#maybe a good cry as well. it’s been a day

[electrosuite]

okay. al. i need something put into words. idk if you've seen it but in "we live in time" andrew and florence didn't hear cut when filming a sex scene. so i was wondering. could you do something where eddie has taken up acting. it's an experimental movie, so y'all are actually fucking. it's unsimulated sex. y'all don't hear cut, but you're so into it that neither of you stop. you don't notice until he cums, then you both remember the cameras.

warnings: swearing, fingering oral sex, descriptive sex, sex on camera

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i saw we live in time opening week and absolutely loved it. put andrew garfield's bare ass in more movies!!!

masterlist

One of the best decisions you'd made was moving to Hollywood to pursue acting. You loved it, and you were a natural. You could make yourself cry on command, you often lost yourself in scenes, and you weren't afraid to get nude on camera. That was something that was pretty common for the 80s, specifically female nudity.

You'd filmed many sex scenes in your career, but they were all simulated. Prosthetics, body doubles, cushions between bodies. But when you were approached to do an experimental film, one with completely unsimulated sex, your curiosity was piqued.

You were told you wouldn't meet the other actor until the day of, which turned out to be the first day on set. You were told that some studios, this one included, preferred to get sex scenes out of the way first and film the rest after. Your first impression of this guy would be when you had sex with him.

So when you were sitting on set in your tight black dress — which would be removed in the scene — and he walked in, your eyes widened. He was very handsome, just your type. He had long curly black hair, he was covered in tattoos, and immediately started joking around with the crew. He was wearing a suit, one which fit his body nicely.

When he spotted you, he walked right over and sat next to you.

"You my co-star?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That would be me."

"Eddie." He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

"Y/N."

"You look familiar. I feel like I've seen you in something else before."

"Maybe. Sorry, but I don't recognize you."

"I haven't been in anything big, just a couple of low-budget movies." He noticed your nervous energy. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just... I've never done anything... real. It's always been fake sex."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, it's a first for both of us, then. It's a first-first for me, I've never done anything like this."

"Really?"

"Yep. Never even taken my shirt off on camera."

"And you're just jumping right in, huh?"

"Why not? If I'm gonna do it, I might as well go all in."

"Well, are you at least experienced?" you joked.

"Oh, I'm experienced. Yeah." You chuckled. "Also, I was told to tell you that they had me go ahead and put a condom on so it wouldn't disrupt the flow or anything. They said you were pretty adamant about it."

"Thank god. I really don't want to leave here today pregnant."

This made both of you laugh, but it was true. That was the most important thing to you when agreeing to do this movie.

"Alright, actors in positions," announced the director, who settled into his chair next to the camera.

Before you could get up, Eddie looked back at you. "Hey, I know we'll be recording, but don't let that stop you from telling me if I'm crossing any boundaries, alright?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you."

"Of course."

The scene immediately started with the two of you standing at the edge of a bed, inches away from each other. So that's where you went, your calves touching the mattress.

You'd read over the script for this scene numerous times. There was a camera a few feet from the bed, and one strapped onto the ceiling above where you would be laying. Neither of you would speak, just moan.

You were getting more nervous by the second, the lack of space between you two making your heart pound.

"Hey," he whispered, making eye contact with you. "You still good?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You got yourself into the acting mindset as they finalized the cameras. "Ready."

"Quiet on set," yelled the director. Everyone hushed, the silence making you realize how many eyes were on you. "Action!"

You reached up and slowly undid Eddie's tie, his eyes never leaving your face. Once it was on the floor, he pulled you in for a kiss. It was gentle yet deep, both of you taking in a deep breath. His hands gripped your sides, your palms flat against his chest.

He reached around you and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He then effortlessly unhooked your bra and you pulled it off of yourself. So far this was exactly like some of the other scenes you'd filmed. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking to expose yourself on camera — how could it not be?

He pushed you down onto the bed, his knees on the edge between yours.

He wasn't supposed to kiss you as long as he did. It was only supposed to be a couple before he moved on, but he was going off script a bit. His hand cupped the breast visible to the camera, which was now a bit closer.

He began kissing down to your neck a bit, then trailing along your body. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling it. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing it would help the scene.

As he kissed down your body, he maintained eye contact with you, watching to make sure you were still comfortable with this. Once he was to your thighs, he knelt down next to the bed and pulled you by the legs closer to him.

He slowly pulled your underwear off, dropping them on top of your dress. He continued to leave kisses on your thighs, making a genuine and impatient whine escape your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you gasp, your hands immediately finding their way back to his hair. This was weird with cameras, and at first it made it hard for you to really get in the mood.

But he was good with his tongue. You were so used to fake moaning that the real ones that came out of you felt foreign. His hands on your thighs, keeping them spread, were also keeping your hips still.

Usually when you filmed cunnilingus scenes, they kept their mouth closed and just positioned their face between your legs. So it was a foreign feeling to actually be eaten out on camera.

He couldn't stop staring at you, you looked so beautiful. Your head thrown back, back arched, tits out and nipples hard, fingers pulling his hair.

He wasn't supposed to make you cum, the script didn't call for it. He was supposed to do this for about thirty seconds and move on to the actual sex. But he was told that if the scene lasted too long, they could just edit it down. So he decided before even meeting you that he would make sure you had at least one orgasm today.

And it didn't take you long to get there. The camera had moved now so that it was behind him and to the side, getting a shot of his back and your face simultaneously.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself as you felt your orgasm approaching, and fast. You were worried about how you would look, actually cumming and being recorded. You were trying to remain as calm as you possibly could, but you'd never been eaten out like this.

You were much louder than you anticipated when you finally came, and Eddie had to hold you down to keep you in the shot. When he finally stopped, he was immediately back to kissing you. He was still fully clothed, so you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders.

Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, he just pulled it over his head. He had a beautiful body, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You reached down and helped remove his belt, but he took over a moment later.

Within a minute, he was completely nude, and you got a good view of what he was packing. You were told before the shoot that you'd be having unprotected sex, and as you were already on birth control, it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Or at least, it wasn't until you were finally here. Now it was sinking in that you were about to be creampied by a guy you just met less than five minutes ago.

He was already rock hard, the sounds that escaped your mouth having gotten him bricked up immediately. He loved giving oral. It was one of his favorite things in the world. If it was up to him, he would've kept going, gotten you completely out of your mind before fucking your brains out.

He positioned himself back at eye level with you, reaching down and lining himself up with your entrance.

"That okay?" he whispered into your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. He wasn't supposed to say that, the script calling for no dialogue aside from the natural swears that would occur. But he'd already gone against it, and asking for consent was something he insisted on.

"Mm," you moaned simply, nodding as minimally as possible.

With zero hesitation, he pushed into you, and the gasp that filled the room was almost comical. It was such a perfect porno moan that you couldn't believe it was genuine, even though it came from you.

He stretched you out so much, so perfectly, you weren't sure you could handle much of this. It was almost too much, too good.

He engulfed your mouth into his, kissing you deeply as he immediately picked up his pace. The bed was already squeaking, and your chest was already red.

The camera was above your head now, recording from an angle that showed the top of your thighs and your head thrown back as Eddie began sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck.

That was when the scene was supposed to end. It was the shortest one in the script, which was another reason they wanted to get it over with first. But when the director shouted "Cut!", neither of you could hear him over the animalistic moans you both were letting out.

In fact, he called it about three times. But you two were so immersed, and your moans were so loud in each other's ears that it was useless. After a moment and after all the equipment was put down, the entire crew left the room and just allowed you to finish.

Out of all the times you'd had sex before, you didn't expect the best to be a completely scripted one. Eddie wasn't lying when he said he was experienced, he knew how to hit every nook in cranny in you like it was the millionth time.

When he felt himself getting close, he reached down and began circling your clit with his thumb. In the movies he'd seen, they always came at the same time. That didn't happen much in real life, but he wanted to make it look cinematic because, to his knowledge, they were still filming.

You gasped at the sudden contact, not expecting it. Thirty seconds later, you were cumming in sync, moaning into each other's mouths. He kept it going as long as he could but eventually he had to stop. Both his and your legs were trembling, sweat beading on your upper lip.

He kissed you for a moment, thinking in his head how great that would look on camera.

But when you both looked over at where the crew was, they were gone. You were confused, wondering why they didn't film as much as possible.

"Oh my god," you said, looking back up at Eddie. "Did they yell cut?"

His eyes widened. "Did they?"

"Did you hear them at all?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck."

"That's kind of hilarious."

He pulled out of you, pulling the condom off before grabbing one of the robes from the crates behind the camera, tossing another one to you. He opened the door to the rest of the set and the crew's heads shot up to look at him.

"Did... you yell cut?" he asked the director.

"Yep. Three times. You guys were so into it we figured we'd just let you finish."

That was when you laughed even harder, your head fuzzy and body tired.

After everything was cleaned up and you were heading back to your trailers, you caught up with Eddie outside his.

"Sorry we didn't hear cut earlier," you apologized.

"I'm not." He smirked slyly, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Do you think you'd do something like this again? Real sex on a set?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. With the right person."

"Well, if I get another opportunity like this, you're the first person I'm recommending."

"God, please do." His voice was raspy now, seductive, sultry. Normally you didn't pay any mind to men who flirted with you. But something about actually fucking Eddie seemed to form some kind of bond, maybe just in your head.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a napkin, which had your phone number written on it. You leaned in close, wanting this to stay between the two of you.

"Well, if you ever want to do something without cameras, call me." You turned around to walk to your trailer, his eyes glued to your ass the whole time.

He swore he could get rock hard again right now if he wanted to. Something was different about you. You were one of the best fucks he'd ever had, and he intended on using that phone number sometime soon.

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (1)

Summary: You're losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss

“Santa Claus is coming to town,” you sing along to the song blaring from your phone. You’re, as so often, the last one at the office.

Before the holidays, most of your colleagues try to get out of the office as early as possible. They have better plans than to work like busy ants two days before Christmas.

Sadly, you didn’t get to leave on the clock. Your boss demanded your attention. You couldn’t join your colleagues at the little Christmas party you organized for weeks.

Now they will all exchange the Secret Santa gifts you got for most of them, drink eggnog, and sing awful Christmas songs while you are stuck here with your grumpy boss.

“Miss Y/L/N, I need the numbers now." Mr. Barnes doesn’t even walk toward your desk. He simply barks orders your way.

You heave out a sigh and glance at the stack of papers on your desk. Before you get up to hand Mr. Barnes the numbers he wanted you to finish before the holidays, you save your work.

Grabbing the papers, you silently pray that Mr. Barnes won’t come up with more tasks. It’s long past your work time, and you’re tired and cranky. You’ll need a good night’s sleep and at least a day off before driving home for Christmas.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he barks as you are already halfway toward his office. Mr. Barnes huffs as you stumble over your own feet. “You know, I had better things to do than wait for the numbers. I have been waiting for hours. I think you’re the worst person working here.”

For a second, you’re stunned. You feel like Mr. Barnes slapped you across your face.

“Maybe if you asked the person responsible for the mistake to help you with the numbers, you'd like the outcome better. I worked overtime only to get yelled at!” You gasp. The words just flew out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw with emotions.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t work here any more then!” He bites back. It wasn’t a surprise to you that Mr. Barnes lost his temper. He’s always been a little hot-headed and grumpy. Mr. Barnes fired people here and there over the years. You just didn’t think you’d be one of them one day.

“You’re firing me after I fixed a mistake someone else made?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t see anyone else standing in line to work through the numbers. I worked overtime before the holidays to do you a favor.”

“That’s your job,” he growls and points at the door. “Or was. I want you to pack your things and don’t come back.”

“Fine,” you huff and turn on your heels, regretting your mishap instantly. You’d apologize and even fall to your knees to get your job back. Sadly, Mr. Barnes is a strict man. He doesn’t accept mistakes or insubordination. Whatever you’d do or say, there was no way he’d give you your job back.

So, you got a box from the storage room, emptied your desk, grabbed your belongings, and left the building for the last time in your life. To hell with this job and your boss.

“Mom, stop asking questions,” you plead as your mother wouldn’t stop asking questions about your job.

“It’s all so exciting. Living in the big city, having friends you meet up at bars like Carrie in Sex and the City, and your job. It sounds wonderful!”

“Mom, I barely made any friends,” you sigh, and try to rub the embarrassment off your face. “I’d call them work friends or acquaintances.”

“I bet they are all too happy to have you around,” she coos and cups your face. “I know my Munchkin conquered the big city in no time.”

“Mom, I—” you sniffle and look away, ashamed. It never gets easy to lie to your mother. “I have to tell you something about the job.”

“What is it, Munchkin?” she asks, looking at you, worry in her eyes. She coos to you as you begin to cry. Starting anew after your long-term boyfriend and fiancé broke things up was the dream you wanted to fulfill. Now, you failed again.

“I got fired yesterday,” you sniff. “I worked overtime, and my boss yelled at me. I fixed someone else’s mistake, and he still yelled at me. I lost it and…” You shake your head and refuse to look at your mother.

“Y/N, that’s not the end of the world.” She wraps you in a warm embrace. The kind of embrace only a mother can give you. You feel warm and safe, remembering all the times she calmed you in times of need. “You’ll find a new job, a better one. If he fired you, that man doesn’t know how to value you.”

“The fuck no!” Bucky flings a stack of papers across the room. He tried to access your account, only to realize he never asked you to reset your password. Now he’s seething because most of your work, except the files you shared with colleagues and him, is password protected. “She forgot to reset the fucking password!”

“Well, you told her to pack her things and leave, Buck. What did you expect to happen?” Steve huffs. He had to leave his cozy home and wife to help Bucky with some unimportant paperwork. “We've got time to fix this until after the holidays.”

“Unimportant to you,” Bucky bites back. “I want this finished before the year ends.”

“Buck,” Steve snorts. “If you need her password, call her.” The blonde shrugs before turning to leave. “I know you are not the best at communicating, but I believe in you. You can handle a phone call with a woman you just fired.”

“I tried more than once,” Bucky snaps at his best friend and business partner. “She won’t answer. The last time I called, she blocked my number.”

“Yeah, because you fired her!” Steve replies, laughing. “I wouldn’t answer any call from an asshole firing me two days before Christmas, either.”

Bucky opens his mouth to reply. He huffs as his friend already walks toward the door.

“What shall I do now? I need the password!”

“If you cannot reach her, go to her home and ask for the password. I will go home now. Please don’t call me during Christmas. Natasha will rip me a new one if I miss Christmas.”

“She’s not home. I was there. Her neighbors told me that Y/N will spend Christmas at her parents’ house. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Buck,” Steve laughs. “You can fly to her hometown and ask her for the password. While on your way back, you can celebrate with a pretty stewardess in first class as every Christmas…”

[vifilms]

tattoo artist!vi who takes notice of just how beautiful you are the moment you step foot in her shop. it’d be the most difficult task in the world to not notice just how insanely breathtaking you are. it’s clear by the smirk on your glossy lips. you know just how good you look. caitlyn, being the woman she is, tries to jump in first. you’re just her type. violet would know, cait’s dated the anti-thesis of her since the moment you broke up. caitlyn kiramman loves pretty girls. anything she can do to be underneath them, she’ll find a way. you fit her bill. violet tried not to take offense of the ways your eyes light up taking to her ex-girlfriend. maybe you’re just nice. that’s it, right? two minutes, someone who is almost as gorgeous as you walks in and then violet forgets about you as her next client walks in. she tries to at least.

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t stop thinking about you. it’s new york. there’s plenty of pretty girls she can drown herself in. well, if she could figure out how to ask someone out without her crippling anxiety suffocating her. she knows she’s somewhat attractive but her lack of knowing how to efficiently communicate it without sound like the weirdest fuck who has ever lived gets lost in translation. she doesn’t like how sure cait is of herself when she talks about you though. violet doesn’t even know you but seeing the glint in those aquatic-blue eyes make her want to punch something. it’s hard to even tell if it due to her budding crush or that it’s her ex. probably both but she ignores it.

tattoo artist!vi who likes to frequent bars on her days off. it’s when she doesn’t feel alone. it’s fun to bug her sister, powder. she’s always been more of a free spirit out of the two of them. an artist, a wanderer, someone who choses to bartend a couple nights out of the week just because she liked meeting new people, learning their story, what makes them tick. are they a mean drunk, happy, or will they burst into tears when you ask them how they’re doing? vi isn’t either really. she’s quiet, calm even, but tonight part of her wants to cry. she feels lonely, lost, and even a little bit upset caitlyn is your first choice. she only knows your name because of the clientele list and that just feels pathetic. violet’s never been the smoothest of talkers, she knows that more than she feels the blood coursing through her veins. she isn’t the girl and she’s perfectly fine with it. perfectly. fine.

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t even enjoy work anymore. three months in and you’ve been cait’s girlfriend and the feeling only gets worse. it’s cliché. a little fucked, but being in love with her ex’s girlfriend? it doesn’t get any lower than this. she let it slip days ago, only to powder, thank fucking god. if violet knew one thing, she didn’t wanna deal with caitlyn’s wrath. according to maddie, she’d been a dog with a bone when it came to you. so protective it nearly turned into possession. she wanted everyone to know that you were hers and not anyone else’s. it wasn’t new to violet, cait didn’t like being runner up to anyone. it’s why their relationship ended in the first place, especially when the girlfriend feels inferior to the sister. when powder comes around to the shop, cait can’t help but wear her disgust all over her face like a poorly concealed mask. vi thinks it’s silly. the both of them are nearly the same it’s almost sickening. if only the other took the time to know the object of their disdain, they would see two peas sitting in a pod.

tattoo artist!vi who hates a messy shop. when personal items are left behind or someone’s station isn’t properly sanitized and clean. it’s why she’s here, alone on the sunday, the only day the shop is closed. it’s been too long since she did a deep clean, just a week or too, but that’s long enough for her. she’s always been proud of what she’s been able to accomplish her. even if she didn’t have much, a girlfriend to love on, or if her father was on the other side of the country, she had this. violet ink. it was her name out on the sign over seeing the street, the luminous violet led lights kissing the downtown street. she made it this far and she couldn’t let anyone run her off from something she fought so hard to build from the ground up. it’s why she was surprised when she saw you. your face free of makeup, your hair in it’s natural state, and you appeared more laid back than you ever were — in her shop. it feels like a fever dream she never wishes to wake up from. cait must have given you a spare key to the shop which she would have a discussion with her about that later because what the fuck? but it’s hard for her to stay mad when you’re standing there looking like a million bucks in the most casual pair of sweats she’s ever seen. it feels different to who you usually are. shredded of the image you maintain, stripped back, there’s just a softer version of yourself and vi can’t help but contemplate if this is the side you’re so reluctant to show.

tattoo artist!vi who stutter how some stupid joke, trying to break the ice and it should have made things more awkward than they already were but your laugh full of symphonies just makes violet smile. in her best efforts, she craves to conceal it from you but it’s impossible when you’re looking at her. she can’t help but smile — so she does. desperately, violet tries not to act nervous when you’re looking at her designs on the wall, not saying a word, just inspecting. there’s a chill in her bones she feels, a need for her work to be loved because if it isn’t? it eats her up from the inside out. maybe it’s embarrassing but she needs her work to be loved. what’s the point if it isn’t? it’s always been an extension of her soul, her life, and if someone doesn’t like it? all they say is they don’t like her. it may be the silliest thing in the world, but she needs to be adored. from a complete stranger, from the people who she’s permanently tattooing, and especially from the beautiful women violet can’t stop daydreaming about.

tattoo artist!vi who blushes when you tell her how much you love her designs. there’s a soft touch to her shoulder, your thumb lightly tracing circles in her sturdy bicep. it feel innocent enough but vi doesn’t give herself much time to think about it. painfully, she takes note in how your eyes soar when they make contact with her designs. even if it makes her cocky, violet knows she’s good at her job. clients flying in from all over the country, just to get tattooed by her. with your undeniable charm, you’ve convinced her to do a custom design for you but you wanna discuss it on sunday’s, alone. if anything, she should know this isn’t a good idea. you’re charming, gorgeous and the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. she should be afraid of caitlyn’s wrath, of what would happen if she found out, but it’s innocent…right? she’s a professional. no matter how much she’s attracted to a client, it’s never been an issues and she certainly won’t make it one now. vi nods and the second she does, you’re leaping in her arms, into her space. you smell of lavender and lilies, like spring in the beginning of march. a sun-kissed marvel aching for the shine of summer, for one breath of fresh air. it’s really all she wants, a moment to be in the sunshine with you, if only for a moment at least she could tell the moon about it. her best kept secret and she would cherish every bit of it. 

tattoo artist!vi who tries to keep her head down low as the weeks carry on. even when you try to make more of an effort to speak with her, the last thing she needs is caitlyn to take one final look at her and realize just how much she likes the attention. maddie already made one comment, even if it was light-hearted — it’s enough to keep her on edge. with the design being complete, all she needs is to tattoo but violet’s been avoiding you and what’s worse? you knew it too. in her true avoidant style, violet failed to go to the shop the last two weeks on sunday. the tidiness and damn right organization of her shop was suffering but she still had plans of avoiding it. rather avoiding you, but in her forest fire of a mind, it comes all the same. all of this is so trivial, so stupid, so tragic. it’s kiramman’s day off and violet and sevika are the only artists on hand today which means she’s overworked. the both of them are tired and violet just completed her last session of the day. she sneaks to the back enjoying the cigarette she’d been itching to have. violet’s on her second one when you corner her into the brick wall she’s leaning on. you’re too close. dangerously close, almost as if the fire you’ve created in violet’s lungs might cause her to burn from the inside out. it’s chilling how silent you are until you aren’t. you’re loud about the way you caress her exposed biceps, tracing the lines of her intricate tattoo as it crawls up shoulders and so do your hands. with a sharp graze, you scrap your nails across her skin as if you want to leave a reminder that she was in fact here. should she even even be here? letting you touch her in the way you are? but it’s not like vi has much of a choice when you push the hem of her tank top up to her ribcage, showcasing the flexing abs on her abdomen. it may be faint but there’s a happy trail, one violet wants to see your lips on but she’s scared to say anything, to move, to breathe. “caitlyn said you were ripped underneath. i wanted to see for myself.” then your touch is gone and you are with it. 

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t show up on sunday…for the first couple of hours. violet thinks of that night, the way you touched her, like you knew exactly what to do before she even could think of what she wanted next. how on earth did you manage to paralyze her with a mere flick of your wrist? when your nails clawed at her toned abdomen, violet felt the stickiness in her boxers and you’d done all of nothing. she had to put an end to things, the private session, violet couldn’t do it. she didn’t want to be caught in some weird and perversed love triangle with her ex. in the back of her throat, violet feels the lump she constantly has to swallow. the only reasonable explanation is that this, you, is all some weird fantasy of caitlyn to get the last laugh. to fully degrade her in a way she couldn’t, not when you’re the person who gets broken up with. it’s not a secret caitlyn’s ego had taken a hit. to anyone, not being the first choice stings but to cait? it might as well be a death sentence and certainly it wouldn’t stand. 

tattoo artist!vi who isn’t one for confrontation but in the need to savor some of her salvation in her dignity, she walks in the shop. you’re still waiting for her. two hours later, you’d hoped she’d show. ”violet, you came.” it’s endearing but violet also sees herself the night before tangled in her black sheets, vibrator on its highest setting as she applies pressure to her clit, fingers nestled so deep inside her cunt as she hears your voice, thinks about your irresistible lips. violet wonders what you sound like when you come and suddenly the thought sends her hurling towards the edge. the smile you offer is almost like you can see right through her, like you know vi came to the idea of you just the night before. 

with a slender smile, you make your way over to her and suddenly the internal dialogue she created to put an end to this arrangement died on your tongue when she shrugs vi’s leather jacket off. she’s only wearing her wrap to cover her chest, not intending on staying for a long time. definitely not enough to finish the beautiful design she created for you. she’d get cait to do it. their styles were similar to it. your girlfriend has to do this. but you’re touching her bare skin. vi is losing focus as she feels the control slip into your greedy fingers. 

“i know what you’re gonna say.” 

“and what’s that?” 

“you wanna stop this, meeting me here, you feel like you’re betraying someone you love and you have too much integrity to keep seeing someone you so obviously want to fuck.” 

“i can’t—” but the words die on violet’s tongue. 

“sense won’t get to you, that’s something caitlyn didn’t understand. you think with your heart of gold. when it drips for someone, you’d let it bleed out if it meant you were saving someone.” you take a pause, slipping off your shirt as your pierced nipples are exposed. violet nearly begins to drool, her eyes unable to look away from your perfect nipples, the swell of your breast how perfectly they fall on your chest, she’s nearly salivating to be offered a taste. “my girlfriend doesn’t understand you’ve found someone else to be loyal to.” 

“this is not, um, i didn’t—” 

sweetly, you kiss her cheek. “it’s such a bitch isn’t it? your heart wants whatever the fuck it yearns for, no damn mercy on who it hurts.”  

violet can only think of how much she wants to be suffocated by your tits, forever trapped in this venus fly trap you’ve caused her to succumb to. with her best foot forward, she wants to tell you to go to hell, that you’re wrong about her — she would never do something like this — until she does. it’s all tongue and teeth, vitriol and lust spills into her mouth as violet pushes you on the bench, ripping your skirt to shreds with her bare hands. only to find nothing underneath. 

bent over the table, ass up in the air, violet wastes not a single moment and stuffs her face in your fat ass. with a gratifying need, she splits your folds on her tongue as she slaps your ass making you whimper and cry out for her name. it’s beautiful, violet thinks. someone needing her to bring them to the edge, and god, you aren’t shy about it either. never has she heard anyone be so loud and proud about sex. so goddamn confident in each moan you let fall from pornogrpahic lips, it’s damn invigorating. the first one comes easily, you spill over vi’s tongue as she moans back into your weeping pussy, liquid gushing over her face violet never wants it to end. the second time violet fucks you with her fingers, stuffing and fucking until there isn’t any part of you that isn’t undeniably shaking. the third time, you’re on top of her, the two of you finding comfortablity on the cot in the break room as violet lets you fuck her. 

exactly what she expects it to be; hot, rough, fast. slippery pussy rubbing against hers until you collapse on top of her, breast pressed against her binded ones. you have a feeling they are there for a reason and you don’t push, for once in your life, you let yourself succumb to sleep as you fall asleep in her arms. 

tattoo artist!vi who doesn’t see you for three months after she had the best sex of her life. even if it does sting, vi knows it’s for the best. six months in and you’re still with caitlyn despite your best efforts. surprising everyone, but violet for different reasons, you admit your slip up to cait but she forgives you. maddie and sevika make a game of it, trying to guess who make you cheat and when violet’s name comes up jokingly, caitlyn’s words leave an unsettling pit in her stomach. 

c’mon, what is violet going to do? look at her. she’s as loyal as a trained dog and i have you trained. don’t i, cupcake? 

tattoo artist!vi who focuses on her work, like a trained dog, she falls back into her routine. sunday’s aren’t as pleasurable as they were with you, or one sunday she should say, but she dismisses the thought altogether. pushing it to the deepest parts of her mind becomes the only viable option. she uses other forms of entertainment to get her mind off of you. powder thinks it’s a good idea to be here but she refuses to step foot in here with her. this is where my path ends, sis. i’ll be just up the hill when you’re ready. a not so subtle wink has her cringing and flipping her off blue-haired braided sister off in the process. this is such a good stupid idea but violet doesn’t manage to convince herself out of this situation she’s conducted for herself. anyways, it’s one night? no one ever has to know. from the moment she steps into the strip club, she knows she never should have been here. she keeps to the bar as she changes songs from the jukebox a few times. this has never been her scene nor will it ever. as she finishes off her class of neat whiskey, the familiar voice whispers into her ear, never thought you’d be here but i guess we’re both full of surprises.

[mazamba]

This was not what I'd signed up for. Dungeons? Fine. Dragons? Sure. That weirdly hot vampire from the eight floor? Tempting.

Crying teenagers? Never been good at that.

"Miss? You ok?"

She looked up, giving me a baleful look.

"I am now engaged to a-a fifty-year-old man! How do you think I feel!?"

"Ok, first of all, I'm 44," I pointed out, "second of all, what are you talking about?"

"You save the princess, you marry the princess. Haven't you ever picked up a fairytale?"

"Kid, I haven't picked up a story book since my daughter was five."

"You're already married?"

"Divorced, not that it's any of your business," I scoffed, "but wait, if you're the princess, wouldn't marrying me make me the king?"

"Yes, that's how it works. If a king fails to provide a male heir, the princess get shoved up a tower until a brave knight comes to save her. The tower is a trial to weed out the weak and find the best possible king."

"That's... yeah, princesses in towers are no way to choose a ruler," I sighed, "and I'm also not marrying a girl younger than my daughter."

"I'm fifteen!"

"My daughter's sixteen. Not happening."

"Well... good. I don't wanna marry you either."

"Glad we agree," I sighed, stretching to pop something in my back, "still, I need that money, but I'm not marrying a kid for it."

"Fifteen. Fifteen is not a kid," she insisted, "legally, I'm an adult."

"Ethically, you're a toddler," I scoffed as I picked up my bag, "well, come on. We haven't got all day."

"Didn't you bring a horse?"

"Dragon ate him. At least we can think of something on the way back to your pops."

"What do you mean?"

"We need to find you a king. Once you're queen, you get me my weight in gold, and we call it even."

She eyed my beer gut. I could see her trying to do the math.

"Cut it out."

"Sorry!" she squeaked, "But the law's pretty clear. You rescued me, therefore-."

"Like I said, not happening. Besides, it's not like anyone has to know. It's a long walk back to the capital, at least a couple months. Just find yourself someone you like and we'll say they rescued you."

"It's a sacred law!"

"Do you want to be married to a man your father's age?"

"...Maybe it's not that sacred."

The princess has been rescued, hooray! But to her dismay the hero isn't young and handsome, instead he's a middle aged divorcee who took the job to pay alimony and child support.

[reidingandallthat]

rambling just to you (s.r)

spencer thinks you mind his rambling, and you tell him just how wrong he is

spencer reid x reader words: 2.4k cw: fluff, uhh first time writing for spence so pls spare me, lots and lots (too much) infodumping, reader is described kind of as a social person and a people pleaser, self deprecating talk(just for a while, it gets all good)

You've taken it upon yourself your entire life to keep a conversation going. Maybe the other person doesn't wanna talk, but it's too awkward to not say anything so you keep the conversation going. Maybe you haven't talked in a while, or maybe they're giving you dry responses, you still go off on a story of yours, only to a limit of course, to not make it weird. 

You've always felt like you trained yourself to be interesting or funny so the other person isn't bored. You don't resent it. It's made you a fun person, good to be around, and you quite enjoy it. But sometimes, it's nice to only laugh, or listen. To not have to constantly search your brain for references, or for a further punchline, or a teasing remark. But you attract what you give, so you make yourself content in talking. To enjoy making other people laugh, it's nice, to see someone smile and laugh over what you say but that tiny inkling in your heart always stays.

But life never presents you things you prepare yourself for. 

And that's exactly what happens when you walk through the doors of the BAU office, prepared for anything they might have for you. But oh you were so unprepared.

He was already so noticeable with his doe eyes and curious gaze. He offers his hand to you, introducing himself as “Dr. Spencer Reid,” and you notice curious glances on you both. Emily Prentiss- who is now one of your best friends, shared a knowing look with Penelope, the technical analyst. You didn't know then, but the grin on her face was of someone who had already made a thousand plans in her head regarding her friends.

You only give him a curt smile and go to the conference room.  JJ gave everyone the profile as was the usual, but it's your first day so you only follow their lead at first. Hotch gets up from his seat with a “Wheels up in 30”, which left you a bit confused, but you deciphered from context it meant as a sign to get going. Soon you're all in the jet, everyone provides their input and you chime in when needed, unsure of when to speak up. But when you notice something important, you finally speak up,

“One of the victims said that he was given ‘medicine’ by the unsub when he was sick, later we found cocaine in his blood. He believes cocaine can cure colds, maybe he's thinking through the Victorian era.” You say, looking over the case file.

Everyone shares puzzled looks, surprised by your comment,

“How are those things related? Were the Victorians always doing cocaine or something?” Derek asks, and everyone's attention is on you.

“Well, no. It was prescribed as medicine.” Your answer doesn't help, it only causes their faces to look more confused.

Suddenly conscious of all the attention on you, a little bit of nervousness kicks in, but you open your mouth to speak when you're interrupted by the only person who doesn't look puzzled, more like…excited?

“Yeah! Cocaine wasn't known as a drug back then, they thought it had medicinal properties, and it does, but they didn't know its actual use. It was prescribed for hay fever, asthma and even melancholy,” He chuckles a little, taking a breath before continuing.

Everyone's looking at him now, confused, exasperated, and a little bit curious but not enough, you could tell. You tilt your head in amusement, very endeared by his excitement because you get it, you get his excitement to share it. Maybe another time you would've been offended if someone interrupted you, but how could you complain? He was so nice to look at!

“Drugs were also present in a children's medicine that was advertised as a remedy to quiet crying and fussing children, it was fairly popular because well- it worked,”

“Morphine.” You interrupt him. 

Now everyone's attention was on you. 

“The children's medicine had morphine in it.” You elaborate yourself, looking around at everyone but settling your gaze on Spencer, at last.

He gives you a smile, nods accompanying it as he looks around to his co-workers, agreeing to your comment. You smile, grateful to him for this moment. It's not much, but it helps with fitting into the group that's foreign to you.

Hotch breaks the silence as he always does, with facts about the case but at that moment, you two share a look. 

It hadn't meant much back then to you, but now it holds the most love because it reminds you of your everyday life. You had stopped trying to keep up with Spencer, with his random history, philosophy, mathematical, scientific and facts about obscure foreign films that now you just listen to him tell you about them. 

You've learnt more since you've met him than you have your entire life. You enjoyed learning, and it was just all the more enjoyable when he was the one talking. You always say how nice it would've been if you knew him during your masters, your degree would've been much more bearable.

But he was here now, and it's just like everyday, or as daily as it could be without the two of you rushing out the door because of a call.

You're making eggs and he's drinking his coffee, his mouth constantly moving, rambling about Greek myths that he had read last night. Naturally, you asked what he had read and of course, he was perfectly content to indulge you,

“You know Arachne was a weaver. She was better than most and she was prideful and arrogant in her talent. She started bragging about how she could weave better than the gods. So Athena decided to challenge her, but she lost. But things didn't go very well for Arachne either.” He stops for a sip of his coffee.

You don't need to ask, because he will continue soon enough, but you do it anyway, “Why not?”

“Well…” He says with a smile on his face, “Athena came down as an old woman to teach her to be respectful to the gods. But Arachne didn't listen. So in a fit of rage, Athena turned Arachne into a spider. But,”

Spencer takes a pause for dramatic effect and you chuckle, placing his breakfast plate in front of him, giving him a peck on his lips and sitting down on the couch, your legs draped over his lap, “Athena didn't take her powers, Arachne still was the best weaver.”

“So what? Now Arachne was just this spider weaver creature..??” You ask in confusion, rubbing your eyes which were still laden with sleep.

“Yes!!!” He says, excitedly, “Every spider you see weaves a web. Her curse was she will never be human, but she will still be a weaver. That's why spiders weave webs.”

Safe to say, your jaw was left hanging as he came to the end of the story, “That's the story? Oh my god.” 

He laughs at your incredulity and you swat him playfully, a teasing gesture, “You're getting good at this, the storytelling was-,”. You gesture a chef's kiss and he laughs again, a melodic sound to your ears.

“Why? My storytelling wasn't good before?” He asks, continuing your teasing banter. He had learned over the years to keep up with it, to hear you tease him even if it flustered him. It's always there, passing comments, enough to get him red and smile at you dopily, but he knows it's not as it used to be. You don't do it as often now, and sometimes he thinks it's because you're tired of his ramblings. He worries that he  doesn't give you enough space to be yourself, or maybe he takes up too much of the time, maybe he should give you the opportunity to talk first.

“No, handsome. I love hearing you talk.” Your words are an opposite to his thoughts but it doesn't do much to calm down his running thoughts. He's suddenly somber now, his mind plagued with insecure thoughts so he thinks to let you initiate the next sentence, the next story or the next fact. Anything.

But you're quiet for a while, waiting for him to tell you something. A few minutes pass by and you ask him again,

“I didn't read the one about Perseus, only skimmed it over, will you tell me?” You ask him, this thing routine to you, to ask questions he’s always happy to answer, drawing circles on his wrist and he thinks of it as a ruining action. It is such a specific memory, your fingers drawing sceneries on his wrist that he curses his eidetic memory. He couldn't keep this memory if you're not with him to do it again. But he couldn't help it, so he said quietly, “No, tell me about you.”

The question is confusing to you, 

“Spence, you know I don't like to talk much in the morning.” You say, your fingers now tracing the lines of his palm, your eyes focused on where your fingers move, pressing a kiss to his shoulder distractedly.

“I-” He sighs, setting down his coffee and running a hand over his face before leaning his head towards your shoulder.

“But I always ramble, and not only in the morning. You should be able tell me things too.”

“I do tell you, I tell you everything that I know about Spence. I know that I've told you that story about my grandmother at least four times now, and I always remember that after I've told you, but you never do. You just…listen, even though you probably remember every time I've told you.” You chuckle, a quiet fondness growing in your heart.

He smiles, remembering the story now. He remembers all the times you've said it to him, his favourite was the third time when you had realised halfway through and hid your face in his shoulder. 

“Yeah, but I talk too much. It's annoying. And it's boring. You can stop me if you want.” He says, his voice is quiet now, as if he knows he shouldn't say these things, he should know better than to speak like this around you, but he loves you. And he wants you to talk. 

Even though now, after a few moments out of his cycle of insecure thoughts, he realises he's wrong. You do talk to him. A lot. Everyday. Stories about your friends, how you saw a video about different types of plastic one day, how your most recent book had Greek gods, so he had taken it upon himself to read up on them. He can always tell when you have something new to tell him, there's a different shine to your eyes whenever you do. If he knows the topic, he shares your excitement, or catches up the next day. You talk to him everyday, and now he feels silly to have complained.

You turn to face him, making contact with his eyes, “No, it's not annoying. Nor is it boring. When did I ever say that?”

He tries to defend himself, “I know I ramble a lot, and you always listen. And I love you so much for it. But I don't want you to just not talk because of me. I don't wanna always take over the conversation.”

A smile graces your lips and he's more confused than ever, “Spence, listen,” You settle the coffee mug in your hand on the table and take his face into you hands,

“I like it when you ramble. I like listening to you talk, your ramblings are interesting to me. You don't think I wasn't interested in the Arachne the weaver story?” You say, and he smiles again. You're still not used to it, whenever he smiles. 

“Yeah, but you're not usually quiet around people-”

You cut him off, “I like listening to you Spencer. It's half the reason I fell in love with you. I like that I don't always have to be on my toes to keep up a conversation, that sometimes, I can just talk, or not talk, it doesn't matter.” You say earnestly, trying to explain to him just how wrong he is about his assumption, how awful it is that he thinks you're annoyed.

“And I love your rambles. You think I would have known about the fact that caterpillars basically dissolve into liquid in the cocoon?” You say and he visibly perks up, a familiar excitement coursing his body,

“And-,” There's an inflection, showcasing his obvious excitement, “The only thing left are the so-called ‘imaginal discs’, groups of cells that contain all the information and the mechanism to turn that liquid into the various body parts of a butterfly; the same applies for other insects. and also,” He goes to continue,

“They retain memories through this process. I know. Because you told me. And because I love you.” He has that doe- eyed look again, the one you dread because it fills you with a kind of fondness that you can't quite contain. It makes you a bit animalistic, in a way where you want to pepper his face with kisses, to see his cheeks turn red and hear that wretched laugh again. You had told him that too, he called it cuteness aggression. It was a fitting name, you thought.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips not too far away before they connect, both your lips taste of coffee, and his is much sweeter than yours, but he doesn't complain, and neither do you, because why would you? You can feel him smiling again, and he breaks away to speak again,

“When a caterpillar forms,” You sense another ramble incoming so you kiss him again, but he continues, “the chrysalis dissolves, but not the tiny bits of butterfly,” interrupted by a kiss again, “those don't dissolve,” 

You sigh and put your foreheads together, “they just grow into butterflies.” You finish for him.

He would take that sigh another way if it wasn't you, another tease on his behalf, talking over your kisses as if he wasn't starved for them. 

“If this is your preferred way of shutting me up,” He says, now he's the one kissing you, “I'd be very glad to keep talking.” And you smile, despite the cold coffee on the table and the not-so-quiet morning, your heart feels warm and peaceful.

[howi99]

A knight second chance 6

Penny: *crying, clutching at Ruby, overwhelmed by the emotion she's processing*

Blake: *sigh* We won't get anything from her, she's a complete wreck. We should try searching for him.

Ruby: *looking up at Blake* And what about her? I can't just leave her alone.

Yang: *taking her scroll out* I'll call the school, see if they can drop bumblebee in Vale.

Weiss: *looking at Penny* What could have happened to leave her like that...

___________________________________________

Ironwood: *blinking* Penny disappeared?

Winter: We don't know exactly what happened but we believe an individual named Jaune Arc, a student from Beacon, was responsible for her sudden disappearance. The last video feed we received was of Penny trying to help said student during what seems to have been a PTSD episode.

Ironwood: *frown* PTSD you say? Not a panic attack?

Winter: *shaking her head* I... Saw enough soldiers and huntsmen to differentiate one from the others, sir. If anything, the students didn't seem to be aggressive, only... terrified.

Ironwood: I see... I'll ask the headmaster of Beacon for more information.

Winter: *saluting, leaving the room*

___________________________________________

Roman: *looking down at the teenager with a smirk* Well well, what do we have here? A stray dog perhaps?

Jaune: ... *Slowly looking up, smiling with dead eyes* You will die, Roman.

Roman: *laughing* And what makes you think i will-

Jaune: *cutting him, still smiling* Trivia, you, the White Fang, all working together with Cinder to bring Beacon down. What do you think will happen afterward?

Roman: *frowning* How did you-

Jaune: *Laughing, cutting him again* Know her name? Know you are working with Cinder? *Start walking toward Roman* Better yet, you should ask yourself how i know you were planning to attack the dock in 2 days.

Roman: *taking one step back, still trying to act as if it didn't surprise him* Maybe you are working with Cinder? It wouldn't be the first time she tried testing me. See if i'd break under pressure.

Jaune: *sees the little twitch in Roman's eyes, smile as if nothing bad could happen* Hush hush now, if you attack me, your umbrella might break~.

Neo: *jump backward, looking at Roman worriedly*

Roman: Tsk *goes to attack Jaune with Melodic Cudgel, but the knight easily grab the cane and aim it a Neo*

Jaune: *now in front of Roman* Tell me, Roman, are you afraid of Cinder? *Grabbing Roman by the suit, who was trying to jump away* Don't go, it's impolite to leave a conversation. *Smile genuinely* I'm not here to hurt you.

Roman: *trying to remove himself from the knight grasp* Let me go!

Jaune: *sigh, using his semblance to share his emotions with him* I need your help, Roman. You are a thief, not a killer. And if you continue like that, both you and Neo are going to die.

Roman: *Feeling the sincerity of Jaune* ... Neo, put your weapon down.

Neo: *aghast by the mere idea*

Roman: *shaking his head* It's ok Neo, trust me.

Neo: ... *Slowly put Hush on the ground, still weary of the teenager*

Jaune: *Releasing Roman with a satisfied smile* Good... Sorry for the way i was acting, but high emotional state help my semblance second effect.

Roman: *Sitting down on one of the stolen dust containers* ... *Take a cigarette from his pocket, light it and start smoking* Talk, we don't have all day.

Jaune: *nod and make signs for Neo to approach* Now... *Smile* Tell me, what is your favorite fairytale?

[willowed-wisp]

gaz as a dad (part two) [ kyle garrick ]

part one |

- Puts on a brave face to you and he’s leaving for deployment but you know he’s dying on the inside- running the statistics through his head of his chances of survival

- Your daughter’s first word was in facts, “Dada”, she’s such a daddy’s girl.

- It’s hell for you when he’s away having a one year old who doesn’t know where her dad is, playing old videos of him to keep her sane

- All the while you were pregnant with your little girl. Kyle misses kissing your stomach every hour of the day, even when you weren’t pregnant he’ll do it

- You’re about 4-5 months along when he leaves.

- Kyle has two older sisters (he’s the baby of the family) and they treat you like their own blood in the best way possible

- They are taking you out baby shopping while he’s away, they’re staying over to spend time with your daughter

- Don’t get started with Kyle’s mum, she may be the in-law ever. Kyle’s dad left and never came back when he was young

- Everyday is a party to them, they’re so joyous and you see why Kyle is so well adjusted and a proper gentleman

- They live just around the corner and you go round every other night for dinner with your little girl and little bump

- They sympathise with you when Kyle is away, his mother didn’t understand why he enlisted into the army to begin with but over the years she saw the glint in his eye

- Like you had- he lived to fight the shadow wars… though he preferred to spend time with his family in more recent times

- After having a child, his relationship with his family, his mother especially, healed.

- He’s low-key jealous that his sisters steal you away and spend more time with you than he gets to

- But he’s so glad you get along with them- they can be picky and have never liked anyone brought home before

- Kyle returns when you are about to pop, 8 months pregnant and he doesn’t know when he’s getting redeployed

- No matter how many times it would happen, Kyle isn’t sure he’d ever remain composed in the delivery room.

- But what had remained the same with your birthing is that he feels so still and grounded when holding his children in his arms

- Your eldest is a mini him and your youngest is a mini you

- He’s sent back out four months later, but for a shorter time period.

- When he comes back, you’re not okay… he found you crying in the shower away from your kids in the middle of the night

- “Please don’t leave us…” He must be the most understanding partner, he battles demons in his head everyday but it hits different when it’s the love of his life, mother of his children who is suffering outwardly

- Sobbing in his clothed arms

- He had read about post-partum depression and he is an actual angel when it comes to dealing with it

- He takes on more tasks so you can have your own space but always curls up around you on the sofa

- Your eldest girl attempts to climb up and Kyle helps her

- Is so good with kids dealing with his nieces and nephews

- Grew up in a house full of women, that’s why he’s so endearing and thoughtful about you

- Kyle was so nervous to ask his Captain such a bold question, Price had seen photos of your daughters so he knew they existed

- He also lived not too far from your house so he came over and got into a wrestling match that your eldest won (definitely let her win lol)

- “Sir, since we’re speaking casually… Y/N and I were wondering if you were wanted to be the godfather to the girls…”

- John had never been asked that before and hold back the tears welling. A hand on Kyle’s shoulder, a nod, “Of course I will, Sergeant.”

- His sisters are the godmothers and maybe someone close to you as the other godfather

- About three years into the relationship when your eldest daughter is about 2 and the youngest is nearly 1, you tie the knot.

- Nothing too extravagant, he didn’t like being centre of attention…

- Only the closest people there: his mum, sisters, Simon, Johnny, Price and your closest family you’re in contact with

- You may or not be pregnant with bubba no. 3…

- Spoilers! Baby boy on the way

————

cod m.list | request guidelines | gaz m.list

[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 1.3k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ hurt comfort ﾉ mentions of alcohol ﾉ mentions of cheating (neither suo nor reader)

it’s not often that suo finds him out this late, especially on a night when snow is falling from the sky like someone sifting powdered sugar. though, he was unable to make a worthy excuse to get out of a gathering with his former classmates—forced to drink and converse until everyone decided to take their leave. compared to his companions, suo only nursed a couple of drinks throughout the duration of their get-together, however, the effects of what little alcohol he had linger—an almost pleasant lightness in his head and a rosy flush to his cheeks.

he’s sure that last part could also be attributed to the cold—all the more reason to get home quickly. snowflakes have already started to land on top of his head, melting away in the chocolatey strands, but the walk to his place is enough to warrant pulling out his umbrella. suo does just that and begins on his trek. 

the streets aren’t entirely empty—much less bustling than during the day but those who partake in the city’s nightlife keep them somewhat lively. the crowds thin out as he makes his way further from the bars. there’s a certain serenity that comes with the near-solitude but the peaceful moment is short-lived when suo takes notice of the lone figure crouched on the sidewalk.

the cold is beginning to bite at your skin and the snow slowly piling up around you is only making it worse. you almost regret choosing here of all places to stop and have your breakdown but something told you that people wouldn’t take a sobbing stranger wandering the streets too well—not that your current position is much better. the truth of the matter is, you were never going to make it home before the dam of tears broke.

unfortunately, crying in public tends to draw attention, no matter how hard you try to curl yourself into an invisible ball. footsteps padded by freshly powdered snow alert you of someone’s presence. a pair of feet step to stand in front of you and with their appearance, the snow that was falling atop your head and over your shoulders ceases. you fight back the urge to scoff—does this guy really have the audacity to try and be kind after what he pulled back there?

you lift your head, just enough so that your mouth isn’t tucked in your crossed arms. “leave me alone, asshole.”

“forgive me, i’m a bit tipsy.” the voice above you makes you stiffen. it’s not the one you were expecting to hear. “am i the asshole you’re referring to?”

despite the embarrassment looming over you—both at having been caught crying and at your uncalled-for vulgar language—you press yourself to look up. the sight you’re met with is confirmation that you lashed out at the wrong person.

it’s funny—even though you just called him a name (a very unkind one, at that), the man is smiling.

“no, i’m sorry.” you bow your head in apology before meeting his eye once more. “i thought you were someone else.”

“that’s a relief.” he laughs lightly, a cloud of cold air pushing past his lips with the pleasant sound. you don’t know the man, you’ve barely had a conversation with him, but his laugh ever-so-slightly lightens the heart weighing heavily in your chest.

under the shade of his umbrella that blocks the light emanating from the street lamps, it’s difficult for suo to get a good look at you. though, even with the dimness, all it takes is the squint of his eye for the man to tell you’ve been crying. the dried streaks of tears, the glistening of your eyes, the subtle wobble of your lip—signs that, even in his tipsy state, don’t go unnoticed by him. “is something the matter?”

“nothing that’s worth talking about…” not with a stranger, at least. or maybe that’s all the more reason to spill your guts about your no-good, cheating soon-to-be ex. the thought is tempting but you shake your head. you’re sure that if you started recounting the events that led up to this moment, you’d start bawling again. and as far as you’re concerned, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

suo hums, choosing not to push you to talk when you would rather not. however, he can’t bring himself to walk away and leave you by yourself. it’s dark and cold and there are people a lot drunker than him who may run into you who don’t have the restraint to back off. “you should probably head home.”

suo spares a quick glance at his watch. it’s late, but not so late that you don’t have a way home. “the buses should still be running. i can walk you to the stop if you’d like.”

he’s right—it likely wasn’t the wisest idea to stop here, especially when you’re feeling so vulnerable. and if you want to make it back to your apartment without walking miles through the snow, it would be best to pack up your pity party now. “okay. thanks.”

suo offers you a hand to help you up. he’s stronger than he looks, you think as he pulls you to a standing position. the shoes you put so much care into picking out earlier in the evening are practically soaked through with moisture but suo is careful to make sure the snow doesn’t dampen you any further. 

“do you want those?” the man asks, his finger pointing to the long-forgotten bouquet of flowers that was sitting beside you.

a fresh wave of sadness washes over you at the sight, an unwelcome reminder of how your thoughtfulness was trampled on. in all honesty, you’d much rather leave the flowers behind like the rest of this awful night but that would be littering. reluctantly, you bend down to scoop up the bouquet.

the two of you begin to walk toward the bus station and a silence blankets you, much like the fluffy snow that sprinkles from the sky. oddly enough, the quiet isn’t uncomfortable—not like how you expect it might be with someone you met only a few minutes ago. you steal a glance at the man beside you. his gaze is glued on the path ahead of him and there’s a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

a thought comes to mind and you find yourself voicing it immediately. “i never got your name.”

“i suppose we did skip that part.” he chuckles and, just like before, the sound makes your heart flutter. he turns to face you, the small smile widening as he does. “it’s suo.”

“suo…” his name rolls off your tongue smoothly. “nice to meet you.”

“the pleasure is mine.”

you grin at that because you’re sure he’s just being nice. you don’t know what part of encountering a crying stranger who calls you an asshole can be considered a pleasure, but you’re grateful for the accidental meeting. there’s no way suo can know this, but his mere presence saved you from being completely swallowed by sadness.

the lights from the bus stop come into view after a few more minutes of walking. your steps slow to a stop and suo’s do the same. 

“thanks for walking me,” you tell him as you duck under the awning. you’ve hogged space under his umbrella for long enough. “i appreciate it.”

“of course.” he waves his free hand like helping you out was the furthest thing from a chore. “please make it home safely.”

you remember him mentioning that he’d been drinking. “you too.” 

suo waves again, this time in a gesture of farewell, and turns on his heel to start on his way home. you watch his figure retreat beyond the snow and into the distance until you can’t see him anymore.

a sigh you didn’t know you were holding pushes past your lips. the weight of the flower bouquet in your hand draws your gaze toward it. with a derisive laugh, you drop them into the garbage can.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

[bcacstuff]

It’s the end of an era: Sophie Skelton has starred as Brianna in Starz’s Scottish historical fantasy drama, Outlander, for 10 years. How does she feel about it all coming to an end? Mixed emotions, from the five stages of grief to feeling positive about ending on a high. For us viewers at home, however, there’s still plenty of time to say goodbye: the season 7B finale will air on 17 January 2025, while season 8 is slated to air in the second half of 2025. We sat down with Sophie to hear all about it – plus what the actress will star in next.

Interview: Sophie Skelton

Hi Sophie, how’s life going at the moment?

Good, thank you. I’m still processing 10 years of the end of an era! Caitríona [Balfe] and I have been talking about it for a while, because you go through the five stages of grief a little bit when you finish something like this. It’s such a rare occurrence for TV to go that long, and there’s no manual of how to deal with the end, so I think it was quite a roller coaster of, well, the grief process. But we’re both feeling quite at peace now. I for one feel like I’m in a good place – just winding down for Christmas so I can hit the ground running in 2025!

It’s the end of an era! How did it feel when you kind of got the news that Outlander season eight would be the end?

I think originally season 7 was going to be the end, and I’m just speculating here, but maybe part of the reason they split it into two is because they knew that season 8 was going to come. Maybe they were trying to bridge a gap with the strikes… I don’t know! But I feel like Brianna is in a really good place. I feel like I’ve done everything I can do with that character. She has been through more than most people would go through in multiple lifetimes. 

I think it’s always good to tap out while you’re ahead and not to milk something, so hopefully we’re ending on a high. Season 7B is great, but season 8 is honestly the best season – so I think it’s good to leave it there.

Are you all wrapped on season 8, too, then?

Officially, yeah. We were holding on by an emotional thread for a while, because we were sort of finishing, and then there was a second unit going, and then we had press, and then we had reshoots. But we are officially done. I think we’ve all had three wrap days, but the last one was really sweet. Caitríona wrapped and then she came in for my final scene, and then she hugged me, and that made me break down crying. Then she and I went to the next stage over for Sam [Heughan]’s final scene, which was the last one. Then we had a little hug, the three of us, so it was a really nice way to close it off. It felt very peaceful in the end. 

How would you describe Outlander season 7b?

For Brianna, honestly, quite lonely. It was an interesting season for me. We shot it about two years ago, so thinking back, I spent a large amount of the time with the kids. As they say, acting with animals and children are the two most challenging bits, and on Outlander we have a plethora of that going on! In terms of storyline, it’s one of the sides of Brianna that I really admire. She’s really come into herself as a mother, and seeing her click into action mode and the lengths she’ll go to to save her children is really admirable. Sometimes when she has to defend herself, she’s not as brazen, but as soon as it’s for someone else, especially her children, we see a side of Brianna that we haven’t seen before.

Rosa Morris (“Mandy”) and Sophie Skelton (“Brianna Fraser MacKenzie”) in Outlander season 7. (Starz)

You’ve played Brianna for a decade now. Is there anything special you do to get into character?

One thing we’re lucky with on Outlander is that the sets are so magnificent and vast. Whether we’re on location or they’ve built a fake village, as soon as you’re on set, you feel halfway into it. It’s the same with me having an American accent and the wig and the clothing – you’re halfway in already, so that does a bit of your prep for you. I know Brianna inside out now, so honestly, it’s quite easy to just stream into set. But to stop myself from coasting, I do research. And there were a lot of things I felt I could channel from my own life into Bri this season, so that helped.

Is there anything in season 7B you’re really excited for people to see?

I really enjoyed the scenes with Chris [Fulton], who plays Rob Cameron. That was a really fun dynamic. And as I say, because I spent a large amount of the second part with the kids, it was nice to have some adult energy. I really like his way of working. He’s quite similar to me in that you just don’t know what you’re going to get, and every take could be completely different. We really bounced off each other, and it kind of felt like being in a play, especially because some of our scenes were quite physical. There are a few more modern day action sequences from Brianna, too, which was a different form of stunts than we’ve done before. So I’m sure people will enjoy a little injection of 80s fight scenes.

Is there anything you can tease about Outlander season 8?

As ever with Outlander, there will be some reunions. There are probably going to be some deaths. The heartstrings are going to be a little bit torn… One of the most exciting things about it is that you’ve got so many old and new faces back. It just feels like a really big ensemble, and I think that that’s such a magnificent way to go out. It’s like a big bang.

Any standout moments from rehearsals or filming?

It’s quite rare that a lot of us get to do scenes together, so the dinner scenes where we have a large amount of the principal cast together are really fun. It always feels quite sentimental because they’re rare, and we never know if that’s going to be the last one. That wasn’t necessarily different, but season 8 had the extra layer of upcoming loss. But they’re always just lovely because Outlander is heavy, you know! We work in really tough weather conditions. We do long hours, we do long weeks, and we’re pretty much just in the dark, wind and rain of Scotland all the time. So when we get these indoor scenes where it’s really intimate, there’s candles, it’s all of us together, they’re really fond moments. It feels like you can really just relax and enjoy the day a little bit more, as opposed to battling all the elements constantly.

Are there any locations from filming that have stood out as a favorite, or anything that you would go back to in your own time?

The Clava Cairns are so beautiful. When you go there, honestly, it sounds quite corny, but you can feel the weight of the land. The air is dense. Not in a heavy way, but you can almost feel the energy of the history there. And the land is just so quiet. There’s always a beautiful moon or a beautiful sunrise. We actually had one scene there where the moon looked too fake. The real moon looked too fake! They had to blot it out and put a fake moon in, because they were like, ‘no one will believe this is real’. It’s always windy and icy cold and it’s brutal, but it’s absolutely stunning. Especially when we do night shoots there, the calm and the quiet and the stars… It’s just surreal.

Outlander is coming to an end, but the universe is going to continue in a different series. Are you excited to watch it? How did you feel about that when you heard the news?

It’s a funny thing with the prequel coming out, because we were on our final season when they filmed, so it was very different energies, having the two side by side. They’re all coming in fresh, whereas we’ve done 10 years of this. We want to make sure that we see it through and do it justice. We really wanted to make sure that our attention wasn’t split, so I don’t know too much about the prequel. 

I know that there are rumors of some other spin off series, too, and I know Diana might have written some other spin off books. It’s one of the biggest shows in the world, so I’m sure that those series will do super well. It’ll be exciting to see if there are any mini Briannas that spin off. It would be very interesting to see who takes her over at some point. 

Sophie Skelton (“Brianna Fraser MacKenzie”) in Outlander season 7. (Starz)

Looking at future projects, are there any genres you’re craving?

It’s not necessarily about genre for me; I think it’s more that I’m looking for completely different characters. A different accent, a completely different time period for a while, let’s get rid of the corset for a bit! But honestly, loads of different things. I started in musical theater on stage, so to do something in that realm would be amazing. I also love really gritty dramas – psychological stuff. Something like Black Swan would be the perfect merge of everything.

Have any of your other projects stood out to you as a career highlight?

I just finished quite a tricky shoot during the strike, a small independent movie called Row. It’s about the first team crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and semi based on a true story before it goes a lot more thriller-y. I’m playing this blonde hippie-ish girl from Surrey and filming was going to be in Malta, so I was like, ‘Yeah, cool, this is different to Outlander. Different accent, I’m on a boat in the middle of nowhere, but it’s Malta, great!’ There’s one scene where she’s in a bikini on the boat. Sounds fantastic! Then a couple of weeks before shooting, they said, ‘because of the strikes and everything else, we’re actually going to film it in John o’ Groats’ – which is pretty much the most northerly part of the UK. We had super bad weather – 100 mile per hour winds – so we had to stop shooting a lot and we got behind. We were just on a rowing boat in the middle of a water tank right next to the ocean on a cliff. It was intense. But honestly, I think the film is going to be beautiful. It looks really gritty. It’s so fun to play something different. I’m excited to see it.

Who has been your favourite actor to work with in the past?

I worked with Nick Cage ages ago, which was great. He was so lovely to me; that was a good shoot. On Outlander, working with Tobias Menzies was amazing. It was great to work with quite a lot of seasoned actors like Maria Doyle Kennedy, too.

Which co-star did you learn the most from?

Caitríona is amazing. She knows how to fight for her cast and crew, she will make sure that everyone’s looked after. There’s often a lot of hierarchy in TV and film. She’s number one, and she could easily stomp that around, but she doesn’t. She puts everybody on a level playing field and treats everyone the same. I really respect that.

Do you have a dream role?

I love biopics. I love going down a rabbit hole of research and having to perfect little tics that the real person has. I was thinking about La Vie en Rose the other day, the Edith Black one with Marion Cotillard. Something along that route would be really cool. And hey, if there’s ever an Audrey Hepburn biopic, I would love to do that.

Who is a writer or director you’d love to work with?

Jesse Armstong and the Duffer Brothers. I think their writing is just so smart. It flows beautifully, and it’s just so gritty.

How do you find balance in your personal and work lives?

Not sure if I’ve mastered that yet! I’ve always been a very hard worker. Even as a kid, I’d be in ballet every day, and 1000 hobbies. I’ve always managed to fit more in a day than most people. I’m not very good if I’m not busy, so I am trying to manage the shut off between the two now by writing music, doing art and playing piano.

How can we all live a little bit better?

Do small acts of self care for yourself all the time. Someone said it to me recently, and I hadn’t really realised it was a thing. They were like, ‘you’re very good at doing little things that set you up for success for your future self’. It sounds so silly, but it’s the smallest things, like putting stuff away the night before so you don’t wake up to a dirty kitchen in the morning, or just biting the bullet sometimes because you know that it’s going to matter more to your future self than it might do now. Small acts of kindness to yourself. Career wise, it’s so easy now to look on Instagram, for example, compare yourself and just feel shit, frankly. I just have this daily reminder: put on your blinkers and win your own race.

Sophie Skelton Recommends…

I’m currently watching… Shrinking

What I’m reading… The Best Minds by Jonathan Rosen

The last thing I watched (and loved) was… Poor Things

What I’m most looking forward to seeing… Gladiator II and Conclave

Favourite film of all time… Good Will Hunting and Uptown Girls

Band/singer I always have on repeat… Taylor Swift

My ultimate cultural recommendation… Talking to different cultures about how they celebrate the festive season.

Cultural guilty pleasure… Going to the pub for a roast every Sunday – the bottle of red with it is the guilty part!

[hencheri]

jungwoo non con drabble?? 😓😓

18+ mdni.

pairing: bf!jungwoo x fem!reader

warnings: noncon, toxic relationship, anal sex.

.

well, you already know how i imagine it. jungwoo doesn't listen, he never does. he doesn't care about any "no's", even less about a "i'm not in the mood" complaint, all that matters is what he wants. it's not like he has a desire to hurt you or go against your wishes, no, he's just really driven by his lust. and he doesn't hesitate to satisfy his needs, whether you want it or not.

he's spoiled, he's whiny and he really doesn't handle well rejection. he, in fact, hates it. it makes his poor little heart ache and his mouth form a sad pout. what do you mean you don't want to let him fuck you? why can't he have a taste of you? a taste of your sweet pussy, all that he needs right now. all that it takes to make him happy. so why are you telling him no?

it's not that he doesn't know what he's doing, he does, but he just can't help it. he would never apologize though, because jungwoo genuinely is mad when you refuse him. don't trust his pouty lips, he may be confused and sad, he's boiling inside. thoughts such as "she's the worst girlfriend", "doesn't she love me?" or "i can't believe she's telling me no" fill up his mind and then his hands move by themselves. nothing will stop him, not even you, not even your lovely, high-pitched voice repeating "stop it".

on a good day, jungwoo is fast and you could even say gentle. but on a bad day, like he's been waiting all day with a boner and blue balls, he's mean and blinded by his frustration.

he doesn't go for your pussy, he goes straight for your ass. what jungwoo wants, he will have. what's that? oh, you're not prepared? it'll hurt? jungwoo isn't a sadist, but hearing your cries does something to him. maybe it pleases his ego, or perhaps it satisfies his need of vengeance, but he doesn't really listen. he doesn't care.

in any case, he'll put his tongue on your rim, cover it all, drag it to your cunt. his fingers touch you, they tease your hole and don't wait to be pushed inside of you. you gasp, arch your back, pull on his hair like you actually want to hurt him, jungwoo still doesn't listen. your pussy is in his mouth, being slurped and licked from each side, leaving your lips all swollen and puffy. his tongue feels good, but not his fingers stretching your ass. and he knows that. it's his favourite thing to do though, he won't stop.

he actually fucks it with his cock later, having you crying and sniffling under him, now saying that you're sorry, thinking it'll make him second guess himself or whatever. he'll admit that he's partly doing this to punish you, a way to remind you to not tell him no ever again, even though you still dare do it after, making jungwoo think that you're enjoying this and that you have less of a right then to refuse him since you crave his cock so much you're letting him force himself on you.

[endlessburningdarkness]

**I headcanon their relationship falls apart anyway, even without a reveal, bc there's only so long Shen Yuan can lie to himself and put up with terrible sex and LBHs manchild behaviour. I imagine he logs out at some point and returns to his real life.**

Can you develop more this, please? =)

Through most of the story, Shen Yuan is going from one crisis to another. He doesn't have time to sit down and think and be honest with himself. After the story ends, and he has to think beyond just surviving I imagine he will eventually realize he wants more than a relationship built on a lie, and terrible sex and the life of a cultivator.

I imagine he'll crave modern things more and more, not to mention, finally remembering his family and the life he left behind, the life he could've had, where he doesn't have to get his arse ripped open bc the protagonist will cry and destroy the world if he doesn't feel sufficiently "loved". Isn't it telling that both LBH and SY's idea of love requires sex, which one of them doesn't enjoy?

I also imagine he won't be able to deny how manipulative and coercive LBH is, and LBHs appeal as a character (and he does still consider LBH a character even in the end, its why he insists on bottoming, bc the stallion protagonist couldn't possibly take it up the arse) will dwindle and fade away.

It's like how you like badboys in fiction, but if you really had to deal with one irl day in and day out for years on end, you'd say fuck it and pack your bags. If the story book world is now real, that means real human emotions and realistic reactions to things, and I can't see Shen Yuan, realistically, wanting to stay.

So he would find an out, either by killing himself or just logging out and going back home. I don't think LBH would let him leave, and he knows that. It's why he feels so pressured to keep LBH happy and content and sees it as his responsibility, bc an unhappy LBH = world ending. Eventually though, he'd get over that idea, once he has time to pause and think things through and sort out his feelings and get used to his new, disappointing life.

Maybe Shen Yuan becomes the new protagonist, and lives out his dream of being LBH. bc that's the real reason he was reading th original novel, it was a male power fantasy, and Shen Yuan bought into that. He wants the power fantasy and he'll ultimately have to confront his own unhappiness and disappointment within himself. There's only so long you can lie to yourself. Shen Yuan lies to himself in order to survive, but once survival is secured, he will have ample time to realize he's been lying to himself, and that he doesn't want to continue.

And maybe some things are worse than death. I can't imagine years of lying and being coerced into a relationship with painful and humiliating sex is gonna feel any different from torture via human stick a few years down the line.

Him logging out and continuing with his normal life is probably the funniest outcome. I can see him writing fanfiction of Shen Qingqiu becoming a demon lord and fucking LBH/women as a sort of therapeutic exercise to deal with his trauma in the real world afterwards.

Honestly, I think he'd be relived to escape and probably give up his online hating. Which is ultimately the message mxtx wanted to send by writing a story about a straight online troll ending up getting fucked in the arse so badly he bleeds every time. don't hate in front of the author's face, aka the comment section, which is what Shen Yuan was shamelessly doing, harassing the author so much the author remembers all his comments. It would be a nice ending to say he learned his lesson?

But i also don't think an online hater deserves what Shen Yuan is put through in the story as "punishment" for his bad behaviour. It's not that serious imo. Good thing its a fantasy story and doesn't take itself too seriously. It would be a lot more depressing then, and not nearly as funny.

I may have gone a little offtopic. Oh well.

[mountsmase]

Just sent this privately to loz

So sharing it with the class

imagine not living with him

You stayed at his every night since Sunday but today you finish work late and since his family was over you decide to go back at yours for the night

You see the post and call him

But Lewis or his mother answer and they tell you he’s closed himse in his room and is not talki to them at all

So his mum begs you to come over and you obviously run there

You knock his room door convinced that he won’t let you in but as soon as he hears your voice he runs to the door to open it and hugs you🥺

Thank you for sharing, the class really appreciate it 😌

I love this so so much 🥺

Maybe you’re still in a fairly new relationship with him, you’ve been together long enough that you’ve met his family loads and get along with them all really well but you don’t want to interrupt their time together too much so you decide to go home after work, also needing to get a few extra bits and pieces and do some washing before going back to his in a few days time

But then he makes the Instagram post and it catches you a little off guard because you weren’t expecting him to post it, so you call him just to see how he’s feeling and make sure he’s okay but Lewis picks up the phone instead.

Lewis explains that he made the post and then got a bit overwhelmed and disappeared upstairs, leaving his phone down stairs so he’s not tempted to look at any comments or anything, not knowing that Lewis had turned them off completely anyway

Maybe they tell you that his mum had tried to go and speak to him but he wasn’t letting anyone in his room and the door was locked (i imagine him doing that so that his nieces don’t just run in - he’d hate for them to see him upset) and you knew straight away that you needed to go and see him anyway but then his mum asks you to come over and you’re walking out the door straight away

You quite literally just put some shoes and a jacket on, grab your car keys, and go.

When you get there you quickly say hi to all of them and then grab a few bottles of water out of the fridge before going to find him upstairs.

You lightly knock on his door and try to open it but it’s locked and you don’t hear anything from inside so you try again, speaking just loud enough for him to hear you through the door saying ‘Mase, bubba it’s me. Can you let me in?’ and the door is open almost instantly

you just about catch a glimpse at his teary eyes before he’s pulling you in and straight into his arms

You guide him over to the bed and hold your arms out for him to fall into and you hold him close whilst he lets it all out, scratching over his scalp because you know he loves when you do that and letting him know that you’re there and you’ve got him 🥺 It takes him a while to calm down but you know he needs it, encouraging him to cry it all out and you don’t loosen your grip on him until he moves slightly to move his head out of your neck

you’ve spoken enough during the week and you know him well enough to know what’s bothering him, so you don’t make him talk about it, but he knows you’re there if he needs to

so no words are exchanged between the two of you as he leans forward and kisses you gently, a silent thank you for being there for him

and then maybe you decide to stay in his room for the rest of the evening, leaving him to watch a film whilst you pop down stairs to help his mum with dinner (you asked him loads if he was okay with you leaving him on his own but he encouraged you to go) and then you take your portions up to him and you eat it in bed before having a bath together and doing some skincare

You do a face mask with him which he complains about at first but it’s such a good distraction and takes his mind off of everything for a while because your laughing too much at how silly you both look

And then you get into bed for an early night, putting on an episode of the series you’re currently binging and he settles back into your arms, head buried into your neck as he drifts off to sleep, still feeling deflated about everything that’s happening, but feeling alot better after let it all out and having you in his arms

[butchersboobs]

Twist (Part Three)

A Billy Butcher POV fanfic

NSFW under the cut - MDNI

Part One | Part Two

_________

I’ve been up all night. Pacin' the flat. Swearin' at the telly. Drinkin'. 

But nuffink I do stops me keep 'earin you tellin' Ollie I ain't never comin' back - it's on repeat in me 'ead, over 'n over again til I wanna punch me fist through the fuckin' wall.

The look on 'is little face… Nah, I can’t let that stand. You don’t get to pull that kinda stunt 'n get away wiv it. 

So the next day, I'm back knockin' at yer door, shoulders square, ready for anuvver barney.

I expect ya t'tell me t'fuck off, slam the door in me face, maybe even call the ol' bill on me. But ya don’t. You open the door quick, lookin' like you’ve been waittin' for me t'get 'ere. “Come in” ya say, like nuffink's 'appened.

For a second, I just stand there - blinkin' like a twat. “You what?”

“Come in, Billy” you repeat, calm as ya like.

It throws me completely - but I'll be fucked if I'm gonna let you know that. I just shove me way past ya, an' 'ead towards yer livin' room.

You forget - I fuckin' know you. I don’t trust ya one bit - yer up to summink.

The place is quiet - too quiet. No Ollie running about, no squeals o'laughter. “Where’s the boy?” I ask, me voice sharp.

“He’s at preschool,” you say, closin' the door.

Me jaw tightens. I feel like I’ve been set up. “Right. So what’s this, then? Some kinda ambush?”

You shake yer 'ead, looking… sad. Guilty, maybe. Good. You fuckin' should be, after the shit you pulled yesterday. “Billy, I just… I wanted to talk.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Talk? Oh, now ya wanna fuckin' talk. After breakin’ that poor lad's 'eart?”

“I know,” ya say, and there’s this tremble in yer voice. You're fillin' up. And for a split second, I wanna comfort ya - never could stand it, seein' ya cry. But I soon fuck that train o'fort off. Fuck that.

“I know, Billy. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was cruel, and I feel terrible about it.”

“So ya fuckin’ should,” I snap, but the fight’s gone out o'me a bit.

You take a deep breff, steadyin' yerself. “God, he was so upset. He cried himself to sleep last night, thinking he'd never see you again. I can’t do it to him, Billy. I… I want him to see you. Regularly.”

Well that stops me in me tracks. “What?”

“You can see him, as often as you like. We just need to figure out some ground rules,” you say, foldin' yer bloody arms again - but it ain't in anger this time - more like yer tryna 'old yerself togevver. “For Ollie’s sake. He needs stability, Billy.”

Me anger flares up again, hot 'n sharp. “Ground rules? You takin' the fuckin' piss? You fink you get to call the shots after what you've done?”

You flinch, but ya don’t back down. “I’m trying to do what’s best for him, Billy. Can we just - can we not fight about this? Please?”

I look daggers at ya, every muscle in me body tense. Because I know yer right. As much as it boils me piss - you're right. I sigh, draggin' me 'and through me beard. “Fine. Ground rules. Whatever. Just say what you gotta say.”

And then you go straight f'me fuckin' jugular.

“I need you to promise not to tell him you’re his dad…”

The fuckin' balls on you. Fuckin'ell. I'm goona blow...

“You can fuck right off wi'that shite - are you seriously tellin’ me I’ve gotta keep me gob shut 'n pretend I’m just some random fuckin' bloke, while my son - my fuckin' son - walks 'round not knowing the troof? You’re havin’ a fuckin' laugh!"

“For fucksake Billy - let me finish” you shout back, and there's tears fallin' now. “I’m not saying you can never tell him you're his dad. I mean… just… don't tell him yet. Let him get to know you first. Let him feel comfortable. Please.”

I’m so angry I can 'ardly see straight. I need ta fuck off out of 'ere, sharpish - cos if I don't? I'll fuckin' frottle ya. 

But outta nowhere, I fink of Ollie. 'Is little grin, the way he ran t'me like I was his 'ole world. I can't walk out on 'im. E's only little, I don't wanna confuse the lad.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teef. “But don’t fink I’m fuckin' 'appy about it.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes.

You try t'pull yerself togevva - you gotta pick 'im up in a minute, ya tell me. And outta nowhere, you ask if I wanna come wiv ya - maybe take 'im for a burger t'the park. Me gut's tellin' me ta tell ya t'fuck off. I wanna see 'im on my terms, not yours. But then Ollie pops back in me 'ead again, an' I imagine 'ow 'is face is gonna light up, and I find meself sayin' yes.

But the second I agree, the panic sets in. What the fuck am I doin'? I’ve never looked after a kid in me life, let alone taken one out on me own. What if 'e falls off the fuckin' climbin' frame and cracks 'is bloody 'ead open? What if I feed 'im the wrong fing? What if I fuck it all up?

But I shove it down, 'ard. I'll do it fo 'im. For my boy.

—-----

We walk just down the road to Ollie’s preschool, an' it’s awkward as fuck. Neaver of us says much, there's just the sound of me bloody great clod'oppers on the pavement and the occasional cough. I can feel ya lookin' at me out the corner of yer eye, probly worryin' I’m gonna fuck it up.

You stop in front'o the preschool gates, fiddlin' wiv yer coat zip, and for a second, I fink about sayin' summink. Summink… normal. But then the gate opens, and the noise o'kids pours out. Me froat tightens.

An' then I see 'im. My boy. 'Is little 'ead bobs up, scannin' the line o'parents, and when 'e clocks me, it’s like the sun’s just come out. “Billy!” 'e shouts, droppin' whatever e’s holdin' and leggin' it towards me.

I don’t fink I’ve ever been hit so 'ard in me life - not by a punch, not by a bottle, not by anyfin. 'E crashes inta me, little arms wrappin' 'round me legs, face liokin' up up at me wiv that massive grin of 'is. “You're back you're back! Yay yay yay”

I crouch down, me 'ands on 'is tiny shoulders, and for a second, I can’t say a bloody word. I swallow 'ard. “Course I am, mate,” I finally manage, me voice rough. “I told ya I'd be back, dinni, ay?”

You’re standin' there, watchin' us, and when I glance atcha, there’s tears in yer eyes. It pisses me off a bit, but I push it aside for Ollie’s sake.

“Hey, Ollie,” you say, your voice gentle. “How would you like to go for lunch with Billy? Maybe to the park after?”

Well - 'e lights up like a fuckin' Christmas tree, bouncin' on the balls of 'is feet. “Yes! Can we, Billy? Please?”

I'm desperately tryna keep me face neutral, but inside I’m shittin' meself. “Yeah, alright, little man. Let’s do it.”

You pass me 'is little backpack, and the strap feels weird in me 'and - too small, too light. I feel like I shouldn’t be trusted wiv summink so important. “Have fun,” ya say, but yer voice is quieter now, almost 'esitant.

I nod, not trustin' meself t'speak wivout crackin'. I take Ollie’s 'and, n' we 'ead down the street, 'is little legs tryna match me stride. He’s chattin' away, excited about lunch, excited about the park, excited about playin' dinosaurs and an 'undred uvver fings I don’t fully follow.

And me? I’m just tryna keep it togevva - pretend I know what the fuck I’m doing, while 'is tiny hand in mine makes me feel like I’m 'olding the most precious fing in 'ole fuckin' world.

‐—-----

We 'it the burger joint first. Thought I’d feel a bit more confident starting there. I mean, 'ow 'ard can it be t'sit down 'n eat? Turns out, a lot bloody 'arder than you’d fink.

Ollie’s bouncin' in 'is seat before we’ve even bloody ordered, natterin' away about dinosaurs again, which ones eat meat, which ones eat plants, 'n which ones'd like burgers if they was still kickin' about. I’m noddin' along, tryna keep up, but troof be told, I’m out me depth.

“Do you like T. Rexes, Billy?” 'e asks me for the tenf time, 'is little face all serious.

“Course I do,” I say, crackin' a grin. “Mean little bastards, ain’t they?”

'E giggles, and it’s a sound I don’t fink I’ve ever 'eard before. Pure joy. It does summink to me, 'earing 'im laugh like that.

When the food comes, I figure e’ll settle down, but nope. He’s dippin' chips in ketchup, then lickin' it off like it’s some kinda game. Gets it all over 'is face. The table. 'Is shirt. Jesus Christ.

“Oi, Ollie, mate,” I say, tryna sound firm but not too 'arsh. “The chips go in yer mowf, not everywhere else.”

'E grins up at me, cheeky as anyfin, an' shoves an 'andful into his gob. “Like this?” 'e mumbles  'round a gob full o'food.

I can’t 'elp it - I laugh. “Yeah, just like that. Perfict.”

By the time we’re done, the table looks like a bloody war zone. Ketchup smeared everywhere, squashed chips scattered, and I’m pretty sure e's got 'alf a milkshake down 'is front. But e’s grinnin' from ear to ear, and I feel like I’ve doin' alright.

“Ready for the park, then?” I ask, standin' up and grabbin' some napkins to clean 'im up.

“Yeah!” 'e shouts, jumpin' out 'is seat like I’ve just told him we’re off to Disney World.

We walk over to the park, and e’s practically draggin' me there, 'is little hand clutchin' mine. It’s weird, 'oldin 'is 'and like this. Feels… right.

When we get there, e’s off like a shot up the climbin' frame, shoutin' down at me to watch 'im. “Look, Billy! I’m up really high!”

My 'eart’s in my froat the entire time. E’s bloody fearless, this kid, swingin' off bars, 'angin upside down like e’s got no sense o'danger. I’m standin' there, arms out, ready to catch 'im if 'e so much as wobbles.

“You alright up there, mate?” I call, tryna sound casual while me stomach’s doin' bloody backflips.

“Yeah!” he yells back, laughin'. “I’m the bestest at climbing!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I mutter, more to meself than 'im.

Eventually, 'e makes his way to the slide, and that’s a bit less terrifyin'. E’s up and down it a dozen times, his laughter echoin' across the park. Uvver parents are 'ere, watching their nippers, chattin' amongst 'emselves. I feel a bit out o'place, like I don’t belong, to be honest. But Ollie’s avin' the time of 'is life - so I don’t let it bovver me.

When 'e finally comes runnin' back over, 'is cheeks are pink an' 'is 'air’s a sweaty mess.  E looks up at me, beamin'. “That was fun! Can we come back tomorrow?”

I crouch down to 'im “We’ll see, mate. We'll see. You 'ad a good then time, yeah?”

“The best!” 'e says, frowin' 'is arms round me neck.

An' just like that, the world stops. It’s just me and 'im, an' I feel summink I ain’t felt in years - peace. Pure, unshakable peace.

“Alrigh', let’s get you 'ome,” I say, standin' up and rufflin' his hair. “Your mum’ll 'ave my 'ead if I keep you out too long.”

He laughs, grabbin' me 'and again as we walk back. 

Maybe - just maybe - I can do this parentin' lark.

_________

Tags: @babyfri3dric3 @dumpy-little-nobody @bohemianblasphemy @smallsadjellyfish @frank3nfag @noonwardmoss @rebelled-angel @karlurbanism @jax-the-oregonian @chocolategiverzombie @scxrchedearf @bluemerakis @enchantedflameandflower @allirose18 @chiefcreatorcreation @bobabilbil

[ineedpaigebuckets]

I have a request, maybe you can make it a short series 😭 I also had to ask chat gpt to organize it cause I can’t write for shit.

This is what I wrote on my notes app, but I’m going to put the organized version chat gpt gave me as well in another ask.

Anyway, pazzi!

Au pazzi fic where paige and azzi meet bc az family moves to MN and azzi is transferred to Hopkins HS, she meets paige there on the team but she has a gf on the cheerleading team.

They don’t get along at first bc azzi meets a guy her first day there who’s been trying to get with her, azzi likes him back, but what she doesn’t know is that this guy used to make derogatory remarks about paige (homophobia maybe or something else idk) and so paige thinks azzi knew that and still went out of her way to date him, now she thinks she’s straight and homophobic.

Azzi does think she’s straight, and really likes this guy she’s met but as time passes she gets uncomfortable with some things he says or his friends say. She thinks it’s because she knows there’s a lot of queer people in the wbb community, but deep down she worries it might be something else. She lets this comments slide or even laughs (anxiously) along with everyone else to feel “normal” but it feels wrong.

Paige overhears some of this things and it only makes her more mad at azzi, she’s found out they work incredibly well together on the court, insane chemistry, and thinks she can maybe get to know her, but after that she’s just upset about it, about her, she’s heard it before, from other people, from this group, but doesn’t know why she’s letting it hit her so hard when azzi does it.

Some people throw a house party and everyone’s going, the athletes, cheerleaders, azzi’s bf group, etc. Everyone’s drinking, paige is with her gf and some girls on the team and azzi’s with her bf and his friends playing beer pong. Paige and her gf have an argument over paige not stepping up to azzi but paige defends herself saying she can’t let outside conflicts affect the team and their game. Truth is they’ve been having relationship issues since before azzi moved to MN, but Paige’s gf always seemed to be back, this time, paige knew she was probably right, but she didn’t care, she was tired. They break up.

Azzi heard a bit of their argument before they went outside (she didn’t hear when they were talking about her). She felt a little bad, even though she didn’t have a good relationship with paige, nevertheless it was none of her business, until a friend of her bf saw paige come in alone and a little frustrated and said “ooh the dykes broke up again” and azzi’s bf and other friends laughed, this time, azzi wasn’t about to let it slide, maybe it was the liquor courage but she threw her cup of vodka at the guy who made the comment and then looked at her boyfriend and said “control your fucking dog” “if I hear any other bs about anyone on my team, we’re done”.

She then leaves not caring the guy who she got her drink spilled on was calling her a bitch between other insults. She goes to one of the rooms upstairs and lays down on the bed, pondering. Paige, after seeing that scene, goes looking for azzi, not even knowing why, it was none of her business, maybe it was the alcohol in her system. She finds the room azzi is in but not knowing what she was there do in the first place, tries to start an argument with her, azzi defends herself saying she just stood up for her, paige says that she didn’t before and that she was full of shit. They’re both heated and drunk, azzi’s out of words, she knows paige has a right to be angry and she doesn’t know what comes over her, but she starts crying. Paige feels bad and goes over to her, azzi apologizes, and they stay quiet while paige holds azzi for a minute. Paige doesn’t know what comes over her now, but she asks azzi to break up with her boyfriend.

Azzi is taken aback by the request, she knows it’s probably for the best but she doesn’t know why paige sounds like it’s more for her than it is for the sake of the team, etc. Still, azzi locks eyes with paige and tells her she will, if that is he isn’t with some other girl already, they laugh, then they stare at each other quietly. Azzi starts getting nervous and she says they should head back down, but paige grabs her hand and gives her a kiss on her cheek, azzi stares shocked, but it’s only right to do the same, right? She tries to kiss her cheek back but paige moves and they share a kiss on the lips. Azzi is embarrassed and immediately apologizes, but paige grabs her and they start making out, azzi pulls away after a while and says “I’m not gay, just drunk”.

Paige is shocked even though she should have expected this but says “ofc you are, way to ruin the moment”. They don’t know if it’s because they’re drunk but neither of them can get away, like they’re frozen, so they go at it again, until there’s a knock on the door, someone trying to go in but thank god it’s locked. They pretend azzi was throwing up in the bathroom inside the bedroom, and then go back to the party without saying another word to each other. Azzi finds her boyfriend cuddled up with another girl, they exchange words and break up, then she turns around to leave, until she sees paige go past by her and punches azzi’s now ex boyfriend. She’s pulled back by azzi and some other people around them.

Azzi drags Paige outside and argue a little about how azzi had it handled and didn’t need to be saved, paige says it was for herself and all the times he had something to say about her before, but being honest they both didn’t believe that. Paige gets frustrated and says the real reason azzi’s so bothered by this is because of what happened upstairs, they argue some more and then part ways, they’re back to square one.

Idk where to go from there, just very angsty, good ending though pls lol 😞

oh my god i love you!!! i WILL be writing this whenever i can trust me it will be a multi part series of you wanna dm me PLEASE i'll give you credit and like i literally love you 🤩

[lwjsbedtime]

So I remembered the song Quiet from Matilda, and it made me think of little ADHD Babyxian being adopted by the Jiangs.

He's not doing so well to be honest. He's messy, and too far ahead of his classmates, and doesn't do his chores on time because his nose is always in some book he has no business reading.

Auntie Yu has had enough. She tells JFM it's Cloud Recesses Boarding School or the little brat is going back out on the street!

Little A-Xian hears this and he doesn't quite cry, because Mama always told him it feels better to smile, but he does sniffle a bit before falling asleep.

In the morning when Uncle Jiang asks if he wants to go to a new school he says yes.

And then he's being shipped off halfway across the country - away from grumpy JC and sweet JYL, who he'd only just met - to a school where he doesn't know anyone.

Of course, he gets in trouble. He always does.

He doesn't mean to. He thinks maybe he's just bad.

Headmaster Lan Qiren seems to have something personal against him, but his teacher - Lan Qiren's nephew, Mr. Lan Xichen - is really nice.

He's soft with little A-Xian, seeming to understand him better than he understands himself.

He says A-Xian is a good boy.

WWX isn't sure he believes him, but Mr Lan Xichen is almost always right about everything so he doesn't question how he knows A-Xian is good.

The thing is, Lan Xichen is right. The difference between him and A-Xian's old teachers is that he pays attention to A-Xian. He sees him.

And what he sees breaks his heart.

It may not be the same exactly, but his little brother is around A-Xian's age - just a grade higher - and so, so similar - if in the opposite direction.

Where A-Xian is boisterous, little Zhan-er is too quiet. Where A-Xian is so interested in learning, needing to know everything about EVERYTHING, right now! Zhan-er has a few special interests that captivate him.

He seems standoffish, so the other children exclude him, but Zhan-er knows ALL about rabbits, for example, and reads poetry far beyond his age level, and - oddly enough - can answer any question about ancient blacksmithing techniques you throw at him.

Both boys are very smart, and so very different from their peers.

For Zhan-er this is because he's autistic

Lan Xichen thinks A-Xian might also be on the spectrum. He tries to contact the Jiangs about gaining permission to send him to the in-school psychiatrist, but receives nothing in reply.

It is...deeply concerning.

Lan Xichen brings his thoughts up with his uncle, who grumbles a little, but accepts that maybe it might be possible WWX needs a little extra help.

The next day Lan Xichen asks for A-Xian to stay after class alone. A-Xian is a little scared he's going to be scolded, but Lan Xichen bends down to his level and asks if he would like to meet someone really special.

"Yes!" A-Xian exclaims, excited.

Lan Xichen takes the boy's hand and leads him out the classroom, down the path to the old clan homes that still exist behind Cloud Recesses' campus

As they walk, Lan Xichen explains the history of his home, and A-Xian takes it all in with wide eyes.

Then, finally, they reach the-

"Bunnies!" A-Xian exclaims, already surging away from Lan Xichen with the slipperiness of a professional escape artist.

Lan Xichen chuckles under his breath.

They have arrived at the bunny field.

Zhan-er, who had been told they would be joined today by another boy, frowns at his brother with betrayal, a rabbit held firmly in his arms.

Lan Xichen can see already he's close to tears, so he catches A-Xian's hand and whispers to him.

"We must be very quiet. Bunnies are scared by loud noises."

A-Xian nods at him with wide eyes, closing his mouth tightly like he might even forget to breathe.

"This is Lan Zhan, my brother," Lan Xichen directs A-Xian's attention to where Zhan-er sits scowling amongst the gentians.

"Hello Lan Zhan," A-Xian whisper-yells. "I'm A-Xian."

Lan Xichen hides a grin as Zhan-er nods and points at one of his favourite bunnies - a small Holland lop called Orchid.

"She will play," he murmurs, and then he turns back to the bunny in his arms, hiding his face in her soft fur.

For Zhan-er it is as good as a seal of approval.

Lan Xichen watches as the boys play together and feels a pleasant warmth swell in his stomach. They do get along so nicely. He hopes they become good friends.

As he predicted, the playdate is not a one off event. Soon enough it becomes a daily occurrence, with A-Xian getting antsy if it is cancelled, and Zhan-er getting close to a meltdown.

The boys are friends - best friends - and while they sometimes clash, their troubles are soon forgotten.

They are good for one another - mindful of each other's limits and differences.

Lan Xichen has never seen his brother so open, nor so happy.

Which is why when the Jiang family decide to pull A-Xian out of Cloud Recesses due to financial difficulties, he must protest.

His words fall on deaf ears.

A-Xian cries when he hears the news. He grabs onto Lan Xichen's leg, begging not to go. Zhan-er however goes quiet…

…Before he starts screaming with the lung capacity of a professional opera singer.

It is ear-splitting.

This is how JFM finds them half an hour later, when he arrives to take A-Xian with him.

"Please," Lan Xichen begs. "Can't we do anything to allow him to stay?"

JFM looks between the three of them - the distressed LXC; the red faced A-Xian and Zhan-er (currently sobbing as he bites chunks out of his own arm).

He goes quiet for a moment. He sighs.

"Are you sure you want him?" he asks, as if hoping the answer will be no.

Lan Xichen almost sobs. "Yes. Yes, yes, more than anything."

With a torn expression, JFM offers up A-Xian's adoption papers.

The process is surprisingly easy, and takes little time to approve.

And then, A-Xian - WWX - is theirs.

When Zhan-er hears the news he runs up to A-Xian and hugs him like one of his bunnies.

"Mine," he says seriously, landing a sloppy kiss on the apple of A-Xian's cheek.

A-Xian giggles and returns the gesture.

"Lan Zhan's!" he declares shyly.

And…hmm.

Lan Xichen will cross that bridge when they come to it. For now, he really needs a nap.

And an appointment for A-Xian with the school psychiatrist.

(He does, indeed, have ADHD, and performs much better with the proper accommodations in place to aid him)

--

This is the song, by the way. The first time I heard it, I cried so hard my dog came and stood over me. I think he legit thought I hurt myself 😂