you realized how much more you had always been to him—and how much more he had always been to you.

You didn’t know what to say, so you simply nodded. It wasn’t enough of anything to say the words you knew were true yet. But in that small gesture, you told him everything he needed to know.

Marshall seemed to take the silence as a sign to back off, giving you some space to exhale. He turned away, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean to rush things, Y/N. I just... I just don’t want you to think I don’t care about you, that I’ve just been some asshole who didn’t see how hard you work or how much you mean to me.”

Your heart softened at his words. You had seen the way he pushed people away, the way he kept his distance from everyone. But in the past few months, there had been small shifts—moments when he looked at you longer than usual, when he stayed late just to talk to you, when he seemed to care more about your well-being than just making sure the next track was perfect. You'd thought your heart as just allowed you to imagine those things.

“I know you care about me,” you said quietly, stepping closer to him. “I’ve always known. You’ve always looked out for me in your own way, Marshall. But... this... this is new. And I don’t know what to do with it either.”

Marshall let out a breath, turning back to face you. His eyes were more open than you had ever seen them, like he was standing on the edge of something both thrilling and terrifying. “Yeah, me neither. But I’m willing to figure it out. If you are.”

You hesitated for just a second before nodding, your heart finally settling into something like peace. “I am.”

There was a long pause, the two of them standing close but not touching. It was the kind of moment that felt like everything could fall apart or fall into place, depending on which direction they chose. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like the ground under your feet was steady.

Marshall took another step toward you, his voice low. “I don’t want to mess this up, Y/N. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to rush you, but... I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. If you want to take it slow, we can. But just... just don’t push me away, okay?”

His words struck something deep inside you. You hadn’t realized how much you'd needed reassurance, how much your heart needed to hear him say that he was willing to take his time with you, to be patient with whatever the two of you would start becoming.

“I’m not going anywhere either,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze fully. The connection between the two of you felt stronger now, like you were two people on the same wavelength, both uncertain, but both willing to try. “Let’s take it slow. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Marshall nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because I think we’ve got something worth holding on to.”

You felt your chest flutter as you returned the smile. For the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid. You weren’t afraid of the uncertainty, of the risk, or of the fear that this could all fall apart. You were just... here. With him.

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. The studio was quiet now, the world outside seeming miles away. “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” Marshall said, his voice softer now. “But... you don’t have to leave. Not if you don’t want to.”

You hesitated, but something in your heart told you to stay. Maybe it was because you needed this moment with him, needed to let it all sink in. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’ll stay,” you said, your voice steady. “But only if you promise not to rush anything.”

Marshall laughed softly, the sound familiar and comforting. “Promise. We’re in no hurry.”

And in the silence that followed, you simply sat together, not needing words to fill the space between them. You had time. And for the first time in ages, time felt like something you could share.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Until We Meet Again

Pairing: John “Soap”Mactovish x reader

Warning: mention of injuries, fluff

Authors note: there’s so much fluff here

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It was well past midnight, and the glow of your phone screen was the only light in the room. You lay there, bundled up in blankets, staring at the last message Soap had sent you, two days ago.

“Got an op coming up. Might be out of contact for a bit. Don’t worry about me, lass. I’ll be back soon. Always am.”

It was the same promise every time, but the gnawing anxiety never dulled. You’d been together for over two years now, but Soap’s missions always came with the same sick feeling in your stomach. He was Task Force 141—special forces. His work was dangerous, classified, and often meant long stretches of silence. No news was supposed to be good news, but that logic never really worked for you.

Tonight was worse, though. Maybe it was because his last mission had been particularly brutal, or maybe because you hadn’t heard from him in over a week this time. Whatever the reason, you couldn’t sleep. All you could do was stare at the phone, willing it to light up with his name.

Suddenly, the screen did light up—but it wasn’t a message. It was an incoming video call. The name flashing across the screen made your heart skip a beat: **Soap**.

Without hesitation, you accepted the call, and his face appeared on the screen. Even with the grainy connection, his bright blue eyes and lopsided grin were unmistakable.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, his thick Scottish accent warm and familiar.

“Soap,” you breathed, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just at the sight of him. “You’re okay?”

“Aye, I’m okay. Got a little roughed up this time, but nothing I can’t handle,” he said, though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Roughed up?” You frowned, scanning his face for any signs of injury. There was a faint bruise along his jaw, and his knuckles looked like they’d seen better days.

“Just a couple o’ bumps. You should see the other guy,” he joked, but you knew him well enough to hear the fatigue behind the humor.

“You always say that, and I never know if I should believe you.”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” He leaned back, letting out a long exhale, his smile softening as he looked at you. “How’ve you been, lass? Miss me?”

You gave him a look. “What do you think? I’ve been a wreck over here. You were gone longer this time.”

Soap’s expression sobered, the playfulness fading as he nodded. “Aye. The mission… it took a turn. We lost contact for a bit, had to go dark. I’m sorry I couldn’t reach out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. This was the part you hated most—the thought of him out there, in danger, with no way to know if he was safe or even alive. “You don’t have to apologize. I just—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “I hate not knowing.”

“I know. Believe me, I hate it too. But I always come back, don’t I?” He leaned closer to the camera, his gaze intense. “I’ll always come back to you.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging a bit from the emotion building up. “You better,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Soap’s expression softened even more. “Hey, none of that now. I’m alright, and I’m talkin’ to you, yeah? That’s what matters.”

There was a long pause as the two of you just looked at each other through the screen. Even though you were miles apart, the connection between you felt stronger than ever.

“I wish you were here,” you admitted, your voice small.

“I know,” he replied, his voice softer now, quieter. “I wish I was too. Just a few more days, love. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You gave a shaky smile. “You better be. I’m holding you to that.”

Soap’s grin returned, but this time it was gentler, filled with a kind of warmth that made your chest ache. “Wouldn’t dream of breaking a promise to you.”

Another silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that comes with being so in tune with someone that words weren’t always necessary.

“Alright,” Soap said after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I better get some shut-eye before the lads drag me back into another briefing.”

You sighed but nodded. “Okay. Just… be safe, alright?”

He chuckled softly. “Always. And you take care of yourself too, love. I’ll call you the minute I’m back stateside.”

You nodded again, but before you could end the call, Soap leaned closer to the camera one last time.

“I love you, you know that?”

Your heart fluttered, and you smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I love you too, Soap. Always.”

With a final smile, he ended the call, and you were left staring at the now-dark screen. The room was quiet again, but this time, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

He was coming back. He always did.

Until then, you would hold onto his promise—until you could hold onto him again.

It had been five days since the last call. Soap’s promise played on repeat in your mind, soothing your nerves during the long wait. You tried to keep yourself busy, but the hours seemed to crawl. Every creak of the floor, every knock at the door, sent your heart racing, hoping it was him.

Then, one evening, when the sun had just dipped below the horizon and the house was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you heard it—the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Your breath caught in your throat as footsteps echoed through the hall.

And then he was there. Standing in the doorway, still in his fatigues, looking a little worn but very much alive.

"Soap," you whispered, barely able to breathe.

Before you could say anything else, Soap was across the room in three quick strides. His hands cradled your face as he pulled you into a kiss that was nothing short of desperate, as if he hadn’t seen you in years. His lips were firm, urgent, pouring every ounce of emotion into the embrace—relief, love, passion. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours, and he chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin.

"I missed you," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“I missed you more,” you whispered back, your fingers still curled into his jacket, not wanting to let him go.

He kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second. When he pulled away, his eyes, those deep blue eyes you loved so much, searched yours, his expression softening.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’,” he began, his voice quiet but steady.

You raised an eyebrow, still slightly dazed from the kiss. “Yeah?”

Soap smiled, a little nervously, which was so unlike him that it made your heart skip a beat. Then, before you could even process what was happening, he was dropping to one knee right there in the middle of the living room. Your breath hitched, and your hand flew to your mouth in shock.

From his pocket, Soap pulled out a small, worn velvet box. He opened it, revealing a simple but stunning ring—elegant, timeless, and perfect.

“Love, I’ve been through hell and back, and if there’s one thing I know for sure in this world, it’s you. I don’t ever want to go another day without knowin’ you’re mine forever. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared down at him, this man who had faced unimaginable danger and yet looked more vulnerable now than ever before. Your heart felt like it might burst from your chest.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. “Yes, Soap, of course.”

The relief and joy on his face was immediate. He stood up, slipping the ring onto your finger with surprisingly steady hands. The moment the ring was in place, he pulled you into another kiss, this one even more passionate than before.

When you finally pulled back, you were both smiling, slightly breathless again. Soap pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb gently brushing over the new ring on your hand.

“Looks perfect on you,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

You laughed softly, tears still clinging to your lashes as you looked up at him. “I can’t believe you just proposed like that.”

He grinned, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “What? You didn’t see it comin’? Thought I was a bit obvious, to be honest.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still soaring. “You could’ve given me a little more warning.”

“Aye, but where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Soap’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close again. His lips brushed your temple as he murmured, “I’m home now, love. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your heart still racing with the joy of the moment. Everything felt right—finally.

He was home, and now, he was yours forever.

Hope you all enjoyed! Please consider reblogging and liking! -Midnight💜

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Konig x Reader: I Don't Need You (Ch. 6)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: You (surprisingly) get more comfortable with Kortac, and slowly let yourself connect with the team. You subconsciously tether yourself to Konig, who is more than willing to help you fit in. The pain of the past begins to fade into the back of your mind like the end of a long chapter of your life.

Additionally, Konig starts asking the hard questions - it unearths a piece of you that you'd hoped would remain buried, but you still share the memories with Konig.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of rape, cursing, google translate German, shirtless Soap, very EXTREMELY watered-down mentions of sexual themes (we ain't there yet, boiis)

Notes: Sorry it took so long, I've got a lot cooking in the kitchen now and I'm hoping to pump out a lot this week!

Additionally, I've had some comments on this work not being an x Reader. First off, I never want to mislead anyone. I label this as an x Reader because Bonnie is not an OC of mine. I've seen other x Reader fics include callsigns that refer to the reader, so I assumed using Bonnie similarly would be alright. I also mentioned a name ONCE in chapter 3, "Jane Morris," which I thought to be a very generic name, and I haven't used it since and don't plan to. I have a personal preference of writing longer, chapter-by-chapter fics in first POV because it feels more natural to me than second POV. The same goes for using y/n - I like to avoid it if I can because it feels unnatural.

Again, those last two thing are a personal preference. I'm not bashing any fics that use these things at all, I enjoy both ones that do and ones that don't, and I don't enjoy one over the other. When I say one feels more natural than the other, I mean it feels more natural to write, not to read. I'm debating changing the name I used in chapter 3 to just y/n l/n to make this a true x Reader. If you still feel like I should change this to an x OC please let me know and I'll be happy to adjust the tags, titles, and descriptions. Again, I never meant to be misleading, and I hope I didn't make anyone angry. If a mistake has been made I am happy to learn from it. Thanks!

Konig had cracked the code on me. He figured out that after a case of American beers and a long drive, away from the crowd of new faces, my outer shell began to soften.

There was still a wall that I was holding up between me and everyone else, even though it was significantly smaller than usual. When Roze and Castillo approached me at breakfast, I didn’t get up and leave. And when Juno used the empty spot in the gym room right next to me, dropping his bag on the floor and giving me a cautious glance as he set up for his routine - I didn’t grab my things and move to the other end of the room. That was my first instinct, but I fought it. Instead I huffed, facing the mirror in front of me and focusing on my sets.

I’d started going to the common area more often – maybe not every night, but often enough. We’d make it a habit to play poker on the nights I did show up. I was better than most of the group, since none of them were quite used to my mannerisms yet. However, Konig and Horangi still took the lead as the winners, despite most of us arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed to play if they were going to wear their masks. The argument would eventually turn into a casual conversation – I didn’t engage in it too often. I preferred to sit and listen, using the time to slowly learn more about the team. I typically planted myself between Roze and Konig, keeping my legs crossed on the seat and nervously fiddling with my Yuengling bottle.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, Konig had become a conduit for my interactions with the rest of the team. The way he engaged with their activities, yet still managed to stay reserved, struck a chord with me. I respected the fact that it could sometimes be difficult to find him on base, and that at the same time, he was always there when I started to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t need him, no… that was a stretch. But sometimes I felt grateful that he was so eager to accompany me places – especially when he invited me to go on “perimeter checks” with him, which mostly consisted of long drives off base.

I don’t know how I had grown to appreciate him so much – maybe it was because he felt similar to me, in the way that we both needed our alone time, and with how we often found ourselves slipping out of the common area around the same time, with the original excuse being that we were tired. Half of the time, we would sit in the mess hall and talk until the early hours of the morning.

“A sniper?” I asked on one particular night, fiddling with the mouth of my beer bottle. “You’re way to big for that – no offense.”

Konig chuckled. “And that’s what they initially told me.” He took a swig of his (nasty) German beer. “But, despite being handed other opportunities, I proved them wrong. I’m sill a damn good sniper.”

I huffed. “Nah, you should be happy you got promoted to Colonel; you’re lucky, you get to avoid being in the trenches – at least, as much as the rest of us.”

“Lucky? No…” Konig said, shaking his head. “I do not like being a Colonel. I’d much rather be doing the dirty work of soldiers than writing these stupid reports.” He slapped a large hand over the manilla folder that sat on the table next to his beer. “It keeps my head busy, and I don’t have to listen to myself think.”

I nodded while sipping my beer. “I completely get that – If I’m not actively doing something with my hands, my brain gets too loud. Like – like there’s a mini me in my head, and the only way to drown her out is by physically doing something. Anything, really.”

Konig laughed – almost a snort – “‘A mini you’. I like that, that’s good.”

I huffed a laugh through my nose, turning my head to hide the smirk on my face. Despite being a large, brutish man, he had a youthful essence about him. It was hidden deep beneath the thick exterior of a war-hardened soldier. But, every now and again, it rose to the surface, touching a part of my soul I hadn’t allowed to be seen in a long time.

I pushed my stack of bills into the middle of the table. “All in.” I said nonchalantly.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking down his nose at me. “You’re bloody stupid…”

“Or really smart.” I retorted. I folded my arms over my chest, not wavering under his intimidating gaze.

It was unbearably hot in the room – whether that was from the tension of the game or the broken air conditioner (Price eternally insisted it would be fixed, “… by next week…”), I didn’t know. I was donned in my sweatpants and sports bra, Gaz was in a wife beater and sweats, Ghost was covered head to toe in a sweatshirt and jeans (one could ever rarely catch him wearing anything less), and Soap… well, Soap was Soap. Completely shirtless, with only a pair of gym shorts on. Typical for him to be so shameless.

Ghost looked at his cards, his jaw clearly tense underneath his mask. He wasn’t very good at hiding his unlucky hand – it was almost like he wasn’t even trying. Which was a possibility.

“Fucking hell… I fold.” He tossed his hand onto the table, revealing his sour bunch of cards. He walked to the fridge and cursed under his breath, rummaging through the contents.

“Jesus, you’re a load of dry shite.” Soap commented, leaning against the wall adjacent to Ghost. “You could’ve at least tried to intimidate ‘em.”

“You could try shutting your fucking mouth, alright?” Ghost snapped back. Soap raised his hands defensively, leaving Ghost by the fridge.

He flopped onto the couch near me and Gaz. “Miserable sap…”

I did my best to tune out their bickering. I stared down Gaz, tapping my fingers on the edges of my cards. I was relying on the river card – I had a chance at a four-of-a-kind, praying the last card on the table would be another seven.. It was risky, and Gaz was probably right in calling me stupid. But I was never one to back down from a challenge. I craved the thrill of it. Most of the time, I ended up getting lucky.

Gaz chewed his lip. He cocked an eyebrow, slowly pushing all of his cash to the middle of the table. “Call.” He said.

And I heard it – the telltale sign of his bluff. A fraction of a second where his voice had waivered, followed by him grinding his jaw. I knew I had it in the bag.

I was savoring the moment of triumph, watching Gaz stare at his cards, when I felt a hand on my back. I nearly spun around and yelled at whoever touched me, until I saw a gloved hand place a Yuengling bottle to my right, the lid already popped off. I faltered, staring at the bottle, feeling the hand on my back rubbing a thumb back and forth over my spine.

I glanced behind me, looking up to meet Ghost’s eyes. He was looking down at me with an empty gaze. His eyebrows twitched for a brief moment as he continued rubbing his thumb over the skin of my back.

I knew what he was suggesting. What he was asking. Put a woman on a compound with broken, touch-starved men, and eventually one of them will succumb to the temptation. Even so, I was shocked that it was Ghost. I would say he was showing a weakness here, no matter what he decided to call this – it was an admission that he needed something – something from me, specifically – which I never thought would happen.

He continued staring at me for another few moments, waiting for an answer. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I took the bottle and drank; my reply. He gave the tiniest nod, walking away and sitting down next to Soap – who was shuffling the remaining deck of cards, eyes narrowed at Gaz. He knew he was bluffing too.

I turned back to Gaz, smirking as he revealed the river card.

“You ever think about what you would say to those kids now?” I asked, tapping my beer bottle. “The ones who bullied you.”

Konig hummed. “Mm… not really. I don’t hold too much resentment.”

I chuckled. “If only we could all be a saint.”

“Well, it all happened so long ago.” Konig tried to justify himself. “We were only kids, bored and trying to stay on the surface. They just wanted to look tough so that no one would pick on them. Of course, I wouldn’t understand that as a kid. Maybe then, I would have admired what I’ve become, and I would have wanted to boast about it. But now that I am a Colonel – Ich habe besseres zu tun.”

I sarcastically rolled my eyes. “And that means?”

“Ehh…” he groaned, squinting his eyes. “How is it said… ‘I have bigger fishes to cook.’”

I sputtered, turning my head and laughing. Konig glared at me. “Gibt es ein Problem?” he asked, which I sort of understood. He sounded irritated, that much I could tell.

“No, Konig…” I said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I walked by. “Just keep up the English lessons, ok?”

He scowled. “Verpiss dich… Start learning German and maybe I will.” He retorted, and I waved at him dismissively from behind my back.

I stuck my head into the fridge, grabbing a Yuengling and one of Konig’s beers. I walked back and placed them both next to him. Like instinct, he took each one and hooked their lid onto the edge of the table, then smacked the side of his hand down on the tops, sending the lid clattering to the ground. He opened my beer and handed it to me, then repeated the process with his, before reaching down and collecting the lids. He added them to the pile, totaling six beer lids so far.

If someone had shown me this image a year ago – Konig and I, sitting up late into the night, chatting like we’d known each other for decades… not to mention the fact that I was so unusually open with him… I would have been insulted. I would have laughed. No one would have been able to convince me that I would become so attached to anyone else after what had happened with the 141. Yet, all of this felt so natural. It was beyond how I felt that Konig and I were kindred spirits… it really did feel like I’d known him before. Maybe, he reminded me of a part of myself that I tried to bury away.

Or, maybe, I was just submitting to loneliness and trying to justify how quickly I clung to the first available soul. That was also an embarrassing possibility, one that I would rather not admit to.

“I have a question for you.” Konig’s voice and the clink of his beer bottle on the table brought me back to reality.

“I might have an answer.” I replied.

He looked off to the side, perhaps wondering whether or not he really wanted to ask the question. “Who did you kill? And why?”

Just like that, I felt the walls being built right back to where I had them. Bonding time’s over. Back to square one.

His inquiry caught me off guard. I froze, my bottle hovering in the air before I could take a sip, my eyes glued to the table. Just the mention of the incident brought the painful memories up to the surface, like claws scraping at the dirt, digging up the deepest roots.

“Lots of people.” I said, deflecting. I took a swig of my beer.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffed. “Why did you end up in military prison?” He leaned over the table – clearly not planning on letting the topic go.

I sucked my teeth, staring at him defiantly – moments ago, it was pleasant talking to him. Now, I was fighting back the urge to leave him at the table and go to my dorm. I felt ambushed at how he had changed the subject so abruptly. Like he had been waiting for me to carelessly stumble into the trap, and now he was watching me snarl from within it.

He leaned back with a sigh. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just thought we were getting somewhere here.”

“Oh?” I said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. “’Getting somewhere?’ What’s that sup-“

“Hey, it’s ok.” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His words were forgiving, but his eyes said something else – I knew what he was thinking.

Weak.

I gave him a hateful stare. Fucker know how to play his cards.

“I killed a sergeant.” I admitted. “My lieutenant’s right-hand man.”

That got Konig’s attention. He leaned forward again, putting his bottle off to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes fell to the floor as I forced myself to recall the memories. “In Egypt, a while back. Don’t ask when because I won’t tell you.” I warned Konig, and he huffed – but obliged.

I continued. “We were going in to retrieve a hostile target. Everyone was jumpy – me included. It was dark, and we didn’t know what to expect. After the hostiles started to engage, we were scattered. I got stuck in one tower, so I went upstairs to try and make a foxhole.”

I paused. It was now my own hands, covered in dirt, clawing at the roots of the memory. Each word I said was painful, yet somehow felt overshared. Like I was trying to get Konig to pity me. Except I wasn’t – I just wanted him to listen.

And that’s exactly what he did. No comforting shoulder pat, no soothing words… he just listened. He knew that if he stepped on the wrong spot, it would break my openness, like a branch breaking under his foot would disturb the silence of the woods.

“The sergeant – ‘Flare’ – he was up there, too. I thought we’d had the same idea, but… holy fuck…” I ran a hand down my face, feeling my heartbeat grow faster. “At first, I didn’t know what he was doing, I just heard him making those sounds and I thought he’d been hit, but… he was taking advantage of this – this woman – and with her kids right fucking there… she was probably just trying to hide, to hide them, she had to be so fucking scared… he didn’t even stop when I found him, I don’t know if he even heard me screaming at him.”

I paused, almost waiting for Konig to say or do something, but he remained silent. Despite my eyes never leaving the floor, I could see his blue ones watching me carefully. Concerned, patient, and calm.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I said, my voice faltering the slightest bit. “So I shot him. In the head.” I unintentionally shivered. “Probably traumatized that poor woman and her kids, but… quick decisions aren’t the best ones.”

I ended my rant with a heavy sip of my beer. Konig continued watching me with wary eyes, which I ignored. I didn’t need consolation, or sympathy, or whatever he might try to offer. Somehow, he seemed to understand that.

“I would have done the same thing.” He commented.

Would you?

After a moment, he exhaled. “I don’t understand… I’d say you were in the right. Why did they put you in prison for that?”

I chewed my lip. “There was… some speculation, that I was jealous of his position. We’d been close throughout my time with the team, and when he got the promotion to second-in-command, I was a bit envious at first. People thought I was taking my anger out on him in what seemed like the perfect opportunity to lie.” I took another sip. “But I was happy for him. He worked hard, and he deserved it. But then the pressure got to him – Lieutenant was always depending on him for too much, and Flare couldn’t handle the responsibility. If he slipped up, it was a lot worse than if one of the rest of us did. I guess… the pressure is what got him in the end. Made him crazy in the end. He didn’t have any morals anymore.”

More silence. It felt uncomfortably loud – Konig’s stare seemed to make my head ring, making me fidget and bounce my knee. I wanted to snap at him. What are you looking at? Why are you asking so many fucking questions? But I was able to keep my anger at bay, justifying the situation by assuming his questions were fueled by nothing more than curiosity.

I figured I had said enough for the night, and finished off the rest of my beer. I slapped my leg, the telltale sign that I was getting ready to turn in.

Konig ignored it, or seemed to not notice. “Why did you kill him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why did I? What do you mean?”

“Why kill him? Why not just… disable him for the moment, and let your commander deal with him later?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was a second too late. “Again… in the heat of the moment, you don’t make distinctions like that. You think: ‘shoot,’ or ‘don’t shoot.’ And shooting him was the choice I made.”

Konig’s gaze became scrutinous. He knew I was lying about something… he was hellbent on figuring out what.

He’s going to have to wait a long damn time.

“Goodnight, Konig.” I said flatly. I collected my bottles, getting up from the table. With a clang, I tossed them into the bin by the exit, walking down the hall and leaving Konig sitting alone in the mess hall. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but that’s all they did. It’s all just water under the bridge, y/n. Get it together. You’re alright.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

[pepi1989]

Good luck with your surgery, hope everything goes well!! ❤️

I am starved of Ben content, so maybe something angsty about the reader being unsure if they are even compatible (maybe reader is a fellow Tennis player) and there is A LOT of chemistry and longing and Ben finalld convinced reader to give him a chance and their relationship a try? (I also love love love happy endings lol)

Again, good luck and love your writing!!

Hi love, thanks for the request 💖

More Than Just Chemistry - Ben Shelton

It’s not like you didn’t see it. The way Ben’s eyes found yours whenever you were near, how he’d throw that lazy, irresistible smile your way after a successful match, or even how his hand would linger just a little too long on your arm after a hug, like he was waiting for you to realize something.

But that was the problem: you did realize it.

It was impossible to ignore the chemistry, the way your heart raced every time you were around him, how even in the heat of competition, you felt like you were in sync with him, like somehow, in the world of chaos and schedules and matches, Ben Shelton just…fit.

Yet, the gnawing doubt in your chest remained.

Were you really compatible? Tennis wasn’t just a game for either of you; it was your life, your career. And as much as you admired Ben’s easygoing, playful nature, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was enough. Would the chemistry between you even hold up against the demands of a professional tennis life, or would it fizzle out like so many relationships before?

You sighed, tightening your grip on the racquet as you stood on the practice court, eyes flicking to Ben on the other side. He wasn’t even looking at you, but that only made it worse. How was he always so calm, so sure? Meanwhile, you were a mess of overthought, trapped in a whirlwind of what-ifs and maybes.

“Your serve.”

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you blinked, focusing on him. That smile was there again, teasing and warm, making your heart skip for the thousandth time. With a silent nod, you tossed the ball up, your mind not really on the game as the familiar routine carried you through the motion. You knew Ben could tell. He always did.

The ball landed out.

“Again.” His tone was light, but you could hear the concern laced beneath it.

Your chest tightened as you got ready to serve again, but this time, your hand faltered, and you just let the ball drop to the ground, unable to hold it together any longer.

“Hey.” Ben jogged over to you, the racquet hanging loosely in his hand as he stopped in front of you. “What’s going on? You’ve been off today.”

You swallowed, the tension building up until you felt like you might burst. But how could you tell him? How could you look into those bright eyes and admit that you were afraid you wouldn’t work, not because of him, but because of you?

“I just…” You trailed off, frustrated. Ben waited, patient as always, but you knew that look. He wasn’t going to let you walk away from this conversation. “I’m not sure we’re compatible,” you blurted, and the words hung in the air, heavier than you had imagined.

His brow furrowed, and for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “You’re not sure we’re compatible?”

You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to be brave, to put it all out there. “I mean, look at us, Ben. You’re so laid-back, you always know what you want, and you make everything look so easy. But me… I’m overthinking everything. And tennis, this is our life. How do we fit something like this into all of that?”

Ben stared at you for a moment, his jaw tight. You could tell he was trying to process it all, trying to find the right words. “You think we don’t fit?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “Maybe we’re just good on paper. Maybe it’s just…chemistry.”

“Just chemistry?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it, only disbelief. “You think what we have is just chemistry?”

You looked away, the ache in your chest growing heavier by the second. “Ben, I don’t know what we have, okay? I know there’s something between us, but it’s complicated. You have your career, I have mine, and I don’t want to ruin that. What if we try, and it doesn’t work?”

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “What if it does work?”

His words were simple, but they hit you hard. What if it did? What if everything you were afraid of was just that, fear? But how could you take that leap?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, eyes searching his for an answer.

Ben’s expression softened, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours. “You’re not going to hurt me. I’m a big boy, I can handle a lot more than you think. But you know what I can’t handle?” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “The thought of not even giving this a chance. You feel it, don’t you?”

Your heart pounded. Of course, you felt it. Every second you were around him, you felt it. But was that enough?

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” His voice was soft, reassuring. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not asking for a perfect relationship, or for us to have it all figured out right now. I’m just asking for a chance. We’ll figure the rest out along the way.”

The sincerity in his voice made you feel like the ground beneath you was shifting, your doubts slowly crumbling under the weight of his words. Could it really be that simple? Just…trying?

You looked up at him, your heart in your throat. “Okay,” you said, the word falling from your lips before you had the chance to overthink it again. “Let’s try.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like the world had paused, holding its breath as you made that choice. Then, in the next instant, Ben’s face broke into that smile, the one that made your knees weak every single time.

“You won’t regret this,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms with a grin so full of relief that it made your own doubts seem foolish.

And suddenly, just like that, the tension, the uncertainty, everything you’d been holding onto so tightly…it all fell away. In Ben’s arms, you didn’t have to have all the answers. You didn’t have to know what was going to happen tomorrow or a month from now. For once, you let yourself be in the moment, trusting that what you had was more than just chemistry.

Maybe you didn’t have it all figured out yet. Maybe there would be bumps along the way, and sure, tennis would always be a priority for both of you. But you knew this now, you fit. Not just on the court, but off it too.

And as Ben pulled back to look at you, his forehead resting against yours with that same soft smile, you felt a sense of peace. “We’re going to be just fine,” he whispered.

You smiled, finally letting yourself believe it. “Yeah, we are.”

[jm-2406]

Just a ring.

Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”

Pairing - Theodore Nott x reader; Male OC x reader.

Word count - 2150.

Warnings - infidelity, flashbacks in italics, grown up theo & reader.

Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business wizard like Theodore Nott who hailed from a high class pure blood family, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.

He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.

“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I'm sorry Mr. Nott, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”

Theodore eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Theodore kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay Riya. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.

Theodore turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy to hear your rambling right now.”

[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Theodore.”

“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.

“He knows…”

“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”

“Alex… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”

Theodore kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He has asked me to marry him.”

Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.

“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.

He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.

After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.

It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Alex had been having a lot of arguments around that time.

“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.

“I know babe but this is urgent.” Alex said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.

“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”

“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”

“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Alex took his briefcase and apparated.

There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherin guys from a year above her. She had never interacted with him outside of the classes. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.

Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Alex thus she became addicted.

Over time, their pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Alex maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Theodore.

After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Theodore had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Alex, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.

They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I love you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders, apparating away.

She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.

Truth to be told, when Alex had found Theodore's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Alex opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.

“I… I need time, Alex.”

Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.

A week later -

[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.

“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.

She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Theodore was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Theodore…”

He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the plain gold band that sat there.

“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.

“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.

The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.

“Where is your engagement ring?”

“I… I must have forgotten it.”

“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Alex questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.

“How are you doing, Codnor?” Another voice interrupted the couple. Alex cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.

“How did you even enter, Nott? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave before I kick you out.”

Theodore smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Alex had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.

“I know I wasn't invited, Codnor, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”

Before she could think, Alex punched Theodore, hard… and a fight started between the two. Alex's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Theodore back that he stopped. Even though Alex was almost as tall as Theodore, he was no match for his muscles and strength.

“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Alex pleaded.

“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Theodore was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Alex. I don't deserve you.”

Alex scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and disgust he was feeling at her.

[Y/N] turned to Theodore. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Theodore pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.

“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.

THE END.

Note - i have written a Tommy Shelby version of this one, you can find it here if you are interested. I thought this one screams “Theo” so why not make a Theo version too.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, minor mention of sex.

Word Count: 412

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart in the bathroom at Gino's where you admitted you've been putting up an emotional wall between the two of you. Tony decided it was time for another game of 'What the 'F' Was It?' (thanks for the inspo for that, weed!), and when you and Bucky went to leave to go back to the Tower for some... quality time, Jade was not pleased. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to watch Bucky rebuff her.

A/N: Very, very short part today, friends. I am going to fully confess that I am lulling you into a false sense of security in these next two parts before I start lobbing shit at the fan with a rocket launcher.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

With Jade away in Malaysia, things between you and Bucky finally felt like they were going back to normal. Yes, you had your hands full making final preparations for your board presentation, but Bucky was constantly by your side, bringing you lunch, cheering you on, making sure you took appropriate breaks and ending your workday at an appropriate time so you weren’t wearing yourself too thin. 

And the sex? Yeah, that was right back on track.

Before you knew it, the day of your presentation had arrived. You were a nervous wreck. In the lab, you were confident, willing to take chances, assert your authority with ease and confidence, but presenting in front of a group of stuffy, predominantly middle-aged white men? All of that went right out the window. 

“You’ve got this, sweets,” Bucky said as you both stood outside the board room. 

“What if they hate it, Buck?” you murmured, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “What if the presentation’s terrible?”

“Hey,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to hold you still, “I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone. You’ve worked so hard on this, and you know it works. It’s gonna save so many lives. You’ve practiced this presentation inside and out; I bet you could do it in your sleep. I’m so fucking proud of you, doll.”

You managed a weak smile. “Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked gently. “That way, you get nervous with all those stodgy old men in front of you, you can just look at this old man and pretend it’s just you and me. Just like we’re practicing up in our room.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! Oh god, yes, please! Thank you so much, Buck.” You kissed him quickly on the lips, the idea of being able to stare into his ocean-blue eyes as you went through your presentation instantly calming you and filling you with a sense of security. “I love you.”

He chuckled and squeezed your shoulders. “I love you, too, doll. And this is the least I can do for you, after everything you’ve done for me.”

The door to the board room opened before you could say more to one another. A secretary smiled when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/L/N),” she said, “they’re ready for you now.”

You took a deep breath. “Here we go,” you said before taking Bucky’s hand and walking inside.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[claudemblems]

More William cause why not ;)

Prompt: placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered

Content: Includes the tiniest bit of spice but still very much sfw! Very fluffy :3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sometimes William wondered what would end up being the death of him first: his line of work or your teasing.

Grading papers proved to be quite the difficult task, even more so when his skin was being littered with a myriad of kisses, each one more tantalizing than the last.

What was even worse was that he didn't want it to stop.

"Darling, don't you think you can save the affection for after I'm finished here?" William asked with a shaky breath, closing his eyes in an effort to ground himself. "I have to get all this homework graded by the end of the week."

He felt your lips curve into a smile against him, his skin becoming covered in goosebumps. "So you have until the end of the week to take care of it. Surely you wouldn't be spending every minute pouring over these papers. You can set aside time for a much-needed break, can't you?"

Oh, he could, especially if it meant he could feel your lips on him for even longer.

But he had to focus. It would be irresponsible for him to procrastinate on something he could finish right away. Besides, if he found himself head first in another murderous scheme, he'd have no no leisure time left for at least the next several days. Then, he'd be unable to return that week's homework to his students, and the university staff would not be pleased.

But William was pleased having your lips trail lingering kisses along his jaw, so maybe, just maybe, those papers could wait...

His mind began to grow hazy as you kissed along his nape, and every nerve in his body felt like it was being set alight. It was as if his very senses had gone haywire, your affections sending him into overdrive.

"Love, I know you want my attention but I—!"

A tiny gasp left his mouth as you kissed just below his ear, and though he was facing away from you, he could picture the grin on your face as clear as day.

"Oh, I can wait, William," you whispered against the shell of his ear, grinning even wider when he shivered, "but can you?"

He was not going to have a productive day after all.

Admitting defeat, William dropped his pen onto his desk, pushing the stack of papers into a messy pile in the corner before he turned to you and opened his arms, extending an invitation for you to sit in his lap. You took it, of course, all while wearing a proud smile.

He settled his hands onto your waist before leaning in for a kiss, sighing in a dramatic fashion. "You will be the end of me. That I am sure of."

"Well, would that really be such a bad way to go?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and sneaking in another kiss there. "Being drowned in kisses from the one you adore?"

"If that is how my life should end," William replied, "I'd die the happiest man in all of London."

"Is that so?"

"But then again, if I'm dead, how will I be able to enjoy your tender affections?"

"I wonder if the people of London would still call you a terrifying criminal mastermind if they found out just how sappy you are."

"Ah, but it is all part of the plan, my darling. If I scare off all the potential suitors, I shall be the only one left for you to gaze at."

"As if I could ever love another."

William smiled, burrowing himself into the crook of your neck. "If you keep saying such things, you'll be found guilty of stealing my heart."

"Well then," you said, threading your fingers through his hair, "I suppose that makes two of us."

"Hmm. If I'm in a good mood, I won't turn you into the police."

You replied with an over-the-top gasp that made William smile. "You would never turn me in!"

"There's always the chance, but I'd be willing to bargain to keep your crime a secret."

"And how could I buy your silence?"

He laughed against you, the sound reverberating in your own chest. "Well..." And then he looked up at you with those soft, gentle eyes, ones that shone with a mixture of mischief and innocence, "I can't admit your crime if my lips are too busy returning your kisses, but I'll let you decide if that offer is enticing enough to accept."

[timidxtempted]

Why shouldn't I be able to ignore my sub? They're an adult.

That was an ask that I just saw on someone else's blog, and I am not willing to add to that post. But I also can't just let it go.

I am too fucking angry. And that's gotta go somewhere.

I'm just going to start by saying that my personal experience came before I ever identified as a submissive, and the relationship I was in was not in any way a dynamic.

I was ignored. Daily. For much longer than I would like to admit to before I finally got the fuck out. I mean ignored in any way that you would care to define the word.

Wanna know what that did to me, a fully adult person?

Here are a few of the highlights:

By the end, I felt less valuable than the furniture in my house. My self esteem was so shot that it took my best friend moving in with me and constantly reminding me that I was, in fact, a human person worthy of far more than the most basic of respects to even make a dent in the gaping hole where my self worth used to be.

I stopped speaking. I don't mean I stopped trying to be noticed. I mean I stopped speaking. My words didn't matter. So I stopped using them.

I became convinced that the reason he ignored me was that I really was too much. Too needy. Too clingy. I talked too much. I felt too much. Everything about me was literally too much. And as such, I worked daily to reduce myself to the nothing I felt I was.

Do you have any idea how much work has gone into reversing that damage in the ensuing years?

Fast forward to now.

I am submisive. Knowing that about myself, and living through what I did...

I can not even imagine the added damage that being ignored would do in the context of of a dynamic. To entrust myself to someone that could do that? It breaks my heart to think that anyone would be treated like that in any relationship, let alone one that by it's very nature requires consistent, open communication and connection, along with the safe space to express yourself in all your vulnerable fucking glory.

But here's the thing that I am so fucking angry about now, in this moment right here.

I still fight it.

I still fucking have to fight it.

And that is not fucking fair. Sure, it's not fair to me... but more than that it's not fucking fair for my partner, my dominant, that I still have to fight those feelings. He has not given me any fucking reason to have them. And I am so fucking mad that he has to deal with the fallout at times for issues he not only did not create, but has been helping to heal.

I should never have had to be scared to be who I am, even if who I am can be too much at times.

I should never have had to be scared to open my mouth and speak, even if what I say is too emotional or needy.

And I should never have had to be so afraid of quiet that I spin out.

I'm fucking proud of being able to help myself through the feelings, and for trying to better recognize them for what they are, even if I can't always knock them back fully.

And I am very fucking proud of myself for doing, or talking about, or asking for help with the things that I'm scared of, even if I should never have had to be scared of them in the first place.

So to any of you wanna-be d-types out there thinking like the anonymous question asker...

No.

You can't just ignore your sub.

Because you don't fucking deserve one.

Post script...

...Because this hurt and I'm going to end this on a positive note. For me.

I am learning the difference between quiet and silence. Turns out quiet can be pretty fucking fun.

[dibidibidismynameisleeknow]

Twelve Days of Mingyu 🎄 9/12

Day 9 - Baking

Only three more days to go. Thanks for sticking around. Click ✨here✨ for the other 8 days

Somewhere between a quizzical expression and a blank stare was where your facial expression fell when Mingyu asked you to look up the ingredients for eggnog - mid shopping trip.

“You don’t know the ingredients that you need? Have you ever done this before?”

“It can’t be that hard. I can cook.” 

“Cooking and making eggnog are not the same thing.”

You read off the ingredients while Mingyu shopped for the items. Hopefully the recipe you found on Google was a good one, you really had no reference to go off of. The most you could do was hope that the eggnog would turn out better than the pre baked cookies you two decorated. If there was one thing you admired about Mingyu it’s that he’s determined and always willing to try something new. 

“You underestimate me, dear. Remember our ice skating adventure? You had fun!” You kindly reminded him that the night ended with a sprained ankle for you, which wasn’t that much fun. “I am still so sorry about that. I honestly thought you had better coordination than that.”

“Me too.”

“And to think you were worried about me.” 

Mingyu drove the two of you back to your apartment because “you have the nicer kitchen.” It was enticing to watch him work, the way he moved around your apartment so effortlessly, so familiar, like it was somewhere he belonged the whole time, he even had an apron that stayed hung up in your pantry.

“Is everything okay?” Mingyu asked. “You're staring.”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” 

How you fit into my life perfectly, like you were always meant to be a part of my life. 

“Just about how handsome you look doing something you enjoy so much.” 

How you’ve become such a crucial person in my life that it terrifies and excites me.

“You’re doing it again.” With the way you’d been zoning out lately, Mingyu knew there was something on your mind, but he didn’t want to pry, he knew you’d come around when you were ready and was more than willing to wait. 

Mingyu finished up making the eggnog while you got started on an angel food cake. It took longer to decide what to do with the leftover egg whites than it did to actually make the beverage. Now, there was an absurd amount of eggnog and a random cake, but at least nothing went to waste. 

“We work so well together,” Mingyu noted as he came up behind you to assist with the cake. “A couple that can bake together stays together.” He placed his hands over yours to help fold the cake mixture together.

“Mingyu, I know how to-”

“I know you do. I’m trying to be romantic, I just want to hold you.” 

“I can’t turn down that offer.” 

More often than not, the end of the Twelve Date of Christmas was your favourite part, unless it meant saying goodnight to Mingyu. The activities were so scattered over the availability the two of you had that it sometimes made it difficult to plan something, and it was tough not knowing when you’d be able to see Mingyu next. You were just getting ready to say your goodbyes to each other when he decided to speak up about your sometimes ‘off’ behaviour.

“I just want you to know that I know something is on your mind, so whenever you’re ready to talk about it I’m here.” 

You fought an internal battle of finding the right words and wanting to admit to what was on your mind, you could always tell him to read the back of the painting you gave him, it accurately summed up the words you were struggling to say.

“Can you stay the night?”

“I’d love to.”

[daynascullys]

the tortured poets department

i have thoughts!! surprising, right?? this is for anyone who cares to read them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Before you read, note that this is going to be critical of things, so let me just start by saying I have loved and listened to Taylor since I was 8, so none of it is said lightly or without careful thought (in fact, this took me absurdly long to write). Most of the issues I have are very near to my heart, actually, so I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. If you don't want to read criticism, then just don't read more. DISCLAIMER that I did my best, but not even this fully captures the nuance I feel able my own opinions lol I recognize the other sides and points, I really do. I hold many conflicting opinions.

The short version is I will always love her music and her voice and she is capable of writing absolutely gorgeous lyrics (dare I say poetry?). I don't tend to think too much about the sound of it because if I like the sound, it's all I really care about—maybe it sounds the same as other stuff, but if I like that other stuff, I don't really care about whether she branches out or not. I think it's great and interesting when she (or anyone) does, but I also don't like change so it doesn't matter to me the way I know it matters to some people. That's just me!

What gets more complicated for me is the narrative, themes, and general trends that have been more prominent the last year or so, and that's what the rest of my thoughts are. It's me enjoying the music while also being acutely aware of all the grief tangled up in it because of how much less connected I feel in many ways.

Side note: this got soooo much longer than even I expected and it still just scratches the surface! so if you decide to read, 1. thank you, and 2. I'd love to keep talking to you. 🤍

———————————————————— 💭

I am an overthinker (shocking!) and will for sure be annoyed that I can't think of each and every thing I think about this album, but this is what comes to mind right now. Some things that have stood out to me more and more with each release:

a tendency to write self-aware lyrics that, in trying to be self-aware, betray somewhat of a lack of self-awareness

a frustration with never growing up that she expresses while also not realizing the way she is complicit in that and her own refusal to grow up

considering herself the victim, particularly after "overcoming" the accusations that she always plays the victim

venturing more boldly into the territory of serious mental illness/suicidal ideation/mental health treatment despite demonstrating a fair amount of ignorance regarding those things in the past

fame going to her head (in the sense of her becoming further and further out of touch) and the entitlement in a lot of the more immature attitudes that come across in these songs

self-awareness: for me, the first example that comes to mind is Anti-Hero: "it's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me." It's a claim at self-awareness because she's poking fun at the fact that she knows people always say "maybe she's the problem." The reason why it feels to me like it exposes a lack of self-awareness is because she explores it mostly as a criticism to overcome and not a valid point of self-reflection. @jakeperalta's tags on her post explain it better than I do. Yes, there's an issue when you reduce every feeling to "well maybe she's the problem," but part of growth is admitting that maybe you are part of the problem and coming to terms with the fact that there is often some inevitable truth to that statement—and being willing to work on it. This example is from Midnights, but I think it ties into the next point.

immaturity/never growing up: I actually think these first two sections are just two parts of one section, but it's easier to read this way anyway. There are lots of references to not growing up on this album, the first that come to mind being "So High School" and "teenage petulance." Maybe it's just me, but as a 34-year-old woman, I wouldn't want to be feeling "so high school." I mean, as a 25-year-old, when I talk about feeling like my high school self, it's usually because I'm recognizing how limited my judgment and self-awareness was in high school (despite all the therapy and my efforts to be self-aware in high school). And I am aware of my own bias here—I absolutely hate the football game days because I didn't even like watching people act like that in high school, but at least they were high schoolers—but I do think part of what we've seen is Travis allowing her to be more immature and take less responsibility because that's also where he is at. Obviously I don’t speak to it with any authority since I don't know what happened in the relationship, but based on her behaviors and what I know about Joe (which is VERY little), I kind of get the feeling that part of what she didn't like about being with Joe is that he pushed her to grow. "Your integrity makes me seem small," etc. etc., but not in an “I want to grow” way, but not liking that feeling because she shouldn't have to feel small just because she wants to be able to only do what makes her happy. Just looking at the difference in her behavior and the fact that it seems like she's stopped trying to learn (Miss Americana-ish), it seems like she very much resents the responsibility that comes with being such a famous person and mainly considers herself a victim of her fame.

victimhood: to an extent, yes, she is a victim of her fame. No one should have that much fame and power, and of course she didn't sign up for it in this way. But wanting to have the kind of influence and reach that most artists desire is intertwined with fame. There isn't a way to separate it (in an ideal world, maybe, but that isn't what we're dealing with) and it's something that, to some degree, artists do sign up for. And I think she resents that she's expected to take any sort of responsibility for anything that she doesn't want to do, in a very, "but that's not fair!," teenage petulance kind of way. She even says in Sweet Nothing that "I'm just too soft for all of it." We're all too soft for all of it, but that doesn't mean we get to ignore it. It bothers me that she doesn't seem to feel any sort of responsibility to use this giant platform to do better. Everyone is aware of her influence, including her. I think that's part of the grief. No, it is not her job to use her platform for good, but I thought that it was something she valued and something she wanted. The other line that really stuck out to me was from Cassandra: "They say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?" You may be a victim of what doesn't kill you, but if it becomes who you are, that's not their fault. It reminds me a bit of the exhaustion of living with mental illness. For me in particular, it affects my relationships in a very fundamental way, and there are days that I sob because I am exhausted of things that are so normal being so, so difficult for me... but even though I didn't ask for it and it's not fair that this happened to me, it's still my responsibility to understand how my issues affect how I show up in relationships. It's still my problem, even though it isn't my fault that it's my problem. And if you're lucky, you find really beautiful people who are willing to help you and see that it's not their responsibility, but they want to make it easier for you—I recognize how lucky I am to have some people like that, but it never makes it anyone else's problem. If they decide one day it's not their problem, the truth is that it isn't (and then there's a more complex conversation about what you want to do to preserve a relationship). This is also very connected to something about Kate Beckett/why I identify with that character, and I can touch on that if anyone wants to know, but I don't really have cohesive thoughts about that prepared (it makes more sense if you already know the character). This also goes to other things, like her being upset that people always focus on who songs are about while ignoring the part she played in feeding that culture (like with secret messages).

mental health: this goes to a bigger discussion of how we turn to celebrities who are HIGHLY unqualified to have opinions on things for guidance (the nuance of the above discussion about using your platform), but the more she ventures into the discussion of mental illness, the more upset I get by some remarks she has made in the past. And yes, people grow, she may not feel this way anymore, but nothing in her behavior gives me any reason to believe that she doesn't still have this attitude. This is one that I know I have to be careful of because of how personal it is for me (I've been placed on a 5150 "danger to self" hold and I am a therapist), but one interview that has always made me so upset is that one where she talks about how she's never been to therapy, then ends it by saying "I feel like we just had a therapy session." She has said multiple times how she has never wanted to go to therapy when she has her mom, who already knows everything about her. And that is highly irritating to me because 1. that's why she's your MOM, not your THERAPIST, and 2. there's already so much stigma and apprehension around therapy and many people feel this way, so to have someone like Taylor Swift validate all the people who say "I'd rather talk to someone who already knows me" or "so and so is my therapist" is unbelievably frustrating. There's a reason it's unethical to treat people you know—that isn't therapy. And I think I wouldn't be so bothered by it if she didn't speak about it with such authority, like she knows what she's talking about when what she's saying shows that she doesn't (edit: this is specifically in regard to therapy, not mental illness. I am highly aware that anyone can be mentally ill). The other thing about this album is that it does seem to be an album about loving people with mental illness, and I've already seen a lot of interpretations that simply feed the narrative that people with mental illness are unlovable and mental illness is the reason people mistreat you (particularly the discussion about her lovers being blue all the time). And the issue with that is it's already a common misconception among people with mental illness, that their mental illness is an excuse or reason why they don't treat people right. It's disrespectful to the people who recognize that they have a mental illness that affects how they interact with others and choose to try to overcome it. I'm all for honest discussions about mental illness, but it's so disheartening when it happens on such a large scale and some of the loudest voices are people who don't know enough to know how to (at least try to) do no harm.

fame: I'm not really going to go into it because this has already turned out way longer than I meant for it to, but also because I feel like it's already been touched on. For me, it's the conversation about her feeling she should be able to just do what she wants. I think we all feel that way, but because of her fame and the fact that she's just about untouchable (as shown in how she came back from being cancelled), she can just tune everyone out. But one example was how uneasy I felt about this album being announced at the grammys. For one thing, it's not a fan-voted award, so even if it should, it doesn't feel the same. And regardless of your take on award shows, I do think it showed a level of insensitivity to the other artists who haven't won a bunch of grammys to decide that she would announce a new album at the grammys. Because even if she had a backup plan and said she didn't plan on it, the truth is that, to decide to have a backup plan, you did have to count on it happening, at least to an extent. You had to feel it was likely enough that you wanted to have a back up plan just in case, but it probably would go the way you wanted. To me, it just felt so... disrespectful. Because for many other artists, it doesn't happen more than once. (not to mention the many other things happening that got completely overshadowed, like Annie Lennox calling for a ceasefire)

So if you read all that... I don't even know what the point is at this point. These are just thoughts that, to me, don't feel right to simply ignore. I know there's an argument that you can enjoy music without enjoying where it came from, and it's true to an extent, but I also think part of the music is where it comes from. So... I don't know. Do with that what you will. And if you are reading this, I love you (I can't believe you're reading this).

[julieverne]

"Lie to me!" Jane demanded.

Maura eyed her uneasily, aware that her inappropriate histamine response to dishonesty might simply be psychosomatic. But psychosomatic illnesses were real illnesses; the automic functions of the body were more complicated than previous studies had been able to ascertain, and she wasn't willing to have a potentially life-threatening histamine event in the middle of her work day.

"I love your new jacket," Maura said sweetly. "Especially the fringe." No hives. She was safe.

Jane gasped in horror, then chuckled.

"Just messin' with ya," Jane said, the casual way she operated driving Maura nuts. The way Jane felt the consistency of their relationship was never at stake, the way she trusted that Maura would put up with her.

"I find myself overwhelmingly attracted to you, especially when you test the boundaries of our relationship," Maura said, and Jane chuckled again.

"Good one."

Even though Maura could lie now, it was a truth that had slipped out, and it was relief she felt, the weight off her chest almost more than telling Arthur how hurt she'd been, how stuck and lost she'd been, keeping his secret.

She'd kept her own for far too long.

"I've been considering bending you over my desk and giving you a good spanking every time you prank me."

Jane's eyebrows shot up. "Violence, Doctor Isles? Very unseemly."

Jane got a text and headed out.

"I'm not in love with Jane Rizzoli." Maura checked her chest in her purse mirror. No hives. And Jane's shocked face behind her.

"I, uh. I left my..." Jane pointed at her badge, which had fallen off her belt when she flipped down in Mauras chair. "You were - you were done with the lies, weren't you?" Carefully Jane slid her badge back into her belt, paying more attention than was necessary for the simple task.

"Do you want me to lie to you?" Maura asked, and Jane didn't look up from her belt.

"It'd be easier if you did," Jane admitted, all her bravado gone.

"Then - sure. I was done with lying." Maura's chest ached. She'd as much as told her truth, but Jane didn't want to hear it.

"Hives. Maura, hives." Jane sounded panicked and Maura looked down at her chest. Oh. Apparently that sort of lie would set her off. Jane came to the desk and pulled out the antihistamines Maura took when she had a flare, pouring her some water.

Jane handed both over and watched anxiously as Maura drank, one hand already rubbing her chest and throat against the rising itch.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to lie. Not about that. Not at all. Not after everything you've already been through." Jane pulled the calamine lotion from the drawer Maura kept it in and loaded up a cotton bud for her. Maura dabbed gently at her skin. Jane watched her carefully, hovering close in case she was needed, aware she'd caused this.

"And I'm sorry my feelings are so inconvenient to you," Maura said stiffly, monitoring herself carefully for signs of respiratory distress.

"They're not. I mean, they are right now, I have a case to work, but they're not inconvenient. You're not inconvenient. I was just hoping I could get away with fooling myself a bit longer."

"Fooling yourself how?"

"Fooling myself into thinking there was anyone else for me."

"Jane. If you're pranking me again, I swear to God..."

"As much as I absolutely wouldn't mind letting you spank me, we're at work, and I have a case. Maura. Don't lie to me."

"I'm attracted to you in a way you don't want me to be."

"There's still a lie in there. It's not the whole truth."

"Where?" Maura was confused. She'd told the truth.

Jane closed the door to Maura's office, then checked that the morgue was empty.

"What if I wanted you to be?"

"Be what?"

"Attracted to me the way I am to you?" Jane's eyes were still on Maura's chest, and Maura checked the mirror. The hives had faded away.

"Lie to me, Jane."

"I've never once thought about marrying you. I definitely didn't feel anything awaken in me when you talked about spanking me. I'm not in love with you." Jane let out a deep breath. "Whoof. Been holding that in for a while."

"How do I know you're lying?" Maura narrowed her eyes; Jane didn't have an easy tell like Maura did. "How do I know this isn't another prank?"

Jane stepped forward, cupping Maura's chin, searching her eyes as she leaned in. Maura didn't stop her or pull away, wanting it to be true too much. Jane's pranks weren't this cruel. They weren't this brave. They weren't Jane's surprisingly soft lips against Maura's mouth, they weren't Jane's hands holding her like she mattered if she didn't.

"Okay?" Jane asked, pulling away slowly, her eyes lidded with residual longing.

There were many things Maura could say. A simple no would put Jane in her place. A yes would set them on a new course. There was so much tension between them now, where their bodies stiffly held each other apart, aware that they were at work and to give any quarter would be to give a mile and end up dry humping up against the door behind Jane.

"Okay?" There was a mild panic in Jane's eyes now. "No lies. I'm into you."

"Not right now you're not, but if you finish up this case early enough, you could be tonight."

With that Maura opened the door behind Jane and released her back into the precinct, watching as she stumbled, bemused, on unsteady legs to the elevator.

[shattersstar]

Bestie it is me, the anon from a couple of days ago, many mutual kisses for my favorite tumblr writer!!! I am a teensy weensy (read: very much) cross faded and was wondering if you would be willing to write just a little thing with the “desperate kiss in the rain” prompt from the list featuring Jason Todd or Adrian Tepes? I feel the need to be In My Feelings about fictional romance lmao

ghost of love

pairing: jason todd x reader

prompt: a desperate kiss in the rain

a/n: wrote this stoned lmaoo so twins <3 and thank u for the request ur so kinddd im actually p happy with this so here goes my first fic of 2023 besties. feedback is always appreciated!!!

—

Ghost of love bound unto your name

So it be running through my veins

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Guess I wanted too much

—

Spring had made its way to Gotham, snow melting into slush and flooding the streets as the days grew longer and the winter chill started to recede. It crept into the past as singing birds and allergies were to come. It was supposed to be a time of happiness, of excitement for warmth before the general population complained about the heat plaguing the city in a few months time. But Jason watched the rain that had cleansed the city for a week already with certain disdain.

His apartment was silent save the rain’s ambiance—it hadn’t been this quiet in ages. Hadn’t been so hollow and empty since you came into his life. A presence to warm the space even when you sat in silence scrolling through your phone. Or when you cooked and hummed to yourself or when you took phone calls in his bedroom and didn’t think he could hear you sing his praises. It should’ve made his heart swell, flattered by your adoration of him, and yet it made Jason anxious. Nausea flowering in his throat at the sounds of your lies on his behalf, covering up the life he lead all while admitting how deeply you felt for him. He had heard that phone call so many times, a quick tangent usually, but it stuck with him nonetheless.

It was those moments—sweet and tender—he turned into something dark, twisted. The way you unabashedly reached for his hand at the grocery store, or called his name in a room full of people felt…wrong. You weren’t supposed to be like this with him, no one was. Jason didn’t deserve such kind words and outward gestures of love, and you didn’t deserve to be trapped with him. Stuck in something that could never really be anything. You were too good for Gotham and for him. He had always known it, tried to ignore it and just dwell in the bliss that came from being with you, but his guilt was stronger. More consuming than the feelings he had for you. It made breaking your heart painful, but a necessity.

He wasn’t yours to love, to have. He had said those words to you, “I’m not for you to love, or to be with. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep playing house anymore. This isn’t my life. You aren’t.”

His voice was cold, empty as he spoke. You couldn’t hide the hurt in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “Then go.” It was all you were able to muster, standing in your apartment as he let himself out without another word.

He wanted to add it was because he loved you, but it felt cruel. He had to remind himself he wasn’t yours to love. Jason wasn’t for anyone.

And he believed his words, for weeks on end he told himself over and over again that he made the right decision. Threw himself into work and tried to burn you from his memory with violence and power. Jason ignored what headlines you might see—what you might think of him. He had never let himself care before, you told him what he did with that life was not for you to be apart of if he choose to keep you separate. You said it casually, with a shrug like Jason was supposed to know. Know that respect and privacy he could never ask from someone was being offered freely.

Jason supposed you’d keep your word, keep your distance from the bloody and chaotic side of his life despite him leaving you. You were good like that, honest and uncompromising when you needed to be. It made him smile despite the torrential downpour, knowing there was something good still in Gotham. Something—someone worth fighting for.

Yet, as something akin to peace washed over Jason, fate played its hand and it sent him reeling. A notification lit up his phone sitting on the kitchen table. It drew his attention away from the window he had been staring out of for a while, compelling him across the room and to read the two words that broke his heart.

I’m moving. A message you sent a minute ago, two words hanging in the ether that left Jason short of breath. He had already lost you, but this was like sand slipping through his fingers all while a tsunami rushed the shore. It made his stomach knot and guilt trickled into his chest like a steady stream. You couldn’t leave the city you had made a life in because of him. Because of the pain he caused you—no that grief, that guilt, would swallow him whole. Devour him till he was nothing, but bone to burn to ash one day.

Jason was out of his apartment in record time, not dawned in his suit, but enough tactical wear to hop across rainy rooftops safely. He ignored the chill of the rain that drenched him in mere minutes, he slicked his wet hair back and regretted his leather jacket as he landed an apartment over from yours. He huffed out a few breaths, calves flexing and whining from the amount of work he just put them through to get here. Jason steadied his breathing as best he could, grappling over the alleyway and to his surprise, landing right behind you. You were next to a small pigeon coop someone kept on the roof, the stretching piece of plywood was a makeshift roof you just fit under. You had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the bottom corner wet with rain water likely from the puddles on the roof.

He let out a sigh that caught your attention. You glanced over your shoulder before your face fell. Your phone was still in your hands and Jason wondered if you texted him because you were up here. Staring out into the city and thinking of him as he was you. “You’re moving.” He found himself saying, more accusatory than he intended, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when desperation wafted off of him in waves.

“Yeah, I just…can’t with this city anymore.” You turned fully, you had never looked so small before. So withered and tired. You look like you had been crying recently and Jason’s resolved weakened. He assured himself that cutting you out of his life was right, to save you pain in the long run, but the pain you wore so clearly now was a gut punch. It was wrenching and Jason didn’t know what to say to fix anything.

“When?” He asked instead.

“Not sure, Im gonna stay with a friend in another city for a bit before I figure everything out. Think I have someone to take over my lease so…” The idea of someone else living here made his head spin. This space was an extension of you—he could see your interest in what you hung up on your walls, your love in the plants littered around the space, your happiness in the smell of food mixing with the candles you burned and even your old grumpy cat belonged to this space as much as you did. It was one of the only places in Gotham Jason could…breathe. Think or not think and he was losing that and you—

“No.” He gritted through his teeth.

“No?” That wasn’t meant for your ears, he was trying to silence his own thoughts. He cursed to himself and turned away from you, rain soaking his face as his only then remembered it was pouring. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you that text…I think I knew you’d show up here—I’m sorr—“

“No.” This time it was for you, even if he still refused to face you, let you see the regret plain on his face. “I don’t want you to leave Gotham like this…not because of me.”

“I know, and I wish I could stay, but Jay its too hard. Being here and trying to move on is killing me.” You were calm, calmer than he anticipated. He wanted anger, he wanted you to throw his words in your face, scold him for showing up when he was the one that forced you away. And yet, you tried to apologize and were being honest with him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to stay, but I’m sorry for how I ended things. You don’t—didn’t—deserve any of this.” Jason was never one to admit his wrongs, but this was the end of something that meant everything to him once. He couldn’t let you go with resentment between you two. You let a beat of silence pass, eyes fallen to the ground between your bodies as you processed his words. Your brows pulled together and you took a step closer to him. You weren’t out in the rain yet, but stood close enough to the edge to make sure your words hit him clearly.

“What did you mean by that? Didn’t deserve…what? What we had before? Didn’t deserve a good relationship? Didn’t deserve to be happy? I know I don’t deserve how you’ve treated me since, like I never existed, but what didn’t I deserve before? You?” Your tone was jaded, it wasn’t angry, but hurt. It made the knot in his stomach twist, his heart wrenching at the thought of you undeserving of good things. It was all you deserved, it was all he wanted for you.

Jason whipped around as he spoke, breathless before the words even left his mouth, “You didn’t deserve to be in a barely real relationship. I can’t be the person you deserve to be with, I can’t offer that much of myself to you.”

Another beat, you hovered by the edge of the makeshift roof, before letting you blanket slip off your shoulders behind you. You stepped into the rain and took him in properly, soaked from head to toe, but Jason was still bathed beautifully in the moon and streetlights that barely touched buildings this high.

“I knew all of that, I knew it wouldn’t always be normal, but I accepted it Jay. I chose to look past the parts of your life you didn’t want to share, because I didn’t care. I still don’t. What we had was a real relationship Jason, to me at least, and I didn’t even think anything was wrong when you broke up with me. I thought it was actually great, for what we were working with.” You laughed at the end, watery, but your voice stayed strong. You meant what you said, Jason blindsided you more when he left you than with his Red Hood confession. His admittance to the double life he lead was a blow, but one you could digest. Jason leaving you? It was a grenade set off from within your ribcage that left no survivors. It was pain beyond grappling with the violence that surrounded the man you loved.

“But that isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you everything, but I know I’ll take everything you can give. You get half a person and—“

“I make that choice, not you. I’ll take half a person if its you. I’ve always known I’ll love you more, be able to give you more because I’m sharing you with a city hellbent on destroying itself. When you’re the only person I want to share anything with, of course you can have it all.” He was silent, staring into the dark skies and wondering what he did to deserve you. Had he suffered enough that it was finally time to enjoy the peace?

You put your hand on his arm, urging him to look. He let his eyes meet yours reluctantly as you sniffled. “I don’t need what you think is real Jason. I just need you.” Your voice was a soft plea, fingers tightening around his leather jacket. He stared down at you, so much ache in his chest for ever thinking life made more sense without you there. He wanted to apologize, again and again until his voice went hoarse. He wanted to fall into your arms and sleep for days after weeks of restless nights. He wanted to cook your favourite meals you always said never tasted as good when you did it. He wanted to forgive and be forgiven for all the hurt swirling between the two of you.

But all he could manage was a plea of his own, almost drowned out by the spring rain that washed away the cold weeks you both spent unbearably lonely, “Don’t leave Gotham.”

You nodded, “Don’t give me a reason too.”

The knot churning inside his stomach disappeared with your soft words, making him breathe out a laugh. It was surprised, relieved and everything you needed to hear. A smile broke over your face and the tears brimming in your eyes finally spilled over as you closed the distance between you two. Your hands rested on the lapels of his jacket. He let his cradle your jaw as the rain engulfed you both, foreheads pressing together as the moment overtook you two. It felt like a dream, like everything Jason wanted was suddenly in the palm of his hands and he couldn’t believe it. Believe he had let you go and somehow managed to get you back. He couldn’t decide what you deserved, but god he’d try be the person you needed him to be.

He wanted to say that, promise you he’ll try, but words failed him at times like this. Jason was all need, desperate for you to understand how much he loved you. All he could do was act, fingers tightening and tilting your head up before his mouth crashed into yours. It was hungry and pleading, begging and convincing you to stay with him forever. To know his love forever. You kissed him back with as much urgency as you could muster, just as desperate for his touch as he was yours. It was deprave how you both nearly crumbled when his teeth tasted your bottom lip. You hands had slid under his jacket, pulling you flush against him as your fingers fisted the dry fabric against his spine. He shuddered into you, pulling away with a heaving chest. You rested your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with happy tears still overflowing. He brought this thumbs to the corners of your eyes, brushing them away before kissing you again.

His lips met yours slower this time, mending the harshness from his last kiss. It was just as needy, lips finding the corners of your mouth, cheeks and jaw before he found his way back to your mouth. Jason’s tongue swiped over your lips, one of his hands moved to cradle the curve of your skull, letting your head fall back as he left open mouthed kissed against yours. Your tongue slid over his and you wished you were in bed. Sat comfortably atop him and making out on some boring Tuesday afternoon. It was always those moments, those days when everyone else was consumed with jobs and school and life, where you and Jason flourished.

Or embracing on a rooftop, in the pouring rain, during the dead of night, while everyone slept.

It was moments where you fell into the corners of life, missed by the bustle of the city and enraptured by each other. It was all you ever needed from Jason, and he was ready to give.

—

Gonna stay humbled to this rock

Silently when I know that I belong

Tell me stay on the right track

You know I got faith and beliefs

In my life and just

I guess I wanted that much

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Ghost of Love - Marie Fisker

[thelien-art]

I don’t know if anyone has said this yet, so I will. Yes, this is about nolofinwe week.

I’m also not stoked about this whole AI thing, trust me, I ain’t paying money to have bots produce jumbled nonsense. Not now at least. In the future, if things get regulated and there’s some responsibility from companies, I might, I see how it could be useful. I’ve been in the art industry and organizations for longer than some of you are alive, so I get the concern. 

Which is why I was following this discussion on AI and the event closely. I thought it was very sensible from the mods to ask for honesty from the start (if you use AI, that’s on you, but state it so people can block it and ignore you). AI art in this fandom luckily gets little traction, people don’t engage with it, so that is message enough in my eyes. I’ve also worked in schools for years and can tell you that when you tell people NOT to do something, they fixate on doing the exact opposite. So I was like, ok, the mods here are asking for honesty and they trust people not to be dumb, that’s a way better message. No one is telling anyone else what to do or not to do.

Then people started criticizing, and I was actually positively surprised that the mods were willing to take in the feedback and revise things a bit. It’s so rare to see people on the internet these days listening, let alone doing something about it. But that wasn’t enough for y'all. You kept bitching against the event and shutting down the few people who actually took the time to read.

You wanna ban unfair use of AI? Cuz trust, it's here to stay.

Write to your representative, boycott for-profit companies until they take responsibility, support the companies who do it well, vote, donate to civil society organizations if you can, call for educating students, educate yourself.

Don’t scream on the internet at the few people who actually give a damn. I hope the lot of you are proud of yourselves now. Yes, that’s sarcasm.

First of all, I just came home from a Halloween feast so I´m pretty tired and I´ll try to cut it short, also I think I´m very clear about not being from America.

SO! I have been pointing out the problems only this year when others spoke out and they didn't really do anything about it, ONLY THEN, and publicly, about two to three times? I can´t remember. But that was on my main so why are you not sending this to my main as I haven't said anything here?

I have never told people not to take part in it, actually, I was hoping to take part in it next year, so I greatly hope they open it next year. The reason why I wouldn´t this year, was 1. because I don´t have anything for it, 2. they still had it permitted in the start, but now that it is banned I don´t see why I won't want to participate.

Nolofinweweek DMed me, opening a discussion and I tried to explain why some people were angry about them permitting AI, we had some back and forth about the topic, sharing our own sides, them why they had it permitted, and me why I thought it was problematic, and that was pretty much it. - I want to point out that none of us are English native speakers, and I actually learned how to use a word from our talk :)

Are the MOD sharing our DMs? I am willing to share them if that is what you want. This ask just makes it sound like it´s been shared, and I really have nothing to hide so I don´t see why not. Anyway, ask if you want to see them, and I will reach out to them and ask if it´s okay for them to share as it´s their message too.

PS: I think you should take your own advice to heart, and educate yourself more on the harm of AI if that is your hold on it

I would like you to point out where I have “screamed” at the event when it was all in order as that was never my intention, i fully admit that I have been open about my opinion about allowing ai but I have never told anyone to not participate?? And I felt like I had a good talk with the mod, but that might just have been how I felt it, after all it was over text so some communication might have been lost.

Yes ai is here to stay but not the gen that's built on theft, that is not here to stay, there's already discussions of laws against it in some places, ngl you sound kinda hopeless and I hope you get some back soon :(

[randomfanner]

Starry Sky

“Good evening, Astarion,” the half elf had such eagerness in her voice as she approached his tent. Astarion’s eyes flicked up from the random book he had found at the Monastery. 

“Good evening,” Astartion’s lips curled into a seductive smirk, donning debonair mask in an instant. “How can I help you tonight, my sweet?” he asked, voice coated in sinful honey. 

Anya’s cheeks turned a slight bit flush. She shook her head to try and shake the color off.  “Uh, well, I found a spot to the east and  I was wondering…. If…. If maybe you would like to join me there tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep?”

“My, I did not expect you to be this forward, darling,” Astarion said, watching as her cheeks turned a few shades deeper of red. “With such a sweet proposal, how could I possibly say no? I will see you then.” despite his sweet words all he could do internally was groan. 

“Wonderful!” Anya said, blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “I will see you later, then,” Anya instantly turned and scampered off to her tent. 

As soon as she was out of sight Astarion put a hand on his head and moved his hair back, letting out a sigh.  

This was great for his plan. Her coming to him instead of the other way around? That meant Astartion’s trap to get her wrapped around his finger was working fantastically. 

The only issue was he was in no mood for sex. He would rather spend the night doing something else, but denying her right now? When she came to him? He might lose her. And well she certainly wasn’t his first choice with her instance of being a goodie goodie two shoes all the damn time… Anya was the only choice he had in this camp of freaks and weirdos. 

Ah well, it wasn’t like this was the first or the last time he would have to grin and bear it. Plus, their first night together had been… His own thoughts hesitated on the word to describe it. He wouldn’t say pleasant necessarily but more enjoyable than his average night. He may very well find himself pleasantly surprised. He didn’t hold out hope but it was possible, especially if she was willing to be more bold.

“I suppose I will have to see…”

Despite how he tried to amp himself up for the night, Astarion’s feet still dragged as he ventured down the most obvious path east. His face didn’t hide his discontent as he drudged forward. 

He could turn around, the thought kept pestering him.  Claim he had seen something in the shadows and decided to stay back to keep watch. Anya might believe him, she might even be happy that he was showing concern for the others. He hummed at the thought and stopped dead in his tracks. The thought became more and more tempting. 

No. No. He should just get this over with. All Astarion had to do was make it quick. 

It wasn’t too much longer before he stopped.  Near the edge of a cliff, he could see Anya. She paced back and forward, trampling over a blanket she had set out and just barely not knocking into a wicker basket. Her arms were crossed, eyes glued to the ground.

“Well there you are, my dear,” Astarion said as he walked over. 

Anya’s head flicked right to him, the expression of anxiety faded to a smile. “Astarion,” the excitement in her tone was clear. “I was getting a little worried,” she admitted as she sat down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her. “Come sit, the view from here is lovely.”

“Apologies for my tardiness, Halsin caught me on the way out and we got wrapped in conversation,” Astarion said as he took the seat next to her. “But now I am all yours and you are all mine… at least until the sun rises,” he leaned closer to her, getting closer to her.

“Well I am glad I have you!” Anya said as she leaned over to the basket. She shifted through it and he could hear glass clinking together. The sound had come from a bottle and a wine glass. She popped the wine bottle open and poured  it into the glass, offering it to him.

Astarion stared at her for a moment as he looked at the glass in her fingers. He almost hesitated as his finger plucked the glass. “Why, thank you,” he said as he took a sip. It was velvet down his throat, probably the best wine he had since he had been thrusted into the wilderness. “Hmm, lovely.”

“I am glad,” Anya placed the bottle down between them.

“Not going to drink any yourself?” Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow. The glass went down easily and he moved to pick up the bottle. 

“Nope, it is all for you. Shadowheart said it was a fancier blend and I want you to be able to enjoy it,” Anya said as she shifted into the basket and held up a bottle of water. “Don’t worry about me going dehydrated, though.” 

Astarion’s eyes narrowed a little bit as he looked at her. “Oh? Any particular reason you are gifting me with a bottle of wine if not to share it, then?” he asked as he took a swig. The blend was familiar. This was Baldur’s Grape… “And where did you get this?

“Well exploring the monastery today, Shadowheart and I found some with all of the firewine. She did take most of it but I talked her into giving me a bottle. As for why you mentioned not liking the wine at the Tiefling party, so thought this might be nice,” Anya’s head shifted to looking at the blanket of stars across the sky. 

“I see… Well, I have to appreciate it, quite a fine bottle she selected,” Astarion said as he took another swig, longer this time. He placed the bottle down on the other side of him as he shifted himself a bit closer to her. “This is quite the sweet sentiment, my dear,” Astarion’s hand moved, resting upon her thigh. 

Anya’s cheeks turned red at the contact and her eyes glanced at him before back at the sky. “I am glad you think so,” her voice cracked just a little bit. “It-it is lovely tonight, you can see all of the constellations so vividly,” her finger pointed to a cluster of stars together. “There is Ursa Major, and then Ursa Minor. I also can see Cygnus, Draco and Cassiopeia.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed together in a moment of frustration, but his eyes did follow where she pointed. “I never understood the point of constellations. I don’t see a bear and I don’t see a swan or whatever else it is supposed to represent,” Astarion said.

“Well, I cannot blame you for that,” Anya said. “A lot of people see the constellations differently. But most of them come from and are associated with stories, sometimes multiple…. The story behind Cygnus has been changed multiple times for example.”

“Oh? And what are those stories then?” Astarion asked.

“Well, I think the current most popular story behind begins with Phaethon, son of the sun god Apollo. Phaethon took the reigns of Apollo’s golden chariot, however Phaethon had not the skills to pilot the sun. It threatened to raze the earth,” Anya swooped her hand down. “So Zeus struck him down, knowing him into the river Eridanus where he unfortunately drowned. His friend or depending on the interpretation lover, Cygnus grieved and mourned. He went into the river to try and retrieve the body. The gods were touched by this demonstartion that they put him into the stars.”

“Sounds like lovers to me… even if it seems like a waste of time going after a body,” Astarion almost scoffed at the idea. Why waste time on the literal dead? It wasn’t like grabbing the body itself could bring them back. “Seems like the gods did him the wrong favor. Could have brought him back.” 

“A proper burial was extremely important for crossing into the afterlife,”  Anya said. “And bringing the dead back is no easy feat, in fact it actually links to another interruption where a man tried to bring his love back from the dead.” 

“Oh?”

“Well, in one version of Cygnus it is actually Orphesus being depicted. Do you know the myth of Orphesus and Eurydice?” Anya asked, turning her head towards the vampire. 

“Uh, vaguely, isn’t that one about the guy who went to the underworld to get his lover back and did the one thing that would ensure he wouldn’t?” Astarion asked as he picked up the bottle again.  “What does that have to do with swans?”

“Exactly right! And an excellent question,” Anya said as she took a long sip from her water. “The answer is that Orphesus, overtaken by sadness, began to play music so melancholic it would wilt the world around him. This was murdered and then placed into the sky as a swan, with his lyre beside him,” Anya said as she pointed to a smaller constellation next to it. 

“That seems cruel, putting him among the stars when his beloved is underground.” 

“I don’t disagree, but most of the time the gods, especially the Greek ones, are. Hell, even with the constellation we are talking about directly. A third way to see Cygnus is one of Zeus’ sex disguises,” Anya said.

“... What do you mean sex disguises?” Astarion asked as he closed his eyes slowly. “And why is it a swan?”

“Zeus would take different forms all of the time to bed women. Whether it be in the form of their husbands or animals of some sort. In this case, he took the form of a swan and raped Queen Leda. This lead to the birth of Helen of Troy.”

“That is kind of disgusting,” Astarion’s face scrunched up a bit. He hadn’t heard much about Zeus. “And isn’t Helen of Troy the one who started the Trojan war?” 

“Hey!” Anya’s cheeks turned into a pout. “Don’t you dare blame Helen for that. Helen did…” Anya thought for a moment.  “Nothing, she really did nothing to start the Trojan War but exist. What actually started the Trojan war was feud between Athena, Hera and Aphrodite that was settled by Paris. Helen was an unfortunate victim in the squabble. 

“What was the feud?” Astarion asked. He hadn’t meant to take an interest in what she was talking about. However now he was leaning in closer not to try and put the moves on her, but to listen.

Anya grinned. “A party on Mount Olympus is where many of the gods were invited… but not all of them. One of those left out of the festivities was the Goddess of Chaos, Eris. Angry at being left out she devised a plan. Into the party she tossed a golden apple with a note that the apple was for whoever was the most beautiful. Three Goddesses attempted to lay claim. The Goddess of Knowledge, Athena, the Goddess of Marriage, Hera and the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. Zeus was asked to settle this dispute but refused. Instead he selected a mortal to do the judgment, Paris.  Paris was asked to pick who was the most beautiful, however none of the Goddesses wanted to lose so they all offered him  a different bribe.”

“Seems pointless to hold the contest at all in that case if they are all offering bribes,” not that he wouldn't do the same.  Granted if he was put into a contest like that he was certain his sheer beauty would wine him alone. 

“Oh it is. Athena offered him great wisdom and battle knowledge. Hera offered him an empire.”

“Oh! He should pick that one,” Astarion chimed in.

“He maybe should have,” Anya said.  “Because Aphrodite, the last one to make her offer, promised him Helen of Troy. A woman who was very well known to have been married to Menelaus, the King of Sparta.  With all of his options laid out, Paris chose Aphrodite’s offer.”

“Gods, what a moron. He could have had all of that power and instead he picked a woman!” Astarion exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Had he even met Helen before?”

“Paris, uh…” Anya thought about it for a second, putting a finger to her chin. “I don’t know if he had. I don’t think he did,” Anya said. “Having met a woman meant very little if she was beautiful in Greek Myths. And Helen was known to be extremely beautiful. Many men fought over her hand and now Paris had it.”

“I am sure that didn’t go horribly wrong for him at all,” Astarion said. “You sure know a lot about this stuff.”

“My uncle taught me all sorts of Greek myths and legends,” Anya said. She had a fond smile on her face as she looked at the sky again. “He would take me to the park and point out the constellations, telling me about them. Knowing the stars has come in handy multiple times,” Anya said.

“How so?”

“Well, constellations have always been used as a navigation tool, and it is a great way to spend time with someone you care about,” Anya looked at him with a closed eye smile.

Astarion’s eyes flicked away as he looked out towards the sky as well. “Hm, I suppose it was wise then. It has been interesting,” he wasn’t expecting to have enjoyed himself at night, but he had been pleasantly surprised.

“I am glad,” Anya said.

“So… how about that one,” Astarion pointed to a random grouping of stars in the sky. 

“Oh! That is Pegasus-” Anya began the story of the winged horse. Astarion watched as she talked of the myths, answering any questions and going on tangents…

It was… nice. Very nice.

And the wine certainly didn’t hurt to evening either. 

[jm-2406]

Just a ring.

Pairing - Tommy Shelby X reader; Male OC x reader.

Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”

Word count - 2.1k (longest I ever wrote)

Note - flashback in italics.

Warnings - infidelity.

Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business man like Thomas Shelby who hid his real business behind that of gin production and bookmaking, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.

He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.

“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I'm sorry Mr. Shelby, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”

Tommy eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Tommy kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay George. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.

Tommy turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy right now.”

[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Tommy.”

“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.

“He knows…”

“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”

“Robert… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”

Tommy kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He's asked me to marry him.”

Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.

“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.

He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.

After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.

It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Robert had been having a lot of arguments around that time.

“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.

“I know babe but this is urgent.” Robert said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.

“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”

“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”

“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Robert took his briefcase and left.

There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Thomas Shelby, the Birmingham gangster turned businessman turned politician. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.

Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Robert thus she became addicted.

Over time, their Pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Robert maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Tommy.

After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Tommy had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Robert, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.

They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I am falling for you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders. He turned his back to her, making it clear that he didn't want to talk.

She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.

Truth to be told, when Robert had found Tommy's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Robert opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.

“I… I need time, Robert.”

Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.

A week later -

[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.

“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.

She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Tommy was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Tommy…”

He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the diamond that sat there.

“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.

“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.

The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.

“Where is your engagement ring?”

“I… I must have forgotten it.”

“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Robert questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.

“How are you doing, Walker?” another voice interrupted the couple. Robert cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.

“How did you even enter Shelby? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave.”

Thomas smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Robert had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.

“I know I wasn't invited Walker, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”

Before she could think, Robert punched Thomas, hard… and a fight started between the two. Robert's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Tommy back that he stopped. Even though Robert was a few centimetres taller than Tommy, he was no match for his muscles and strength.

“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Robert pleaded.

“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Tommy was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Robert. I don't deserve you.”

Robert scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and hurt he was feeling.

[Y/N] turned to Tommy. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Tommy pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.

“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.

THE END.

Find the Theo version here.