#let’s make beef between them guys i wanna see that

[beatlesmenrock]

would the monkees get along with the beatles ?

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[kissesbyliz]

simon having beef with your dog.

the thing hates him, he's sure. he's been aware of the fact ever since the first time it jumped up at him, indulging itself with a nice helping of his brand new jeans.

"oh my god!" you gaped at his jeans with horror, immediately scooping the offending animal into your arms. even within its confines, the creature still manages a growl that simon swears is nothing less than evil.

between the sweet apologizes falling from your lips and the way your eyes widened in embarrassment, simon unsurprisingly found it difficult to stay mad. after fixing him a change of clothes and apologizing profusely for your pet's behavior, you urged your pet into its play pen to prevent her from ruining the rest of the night. she stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a pitiful whine as she was obviously not used to being locked up.

though the inner dog-lover in him should be feeling a twinge of guilt at the sight, simon couldn't deny a sense of victory.

at least now, they were even.

they used to be even. used to. his score was ultimately decimated after countless incidents of your dog peeing all over his boots, stealing his food, and gnawing it's way through the souvenirs he brought for you from missions.

why the thing hates him so much is beyond him. ever since the first incident, he's tried every bribery method under the sun. from endless treats to long walks in her favorite park, all his attempts ended the same way: with his hand being damn near ripped off his arm.

after weeks of no progress, you had brought up the idea of meeting at his place instead. simon refused. he couldn't handle the thought of you traveling the hour it takes to get to his apartment, just to see him. after all, if he could handle countless hordes of enemies and disarm bombs, he sure as hell could handle some dog.

which of course, brings him to his current predicament.

after a particularly long deployment, you've taken the liberty of planning a special welcome home dinner for him and his task force. nothing big, just a small gathering to celebrate a reunion between friends as well as a job well done.

you insisted on doing all the work of preparing the food and letting him relax on the couch. it was a dinner in celebration of him as well, after all. the very last thing simon wanted was to leave you to do all the work, but if he was going to do anything about your dog, he had to do it now.

because even though he'd call his task force some of the closest friends he has, he pales at the idea of them finding out that a dog has him beat. he can already imagine how they'll react: a (horribly) stifled laugh from price, a smart jab from gaz, and an unashamed guffaw from johnny. and of course, the endless amounts of taunting that'll be flowing throughout the base. yeah, that's not going to happen. least of all, in front of his girl.

he approaches the play pen which houses your dog slowly, attempting to seem as unintimidating as he can for someone of his stature. your pet immediately takes notice--has had an eye laser pointed on him since the moment he arrived--and starts up a low growl.

"hey..girl..." he greets awkwardly, crouching down in a manner that allows his every action to be observed. it's evident that your dog couldn't be less happy with his presence, with the way she moves to the opposite end of the enclosure. he sighs, dropping onto the floor next to the pen and wincing at the slight pain shooting up his tailbone.

"why d'ya hate me so much, huh?" your dog huffed, closing her eyes and assuming a sleeping position. simon didn't even know dogs were capable of the silent treatment. unfazed, he pushes on, speaking to the dog as if it miraculously developed the ability to understand him.

"all i wanna do is spend time with my girl, and all you do is try to make me look like the bad guy." he shoots her an unimpressed look. "it's not like i'm gonna take her away, y'know."

to simon's surprise, the dog rises and begins to slowly approach him and for once, without utter disdain in her eyes. simon really didn't expect that to work, but he supposes he doesn't have any room to complain. he gulps -- he's never made it this far before. carefully, he raises a big hand up to stroke over the dog's soft fur.

in a flash, the canine snaps her teeth onto the surface of his skin. hard.

"fuck--!" he snarls, snatching his hand away. at that moment, the doorbell rings and he cradles his aching hand to his chest. he stands up, glaring hard at the animal as he goes to answer the door.

"hey, there's my favorite girl!" johnny pushes past him and beelines for the play pen, where your dog is excitedly standing on its hind legs to greet him. simon's never seen her tail wag so fast. she eagerly yips for him to come closer, bowing to allow him to scratch behind her ears.

"oh, and hey to you too, i guess." johnny briefly nods in acknowledgement in your direction. you playfully roll your eyes, giggling at his display.

"simon. 's good to see you." price offers a brief nod, and kyle pats him on the shoulder before they both walk around him to join johnny at the play pen. the dog takes to the rest of his team just as easily, greeting them all with tail wags and licks to the hand.

simon riley is at a loss.

[ebodebo]

more bull rider!simon.... MDNI

some context

"What the hell are ya doin' here?" You hiss under your breath as the wooden bleacher next to you sinks to accommodate Simon's weight. You briefly glance at him before refocusing on the rider in the arena.

The rider in question was a guy you had met while in Wisconsin some months ago. You had found him a little aloof but charming. He had that boy-next-door look—cute face, crooked smile, soft-spoken. 

He was the kind of boy you bring home to your parents—the boy your mother gushes over to her church friends, and your father pats on the back and whispers to your mom, 'Real nice kid.'

It wasn't anything serious between you and the rider. You were strictly friends.

You couldn't see yourself with a cookie-cutter like him.

But Simon didn't know that.

"Just came to watch the show," he casually says; you don't miss the smug tone his words carry. You roll your eyes, hands gripping the edge of the wooden bleachers tighter, even letting out a dry, unamused laugh.

His mere presence annoyed you. 

But his presence in an arena alongside others rattled you to hell.

All eyes were on him. 

They were always on him. 

God knows you despised the man, which was a shame because he was such a good lay. And you hated to admit it, but he was a powerhouse of a bull rider—one of the best in the country.

His skill and charm were undeniable, but his arrogance overshadowed those qualities for you.

These unredeemable qualities you despiesed did nothing to deter everybody and their mothers from moving mountains just to get a glimpse of him.

"Bullshit, Simon," you shake your head, eyes focusing back on the rider. He let out a laugh, scooting himself forward so his back lay against the back of the bleachers. 

"You think I'd lie to ya, Babydoll?" He quipped a self-satisfied smirk on his lips that fiddled with a toothpick between them. You whip your head to face him, eyes widened in amusement. 

"I do, actually," you say, tipping your head towards him. "I know you're here because you heard about him," you casually say, turning back to face the arena. 

"Is that right?" He lazily says, taking the toothpick settled between his lips and twirling it with his finger. 

"Yes," you breathe out, slight annoyance in your tone. "I'm just wonderin' why ya care so much?" He throws his hands up in surrender, making you turn to face him again. 

"Woah, woah. Hold on now," he begins. "Since ya got me all figured out," he pauses, pointing his finger at you. "You tell me." You let out an irritated sigh, hands coming up to rub your eyes and temples.

"You smug bastard," you huff.

"Come on, Babydoll. Do ya really take me for the jealous type?" He probes, pushing the toothpick back into his mouth. 

"Well, ya are a big baby when ya don't get your way," you jest.

"Am not," he quickly supplies with a smile. 

"You sure are, Beef-head," you insist, the corner of your lips pulling into a slight smirk. 

"That reminds me," he leans closer so only you can hear him. "I still haven't forgiven ya for leavin' me high and dry the other day."

"You had that comin,'" you shrug, humor dancing across your face.

"I didn't leave ya on purpose, hon. You planned that attack," he exasperates dramatically.

"Attack? Oh my God. You're so dramatic," you groused.

"Was up all night icin,'" he griped, face contorting at the remembrance of the pain. 

"I doubt that," you roll your eyes, still laughing. "I'm sure you had one of your, what do ya call them? Buckle-bunnies? Tend to ya."

"I don't call them that," he firmly says.

"Sure you don't, Beef-head," you absently agree, eyes locking back to the arena where the rider you were watching stands off to the side.

Your eyes widen, while your mouth hangs open.

"What is it?" Simon's voice is laced with concern. You stand abruptly, gathering your things next to you. 

"You made me miss it," you mutter. 

Simon smiles. "Can't help you didn't wanna look away from me."

"Shut up," you scoffed, though a slight smirk pulled from your lips as you walked away from him, shimming between the people in the bleachers.

Simon couldn't help the smirk that simultaneously pulled at his lips, though it quickly dissipated as he saw you lean over the fence to talk to the bull rider you were so hell-bent on watching. 

The guy's fingers reaching over to straighten your slightly lopsided hat about made Simon reach out to break the very fingers he used.

It didn't matter that there were now about five women surrounding him, showering him with compliments. All he felt was a pang of heat in his chest, like a knife turning in a fresh wound.

He'd be damned if he let this cheesehead take his girl. 

"Hey, Simon. Is that—" One of the cowboys with Simon questioned, as he dipped his head towards you, barreling towards the pen he was in, anger written all over your face, crushed magazine in hand. 

"Sure is," Simon smirked, tongue poking into his cheek with amusement. He dismounted from the horse, taking his hat off as he approached you. "Hey, Babydoll. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What the hell is this?" You grit, shoving the magazine in his face. 

"Looks like a tabloid," he simply says.

You pull the magazine back, reading the front cover. "Acclaimed bull rider Simon Riley trades rodeo for romance as he's seen cozied up with a local country girl as PBR tour starts to wrap up in Texas," you snap. 

"Why on God's green Earth is this sayin' we're datin','" you say through gritted teeth. 

"Simple. I told them we were," he shrugs.

"You did what?" You bark, face burning in anger. 

"Eh, my publicist wanted me to chat with some news station, and they asked about ya," he plainly says. 

"What exactly did you say?" You urge impatiently. 

"That we were involved," his voice was full of unambiguity.

"You—you're a damn, a damn—" You drift off, voice searching, unable to even conjure any words. 

"Come on, Babydoll. Don't get so bent out of shape. Technically, we have been involved," he gruffs, eyebrows raising cheekily.

Oh, so he thinks this is all some big joke.

You grip the collar of his simple white shirt, pulling him down to eye level. "Ya better get on your knees and pray that this hasn't reached the townsfolk yet," you snarl. "Or, with God as my witness, I will snip your balls off just like one of those damn steers."

You let go of him roughly, shoving him back slightly, turning on your heels to leave, yelling back, 'Get your fancy PR team to deal with this, Dumbass.'

This is followed by many snickers from the other cowboys still in the pen, who have witnessed the show that was you snapping Simon into place. 

"Well, hell, Simon, you didn't tell us you got yourself a little firecracker," one of the other cowboys roars, hitting Simon in the chest playfully when he returns to them.

"She ain't no firecracker. She's a damn stick of dynamite," Simon remarks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. 

It had been two weeks or so since you had last seen Simon. And, along with him, that tabloid bullshit had since gone dormant. You had to hand it to him, he made the whole story disappear into thin air. 

Well, with the help of his many connections. 

The air felt crisp and refreshing, not having that asshat around to taint it. You could get used to this. Hell, who knows, maybe you would never have to see the smug bastard again.

"Hey, Babydoll," Simon quips. "Long time, no see."

You spin on your heels, turning to him, a mixture of surprise and annoyance evident in your expression. 

"Why are you back in town?" You exasperate.

"Finals," he states, his eyes glinting with determination. 

"You actually qualified?" You snarkily remark, eyes finally taking note of his chaps, padding, and mouthguard hanging out of his mouth by his teeth.

"Babydoll, I'm not just good; I'm one of the best damn riders in the country," he proclaims with a confident smirk. 

You roll your eyes. "And a humble one at that," you say, eyes wondering behind him to see one of your friends in the audience waiting for you.

“Break a leg, Beef-head," you quickly spew, patting him on the chest before you walk away. 

"See, I have a gut feelin' you really do want me to break a leg," he yells back to you. 

"Always trust your gut," you exclaim, not sparing him a glance as you approach your seat. 

He smiles before making his way to the arena, but not before glancing at you one last time on the bleachers before securing his helmet on and going straight into the fray.

You shouldn't even be surprised. 

Not even a little bit.

Simon's victory was not just a win but a triumph that catapulted him to the pinnacle of bull riding. Now, he was one of the most sought-after bull riders on the planet, a title that came with a deluge of attention. 

You begrudgingly expected that. 

But you didn't foresee the enthusiasm of the women attached, each making a bold attempt to catch Simon's eye. Dressed to the nines, they were all vying for even a moment of his attention.

You thought you should at least congratulate him a little, so you walked over to the gate where he would leave, but hell, it seemed you weren't the only one. 

These women were not just there; they were making an effort. They batted their lashes, puckered their lips, and pulled their tops slightly lower, hoping to catch his eye.

To his credit, he was too consumed with the numerous news outlets and interviewers shoveling microphones and cameras in his face and asking him how it felt to receive this distinguished honor to notice them. 

Well, until his publicist pulled him away from the throng of people, guiding him quickly out of the arena. All of the women immediately surrounded him, showering him with compliments, fingers delicately running across his biceps. 

"You did so good, Si," one woman mewls.

"How you gonna celebrate your win, Bigboy?" Another woman coos, lashes fluttering. 

"I'm sure he has big plans," the first woman answers, eyebrows raising.

It was pathetic, but you couldn't pull your attention away. 

As the women surrounded him, their flirtatious gestures and polished nails caressing him, you felt a sinking sensation in your stomach. You couldn't understand why, but the longer they lingered, the more you struggled to tear your gaze away.

His cheeky smirk only made it worse. It was clear he was reveling in the attention. It felt like a betrayal, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy and anger. 

You were thinking of simply walking away, your head already clearing at the thought of not seeing him for a while, until one of the women leaned in to press a lipstick-covered kiss to his lips. 

Before you knew it, your feet were moving, and you were pushing through the women to get to him. You grabbed his hand, your grip tight with desperation, and pulled him away.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and his hand returned the contact and wrapped it around yours tightly. 

"Where we goin', Babydoll?" He coaxed, with a flirty undertone. 

You don't respond; you move faster toward the line of portable restrooms behind the bleachers. Many Patreons attempt to talk to Simon on the way, but you don't stop, and he doesn't either.

Once you reach one of the vacant portable restrooms, you quickly twist the latch, open the door, and pull Simon inside swiftly. You reach behind him and twist the lock to show that the stall is occupied.

Your hands were racing, fingers reaching to undo each button on his long sleeve.

"Thought you were pissed at me?" He murmurs. And, fuck does it tick you off because you can just hear the smugness in his tone. You look up at him; his pupils have dilated. 

"I am," you grit, hands moving to unclasp his buckle.

"Not too pissed to sneak me off to have sex. Huh?" He tuts, his hands moving to unclasp your belt, slipping your denim jeans down.

"Stop talkin,'" you snarled. He smirks, dipping his head to meet your lips. You turn away slightly, hands haphazardly moving to grab a piece of toilet paper and swiping it across his lips to get rid of the lipstick smudged.

He lets out a dry laugh, gripping the waistband of the underwear, snapping the band of your underwear back onto your sensitive skin. In response, you let out a breathy whine, hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Oh. I see," he begins, quickly slipping his hat off to hang on the hook by the toilet, bringing his lips to run across the skin of your neck lightly. "You markin' your territory, Babydoll?" He whispers; his hot breath fanning your skin sends shivers down your spine.

One of your hands moves to thread through the back of his light hair, gently tugging on the roots, while the other moves to rest on the back of his neck. "And, if I am?" You whisper.

He pulls you closer to him, his clothed cock pressing against you.

"It's about damn time," he sneered, as his teeth lightly nipped the skin on your neck. You issue a breathy moan directly in his ear that sets him off.

In one swift motion, he pulls down his jeans and boxers frantically, desperate to feel you around him. He's sliding down your underwear so it pools around your ankles, gripping you by the back of your thighs, picking you up before easing himself into your dripping cunt. You're quick to cross your ankles behind his back. 

You both moan at the contact as your lips find his greedy ones. Your teeth are clashing, chest heaving as he drills into you, all while his tongue tangles with your own, teeth occasionally tugging on your own.

His fingers are digging deeply into the meat of your thighs—you're sure to have bruises tomorrow, but you don't care, not even a little bit, because you couldn't even stop even if you wanted to; it felt too good.

"Fuck, Baby. I've been—ah—thinkin' about this for weeks," Simon groaned into your lips, as his pace picked up. "Needed you so bad."

You let out a moan that he catches in another groan. His lips move to press deep kisses onto your neck, even licking a stripe with his tongue, all the while movements only increase in speed.

"I'm—I'm so close," you whine, already feeling your impending orgasm approaching. 

"I know, Baby. I know," he grits through his teeth as he feels his orgasm near. 

He plows into you one last time before you both come simultaneously, him groaning into your skin, as you moan into his hair. You take a second to recuperate, legs slightly shaky as he sets you back on the ground.

"You know everyone saw you drag me in here, right?" He leers, pulling his boxers and jeans back up and clasping his belt.

Your eyes widen. You hadn't even thought about what you were doing, you had just reacted. "Shit," you exasperate. "The tabloids are goin' to have a field day with this. I don't—"

He tips his head towards you, bending down to ease your underwear and jeans back on. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it," he plainly says.

You release a received sigh. "Thanks. I appreciate that, Beef-head."

"Welcome, Babydoll," he smiles as he buttons his shirt.

A brief pause occurred in the conversation as you both finished dressing. As Simon placed his hat back on, his eyes locked back to yours, a smirk growing on his lips.

"Now will ya let me take ya out to dinner?" He asked with a playful tone. 

You titled your head to the side, letting out a dry laugh. "You askin' me on a date?"

He shrugs. "Suppose I am," he begins. "What do ya say?"

You press your finger to your chin, an inquisitive expression on your face. "I say no."

His expression twists in confusion, maybe almost hurt. "No?"

You laugh, hand coming to rest over your heart in amusement. "I'm just busting your balls, Beef-head. I'll go on the date with ya," you cackle.

He lets out a deep sigh of relief, muttering, "Hell, you're gonna be the death of me."

Maybe this entanglement you found yourself in with Simon wouldn't be so bad after all.

a/n: thank u for the submission and ur kind words! i hope u like what i cooked up:)) side note, my bestie queen, @artemis-b-writes , helped me in making this! this also became longer than i originally intended, but oh well! also, divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter eight:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 3.6k

➴ author’s note: don’t you guys love when people kiss and make up?

liked by jennaortega, arianagrande, elblue6 and 1,698,928 others

sophiamontenegro thanks for having me, new york 🎅🏻

View all 8,646 comments

mtv JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

trevorzegras you should’ve come to anaheim

sophiamontenegro trevorzegras and u should fuck off

user1 sophiamontenegro trevorzegras I wanna know the beef between them so bad someone put me in soph’s close friends list

user2 user1 im pretty sure its just Trevor who doesn’t know how to take a hint…

arianagrande i love you

morgan.grace you’re so fucking hot Sophia the hell

user4 PROUD TO SAY THAT I WAS IN THAT CROWD

user5 damn how did Jack fumble this 😂

— ♡

DECEMBER always brought more work than you’d like to have but for the first time since you started working as a singer, you were grateful for it.

You had so many appearances, so many fans to see, so many concerts to do. You were grateful singing was your favorite thing to do because time passed and you didn’t even notice it.

But, now some of the fuss calmed down and you were able to spend time doing things that weren’t related to your career, like;

“Sophia, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Grace shouted from the living room and you laughed, pouring the butter flavored popcorn into a bowl. “Sophia!”

“Jesus, Grace, calm down,” you shouted back, looking for napkins. “It’s not like we have to be there or whatever.”

Today the Devils were playing against the Blackhawks and Grace asked you if you both could watch it at your house.

“We don’t have to if you think it will make you sad, but i really wanted to watch Nico tonight.” Grace smiled, not even trying to hide how she was head over heels for him.

“It’s okay, Grace, I swear. I want to see Nico too,” you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you’d secretly been watching all of their games, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jack’s blue eyes. “We can do a girls night.”

“But you’re losing all the good shit,” she whined. “The Blackhawks players are fine, too. That Bedard kid is a cute, little honeybun.”

You chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the couch beside her, putting the bowl on the table.

“He has a girlfriend, y’know. He dates his teammate’s sister, Ellie I think.”

“Oh, I think I saw a picture of them together at a party last month,” she tapped her chin with her index finger. “They do look cute together.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, watching as the commentator introduced the players. “Who do you think is going to win?”

“Girl, I don’t like to tell anyone my predictions because what if I jinx it?” She stared at you, like you were crazy just for asking.

You rolled your eyes. “Ever since you and Nico started fucking you became awfully surpersticious.”

“Sophia Montenegro!” She raised her arms, kicking you with her feet. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your sister.”

“Which gives me permission to say that you and Nico are fucking. Who cares?” You kicked her back, starting a kicking fight.

You both just stopped when you were both out of breath and the game was starting. The first period was going surprisingly smooth for the Blackhawks, which made you— secretly— worry.

Jack has probably seen better days. You would always say that he’s the number one player in the team because for you he absolutely is, but even someone who didn’t know anything about Hockey could tell that he was lacking.

You bit your lips and squeezed your thighs because, even after everything, Jack looked so fucking good. Especially with the black Devils uniform. He looked handsome and you knew that he was all of that, and he’d always be.

Sometimes you’d think about how good the sex between the two of you was, and you’d wonder if you’d find anything like that ever again.

At the end of the first period, the scoreboard read 2-1, the Blackhawks winning. You and Grace were in the middle of a discussion about how her ex looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when the commentator started showing the celebrities who showed up to the game.

“Who even cares about the celebrities who showed up?” You threw popcorn at the screen. “Or even better, since when do they show celebrities? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing the players or whatever?”

“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t watch the games,” Grace teased you, and you just pushed a handful of popcorn inside your mouth. “And sorry to say this, sweetie, but if people didn’t care about celebrities, you and I wouldn’t have a job.”

You rolled your eyes, paying attention to the TV again.

“So, tell me, Nat, I’ve heard that we have some pretty famous people here today.” The announcer talked to the reporter who was standing in some kind of expensive room Sophia didn’t know the name of.

The black woman just smiled, nodding her head and bringing the microphone closer to her face.

“That’s right, Shaan. Some well known people blessed us with their presence here today…”

“I hope it's Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” Grace muttered beside you.

“Oh remind me to call her later, I need to visit her next time I’m in LA,” you replied mindlessly, still watching the sports channel.

“…And among all of these people, we have the one and only, Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, Chloe McGill!”

“What?!” You heard Grace yelling beside you, which confirmed that what you were seeing wasn’t just your head trying to play games with you.

There he stood, in all his glory, with the cocky smirk that once gave you butterflies and was now making you sick, with his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist.

“Am I tripping or that girl looks awfully like you?”

You looked at the scene in front of you, where the reporter was now interviewing Harris with an enthusiastic smile. The girl beside him, Chloe you think, indeed looked a lot like you.

“She… she looks just like how I did when I started dating him,” you concluded, feeling sick all over again. “Even the fucking bangs, Grace.”

She put her hand on your left arm, caressing you. “I’m so sorry, bubba. Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No, ‘course not,” you reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Grace whispered. “Okay.”

“…I’m just happy to be here, y’know?” Harris stated, still showing his pearly white teeth. “I’m a huge Devils fan, just like my girl here.”

“That’s the biggest lie he’s ever said,” you laughed, feeling sorry for how pathetic he is. “He deadass couldn’t even stand the thought of Hockey, or any sport for that matter. What the hell is he even saying?”

“Well, apparently that little girlfriend of his, is the daughter of one of the Devils’ coaches,” Grace promptly replied, and you looked at her, ready to ask how the hell she knew that, but seeing the phone in her hand. “They’re like, rich as fuck.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Harris’ type to me.” You mumbled, praying that the second period would come faster.

And maybe God did hear your prayers because not even five minutes later, the Devils and the Blackhawks were back on the ice. The game was nerve wracking, your nails and eardrums long gone from how much you’d bitten them and how loud Grace screamed during the game.

Jack was smooth on ice, the best you’ve seen him playing all season, even before you and him fought. It was satisfying to watch him doing what he loved and you were happy that he was finally getting back on track.

Two hours later, the game ended; the Devils won. Grace cheered and jumped around while you laughed at her, happy to see her happy. Even if you didn’t understand much of hockey and even if you didn’t care about it, you were also thrilled, because you knew Jack would be happy.

You kinda hated your mind for always thinking about him but you couldn’t help it. Not when you saw how handsome he looked and not when you still loved him. A lot.

The same reporter from before, Nat, continued to talk, interviewing some of the players from the team. Grace whined about being hungry and you rolled your eyes, getting up to cook for her.

“What do you want?” You asked, opening your cabinets. “I can make pasta for us.”

“Ugh, yes, please,” she fake-moaned and you laughed. “If I’m going to fuck Nico tonight, Imma need all the carbs in the world,”

“You’re disgusting. I hope you know that,” you answered back, putting the water to boil.

“For Nico Hischier? Hell yes I am!”

You cut the onions and garlic, before putting olive oil on a separate pan and adding them. Grace continued to yap about the game, pointing out all the best players and who she liked best, while you just nodded and cooked.

“Ooh, they’re having a fancy celebrating party tonight!” She yelled from the living room, even if you could still see her and the TV because you had an open kitchen, grabbing your attention. “Is it a gala? I hope it is, Hockey players look so fucking good in suits.”

“And they say I’m the horny one…” you mumbled, putting the tomato sauce inside the pan.

“Can this woman give us some information we actually want to hear? I don’t care if they have points or not, I just want to see them in suits!”

“She’s just doing her job, Grace, stop being a whore.”

Moving around the kitchen, you finished Grace’s dinner, and grabbed a plate for her, not after filling up a glass of cold water and grating some cheese.

You went back to the living room, placing everything in front of her, while she hugged you from behind, giving you neck kisses.

“I am going to wife you up, baby!”

You giggled. “Shut up and eat, weirdo,”

She just let you go and sat on the floor, swallowing the pasta like it was her last meal.

You both watched as they showed the party, all of the players there, people laughing and smiling for pictures. Jack wasn’t interacting with the reporters, and you thought it was weird, even if you knew he low-key hated them.

“…so, yeah, I’m definitely happy we won tonight but we still have to work hard—” Mercer suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, leaving the woman— Nat— beside him confused. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Is that Jack fighting someone? That’s sick! Film that, baldy!” He asked the cameraman.

You and Grace stopped talking and stared at each other. The camera suddenly changed angles and showed a body you knew way too well on top of another body you, unfortunately, also knew well.

“Jesus, Jack is punching Harris in the face!” Grace announced, like you weren’t watching it yourself.

The angles weren’t good because you’d bet money the cameraman wasn’t expecting to record a fight tonight, but it was still pretty damn clear that Jack was punching Harris’ face repeatedly, while his girlfriend screamed and cried and the other players tried to get him off Harris’ face.

Harris fought back, but even though he tried, he wasn’t used to fighting. Unlike Jack, who threw every punch with force and precision.

“It seems like our number eighty-six, Jack Hughes, is having a fist fight with the actor Harris Dickinson!”

“Stop trying to state the obvious, bitch, film the fucking fight!” Grace yelled.

“Grace, calm down.” you whispered, watching as the camera focused on Jack again, this time him being dragged by Nico and Nathan while he shouted at them to let him go.

This was bad. Like, bad, truly bad. They focused on Harris’ face for just a second, and it was enough— his face was all bloody and he was probably going to have a black eye for a week, with how swollen his eye was. Jack had most likely broken his nose and shit wasn’t looking good.

“Oh my God, why did he do this!” You got up from the couch, pacing around the room. “Fuck, does he know what this is going to do to him? Harris is dating the Coach’s daughter, what the hell!”

Grace was also too stunned to speak, something that did not happen often. You could tell she was just as distressed as you.

“Harris Dickinson is going to the hospital with his girlfriend Chloe and his father-in-law, Coach Ryan McGill.”

“What the fuck, this is bad,” you put your hands on your head, trying to figure out what to do. “I need to do something.”

Grace sighed, loudly. “I should be the brain in our friendship but… yeah. I mean, I know you guys are out of contact right now but this… he definitely did this for you…”

“Yeah, Grace, make me feel worse, go ahead.” You hissed.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, baby, you know why he did that!” She raised her arms. “You should talk to him. This obviously isn’t working for any of you.”

“Grace—”

“No, you will hear me now!” She talked on top of you, also getting up. “I’ve watched you put on a fake smile and pretend you’re fine and I didn’t say anything because I knew you had to figure it out yourself, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re drowning yourself in work, you spend half of your time at your studio and the other half at John’s studio. You don’t go out, you don’t live.”

“Grace.” You tried again.

“And usually I’d say something like: ‘get over that fucking asshole’ or ‘he isn’t worth it’!” She walked back and forth. “But the worst part is that Nico told me Jack is just like you!”

That made you stop. “What?”

“He’s not at parties, he’s not hanging out with the team, he’s not goofing around. All he does is sleep, eat and go to practice. And, fuck, Nico doesn’t know what to do because Jack never acted like this before.”

“Grace, what…” you breathed, almost yanking your hoodie with how much force you were holding it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s so fucking obvious you both love each other yet you won’t do anything!” She lamented, staring at your eyes. “I can’t watch you fall apart like this. You have to tell him that you want to be with him.”

“Grace, I can’t— I can’t do that.” You stuttered, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Sophia,” she whispered, grabbing your hands. “That man loves you. He just punched your ex-boyfriend on national television, with everyone watching. I stand with what I said back at that dreadful Halloween party, I’ve seen how he looks at you. And he loves you. Jack Hughes loves you, Sophia.”

You let her words sink in, nodding once. Grace was bossy, delusional and a bit insane too but she was right. You needed to do something.

“Okay,” you agreed, holding her against your body. “What do I do?”

“Shit, I didn’t think you’d agree with what I was saying… I don’t know?”

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” you laughed and she pinched your butt. “I think… I think I’m going to his house.”

“That’s a bald ass move and so right. Want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m good. I don’t even know if he’ll hear me out but I’ll try?” You stepped back, grabbing your car keys and purse.

“Call me if anything goes wrong,” she blinked, going back to the couch. “If you don’t, I’ll call you and risk interrupting your fuck.”

“Like I’d ever pick up,” you joked, leaving the house.

Jack lived thirty minutes away from you, and alongside with that, it was a Friday night in Newark— of course the streets were filled with cars. It took you an hour to get there but even so, Jack’s car wasn’t parked in front of his garage like it used to.

You turned your car off, and waited. You could wait outside but with how cold it was, it was safer for you to wait inside. You couldn’t risk getting sick.

Seconds turned into minutes and when the one hour mark came, you sighed.

“Maybe he isn’t coming home tonight,” you said to no one, tired of waiting. You knew you could call him, but you weren't entirely sure he’d pick up. “Maybe it’s just traffic.”

You decided to wait a little bit more, half an hour. If Jack wasn’t there by the end of it, you’d just come back tomorrow. Fortunately, shortly after that, Jack’s car was parked outside of his house.

You watched as he got out of it, opened the back door and grabbed his duffel bag. Taking a deep breath, you left your car and closed the door silently.

Walking to his porch with fast steps, you called him. “Jack!”

He stopped immediately, turning around to face you. He had a bandage on his eyebrow and one on his cheek. Your heart tugged on your chest.

“Soph?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

You stepped closer, smiling awkwardly.

“Hi,” you said, softly, putting your hands inside your pockets. “Can we… hum… talk?”

He stared at you for a second, before nodding and turning around again, opening his door and letting you inside the house first. You thanked him and stepped inside, taking in the sight you missed so much, his home.

You both stayed quiet for a while; he put his things away and you stood there, weirdly. You didn’t know how to start the conversation, so you just stared at him. He looked tired, dark circles adorning his face, hair messy and face a bit swollen. Even if he looked hurt, he looked ten thousand times better than Harris, who was probably in the emergency room at the local hospital.

“Jack,” you started, noticing how his body went stiff and he stopped moving. “Why did you do it?”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply, stepping closer and putting your hand on his face, feeling the hotness of it, and realizing you missed him more than you knew.

“Jesus, Jack, do you even realize what you did?” You whispered, moving your thumb up and down. “He’s dating your coach’s daughter. He’s a powerful man, baby.” The pet name slipped out of your tongue, but you didn’t want to take it back.

“Fuck,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist and kissing it. “Say it again, Soph.”

Maybe someone else would need him to clarify it better, explain further. But not you. Not when the love you felt for him ran deep inside your soul.

“Baby,” you whispered again, watching as he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Sophia, fuck, what did you do to me?” His voice sounded so tender, you could feel your body wanting nothing more than to melt inside his arms. “I can’t— Fuck.”

“Jack, you need to understand that what you did, baby, it could cost you a lot—”

“I know. Soph, I know that. And I still would break his asshole’s nose again and again.”

“Why did you do it?”

He stepped away, and you immediately wanted him to come back. “Why did I do it? Isn’t it obvious?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Sophia, I am in love with you. I love you.”

You felt your cheeks getting wet, and only then did you realize you were crying.

“I didn’t understand it sooner because, hell, I have never loved a woman before that wasn’t my mom, and even then, it’s not even close to what I feel towards you,” he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think being in a relationship was for me, I didn’t even want it. But now I look at you and—” he looked at you, blue eyes brighter than you’d ever seen. “I look at you and I realize you’re all I want.”

You were fully crying now, the tears running down your face like models on a runway. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to scream at him.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he stepped closer, gently putting his hands on your waist, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I know that you’re upset, and I know this isn’t easy for you. We all got bags full of shit that we don’t want, but I will unpack them for you, baby. Just… just let me.”

“Jack,” you sniffled, trying to stop crying. “I need you to know that I love you, too. But,” you pressed your lips together, organising your thoughts. “You need to know that sometimes it’s going to be hard for me. I don’t trust so easily anymore and I’m sorry for it but that’s just who I am.”

You could swear you could feel his smile, while he held you tighter. “It’s okay, Soph. When I tell you that I want you, I don’t mean only the good parts. I want you whole. I want the bad, the good and the in-between,”

“What if,” you hold him impossibly closer. “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“Tired of you?” He chuckled. “I want to marry you.”

You stepped away from his like he was on fire. Frowning, you raised your finger.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Hughes. Besides that, you’re literally twenty-two.”

“I don’t mind you being my old sugar mommy,” he shrugged, smiling.

“Call me old again, Jack Hughes, and I promise you will never hear from me again.” You smiled too, and for the first time in probably two months, it felt real.

“Yes, ma’am,” he stopped smiling, stepping closer to you again. Holding your wrists to his mouth, he kissed the right first before moving onto the next. After he was done, he placed them on his neck, grabbing your waist.

You stood on your toes, trying to stay face to face with him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You smiled. “I guess you can.”

“You guess?” He bickered back, plastering his white teeth for you. “Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispered, kissing your cheeks. Then your nose, then your forehead. Always gentle and steady. “Soph, sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you just glued your lips together, moaning because you had missed this so much. His lips felt like the sweetest thing in the world and when he touched your tongue with his, you were sure you had turned into butter and was now melting.

Maybe your forever wasn’t so distant at all.

[princessbrunette]

bbf!rafe eeeeek!!! 💞 imagine if you ever invited a boy over while rafe and your brother are chilling!! Man would be angrier than your own family ! heck, he’d probably throw him out himself !!

╭────── · · 🐰 · · ──────╮

the two of them are lounging in the living room when he watches you pass by, a boy he’s never seen before being lead by your hand— the two of you headed upstairs. rafe does a double take, staring in disbelief as your brother totally ignores it — too focused on the game.

“you—you see that shit, man? your little sister is taking some low-life up to her bedroom, alone.” rafe leans over to him urgently, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in reference. your brother offers him no more than a glance, shrugging a shoulder as he brings his beer bottle to his mouth.

“so? she’s grown. can do what she wants, i don’t care.”

rafe’s eyes flutter in irritation as he licks his lips, shifting impatiently on the couch. “so? so she’s allowed to just have any guy round? she’s your little sister, man you’re meant to be protecting her. you think i just let sarah march in with whoever the fuck she wants? no, because— because i’m the man of the house. you gotta get that shit in check bro, or she’s not gonna respect you.” rafe manipulates. truthfully, he didn’t give a shit who sarah brought home as long as it wasn’t a guy he had beef with. that was simply an excuse to get your brother to see eye to eye with him.

it seems rafe’s rambling was starting to get on his nerves, distracting him from the game. he rolls his eyes, turning to him.

“shit, you care so much why don’t you go kick the guy out then?” he snaps and rafe sits back, thinking.

“yeah… yeah okay. i think i will.”

the door to your bedroom swings open a moment later, your head whipping round from where you sat on the bed. he leans on the doorframe, staring the guy down with his arms crossed over his chest.

“rafe!” you exclaim, horrified and he doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“out.” he orders to your company, the guy glancing between you and rafe.

“uh— wh…”

“am i speaking another language, bro? get out of her room before i come over there and drag you out myself. go.” he speaks slowly, aggressively, condescendingly like the dumbest man on earth was sat on your bed. the guy offers you an apologetic glance and scurries off.

rafe stares him down until he’s out of sight before casually swinging your door shut, shutting you in with him.

“rafe why the hell did you—”

“bet you thought that shit was real cute, huh?” he asks, beginning to pace as he scratches at his cheek, barking out a quiet malicious laugh. “yeah… yeah this had to be some… some ruse to make me, what? jealous?”

“he was my friend.” you avert your eyes, not even bothering to sound convincing anymore. he scoffs, shaking his head before blowing air out his mouth. slowly, his lips forming the ‘o’ shape as he does so audibly.

“friend, right. okay… you think i won’t beat the hell out of any guy that touches you? like — like i- i care who’s watching? nah, nah… maybe i should let your brother know what you’ve been lettin’ me do to you on the sly.”

“rafe.” you pout as he draws closer.

“what, you scared? the kid doesn’t give a shit who’s shovin’ his dick in you. made that crystal clear downstairs. so why should it matter if it’s me, huh?” he tugs at your jaw, dragging a thumb messily over your bottom lip. you let out a whine of disagreement and his eyes roll back before leaning down into your space. “you dont see me whorin’ myself out to randoms the same way you do, do you? why would i? my best friends little sister spreads her legs for me whenever i want it. would be a waste, right? i don’t wanna see you bringing home any more guests. is that understood?”

╰────── · · 🐰 · · ──────╯

[sangreprince]

I wanna keep this brief (graphic design is my passion level effort but also it kinda works in a really funny way) !!! I wanna let you all know I appreciate the love you've given Zagreus and I'm so so happy to be here. You're all great and wonderful and I could say so many good things to say about each and every one of my mutuals. So fuck it, that's what I'mma do. Because you all truly deserve it. I'm super happy with Zagreus and being able to share my portrayal and have it be well received means so much !!! It's easy to say 'thank you all so much' but I want to acknowledge that I truly do appreciate and care about each and every one of my mutuals, even if my time / availability makes it tough at times. PART 1/4

@withinchains / @hercarnality : Elle you already know how much ily so I'm gonna keep this short. You're such an amazing friend and writer and you already have the screenshot about me gushing pinned so eat my shorts and play arams with me. Your Morgana is to die for and you write every character to a fucking T because of how you just interpret all their personalities and put them into words SO effortlessly.

@lasraichean : NEMO U SMELL LIKE BEEF and I think you're fantastic. You pour so much effort into all your OCs and that passion does you so much credit. You absolutely shower Annie with love in such a way that I shower everyone else with unrequested amounts of fromsoft lore so MWAH.

@blackrosesmatron : Lucy your LB is fantastic and you're so easy to talk to and communicate with. Genuinely every time we sit down and plot I find myself getting so enthralled in her antics and character. You do her so much justice

@avernusfuries : HAN You single handedly made me like Karlach and that isn't even a joke. Before we met and started writing I always thought her story was one of the weaker ones and you somehow managed to turn her into one of the more realized characters in the game. HATS OFF TO YOU and every day I beg for more of this big doofus.

@feuerwizard : Crys I know I need to get back to you for plotting things, I've just been so busy but I want to say: You and some of the other CR writers you write with are so talented and I adore reading your posts. Were it not for you guys I still probably wouldn't have any interest in CR and I'm so so excited to get started with more stuff and actually get threads going!

@soulcluster : Lilah I think all your portrayals are excellent. Your MM deserves all the attention it gets and I honestly couldn't pick a favorite muse if gave me truth serum. Plotting with you is a blast and I'm so thankful for all the ideas we pass between eachother!

@pitgritted : Your Sett, Taric, and Mutli are all so well done Jojo. I can tell you really care about all the people you write and it shines so brightly, right down the amount of detail you place into every reply and how you format things. Passion shows in the end and this is no exception!!

@palespawn : This sassy motherfucker. We've only just started writing and I still need to get to replies but you've showed interest since almost day one and I cant say how much I appreciate that. Courtney you do such a beautiful job with the twink, I almost dont wanna stab him. Almost~

@infinitysagas : I first of all wanna say thank you for writing such underappreciated characters. To see Damon get love brings me so much joy, I always take a second to read his posts when I see them come up. I know we haven't done a ton but please know that I see your writing and totally wanna do stuff, I'm just very busy skdjhf.

@deathdxnces : Irelia was a character I never cared about too much, but how you humanize her so much and have expanded on her character beyond what Riot's given us does SO much for me. I actually adore how you portray her, Mel, and I wish to get writing at some point soon!! I know you liked a starter a bit ago and I do plan to get to that, but please do not hesitate to hit me up for plotting in the meantime. It really does help and I promise I don't bite!!

@tealbeats : I know you're not super active on Ez (and I still owe you a lot of stuff actually) but I wanna say I love the amount of his personality you're able to paint into every interaction. You have such a way of making him the perfect amount of insufferable (in the best way) while still twisting it in SUCH an endearing light. I love that annoying little bug and I'm so glad you do too, because it really shows.

@agonizedembrace : Han it's been really nice to reach out and get into contact again. You're genuinely a really funny, interesting, and thoughtful person who cares about Evelynn in such a way that brings out every aspect of her character. The agony, the sex appeal, the sass, the confidence, you just nail all of it and I'm really hoping we can get stuff going soon!

@bendwill : Elder scrolls blogs are few and far between, but Miraak is absolutely one of those characters that deserves to be more written out. We haven't gotten to do a ton but please don't hesitate to hit me up and scream ideas at me, the idea of Tamrielic Zagreus is very fascinating to me. (And also I need somebody to ramble about my Oblivion D&D Campaign ideas with skdfjh)

@ofweave : First of all, trans gale is based as fuck and you have a vision. Second of all, I know you're on hiatus but once you come back I'd be so happy to get the ball rolling with this stinky wizard man!!

@kismetwilled : I'm not gonna lie, seeing how you pour effort into your headcanons and thoughtful replies kind of inspired me to do similar with my own. I also want to say that I'd love to plot more and yell ideas all day with you, your style is gorgeous and I find myself appreciating characters on your blog I've never even heard of or are barely familiar with. Seriously Dani, it's top tier and I'm so happy to be mutuals.

@enrogued : We haven't gotten anything started with but I'm so hyped. Rogue as a character has such fascinating potential with her powers, and that's not to mention her attitude towards others in general. Once stuff gets started I'm probably never gonna shut up in your DMs but like that's a constant sdfjkh STILL!!

@lunarrepel : Shadowheart my beloved. The aesthetics, writing, dialog, everything you do with her is SO on point and I can't get over it. I was already biased and liked her after Larian adjusted her a bit during the beta phase of BG3 but still. Man you just nail her and I'm so excited to develop these two out. They give wine aunt energy and THAT alone gives me so much life.

@dreadgloom / @cinderschild : I wont lie to you I was GIDDY when I found out you wrote a WoTR character. I honestly expected that fandom to have more of a presence on tumblr but I'll take what small fanclub we can get right?? And also can I comment on the takes you have from Salvatore are absolutely genius and play really well into WoTC's drow?? Genuinely fantastic worldbuilding and it's always a pleasure to see you crop up on the dash.

@nightsbloom : Your headcanons and replies have been gorgeus and I just want to say despite me being really busy and not getting around to approaching yet, I'm so excited??? Also a while back you reblogged a Qimir gifset and it's still living rent free in my head so thank you for the food chef--- Please though, if you have any thoughts or even just dynamic ideas - toss them at me at mach 5 and I will run with them because I'm HYPE.

@spiderwarden : I think you officially win the title of Minthara's #1 fan. Her performance (as I've mentioned) is absolutely captivating, as is your writing. I'm very excited to see where her interactions with Zagreus go and writing with you (or even just seeing your random hc posts and comments) is such a blast. I will always sit down and listen to you ramble about her, I think she's so fascinating and that's in no small part to how you manage to inject so much life and love into her despite all the cut content.

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P3 | catch me outside, how bout that!?

Your eyes met Mark's for a split second before he broke eye contact. Mark and you go way back, but shit happened and…and you remember him telling you that you were dead to him. As the queue shortened, one of Mark's friends practically bounced up and down when she got to the counter. Mark lingered behind his friend group, doing his obvious best to ignore your presence and make it seem like you were never really there in front of him.

“Oh my god, AERI! I've always wanted to meet you! I'm Ningning, and I'm from the MPA Faculty.”

“I'm honored! God, you're really pretty—and you're talented too. Wanna take a pic of just the both of us? The rest of you guys can have y/n take your orders first.” Aeri was practically gushing. She always had a soft spot for attractive people.

You watched as she and the girl go over to the back for a quick photo session.

You waved at the rest of the group, albeit a little awkwardly since Mark was a part of them. You picked up a cup and a sharpie, indicating you were ready to take their orders. The pretty girl with short brown hair ordered first.

“I'll have a hot latte with oat milk.”

“Iced americano with less sugar, please. Thank you. ”

“I’ll have a hot mocha with regular milk. You're really cute. Can you also throw in your number?” The guy got two blows at the back of his head while Mark sighed deeply at his annoying ass friend. You grinned awkwardly, trying to act like his friend didn't just hit on you.

Then your eyes met Mark's again.

“Uh, can I get…” When it was Mark's turn to order, his head kinda blanked, and all of his friend group—and you—were looking at him right now. Putting him on the spot.

Shit.

“We actually have tea here. Do you still take it the way you did back in high school?” You asked carefully, knowing that speaking to him so casually would tick him off but he was holding up the line, and his friend that took a picture with Aeri had already returned.

“...yeah. I'll just have that then.”

Mark could see Haechan's eyebrows shot up, while Winter and Chenle just side-eyed him. Mark usually thanks his servers—always. They waited for the thanks to come out, but it never did—and he's even looking to the ground instead of facing you, jaw taut and fists closed. He looked genuinely pissed, for some inconceivable reason. All of his friends looked between you and him, bewildered.

What was his beef with you?

“Okayyyy, whatever that was…Um, can I have a hot latte with regular milk? And if Aeri can also make the latte art for it…” Ningning giggled, glancing at Aeri shyly from under her lashes.

“Sure thing! But no promises though, I kinda suck at it.” Aeri grinned and wrote down Ningning’s name on the cup.

That kinda brought down the tension between you and Mark, thankfully. You let out a deep sigh as you worked on their orders, going to the station and working beside Yangyang. He eyed you up and down before stealing a glance at Mark. You felt his lips near your ears as he whispered.

“Was the breakup that messy? Did you cheat on him with his worst enemy or something?”

You rolled your eyes to the side at his question.

“He’s not my ex, you nosy shit. Get back to work.”

Considering all of you were getting the hang of it, it didn't take up to 10 minutes to finish their orders. You gave them their drinks one by one as Yangs cleaned the station. You were about to hand off Mark's iced sweet tea when Yangyang stumbled and hit you from behind, causing the drink to splash against Mark's jacket. You gasped at the accident.

“Oh, no.” Yangyang muttered from behind you—but suspiciously, he didn't sound too remorseful.

Chenle was glaring daggers at the captain of NCU’s soccer team. Mark was brushing away the cold tea off of his jacket with a frustrated sigh.

“Damn it, this jacket can only be dry-cleaned.” Mark hissed, regretting buying a high maintenance jacket as a broke student.

“Oh my god, we're so sorry. We'll refund you and take it to the dry cleaners ourselves. We'll pay for it too.” Aeri bowed apprehensively.

Mark looked like he was about to reject the offer, but Chenle gripped his shoulder and started to take the jacket off of him.

“Just go with it, Mark. It's the least they can do for you.” Chenle huffed out, glaring at Yangyang who continued to clean their work station with a small smirk on his face.

You seriously wanted to recreate The Simpsons scene of Homer choking Bart right fucking now. You're Homer Simpson and Yangyang is Bart.

Chenle shoved the jacket into your hands and the rest of his group left, with Ningning looking a little upset that her moment with Aeri now ruined. You tilted your face up to the sky and sighed deeply, thanking god that the coffee was about to sell out anyway, even if you did plan to bring the leftovers home. Then you dropped your head to look at the tea scented jacket you were holding.

Fucking Yangyang.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : why is this story kinda gaining traction *twirls hair*...omg do you guys like me or something ahhhhhh that's so embarrassing hihihihihih

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [OPEN]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @mystverse @bee-the-loser

[thatone-brightstar]

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 2: Heavy is the head 'n all that

Words: 4.9k

summary: Carmy gets a visit from an old friend/ you offer Richie a fresh new start.

a/n: Hiii, i know i took my sweet time to update this but i did have some fun stuff to write for kinktober (link here! if you haven't read that) and it truly helped to regain my creativity to continue this bad boy so here ya go!

remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected, in the shower, fluff and smut, oral sex (male receiving), cock warming if you squint

Chapter 1.

Carmy’s hand holds a gentle yet firm grip on yours as you scout the various colorful stands selling all sorts of produce along the busy street. Despite the restaurant being closed for a few weeks now, the routine seemed hard to break and you had both woken up early enough to catch the market. Between coffee scented clouds and the murmur of conversation, you stroll alongside Carmen, stopping at every few booths to check out the products and take the vendors information for future deliveries. Though not buying as much as you usually would for The Beef, it felt nice to buy your groceries directly from the source. 

“So what did Marge say about Ava’s classes?” He asks in your direction, distracted by the crate of shiny tomatoes occupying the sidewalk.

“Oh, I think her words were ‘anything for your little niece, my sweet’.” You answer back in a terrible imitation of an english accent. 

“Your little niece, huh?” He adds with a smirk, taking a sip from the tea filled travel cup in his other hand.

“Alright, chill-” You reply with a similar smile. “It’s for Ava.”

You stop and let go of his hand to pick out a box of cherries and pull cash from your bag to pay. Carmy notices the bag starting to fill up and takes the handles off your shoulder, swinging it over his own and threading his fingers through yours once again. He pulls up your hand to place a warm peck on it, raising a red on your face that almost matched the cherries. 

From your point of view, the morning sun casts a brilliant glow over the baseball hat hiding his untamed  hair. Little specks of gold dance along his barely  untrimmed jaw and another blush sparks over your features as the image of you kissing his stubble pops into your head. 

“D’you think it’d be weird if I gave Richie my mom’s number?” You voice your thoughts suddenly. 

He turns to you with a puzzled expression. “And the thought came to you because…?”

You shrug and redirect your attention back to the rows of polished apples beside you. “Dunno. I just- I don’t think she’s ever gone out with anyone since well… y’know.”

Carmy nods his head slowly in a way that shows he understands and doesn’t pressure you to over explain. “And you wanna start with Richie?” He jokes instead. 

“C’mon he’s not a bad guy. And he’s not bad lookin’ either… he just needs a push.” 

A low mumble from his direction makes you turn your head and you almost don’t hear him whisper against the lid of his cup. “If you like stupid  Richie so much, why don’t you fuckin’ marry ‘em…”

You laugh at his words, joyful and warm, and shove him softly with your elbow.  “I meant, that it’d be nice to see them happy...” Your eyes wander up to him again, only to find his already darting over your face, a sweet smile set in place. “To have something like this. Don’t you think?”

Carmy lets go of your hand to throw his arm over your shoulder and pull you in even closer while another giggle blooms over your chest. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” He whispers near your ear. “Your mother’s definitely the push Richie could use.”

Once your bag is too full to keep cramming stuff in and you’ve swept the streets multiple times, you finally make your way out. There’s a tiny old lady in a small booth by the edge selling colorful bouquets that you almost don’t notice. But he does and stops beside it, quickly handing her the money with a shy smile and picking out the one with the most Carnations on it.

“Here.” He says  and leans down to peck your cheek. 

You flush and whisper a sweet ‘thank you’, cradling the delicate buds between your free hand and your chest.  Even in the cold breeze surrounding you, the heat radiating off you is enough to keep you warm all the way home.

**********

He had not known a second of peace after dropping you off at the gallery that morning. Between deep cleaning and crunching numbers with Nat, Carmy’s head felt like it was splitting in two. 

“Jesus fuck…” He mumbles, pinching tightly between his brows in hopes that it dissipates the incoming migraine. “I swear we can’t catch a fuckin’ break.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make my day either-“ She answers back sarcastically. “We’re gonna need someone to come get it tested-“

“Tested for what?” Richie interrupts, hand pointing to the same spot on the wall where the siblings are staring. 

“For fucking rabies- mold Richard,  what do you think-“

“-You’re makin a storm out of nothin’ Nat-“

“It’s not nothing, it’s mold-” 

“Mold is just a trigger word, okay-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me think.” Carmy speaks louder than intended, the sound vibrating in his skull and making him wince. 

He takes a deep breath then rises his head up again. 

“Yeah- yeah I think we’re gonna need to call someone for that. Check how much it’s gonna be?” He asks his sister, who only rolls her eyes  and nods, turning away. 

“Cousin c’mon, I can totally fix that shit-“

“Cousin-“

“-I just need some sealant and-“

“Cousin-“

“-good as fuckin’ new-“

“Richie!” He shouts and shuts his eyes at the shutter in his head. “Just… let an expert do it, alright?”

He watches as his cousin opens his mouth to respond, then instead closes it and raises his hands in surrender, muttering a soft ‘alright, fine.’ 

“Oh, that reminds me, I gotta go pick up Ava and drop her at your girl’s class. Need anythin’ while I’m gone?” 

Carmy shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once again, a habit often repeated and confirmed by the tender ache on his nose bridge. “No, we’re good. Still can’t do much without the fuckin’ permits.” He mutters back.

“ Did Jimmy get back to you on that?”

“Not since you asked this morning…” His voice sounds irritated, but it has more to do with the pulsing in his head. 

Richie only nods and despite wanting to, doesn’t keep pushing it. He instead only throws a ‘call me if you need anythin’ and quickly exits through the patched up front door, washing Carmy in yellow afternoon rays before it quickly closes and he's back to the fluorescent blue.

With the silence of the empty restaurant, he allows himself a second to breathe, even falling heavily on one of the few dust covered stools that haven’t been taken down to storage yet. Carmy pulls a cigarette from the fresh package in his back pocket and lights it, taking a deep drag that instantly numbs out the start of a headache. While he takes another deep drag, he pulls out his phone where your text sits under a reminder to ‘call the fucking fridge guy, carmy <3’ from his sister. 

There’s another rattle from the door and he rolls his eyes, typical of his cousin to forget something when he was probably too far away to come back, so he doesn’t even bother to turn around. Instead he presses the call button and waits, leg shaking impatiently over the footrest and camouflaging the steps moving closer to him. 

“Hey…” He hears once the call sends him to voicemail and the delicate tube in his hand almost breaks at the filter. The familiar voice crashes over his back and drowns him instantly in freezing water. “...I’m looking for a Ms. Carmen Berzatto?”

**********

For the first time in weeks, the gallery finally seemed to fall into its usual serene pace. Winter vacation was over and your classes had begun filling up again- with children retelling the tales of the places they visited while out of the city. Marjorie had informed you that morning that word of mouth had followed its course since the charity event and six more kids would be joining you in a few days, and now you had more easels to put together before the weekend.

The small plastic screw falls off your hand for the second time and you groan up to the ceiling before picking it up. The easels came with too many small pieces to count and the fact that you still had four more to finish in the back, did not help with the overall mood. As you place the screw back into the little hole and press the screwdriver against the head, it pops to the side and goes bouncing off out of your view.

While you crouch down and pull your hair back to try and see if it’s anywhere close, the entrance bell signals a new arrival, and the excited steps that follow have you straightening back up. ‘Is it five o'clock already?’ you think and instinctively run your hands down the paint hardened apron, as if that’ll make it seem more presentable. A relaxed breath calms you down at the familiar sound of Richie’s voice calling you from the front.

“Back here!” You call out and begin to group up all the scattered screws you can find for a day where each piece won’t make you want to cry.

“There’s our Michelangelo!” He belts out as soon as he spots you, extending one long arm to his side, while the other is taken hostage by a small little thing cradling a Bluey backpack. 

Once he’s close enough, the extended arm hooks over your shoulders and pulls you to his chest, placing a chaste kiss over your hair. ‘okay-’ is all you can say and push him away  lightly once he’s already letting you go.

“Again- thank you for this-” Richie groans slightly while carefully placing Ava on the floor in front of him, his hands on her shoulders swallowing up her small frame. “She promised to be on her bestest behavior, right Ava?” She nods shyly.

It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before. He’s being tender and kind, and has spoken more than five words without wedging a single ‘fuck’ into the sentence. You can say you’re impressed, though the feeling soon turns sour- like the many times you’ve been a spectator to a loving father/ daughter duo. Richie’s rubbing his thumb softly over her cherry cheeks and even though it’s a simple action that shouldn’t arise anything, the uncomfortable knot in your throat still takes its place. 

From his kneeled position, he can see the various pieces of chunky plastic laying astray and he signals with his head in its direction. 

“New exhibition or somethin’?” 

You clear your throat quickly and wipe the beginning of your sweaty palms on the back of your shirt, embarrassed that you may have been caught staring.

“Uh, no actually. Just some fuc-un-” You correct yourself instantly when your eyes flicker to the small child. “-some fun easels I have to assemble for the new kids.”

“Let me help you-” He’s quick on his feet, already picking up the screwdriver before you get a chance to decline.

“No, leave it- it’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow… plus, don’t you have to head back to The Beef?”

He only shrugs and takes off his jacket, then begins to count the number of holes on the plastic and pulls out the same number of screws.

“Can’t do much without permits. And you look like you could use the help.”

You crack your locked knuckles as you watch him work, still considering rejecting the offer. But he joins together more pieces in those ten minutes than you have in half an hour, and who are you to reject a man searching for purpose? Instead, you take Ava’s bag from her and lead her to one of the newer stations before the rest of the kids arrive.

“Thank you.” You offer with a small smile in his direction, right before the bell rings again and more hurried footsteps echo in your direction. 

“If you’re still feeling charitable, there’s four more in the back-” You add in a hurry and shrug apologetically at the stunned look over his face. “You offered to help…”

Richie ended up staying through the whole lesson. Wandering every few minutes behind his daughter’s station, arms folded with the screwdriver still in hand and contemplating the canvas like the world’s most respected critic. It took him the whole hour and a half to finish assembling all the easels and only had plastic wrap to pick up by the time the last kid left. 

Ava sat happy in your rolling chair, sugar-free cookie crumbs sprinkled around her face and paint stained fingers.

“Isn’t that shit toxic?” Richie asks through a concerned face as he bent down to pick up the last of the trash.

You also turn in her direction and shrug, cleaning your own hands with a rag. “Not really, we buy non-toxic for finger painting. It was easier than asking them to stop licking it off…” He only nods at your response- but not fully convinced- sends Ava to wash her hands a second time.

“Thanks again for the help.” You call out with a nod in his direction, then bite your lip. 

You don’t know what to say or how to bring it up, only left staring at him as your mouth opens and closes, popping the bubble wrap in your hands. “Hey, Richie?” 

He turns, brows raised. ‘There’s no turning back now’.

“Have you tried uh… y’know, dating after Ava’s mom?”

“Listen kid, you know I love ya, but Carmy’s family and-” You roll your eyes and throw the trash in his direction, barely missing his head.

“Not like that, dumbass!” You scold with an amused smile. “I just thought- god this is so fuckin’ weird- here.”

Richie’s expression is puzzled, eyes darting between the contents of your outstretched hand and your own flushed face. He reaches towards it and when he finally takes it, your hand retrieves back to your body and crosses over your chest.

“And this is…?”

“It’s my mother’s number… I know you kinda got a thing for her.” You wave your hand in the air when it looks like he’s about to contradict your statement. “C’mon dude, I have eyes, ‘kay? ’m not blind. A bit grossed out, but not blind.” You admit the last part only to yourself.

The silence breaks with the sound of soft steps on the stairs and an enthusiastic rendition of ‘shake it off’. Richie folds the small paper and buries it securely in his jacket pocket, clearing his throat in the process.

“She likes white wine but not the sweet kind, salsa- both food and the dance- and don’t even mention Celia Cruz or she’ll never shut up about her.” You rush through as the little steps move closer to the back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, then a slight grin forms over his face. “So does that make me your dad now?” He teases and you groan, rolling your eyes for the third time in less than two hours.

 “Don’t make me regret it- and don’t make it weirder, okay?!”

Your phone rings from inside the apron before he has a chance to bicker back and a smile grows on your face at the caller ID. 

“Hey Carm, ready for later?” You turn away from Richie, who cleans the crumbs off Ava’s face before swinging her bag over his shoulder and waving goodbye.

There’s a few silent seconds on the other line, then a heavy sigh travels through the phone and perches over your chest. “Uh, yeah about that…”

“Oh no…” You interrupt before he even has the chance to explain.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry-” He begins and you can hear the shuffling on the other side. You can almost picture him running his hand through his already messy hair and staring up at the ceiling as if he’ll find all of life’s answers there. “I’ll explain at home but right now I gotta stay later.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just reschedule and see if they can show us the place another day.” Your voice sounds reassuring, though all that’s running through your head is the lightweight promise he made a few days back.

“Yes-okay, great.” Carmy answers rushed, not catching the slight disappointment in your tone. “This is turning out way more difficult than I thought.” He mumbles against the mic.

“Well, y'know ‘heavy is the head’ ‘n all that.” Your smile grows nervous as you try lightening the mood but only a distracted half sigh, half laugh follows a second later.

He clears his throat and rushes through his words again. “Listen, don’t make dinner. I’ll buy us somethin’ on the way home, okay?”

“Yeah, sure… see you at home.” 

**********

The train ride home bombards your thoughts with a little guilt. You couldn’t help the slight disappointment ringing in your ears from the failed promise. Then you remember how hard he’s been working lately- or since you’ve known him really- and you feel foolish for letting such a small thing get to you. 

So once you arrive home, instead of dinner, you round up the few candles you brought with you and place them strategically around the small bathroom. Then you do your best to scrub the paint out from under your fingernails and strip into nothing but the soft fluffy blue robe he gave you on Christmas. Once you see the short ‘omw’ text, you begin to light the candles, praying they won’t burn the place down, and entertain yourself by arranging the Carnations from that morning in a little vase you made at the gallery. ‘I should give it a friend’ 

The muffled jingle of keys cuts your train of thought short, followed by his footsteps and a heavy sigh once he shuts the door and takes his coat off.

“Babe?” 

“In the kitchen!” You call back and bite your lip in anticipation, quickly rearranging the robe so your collarbone is a little more exposed.

“What? No- I brought dinner…” His tone dies down once he spots you around the corner, take out bag weighing down from his outstretched arm.

“‘M not making dinner.” You answer with a soft smile and keep your attention on the flowers sitting beside you on the counter. 

His gaze shamelessly runs along your bare legs, crossed in a way that exposes all the way up to your upper thigh but no more than that. You take your time to finish trimming the rest of the stems, then push the vase to the side and swing your legs to hop off the counter. The movement seems absolutely graceful to him and he can’t do anything but lean against the wall to regain his balance as you move closer to him.

You hold on to the sides of his torso and stand up on your toes to kiss his lips sweetly. You wanted it to be a quick teasing kiss, but his hand wraps around your back immediately and presses your chests together. He sighs against your mouth, the ‘thump’ of the bag hitting the floor vibrates in the room and soon both his arms circle you close. 

Your hands cling to his broad shoulders and your toes drag along the floor as he lifts you lightly and moves deeper into the room. The simple movement makes your head swoon with  love.

“...missed you.” He mumbles between kisses down your cheek and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing again.

“Hard day?”

He only nods, too occupied with the kisses he leaves on your exposed skin. You place another on his hair and peel yourself away slowly, hands still tight over his. 

“C’mon.” You whisper and nod deeper into the apartment.

His brow creases with questions he doesn’t ask, instead following behind you silently into the room. The usual white tiles glow yellow with the tiny dancing flames, Carmy’s eyes instantly catch on to the flickering shadows and take his breath away. When you turn to him, his eyes are wide and soft, with the small specks of the candle wicks glistening inside them. Your hand lets go of his to run a tender finger over a smudge on his cheek, while the other begins to undo the knot on your robe.

He’s motionless. The only sign of movements come from the slight bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes constantly drag down to your chest before he pulls them back up. 

“I wanna help you relax…” Your voice is sweet, barely above a whisper and drowned out by the sound of the soft fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet. “Can I?” 

All he can do is nod, transfixed by the way your tan skin glows almost golden in the flickering lights. He lets you pull the white shirt over his head, then while he finishes undressing, you turn the water on and watch as the steam starts invading the empty space. Carmy’s hands caress the sides of your hips and little kisses spark the goosebumps on your shoulder, but once you’re both fully inside, you wiggle away from his touch and turn to face him again.

“I’m taking care of you.” You repeat, and grab his biceps to push him deeper into the streaming water.

You let it fall over his head until the locks grow a shade darker and most of them lose their bounce, then you turn the water down and reach for your scented shampoo.

“Turn ‘around for me?.” You request while you lather the soap on your hands.

Carmy rolls his eyes and gives you a toothy grin, but obliges anyway. You can see his shoulders instantly relax as your fingers tread through the curls, nails raking gently over his scalp in a rhythmic motion that has his neck losing a hold of his head and tipping it towards the cold tile. A smug smile covers your face, wet strands of hair decorating your cheeks, and you even make an effort to continue the gentle movements even after the bubbles have disappeared.

Instead of washing it away, you bring the massage down to his neck, thumbs pressing insistently over the numerous knots you find on your way down. He’s no different than the clay you’ve been experimenting with at work, you offer him as much tenderness and dedication as you would any other work of art.

The soft sounds of his breathing mix with the thin stream of water rushing over your bodies. You didn’t even notice how close you’ve moved to him until your breath bounces back to your cheeks. You take the chance to place little wet kisses along his spine as your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and the shudder he breathes out makes the taste of shampoo on your lips completely worth it. You press them to his warm skin again and again as your hands work down his spine and to the pretty dimples decorating the bottom of it. 

By the time your movements have ceased, both of your breathing is struggling with need.

You use the last bit of control in your voice to call his name. “Carmy…” It’s almost silent, but the plea in your tone is enough to make him turn to you.

The sight of his blown out pupils and the way his hair darkens his face is enough to make you come on the spot. Without hesitation, you gently drape your arms over his puffing chest, raking your nails over it as you pepper kisses in a messy line down. Your knees fall over the tile with a soft slap that resonates in the quiet room.

“Fuck-” Carmen blows out, eyes fixated on how fucking good you look on your knees for him. 

Your need is too strong to tease him, instead you take his already hard cock in your hand and start giving it a few soft pumps without losing his stare. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” You ask again in a sultry voice. The water droplets have accumulated over your lashes and your wet hair cascades over your shoulders, making you look ethereal in Carmy’s eyes and all he can do is nod and sigh when you kiss the tip.

His hand flies up to grip the slick tiles when you finally wrap your lips around his girth and take him fully into your mouth. The rhythm is slow and torturous as you pull moan after groan from the depths of his chest, until he grows too impatient and his hips begin to buck forward into your mouth.

“That’s it baby, that’s it… oh fuck.” Carmy whispers words of encouragement that travel straight to your aching pussy. He groans into the side of his extended arm, but only for a short second, because he can’t dare to take his eyes off you any longer than that.

Each sound he makes pushes your movements faster and each slurp and drag of your tongue makes him groan even deeper, it’s a vicious cycle of obscene sounds that neither of you want to break. Through hooded eyes, he spots your other hand dragging into the inside of your parted thighs and he thinks he might come just from that alone. 

With a few more bobs of your head, you pull him out with a soft ‘pop’ and he takes the chance to catch his breath, before leaning down, hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you up to him in one swift motion.

In a second, your feet are up and off the floor and the cold contrast of the tiles on your hot back brings chills over your excited skin. He latches onto your lips in seconds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Your legs circle his hips with strength as he rubs his stiff erection between your thighs.

“You like sucking my cock, huh?” He whispers in a shaky breath while his hips grind incessantly over your slick cunt. “Look how fuckin’ wet you got. You gonna let me take care of you now, baby?”

He pulls his hand from your face and readjusts his arms around your thighs so he has a better grip on you, but doesn’t slip in yet. Instead he drags the length along your folds and watches you whine and squirm with want between his arms.

“Yes, Bear, take care of me please. I need you.” His cock jolts at your words and the neediness behind them is enough teasing for him.

He slips right in, like coming home, and wastes no time in pulling back out to set a rapid pattern that has your breasts bouncing in his face. Carmy buries his mouth by your neck, dragging his teeth down to your chest and back up, leaving crescent shaped bruises that you’ll probably have to cover with makeup tomorrow. Right now though, he doesn’t care, he’s proud of them and how they represent that you’re truly and wholeheartedly his.

“You’re fuck-ing me so good.” A string of mewls falls from your lips at the mixture of sensations and your nails dig firmly into his shoulders to help ground you back. 

But Carmy’s hips snap up continuously to a spot he’s learnt you like, making your head fall heavy over his shoulders. You’re gasping for air with each stroke and drag of his cock, unable to regain strength in your neck to look up at his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He whispers near your ear, erupting shivers along the skin his breath caresses as he continues railing into you. “And you’re takin’ me like such a good girl.” His movements are too fast for you to keep up with your hips, so all you do is take it, and happily so.

“C’mon baby, come f’me yeah?” 

You’re too high to listen to his words, but your body reacts on command as the tension in your navel snaps and a guttural moan rips your throat open. Carmy follows close behind you, groaning into the side of your neck and pressing you impossible closer to his heaving chest.

As the bliss dissipates into tiny waves, you reach up to his clean locks. He answers back with another soft kiss.

“Can we stay like this?” He asks timidly into your skin. 

You smile at the sudden softness and reach down to fully turn the water off. “Don’t you wanna finish showering first? or… pull out?”

Carmy answers with a soft ‘no.’. You expect him to let you down so you can both dry yourselves at least, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses you securely to his chest again and makes his way out of the shower. 

You squeal and press your thighs hard around his own when he leans down to blow out the candles, one by one, in fear that he may drop you. A relaxed laugh vibrates in his chest and joins your nervous giggle as he manages the task flawlessly.

“See, I got you.” He says with a proud smile- one that crinkles the sides of his eyes and makes him look boyish and carefree- as he carries you to the warm bed.

‘I know you do' You think to yourself all night, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78 and that's it lmao

[saintmagx]

call it what you want 🎶

Grayson Waller x Reader

An: I just loved this idea and had to write about it! Also not sure what Scarlett goes by irl so I’m giving her the nickname Beth cause I think that’s what I’d actually call her 🤔

‼️ warnings: swearing, use of real names, not proof read, we are dramatic asf, Grayson is dumb and oblivious but we love him, not really much substance just a little short story‼️

“No, absolutely not.”

“Matty please?”

“Yn I’m sorry i just can’t. I’ve spent so much time trying to be the bad guy, if I go, I lose all credibility. I’m sure if you ask Trin and Beth, they would go with you.”

“Trin is bringing Jon and Beth is bringing Kevin. I will literally be third wheeling everyone. Know what? Just forget I asked. It’s fine.” Upset, i storm off.

Taylor Swift. Taylor fucking Swift was the cause of this argument. The Eras tour was finally heading to Florida and i had tickets for us and our friends to go, however between purchasing the tickets and the actual concert itself, Matty decided - no wait sorry Grayson fucking Waller decided to start beef with the swifties - Rendering his attendance impossible.

Grabbing my phone I do what literally everyone else does when they need to rant about their man. Put it in the group chat for the girls to back you up.

Me

Matty says he isn’t going to the concert 😢

Trin

Girl I’m sorry. That boy is dumb as hell. Why he starting beef knowing we had this concert?

Beth

Men are dumb - screw him, we will still have fun girl 💕

Me

Honestly I don’t even wanna go now, yall can find someone to take our place.

Trin

No no no we ain’t gon do that. You’re gonna get you fine ass dressed to impress and you are gonna come to the concert with us.

Beth

Honestly yn it wouldn’t be the same without you there, please come - I’ll make sure your glass is always full 😜

Trin

I second that! Come on girl.

Me

Know what you girls are right, screw Matty. I’m still gonna go and enjoy myself. Drinks on yall though - promise is a promise 😚

Friday Night Smackdown

Backstage I stand with Trin who is currently warming up for her match tonight.

“We haven’t really spoke about it to be honest. I know I’m being over dramatic but he knew how excited I was for this concert.” I complain

A familiar scent fills my senses. A strong pair of arms wrap round my waist enclosing me in a tight embrace.

“There’s my girl, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He says.

“Well you’ve found me, now I gotta go get ready for my match.” I say u wrapping myself from Mattys grasp.

“I’ll see you out there Trin.” I announce before quickly leaving, leaving him confused.

“Boy, you done fucked up.” Trin

“What did I do wrong?” He says.

Shaking her head she replies “the fact that you don’t even know what you’ve done wrong makes this whole thing even worse.”

“Come on Trin, help me out.” He pleads

“The concert Matt, she was looking forward to you and her going and you’ve let her down. Do you know she wasn’t even going to go because of it? This is something she loves and wanted to experience it with you. You better get your shit together and sort it out before the gig.”

“Fuck!” He says letting out a huge sigh. He didn’t mean to hurt yn, he knew she was looking forward to the concert but didn’t think it would be a big deal if he wasn’t there.

“This whole swiftie thing has just got out of hand, but don’t worry Trin, I’ll fix it!”

“You better.”

Day of Era’s concert

Perfect you say to yourself.

You and the girls had decided to dress up as your favourite Era. You had gone with Lover era. Standing looking the mirror you had found the perfect dress, a pink off the shoulder tulle mini dress, it was the epitome of lover - and of course your outfit wouldn’t be complete without and arm full of friendship bracelets ready to swap with all the other attendees.

You had sent off a text to Trin and Beth to tell them you were ready to leave. A small knock at the bedroom door startles you slightly, knowing it would be Matty you tell him to come in. Turning around you are met with Matty dressed up with pink trousers - similar to the shade of your dress. A white Taylor swift T-shirt and and a few little friendship bracelets on his arm.

“We ready to go babe?” He asks

“I thought you weren’t coming?”

“I wasn’t, but I didn’t stop to think how much you wanted me to be there, and how much I wanted to be there with you. I want to have all these experiences with you and I can’t do that if I’m sitting at home.”

He walks closer to me and takes hold of my hands, looking into my eyes he continues.

“I love you so much yn, no swiftie beef is gonna stop me from making your dreams and wishes come true.”

He leans down and tenderly kisses my lips.

“I love you too Matty, you have no idea how much this all means to me.”

The truth is he did know how much it meant to yn. He could see it in her eyes and he made a silent promise to himself that he would never again be the reason her eyes were filled with sadness.

Thank you for reading whatever the hell this was. Appreciate the likes and reposts.

If you want tagged let me know! 💕

Tagged:

@jeysbae

@blueflowermentality

@co-sharkie

[c0smoshit]

Hello angel, here's my silly little angsty prompt:

"Cloud gets home after a mission. He's exhausted, but reader is happy to see him noneless. She knows he isn't a touch person, but she finds fun into teasing him a little, hoping it would make his day better... However, she senses that something is of; and Cloud, unsure if it's a mako flare-up or something else, prefers to let it go. Later that night, he's surprised (yet shattered) when his mom visits him, telling her son she is happy he found "the one" and how proud she is of her son.. When reader awakes to see a puzzled Cloud, she wonders what's the right move to make, only to follow her instinct."

Enjoy wrecking me 🤍

The one ミ★

��� ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud/fem!reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!, minor spoilers, past trauma, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ reqs are closed bc I'm going to be busy next week and I wanna write some stuff by my own too so yeah, sorry 😭

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 2.236 ( so many short fics omg )

It started off with your voice.

"Hey"

And then your hand would find his own, bringing him into your little world.

But as the hours passed by, you noticed that something was off, really off.

Maybe it was how lifeless his eyes seemed to be under your cold lighting, despite the beautiful contrast of mako green and natural blue.

Your hands helped him get his sword off him, your ears turning deaf as he told you it wasn't necessary.

He always tried to do everything on his own, he felt as if he was a burden to others. Ever since he was a kid, he thought that maybe it was better if he stayed quiet.

Maybe that was what life had been awaiting him for.

He loved silence, he loved quiet walks into the mountains by himself, whenever his mother would let him.

However, you were quite the opposite of quiet.

. . .

"Yeah, it's that weird guy I told you about"

"Why is he here?"

"Why is he wearing that in public?"

"I heard he was involved with that terrorist group"

Over and over again.

At this point he couldn't distinguish between his mind and the world that was surrounding him.

Cruising through the city, he tried not to interact with anyone as always. But no matter how hard he wanted to focus on his task, there were always some burning eyes on his skull.

At first he didn't mind, he wasn't really used to this kind of attention but he shrugged it off.

Maybe it was his sword or maybe it was the curse in his eyes.

However, as the weeks passed by, he felt more and more out of place. The pollution brought an itch inside his head, but those whispered comments brought headaches.

"Mind your own bussiness, freak"

Turning his head around, he looked over to where you hissed. It was almost comical to see you scolding a pretty big guy, his friends already about to either insult or laugh at you.

However, he stepped behind you before any of that.

He liked the way you always tried to defend him, always beefing with people whenever you heard those awful comments.

He felt somewhat protected

. . .

"You're taking a bath"

What?

He had dissociated from the conversation to the point that he was now aware of your hands prying off his armour.

At first he didn't enjoy those "cute little baths". He felt bad you were cleaning him up and he felt like a little child under your fingertips once again.

But the more your hands laid themselves on his bare body, cleaning him up, the more he leant into your touch.

So he let you handle him around

"Alright, let's start"

After that, your fingers started spreading soap around his scalp, his whole body submerged inside your hot tub.

He found it kind of silly that he had to lay down with his knees outside the water when you could spread them so they rested under it.

He loved those small details

With you he didn't feel naked and vulnerable, he felt finally at peace. He didn't know how much he actually needed your hands on him, but his body surely craved them.

Speaking of, they were currently rubbing soap on his chest, tracing a path until they latched themselves on his arms.

Curiosity spread around his mind whenever you would praise them, tell him how strong he had became over the years. Curiosity because he didn't see that much of a change, he was always like that, right?

But he didn't mind them, hell, he secretly flexed under your gaze so you could gawk at them.

Summer days whenever it was hot outside, glistening skin under the warm hues of the punishing sun. He was always weirdly lifting something heavy whenever you were around, a wooden box or some metal bar.

A secret attention whore

He let you play around with his fingers, eyes closed as he relaxed into the tub behind him. He liked the way your hand fit so perfectly with his own one.

Whenever you would drag him around the city, latching your fingers around his wrist as he followed close behind you.

Ever since the day he had met you, you seemed different.

He could crack a smile with you without the need of feeling embarrassed about it, let alone laugh at your stupid puns. He felt light-headed, and he really needed you after a long day.

That's why he always tried to get home as soon as possible when you weren't working too, he wanted ( needed ) to see you. The way his aching legs dragged themselves without any pain into your house.

But on days like this, his legs ached x2 times harder.

Why was he still alive after all that had happened?

Why did the Planet need him so badly?

Couldn't others replace his job?

Those questions flooded his mind again and again, like a snake that bit it's own tail.

He was become more and more confused about his surroundings, the past traumatic events still flashing lively through his tired eyes.

God he was tired.

And after all the times he had already told you that he was fine, just tired, that adjective seemed to have lost it's initial weight.

So tired.

The past, the nostalgia mixed with the sour taste of regret and bad decisions.

The present that still haunted him on lonely, endless nights.

The future he didn't even want to know that was awaiting for him.

As bad as it sounded, he had lost interest in the things he adored doing. He felt better when he was just breathing, sinking in your arms.

SOLDIER? he wasn't good enough to be one of them

Sep%#/<*@? It was better if he slowly forgot his name

However, it wasn't that easy.

No matter how far his legs had managed to take him, a long trail into some tall, enigmatic woods without a visible exit.

He was always following right behind him

And he didn't know how much time he had left until his face would be pushed into the dirt, a much stronger hand keeping him down.

. . .

"Cloud!"

White hair was replaced by your h/c locks, a warm waterfall of relief washed all over his body at your sight.

"Were you even listening to me?"

His body felt fuzzy and when he looked down he saw a towel wrapped around him, his legs sitting on the cold wc.

He looked back into your face, a cute pout resting on top of your brows as you waited for him to answer. Only to see that disgusting look of worry paint all over your pout instead.

He hated and despised that look in your face

He always blamed himself for making you feel like that, maybe he shouldn't have opened up as much as he did. Maybe he was being such a baby about all this.

He wanted to make you happy with him, cheerish him for the things he had done that day, admire him. Anything that didn't involve your pretty face coming down.

But, of course, he didn't know how to brighten it up.

His pupils remained connected with yours until he looked away, confused about what to do or to say.

But your hands suddendly wrapping his head in a warm cage of softness, kept him from thinking. A towel was ruffling his hair up, and he didn't mind anymore if it ended up messed.

He liked the feeling of someone finally taking care of him

And when you both finally winded down from the day, ready to rest on the comfortable bedding you had chosen, he felt as if someone was dragging him down into a puddle of confusion once again.

The worst part is that he didn't know how to swim back

"Sweetie"

She paused for a brief moment, her hands slowly lulling him back into an awake state.

"Honey?"

Mom?

"That's right, sweetie"

His eyes opened up, finally seeing the woman behind that familar voice.

"I missed you"

He couldn't believe he was back home, looking down he still saw his adult body. Well, and adult body that only hid childish maners.

He wanted to say that he missed her too, a lot actually. But no words seemed to seep out of his mouth, it felt like a nightmare.

Part of his childhood and teenage years passed by without her, a warmth he seemed to seek on cold nights, sneaking a hand around your waist. Whenever he saw other children with their mothers, teenagers that got angry at them, he wanted to feel that too.

Hell, he wanted to feel everything that he was deprived of. From the softness of her arms as she tucked him to sleep, to her honeyed voice as she sung making dinner.

His head still laid on his pillows and he could recall the coziness of it, it was the only thing about his past that he was sure was real.

"You've grown to be a good man huh?"

She kept talking, and he wanted nothing more to do other than hearing her voice for the last time.

"You've gotten really handsome too. . ."

Her hands took his arm, his mind now being aware of her presence as she sat on the bed, sinking a bit the mattress. Her fingertips dancing along the skin, trying to memorize all his muscles.

". . . and strong too"

A big smile was plastered on her face, looking at him as if he was a newborn again, getting ready to sleep for the first time after she had given birth to him.

"The ladies must be crazy for you"

And she wasn't wrong, they really were.

He got compliments almost every day in Midgar, from the honeygirls to some random ladies on the street. But it wasn't until his mother told him how pretty he actually was that he started believing it.

"I saw that girl, you're a lucky one"

Did she mean... you?

You were one of the few persons he knew he could trust, that could lend him a hand whenever he was feeling down.

He couldn't describe what he felt for you, but he definitely knew that if you happened to fall off a cliff, he would be there to catch you.

You had done so much already for him and yet without expecting the same amount of love and care for him. And he felt so bad about it, he wanted to return all of your hugs, cuddles, kisses and praises.

"She's the one"

And there you were, laying like a lonesome princess by his side. He could see your pacified breathing, it would always calm him down.

How had he gotten so lucky?

You seemed like a goddess under his gaze, and it was on nights like this he finally got to appreciate your beauty.

You could be sweating, with your hair all ruffled up after a workout that he still would've found you the prettiest woman alive.

You always told him how handsome he was, how his face was absolutely perfect as you forced him into wearing some kind of mask you would apply into your face shortly after too.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you

His mind was racing at this point, he didn't even know where to look anymore. At your pretty eyes closed shut? At the way you were cutely laying on the bed with your arms hugging your chest? At your body under the mattress?

If he were to write down his favourite part about you, he wouldn't even know where to start.

However, when your eyes opened themselves slowly, he panicked.

Did he wake you up?

But he stayed still on spot, the warm blanket he didn't want to leave when he got up in the morning pooling bellow his stomach.

"Cloud?"

Stop.

He wished he had an audio recorded of your voice and listen to it whenever he had to sleep without you.

"What's wrong?"

Your eyelashes batted themselves, trying to wake your brain up as you searched his body under the dark light.

He soon felt your hand on his bare chest, finally able to look at him in the eyes. Which wasn't a complicated task as they were bright as the sun.

Your moon in dark nights

"Go back to sleep"

That was the fourth time you had heard him speak this afternoon, and it concerned you so much. He always listened to your stories and when he was in a good mood, he would never shut up.

He was a pleasant person to speak to, really, he had such beautiful words to say whenever he got philosophical. And he actually made you cry when he bashed out about his trauma.

But you just looked at him and without any words, your arms enveloped him like his mother. You knew he was comfortable like this, silence as your heartbeat slowly matched his own one perfectly.

And soon both of your bodies were laying on the mattress, your hands holding his head, pressing him further into your chest as he clinged to your back.

You told him the most sugary praises you could had ever thought about, lulling him back to sleep as his mind began clouding with sleep.

You could've sworn you felt something wet on your chest, but you didn't care, you were more than happy to finally see him express his feelings with you.

[sakotisssss]

ranking of yugotalia ships?

im gonna do the most common ones + some rare pares

serbcro

sorry so basic but it’s just too good. they both are just so toxic it actually ends up working. they match each other’s freak but not in a good way. but it’s very interesting and i like thinking about how different their dynamic would be at different points of history. its different than serbbos because there isnt a clear power dynamic and i think they are both equally fucked up but in different ways. they dislike each other, but partily because they're way more similar than you'd think. to both of their dismay, they can understand each other in ways no one else can. this is only if its done right, i dont wanna see drazen as the twink and vuk as super manly. thats just not them.

2. serbmace

this is the only serbia ship (and general yugo ship) i dont see as insanely toxic. i think it would only be a short time thing, probably during the balkan wars before ww1 but generally they have good relations and i think vuk would enjoy being the protector and mace being protected. but i also think she's the only one that can make him shut up. its just so cute, both of them having like a small crush on each other throughout time and i think they'd work well.

3. croslo/serbmonte

im putting them in the same catagory because i feel kind of the same way about both of them. i think these are two ships that historically would work great, with cro and slo growing up together and monte always kind of wanting to be "one" with serbia. however, i feel both monte and slo are just fed up with the two of them in the modern day and do not get along at all. but the reason its not higher up is because i feel like this works better as a sort of sibling type of relationship rather than romantic. a lot of the times monte and slo cant stand serb/cro but at the end of the day they grew up together and both cro and serb kind of consider them their only genuine friend. still one of my favorite dynamics to read about

4.

sloserb

this ship is hilarious i support it. i lowkey feel the same about bosslo

4. bosherze

okay unpopular opinion, i know i know. i really do like the ship, i think its really cute especially in ottoman times with enis trying to constantly rizz up idriza and eventually her falling for him. i like how he's overly affectionate and she secretly loves it. he def wants to be the protector but idriza really is. but WOW is this ship toxic, especially in modern day, and in a more tragic way. the fact that they really dont like each other nowdays just doesnt sit right with me, and the bad beef between them is quite recent and personal. its intresting tho, two people that were forced together and ended up falling for each other only to be torn apart 30 years ago and now back to really disliking the other but still forced to be together. its genuinaly tragic, but i think its probably the ship that is the funniest. the scenerios of them make me laugh so hard, this ship is like a black comedy. both of them deserve better as enis just hasnt really been ever treated right and idriza literally has to run the entire house and gets no credit for it (ofc she's bitter). fr its the parents that should have divorced a long time ago.

5. monteherz

@danidandandadididan put me on to this and im obsessed. they would be such a better match, but history just didnt let that happen. sad.

6. montemace

ehhhh

7. monteslo

tall masc guy with tiny twink. boring and overdone. next.

8. crobos

no, would not work. they literally cant go two seconds without backstabbing each othe and its just ehhh. their friendship is really funny though

9. serbos

no, just no. unlike serbcro, where they've both traumatized each other, serbos is just a complete power imbalence. they have a lot of bad blood, and unlike serbcro have always been on oppisite sides. this is just vuk traumatizing enis. not a fan from a historical or a ship perspective. it just icks me out.

[rdbrainz]

Hi there! If you're still accepting Bleach requests, may I see your headcannons based on the Bleach Jet art of the Espadas and Quincies in delinquent school uniforms (specifically Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Bazz-B)? That official art just gave me major brain worms, and I really like your art and headcannons >.< Also, do you happen to have a Ko-fi/patreon to send donations to?

ACTUALLY funny enough I've been thinking about this art a lot myself lmao so I do have some headcanons! as for my ko-fi or patreon.. like I said before transferring money out of them is impossible where I am right now but I made a boosty acc (I'll link it in my bio)

First I wanna add that I just can't see Stark as a high schooler x). He has the vibe of a teacher who somehow ended up with the worst classes in school despite his formidable reputation. Though maybe he was a delinquent himself in the past so he knows how to deal with these little shits. He also has a soft spot for them so as strict as this man can be he cuts them a lot of slack. Like for example I'm sure Nnoitra would smoke in this AU so I think the first day Stark started working with them they met on the rooftop on the lunch break while Gilga was smoking and instead of scolding him Stark just asked for a cig. Nnoitra almost shit himself. I'm also sure he would ask his class to look after his daughter Lilynette so she won't get into any trouble with that attitude of hers. She's probably in middle school or a couple of years younger than them so yeah... the lil sis of the group...

Despite the differences and constant bickering Nnoitra and Grimmjow are basically attached at the hip. I can see them being childhood frenemies actually. Ulquiorra and Szayel are also somewhere in their orbit of course but these two are the worst duo to stumble upon. Very notorious

Ulquiorra is obviously the class president given the armband. He tries his best to mediate the conflicts between his classmates or make them behave better but it's all in vain. Mostly. Some days he's just not in the mood to be responsible and reasonable when dealing with all the bullshit. When trying to bring delinquents to reason you have to be either very respected among them or more fierce than them and Ulquiorra certainly lacks the authority because of his character and swaglessness. He's very scary when mad however. Everybody knows this by now but they just keep trying their fate. Like I'm telling you once he unbuttons his gakuran it's so fucking over

Unlike Grimmjow Nnoitra is actually bothered with his grades enough to try and work for them and/or study (not all the time of course what do you think he's a loser or something?) It includes scaring people into doing his homework, snatching papers out of Ulquiorra's hands right before the class starts (he's used to it so he carries around two sets of hw) or if he REALLY needs to pass an exam he goes to Szayel, the class smartass. The latter is literally equivalent to dying and going through hell to him because he has to abandon all his pride. If you have a shit ton of money you always can try and ask Szayel to help you. Sure. A little bit of humiliation and you actually know the subject. However when it comes to Nnoitra the freak won't let him breathe because: 1) he doesn't need his money, Nnoitra has plenty and it's already stolen anyway so what's the fun? 2) asking a fellow delinquent you have a beef with for help has different means of payment 3) he just really wants to fuck with this guy's head since he thinks Nnoitra is a curious fella. Gilga is well aware of all of this and he's well aware that Szayel will make him polish his boots with his tongue before even considering helping him with acquiring the forbidden chemistry knowledge. So he has to really work for it whether it's a fistfight or running errands for Szayelaporro. It's a good thing Grantz stays true to his word

Grimmjow has a well-accessorized uniform thanks to Nnoitra but his casual clothing is hilariously uncool. I'm convinced this guy has zero taste both in clothing and prints/patterns because he couldn't care less about what other people think is considered fashionable when all he needs personally is functionality and comfort. He knows how to rock a good hairstyle though but if he wants to wear flip-flops outside then so be it

Nnoitra spends all the money he gets on new accessories and CDs (and maybe sometimes porno magazines) for which he constantly gets picked on. If it's someone not from his immediate friend circle then it's not even worth thinking about - left, right, goodnight. As if he's gonna let anyone get too fucking cheeky with him. He's infamous for being called slurs and then bashing the person's head in for this every week because he wears heels and had to endure children being mean to him because of his eye in kindergarten and primary school so it's no big deal really. But if it's Grimmjow then it's a fucking word battle to death he just can't let it slide. Jaegerjaquez really thinks Nnoitra is gonna get strangled by one of his necklaces one of those days but whatever. It's up to him. His music taste however... Now that's something they quarrel about all the time. "I mean I'm not saying anything! Sure you can buy new TOOL CDs all you want.. cough cough... fucking loser.. cough"

Bazz-B was hell-bent on making friends with Grimmjow because he genuinely thinks this guy is awesome. Look at his laid-back attitude and vicious ways! His blue hair, his style! Ohhh, to be like him!!! Jaegerjaquez on the other hand was not very impressed with how annoying Bazz could get with his neverending attempts of talking to him. Too energetic and loud for his liking. He already has Nnoitra and his big fat mouth he constantly runs all he wants so another talkative guy next to him would be too much for his everyday life. He would literally tell him to fuck off and threaten him with a beating of his life but unfortunately it got Bazz even more fired up. Damn weirdo. And a major pain in the ass. They did find a common ground in the end though and it's... A motorcycle that Bazz owns. Bazzard suggested they could take a ride together as a last resort and it was all it took to buy Grimm. Imagine the most excited person you've ever met and they still won't be as excited as Grimmjow was at that moment. Instant fucking boner! "Dibs on driving though" "Deal!" Grimmjow was surprised to reveal that Bazz-B is actually fun to be around and not as annoying as he initially thought he was. Nnoitra made a joke about them having a date the next day though

I think here Bazz-B suffers the same fate as Sakuragi Hanamichi in the beginning of Slam Dunk which is constantly trying to get girls on a date but being brutally rejected each time lmao 😭It's not like he is a bad-looking guy no it's actually the opposite but his personality and hot-headedness are too much to bear for girls he's going after

Askin is a great negotiator and he knows his way around with words but other than that he sucks. He's not a bad guy, just chronically fucking uncool and has to hide behind other people's backs because of mediocre fighting abilities. He also gets in all kinds of stupid situations because he just can't keep his thoughts to himself sometimes which is a bad asset to his cheesiness

Äs Nödt is also not very good at fighting but he's more useful than Askin lol. A smartass and a menace who is talented at collecting data and black-mail on people by eavesdropping and other means. He's the one who proposes the most out-of-pocket ways of taking revenge on other gangs or teaching someone a lesson so you better be careful with him

I hope I'll make more art of this later cuz I'm a bit burnt out rn

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias/Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader - Dark Rivarly Part 8/15

What a perfect day to release a chapter hahaha. 🤣 It's derby day between Man City and Liverpool and with the beef going on between Trent and the team my story becomes more and more unrealistic, or what do you think? 🤔

Could Trent ever make peace with somone like Ruben? Let alone allow Ruben to date his sister?

Part 9 and 10 are already out on my Patreon!

Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias.

Enjoy!

"These are actually pretty good."

"Really?" You perked up where you sat on the sofa in Ruben's hotel room. He was sitting next to you.

"Yes and the press seems to love the outfit you choose for Ruben, look."

Miranda turned her Ipad around, showing you the published images of Ruben, wearing the outfit you had picked out for him.

"I'll admit that I had my doubts at first, but the reviews have all been great. Good job Y/N."

"Um, thank you Miranda." A complement from her felt like a lifetime achievement.

"I'm gonna call the photographer that took these and see if he can send me the negatives. We might be able to use them on Instagram to summarize the weekend. Miranda left the room to make the call, leaving you alone with Ruben, who had barely acknowledged you this morning.

"I better pack my bags." You said, rising from the sofa. Ruben however, refused to move his legs out of the way to let you pass.

"Excuse me?" You groaned. It wasn't funny, neither of you were laughing. "Ruben?"

His legs wouldn't budge, and you were getting agitated. "What the he'll are you doing, move your..."

Ruben drew back his legs just as you were about to swing at them with your own. This caused you to stumble forwards, almost tripping yourself.

"What was that for?" You frowned.

Ruben's expression was emotionless as he stood, and for the first time the height difference between you was intimidating.

"I...I just wanted to go to my room and pack my bags." You stuttered.

Ruben exhaled. "We need to talk first."

"Talk about what exactly?" You crossed your arms.

"The way you left me last night, it was unprofessional." He said.

"Ruben, I told you that I came down with something." Which was a lie, but it was the best one you could come up with on such short notice.

"And what exactly was it that you came down with?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed fine when you left my side at the party. What made you suddenly wanna run off Y/N?"

"Ruben, for the third time, I wasn't running,  I just needed to get back to the hotel and lie down."

"So that's where you did it?"

"Did what?" You frowned, his tone spiteful to you.

Ruben shifted in his stance, crossing one arm over the other. "Y/N, I expect you to take your job seriously. For you to then run off with some guy...."

"I didn't run off with some guy."

"Don't lie to me Y/N, John saw you!"

The echoes of his words bounced off the walls. The room fell silent.

Ruben's eyes searched your face, he was angry and wanted answers, rightfully so. "Who is he Y/N, an old flame from your university days?"

"Ruben."

"No." He shook his head. "Don't tell me. It's none of my business." He walked over to the windows, running a hand through his hair.

"Ruben, it's not what it looks like. That guy, he is my...."

"Just know if you ever pull something like that on me again...." He said, slowly turning to you. "I won't be giving you any second chances, understood? Do your job from now on or the next time you're fired."

"There. The photographer gave me the thumbs up. He'll be sending me the...." Miranda stumbled into the room but paused at the sight of you and Ruben. "Everything alright?"

You were staring blankly at each other, something heavy forming in the base of your throat. Your voice shook when you spoke. "I have to pack my bags." You said and ran off into your room, gasping for air once you stood behind closed doors. You were gasping for air from the unstoppable flood of tears.

You were considering your life choices on the journey back to London. What if you just moved aboard and started a new life in some foreign country? No one would know you and you wouldn't have to lie about who you were. You'd be nothing and therefore be someone.

"Y/N! You're back early."

You stepped into Grandma's shop carrying your suitcases. You had forgotten your keys to her apartment but was glad to be welcomed by Jennifer at the front desk. However, her initial joy of seeing you quickly faded. "Oh my god, you're soaking wet. Is it pouring outside?"

"Just a drizzle." You murmured, as she rounded her desk to help usher you inside. "Is my grandma here? I forgot my keys."

"She's in her office, sorting out a golden suit. You won't guess who it's for." She giggled.

"Trent."

Her smile withered. "How did you know?"

You removed your soaked coat. Your shirt beneath had also been ruined.

"Oh my god, tell me about your weekend." She gasped. "London Fashion Week, was it as exciting as they make it to be? And your boss, was she happy with your work?"

"He." You corrected.

"What?"

"My boss is a he, and no he wasn't happy with my work."

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry Y/N. Is he high maintenance when it comes to fashion?"

"No, he's just a fucking dickhead."

"Language."

Grandma walked into the room, pinching a dozen sewing needles between her teeth.

"But he is a dickhead Grandma. And I don't care anymore, I'm not going back to work for him."

Grandma spat out the needles in her mouth, all the pins dropping soundless to the floor. "Well you're not coming back to work for me!"

"But where else am I supposed to go?"

"Home. To your mother, and tell her she's failed to raise her children."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I'm serious Y/N, you're not staying with me. I'm getting tired of your tardiness, not to mention that furball you've got running around my apartment."

"What does Whiskey Jr, have to do with any of this?"

"He stinks, just like your attitude towards authority."

"I don't have an attitude towards authority. "

The bell above the front door rang in the distance. "Guys?"

"No, tell that to your current boss. I've overheard you talking, I bet he's done with your tardiness as well."

"Hey, guys?"

"What are you talking about Grandma, you don't even know my boss and if you did you would agree that he is a fucking piece of...."

"Y/N, please!"

Your argument with grandma was interrupted by Jenny's objections. She stood by the shop entrance, greeting the customer that had stepped through the door. He was soaked with rainwater from head to toe.

"You have a new client." She said, cheeks as red as they come. You on the other hand, couldn't find the words to speak and so grandma stepped in. "Can I help you sir, we're not open for much longer."

Ruben stepped forward.  "No....I mean yes. I want to speak to Y/N."

"My granddaughter?" She frowned. "And who might you be, young man?"

You shook your head as Ruben met your eyes. However he went ahead anyway. "I'm Ruben, Ruben Dias, her boss."

"Oh. My. Days!"

You saw Jenny bouncing up and down in the  corner of your eye.

"There's no way." She squealed. "There is no fucking way."

"Jenny please." You groaned, begging her to spare Grandma who hadn't been as quick to put two and two together.

"Your boss is Ruben Dias? Of all people." Jenny was clearly overjoyed by the drama unfolding before her. "Y/N, you're basically working for the enemy."

"Please don't be so dramatic". You sighed.

"Does Trent know? He's got to know, right?"

"Trent?"

You looked to Ruben as the name escaped his lips. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that who you were with in London? Is that the name of your boyfriend, Trent?"

"Ha!" Jenny snorted, slapping a hand against her mouth. "You ran into Trent in London? Oh the drama. I can't."

"For fuck sakes Jenny!"

"Y/N!" The room fell quiet as Grandma's voice rose above all. "Language."

"But grandma..."

"No buts." She said, forcing your silence. "Now." She stepped up to Ruben, examining him. "This young man. Your boss? He has come here to speak to you, let's hear what he has to say."

It was a nightmare come true. Even Ruben seemed a bit taken aback by Grandma's demeanor. However he did gather the courage to address you as if you were the only two people in the room.

"I came here to apologize." He said. "For being a dickhead to you this morning."

Jenny snorted somewhere behind you,  however grandma shot her a glance that made her fall back.

"You have the right to do and see whoever you want. I was just jealous and upset that you chose to do so on the night of my friend's gallery opening. For some reason I really believed that the two of us were...."

"No way." Jenny gasped, once again interrupting you. "You're fucking him too?"

"Oh for the love of..." You grabbed Ruben's arm, pulling him aside, into Grandma's office in the back room. There the two of you were left alone, however this game was getting old, the game of Ruben hurting you then crawling back, begging you to forgive him.

"There's something you should know about me." You said, wanting to get it over with. Ready to get it over with.

"Alright." Ruben nodded. "Tell me."

It was now or never.

"That guy your friend saw me with last night wasn't my boyfriend, or an old flame from my university days."

"No, who was he then?"

Another one bites the dust, you thought. Telling the truth meant that you were going to lose Ruben, just like the truth made you lose your old friends. You sighed before you spoke.  "He is my brother Ruben, my twin brother."

"Oh, okay." There were clear signs of relief coming across Ruben's face, a slight twitch in the corner of his lips.

"His name is Trent, Trent Alexander Arnold. You might recognize the name since..."

"Wait." His expression went stiff again, carved by a deep frown. "Did you say Trent Alexander Arnold? As in..."

You nodded. "Yes, THE Trent Alexander Arnold. Liverpool's right back, however you might know him better as the guy that got booked for trying to punch you out the last time Man City played Liverpool."

Ruben's snort was unexpected. "Tried to, is the right word for what he did."

It made you gasp, as well as playfully nudge his arm. "I'm being serious."

"Trust me Y/N, I'm also trying to be serious. So you're telling me you're related to Trent Alexander Arnold, your twin brother to be exact?"

"Yes. I'm the oldest, if you must know."

Ruben's bright eyes searched your face. But it was unclear to you what had suddenly lightened his mood.

"Is this the reason?" He asked."

"What reason?"

"Why don't you want to be with me? Because of who your brother is. My "rival" in the football world?"

"Well that and the fact that you are my employer which would label our relationship as highly inappropriate."

"Yes, but it's mainly because of your brother, no? You worry about what he will think of you, of us. It's why you had him take you home the other night,  because you didn't want the two of us to meet, no?"

You nodded. "He doesn't know that I'm your stylist. And I don't think that I want him to. The truth would send him through the roof." You still wondered why it hadn't sent Ruben through the roof,  what was his angle?

"Y/N, I don't give a fuck about who your brother is?" He said this in a way that shook your core. Ruben then stepped forward, grabbing your face between his hands, tilting your head upwards. "Can we stop pretending that what we have between us isn't real?" He chuckled. "Can you just accept the fact that I want you and you want me Y/N?"

"You want me to run into your arms?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Like the girl in the painting." You smiled. "He's waiting for her to run into his arms."

"Yes." Ruben nodded. "Exactly. Come to me, run into my arms."

You crashed into his lips instead, with Ruben initiating it by pulling your face towards his. Just like that you we're back to square one, the game between you having stepped into a second round. And the next round was guaranteed to involve less tears and more fistfights.

[death-in-a-handbasket]

One thing that bothers me about some ranpo fans is that they woobify him. Like, the mans kinda neurodivergent coded, and people tend to act like hes "baby" for those traits

my brother in christ, that is an adult man! He struggles with some things but that doesn't mean he wouldnt go to a sex shop or have kinks or whatever

YES SO TRUE 🙏

gonna go on a bit of a rant here because I have a great many feelings on this and honestly anon if you wanna dm me to go on a discussion spree I’d be all for it >:)

okay see, I get what they mean when they point out how immature and energetic he is, but at the same time every character has stupid and strong parts to them in different ways. Take even someone as serious as Fukuzawa, who tries offering fish to ever cat there is, or perhaps Dazai, who is one of the most complex characters in bsd, and yet is always knee deep in a prank of some kind

Ranpo is an immature shit but that’s because he wants to be as a sort of reclaiming of a childhood he was deprived of and because it makes things easier to be happy-go-lucky, but he’s still an adult and perfectly capable of acting like one, so seeing people baby him completely without acknowledging the fact that he’s seen dead bodies in all sorts of states and has knowledge on pretty much everyone’s personal beef at a glance, well it’s kind of a letdown from a fandom that has such pride in analyzing its characters. if y’all wanna be so smart as to make comparisons between Dazai, his irl counterpart, and the books he wrote, you can do the exact same with Ranpo and read all about eroguro (and the rabbit hole known as pink films I found on the side while researching)

innocent and baby. yeah sure LMAO

this isn’t to say they’re wrong for making him goofy, I just wish he was known as a whole and not just for certain parts, like have we forgotten he’s on par in intelligence with Dazai 😭 cmon now guys

I could spend all day sitting down and talking about the intricacies of his character and any bsd character for that matter, and as someone who is legit diagnosed autistic also with a baby face, just because someone is neurodivergent and silly in the face doesn’t stop them from from being absolutely vile on the down low, me and the majority of my friends are walking examples of this, and let me tell you the server convos get WILD

[my-castles-crumbling]

how yo date a girl when I deeply hate her parents?

Iam actually kinda scared she’ll see this bc ik she follows you too and I don’t want her to know 😬😬

anyways

we are kinda neighbors really close

Our parents also got beef but they are also homophobic and transphobic they keep referring to a trans guy friend “X & Y’s daughter who decided she’s a boy now” making me wanna punch them and dirt talking a shared neighbor for being a lesbian and the neighbor is also a friend of my mom’s.

also they got a little Shit of a dog they let loose whenever

he’s a small poodle thing and still scares my german shepherd- golden retriever mix who is 3 times his size

her parents keep just letting him loose and he chase us down the stairs and shit and they just go home and don’t really care

this shit is so unaducated he even bite THEM

they say if my dog bite theirs maybe he’ll stop and not really care and after the last time he pretty much attacked mine when my little sister was walking him alone and scared the shite out of her my parents also quite don’t like them

she is against the letting loose thing and told her parants to stop but they obviously don’t care

She is queer i know that but how do i deal with her shit parants and stuff?

I'm sorry her parents suck so much </3

I think this takes some communication between you and your girlfriend to discuss what you need from her and what she's about to give. You can't change her parents, but you can set expectations in your relationship. Do you need your girlfriend to say something when her parents are being bigoted? Is it safe for her to do so? If your needs and her abilities don't align, then this might not be the relationship for you, and that's not a failure on either of your parts. Remember though, you're dating HER, not her family. Focus on communicating your feelings in a nice way and seeing if you can come up with something you both can do that will make you feel better.

Sending love! Naming you deep anon!