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ltbarnes · 8 months

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Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #back to december

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captainfern · 11 months

Text

141Rugby!au - Introductory and Definitions

141 x fem!reader, rugbyunion!au [18+] intro

hi! below the cut is an introductory to rugby union if you know absolutely nothing about the sport (and it's completely okay if you don't!)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Rugby [a somewhat simplified explanation!]

rugby union (i’ll be referring to it as simply rugby) is a very physical, high-contact sport played by many different countries across the world. if you want an idea of how intense the love for rugby can be, search up rugby culture in south africa, ireland, or new zealand - 3 very strong rugby nations!

the main objective is to score tries by getting the ball to the other end of the field and touching it against the grass in the end-goal. to stop the other team from scoring a try, players try to tackle their opposition and attempt to steal the ball back.

also important to note, many rugby players are fine as hell. ok anyway

on a rugby field, each team has fifteen players numbered 1 through to 15. each team also has players on the bench that can be "subbed" on if a player on field becomes tired or gets injured. each player (and their number) has special skills, simplified here:

1 & 3 (prop) - the strongest guys on the field. usually pretty beefy as they are positioned at the front of a scrum (explained later). example player: joe marler, england. 2 (hooker) - a bit less beefy, but still strong, sometimes a bit taller than 1 & 3. this guy throws the ball in lineouts (explained later). example player: malcolm marx, south africa. 4 & 5 (lock) - the tallest guys on the field. they are lifted during lineouts. example player: eben etzebeth, south africa. 6 & 7 (flanker) - are very fit, quite fast and are good at commanding the field (many captain's have been flankers). example player: siya kolisi, south africa. 8 (number eight, eighthman) - typically very strong and can lift and/or be lifted in lineouts, as well as add extra weight to scrums. example player: ardie savea, new zealand. 9 (scrum-half, half-back) - usually the smallest on the field, and are often quite quick. they put the ball into the scrums. example player: antoine dupont, france 10 (fly-half, first five-eighth) - are usually fast, fit and are often the kickers of the team that kick conversions (explained later). example player: handre pollard, south africa. 12 & 13 (centre) - strong passers, have a good kick and create space when they run down the field. example player: reiko ioane, new zealand. 11 & 14 (wing, winger) - the fastest men on the field. they run near the outside lines of the field and can often be difficult to tackle (explained later). example player: james lowe, ireland. 15 (fullback) - catch high-balls, kick far distances, quite fast, fit and can run long distances. example player: damian willemse, south africa.

there are certain "events" that happen in rugby, as mentioned in the previous segment. the basic, fundamental ones are simplified and explained a bit here:

scrum - a method of restarting the game. players pack closely together with their heads down and attempt to gain possession of the ball by pushing each other. the props go at the front because they are the strongest, and the 9 puts the ball in for the players to "fight over" lol. like this:

lineout - is another method of restart when the ball goes out, and involves the ball being thrown in and players lifting up the 4 or 5 so they can catch the ball and give it to their team. each team lifts their lock, and the locks fight for the ball in the air lol. like this:

conversion - done after a player scores a try (a player touches the ball against the grass at the end of the field, worth 5 points). the kicker has to kick the ball between the posts to "convert" the try. it's worth 2 points.

now, here's some quick definitions of words you might see in my upcoming fics. also, if you're ever confused, just ask me! or, you know, search it up on the internet lol.

tackle - when the player with the ball gets "tackled", another player has grabbed them and brought them to the ground. some tackles can be pretty tame, but others can be very intense and cause serious injuries (you are not allowed to tackle near the shoulders, neck, or head. if a player does, they are sent off with either a yellow-card, or red-card). like this:

yellow card, and red card - if a player does something illegal (rugby term for bad or against the rules lol), they can either get a yellow or red card, depending on how bad they are. a yellow card is if you break a basic rule (example, you accidentally hit your shoulder against another player's head in a tackle) and you get sent off for ten minutes and have to sit in the naughty chair :(. a red card is if you do something very very bad (example, you straight up try to scrape someone's eyes out with your sprigs aka the pointy things on the bottom of your boots). you get sent off for the rest of the game, and could get a suspension from playing for weeks.

penalty - if you do something a bit bad, not enough for a card, then the other team get's a penalty (if the other team does something wrong, you get a penalty). the team can choose to either take the ball back and do a scrum/lineout, or kick for goal (a penalty goal is worth 3 points).

forward pass - can't do that!! when you pass the ball, it must always go backwards, just by a little bit!! like this:

ruck - when a player is tackled and goes to ground with the ball, other players join in to try and either steal the ball or take the ball out and give it back to their team. the guy with the ball has to get the ball out otherwise the other team gets a penalty! like this:

maul - exactly how it sounds lol. can be pretty brutal. when the player with the ball is held up, other players grab onto them and basically wrestle each other LMAO. other plays can join in to keep play moving if they want. it can happen a lot after scrums. it can also lead to fights if the players are particularly rough with each other. like this:

try - the method of scoring points. a player takes the ball and puts it over the line at the end of the field (call the end-goal most of the time) and it's worth 5 points. like this:

that's basically all you need to know to understand the references i might make throughout the fics (in between the literal porn of course LMAO). if you're curious about anything else, consult the internet or feel free to ask me :)

and yes, try celebrations are common. you know that tiktok audio "and they're both boys *smooching sounds*". that's literally mens rugby like half of the time

ok first fic out soon hopefully x

i’m aiming to write 5 parts but we’ll see how far i get lol

#captainfern #call of duty #141rugby!au #141 x reader #task force 141 #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #cod smut

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hisnowbie2 · 5 months

Text

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Summary:

¤ A vampire that supposedly everyone thinks they do not exist, clearly exist in her world. Pretend is a key to survive, though no vampire hunter. The world is obviously not open-minded either.

A human that has nothing with the vampire, came across with each other one day at school, but the contact surely isn't good at all. By right, no one can even understand what happened.

"Stare at me deep down." As the vampire was then forcefully clicked with the human.

"Invite me in." As the human wants to get in the vampire's life. ¤

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Concept:

SMAU x crack x written x angst x fantasy x quite a slowburn

Warnings:

Typo errors, a somewhat soulmate genre, vampire, strangers-to-lover troop, sns likes comment duration and repost are not related to the story, reincarnation, blood, past life, maybe bad jokes hanging, school genre, i mispelled hitomi's name from ONE to THIRTEEN in chat and i just realised it, well this is relating to vampires and such so any death can occur, direct d!e word or anything relates to that, lmk if i miss out any

Mentioned / featuring:

&TEAM Taki EJ K Fuma and Maki, NCT Dream Jaemin, Treasure Yoshi, NCT 127 Yuta, ZB1 Hanbin,

Status:

Ongoing, upload everyday

Started:

16 June 2024

Ended:

18 Oct 2024

Taglist:

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Bitches on TOP | 7 human mosquitoes

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ | ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

ONE : 【 We ARE into transfer students 】

TWO : 【 59404 times of sorry 】

THREE : 【 Not a duel at high noon 】

FOUR : 【 ɴɪsʜɪᴍᴜʀᴀ ʀɪᴋɪ 】

FIVE : 【 I'll do one better 】

SIX : 【 He isnt a great start to begin with 】

SEVEN : 【 and I quote, GIVE ME BACK MY EYE COLOUR 】

EIGHT : 【 Be nice, Sunoo 】

NINE : 【 Why is this happening to me? 】 (0.7k)

TEN : 【 Euijoo in Rugby club 】

ELEVEN : 【 Gentleman club 】

TWELVE : 【 Euijoo vs Sunghoon 】

THIRTEEN : 【 Hamburger time 】

FORTEEN : 【 Mint choco ice cream 】

FIFTEEN : 【 Throws me into uncontrollable desire 】

SIXTEEN : 【 All kinds of bad 】

SEVENTEEN : 【 "date" 】

EIGHTEEN : 【 Jealous bf are cute 】

NINETEEN: 【 Your blood is what we craved for 】

TWENTY : 【 Sunoo SLAY 】

TWENTYONE : 【 Simp behaviour 】

TWENTYTWO : 【 I AM NOT YOUR SON'S GIRLFRIEND 】

TWENTYTHREE : 【 Our past life story 】 (2.8k)

TWENTYFOUR : 【 Time for a plan 】

TWENTYFIVE : 【 HE STUTTERED 】

TWENTYSIX : 【 Change purpose of plan 】 (1.3k)

TWENTYSEVEN : 【 Yuki:Sunghoon 1:0 】

TWENTYEIGHT : 【 YUHOON LIVE TWEETS -Riki 】

TWENTYNINE : 【 Step 3: there's no need for step 3 】

THIRTY : 【 Step 3: there's no need for step 3 POSTPONED 】 (5.1k)

THIRTYONE : 【 Is he handsome? 】 (2.1k)

THIRTYTWO : 【 Wikihow, does he like me? 】

THIRTYTHREE : 【 Alexa? Siri? Any AI available? 】

THIRTYFOUR : 【 Two can play this game 】 (4.2k)

THIRTYFIVE : 【 Teamwork🙂 】

THIRTYSIX : 【 Can i have this dance? 】 (3.2k)

THIRTYSEVEN : 【 Two babies?! 】

THIRTYEIGHT : 【 You say 】 (62)

THIRTYNINE : 【】 - 10 Oct

FORTY : 【】 - 11 Oct

FORTYONE : 【】 - 12 Oct

FORTYTWO : 【】 - 13 Oct

FORTYTHREE : 【】 - 14 Oct

FORTYFOUR : 【】 - 15 Oct

FORTYFIVE : 【】 - 16 Oct

【】

Ending

Fin

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Masterlist

Enhypen Masterlist

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

@seunghancore @sol3chu @melancholy-z @stvrrylove

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

#kpop #hybe #smau #kpop smau #lee heeseung #jay #park jongseong #park sunghoon #jake sim #sim jaeyun #yang jungwon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #sunghoon smau #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen smau

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lisbeth-kk · 1 year

Text

Sherlock fandom. John finding new families along the way.

Surprisingly easy

John has never had any reason to cherish his own family. His parents were always fighting about some trifle detail or other. Harry was difficult at best, detestable at her worst.

He heard the saying for the first time when he was fifteen, and it immediately hit home.

Friends are the family you choose.

John didn’t have many friends. Not close ones anyway. His fellow rugby teammates were the closest he’d got before uni. At his practise at Barts Hospital, Mike Stamford was a bloke to rely on. Easy and fun to hang out with. A bit boring and predictable, but John could live with that.

When John joined the army and sat foot in a war zone, his comrades became his new family. As a captain he had the responsibility and was suddenly the head of the family. Not that he thought about his men as family at the time, but when he came back home to London, John recognised that they indeed had been the closest to a family he’s ever had.

John has always been a private person. His trust issues come from years of being let down by his biological family. So, the instant attraction and trust he felt toward Sherlock when Mike introduced them, came as an utter surprise to John. Months later, Sherlock revealed having had the same feelings when John lended him his mobile.

“You were the first person who’d intrigued me in years. Although I could deduce much about you, there was always something that astounded me. It still happens occasionally,” Sherlock admits.

“I’m flattered,” John tells him. “To be fair, I never thought that someone like you could find me a tad bit interesting.”

Sherlock had convinced John of the fact quite thoroughly using his lips and hands after that. Gasping for air, John had agreed that he indeed was the most precious and fascinating human being ever created, all out of fear that Sherlock would stop his worshipping of John’s body.

***

The car stops outside the cosy house, and John can’t wait to get out and greet the residents. Sherlock and Mycroft are more reluctant to move. John rolls his eyes at his beloved and the beloved’s older brother.

“Come on, you two. Stop behaving like teenagers being forced to visit family members. They both love you dearly, and I’m in awe over the fact that they tolerate your behaviour,” John says sternly before he opens the car door.

He moves rapidly toward the house, but before he can knock, the door swings open and John finds himself embraced by an elated woman, who smells of baked goods and gardenia.

“John, darling,” Violet Holmes exclaims. “How lovely to see you.”

“Likewise,” John says and presses a kiss to her cheek.

Walter Holmes comes into view behind Violet, and John frees himself to greet the patriarch. They shake hands and Walter places a warm hand on John’s shoulder.

“Alright there, son?” he asks.

“Absolutely. I’ve even managed convincing your offspring to come along,” John grins.

“Ah! Quite the achievement,” Walter praises.

John turns when he hears Violet coo and hug her sons equally enthusiastic as she did with John just minutes earlier. It never fails to amuse John how affectionate the Holmes brothers are with their parents once in their orbit. The bickering between the two, is another matter, but it’s less venomous here than in London.

Violet Holmes is an excellent cook, and even Sherlock eats his fair share of the delicious meal, not to mention the chocolate mousse with fresh berries from Walter’s garden.

Being the only Watson at a table crowded with Holmes’s, John feels content and he can honestly say that they all are his new family. Even Mycroft, Sherlock’s protests notwithstanding.

***

“It’s surprisingly easy to love your family,” John muses where he lies curled up in Sherlock’s arms on the sofa in front of the fireplace later that evening.

Sherlock hums and combs his long fingers through John’s hair.

“What would you say to becoming a legitimate member of the Holmes family, John?” Sherlock asks quietly.

John gasps and turns to face Sherlock, his eyes starting to fill.

“Sherlock,” he whispers. “Are you asking me what I…”

“Yes, John! Obviously,” Sherlock says with a teasing eyeroll, before his face softens.

John sits up and straddles Sherlock’s thighs, his hands cupping Sherlock’s cheeks carefully. He catches plush lips with his thinner ones, and snogs Sherlock breathless.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” John murmurs.

Such a wonderful prompt! It was a joy to write.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @phoenix27884 @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitchworld @kettykika78 @helloliriels @peanitbear @safedistancefrombeingsmart

#sherlock fandom #johnlock #sherlock #john watson #flashfiction #family

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taylorswiftandx · 6 months

Text

Taylor Swift and Sports

Note: This post is for the name of a sport, so for example "swimming" appears here but "swam" does not. For "running," I limited what appears here to lyrics that could indicate physically running rather than "time is running out" for example.

'Taylor Swift'

(no sports)

'Fearless (Taylor's Version)'

Fifteen: But in your life, you'll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team

'Speak Now (Taylor's Version)'

Sparks Fly: You're the kind of reckless that should send me running

Mean: And I can see you years from now in a bar, talking over a football game

Innocent: Wasn't it beautiful, running wild 'til you fell asleep?

Long Live: We are the kings and the queens, you traded your baseball cap for a crown

'Red (Taylor's Version)'

All Too Well: Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

Stay Stay Stay: That's when you came in wearing a football helmet and said, "Okay, let's talk"

Starlight: We were seventeen and crazy, running wild, wild

The Very First Night: Not trying to fall in love, but we did like children running

'1989 (Taylor's Version)'

I Wish You Would: This mad, mad love makes you come running

"Slut!": Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool, what if all I need is you?

Is It Over Now?: I think about jumping off of very tall somethings just to see you come running

Sweeter Than Fiction: You never saw it coming, slipped when you started running

Sweeter Than Fiction: They never saw it coming, you hit the ground running

'reputation'

…Ready For It?: Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry

Getaway Car: Well, he was running after us, I was screaming, "Go, go, go!"

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: Jump into the pool from the balcony, everyone swimming in a champagne sea

'Lover'

The Man: I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man

Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince: Running through rose thorns, I saw the scoreboard and ran for my life

London Boy: You can find me in the pub, we are watching rugby with his school friends

Afterglow: Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

'folklore'

The 1: I hit the ground running each night, I hit the Sunday matinee

Cardigan: Leaving like a father, running like water

'evermore'

Cowboy Like Me: And the tennis court was covered up with some tent-like thing

'Midnights'

Sweet Nothing: I found myself running home to your sweet nothings

You're Losing Me: Now you're running down the hallway

Other Songs written by Taylor

Carolina: Oh Carolina creeks running through my veins

Official Alternate Releases

(no sports)

#taylor swift #lyrics #taylorswiftandx #lyric parallels #sports

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hephaestiions · 5 months

Note

Inspired by your Drarry fic recs and your amazing Flintwood fic, do you have any Flintwood recs or personal favorites?

ah! fantastic ask, anon! flintwood was, incidentally, my earliest hp ship & maintains a soft spot after all these years. their functions in canon (quidditch captains of rival houses, pinnacles of a certain kind of obsessive, single-minded, aggressive athletic masculinity) conduce some of the most raw and gritty characterisations— kind of like if tracing your tongue along the jagged, broken end of a tooth was a ship. flintwood encapsulates a very specific kind of mood— a foregrounded physicality, a delicious emotional dimension balancing both subtlety and brashness. this ship is especially delightful when you're in the mood for some deferred emotional payoff, a little out of reach and more satisfying for it.

(tw for some discussions of queerphobia & masculinity!)

flintwood also works with and subverts some common stereotypes & tropes associated with sports as a site of exalted & amplified masculinity. oliver and marcus are both, in fic, often representations of what a popular (largely homophobic & patriarchal) culture understands as 'masculine ideal stereotypes'— physically hulking, emotionally repressed, narrow-focused, a little dangerous. and flintwood, as a ship, is crucially also about these 'ideal men' making the choice to step away from the hallowed halls of homosociality towards explicit queer desire, dynamics and love.

i'm getting into this because a large selection of flintwood fics i've loved deal (overtly or covertly) with coming to terms with queer awakenings, reckoning with being queer men in sports and similar explorations. my flintwood fic (thank you for reading it, anon!), addictive tendencies (~4k, T, tw for internalised homophobia) also grapples with this fairly significantly. in fact, even when the central tension isn’t explicitly about a queer reckoning, and the worldbuilding has little/no queerphobia, many excellent flintwood fics have some of the themes, ideas and tropes you find in literature accounting for our society’s (often disparaging) attitude towards queerness: a desire both intense and grudging, a sense of “i can’t have this person” justified through rivalry and/or jealousy, poignant internal conflicts, etc.

anyway, enough talk, here's a selection of flintwood fics i've dearly enjoyed, hope you do too! mind the tags & notes & remember to send some love the authors' way :)

best kept secrets by slyther_ing (M, 1.8k)

Marcus Flint is leaning up by the metal chainlink fence - gum popping, grin flashing white, and Oliver has the urge to run away because everything in the taller boy’s stature screams trouble, trouble, trouble.

twenty gauge by provocative_envy (T, 3k)

It takes Marcus less than ninety seconds to determine that his four o'clock is an aggressively annoying piece of shit.

wake up, get up, shut up by provocative_envy (E, 4.2k)

Marcus is twenty-three and half-concussed when it finally occurs to him that he might actually kind of sort of be really into dudes.

rugby boys, they play 15s by thistlecat (M, 4.5k)

Fifteen significant moments in Oliver Wood’s collegiate rugby career that did not make his highlight tape.

no vacancy by provocative_envy (M, 10.1k)

The dreams are frightening, at first.

true but not nice by v (E, 10.2k)

Marcus found out about it from Warrington, who heard it from Montague, who heard it from Derrick, who heard it from Nott, who heard it from Zabini, who heard it from Malfoy, who they said heard from the Quidditch dressing room, which really just meant that Marcus was going to fucking kill him.

self preservation by al-the-remix (E, 17.8k)

Outside the night had grown dark, and at some point Oliver had moved to perch on the edge of Marcus' bed, thigh pressed against his and tray settled between them. As if they had some sort of understanding. As if they were friends.

#flintwood #marcus flint #oliver wood #oliver wood x marcus flint #geets recs #flintwood fic recs #flintwood rec list

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oscar-piastri · 1 year

Text

polaroid posts | masterlist ⋆˙⟡♡✧˖°

i've got this serie going on, where i spend a lot of time looking for bf material pictures of athletes that i put in polaroid format, just because i'm lonely as fuck

MOTORSPORT

PATO O'WARD one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen - fourteen - fifteen - sixteen - seventeen - eighteen - nineteen - twenty - twenty one - twenty two - twenty three - twenty four - twenty five - twenty six - twenty seven -

ARTHUR LECLERC one

PIERRE GASLY one

MARCUS ARMSTRONG one - two - three

LANDO NORRIS one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve -

RUGBY

MELVYN JAMINET one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen -

MARTIN PAGE-RELO one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine -

BAPTISTE COUILLOUD one - two - three - four - five - six -

CHARLES OLLIVON one

ROMAIN NTAMACK one

BAPTISTE SERIN one

#this is for tumblr micallum #*

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swoopswrites · 9 months

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shoulder to shoulder hc's

Remus

is a really good cook from looking after Gracie but refuses to look after himself properly so only ever makes pesto pasta or noodles at uni, but when he's home and in a good mood he whips up the turkish dishes of his childhood for his sister

had a lightning bolt shaved into his short back and sides as a kid because he thought it'd make him faster on the field

originally played nine because he was a mouthy motherfucker at age twelve but when he hit puberty he grew too tall and his coach moved him to fifteen, but he ended up loving it

is actually still on good terms with his secondary school girlfriend, who sometimes takes Gracie on day trips with her and her little sister

he still has all his old jerseys in a box under his bed, saving them for if he ever has kids.

was filmed shirtless for a promotional video for his first world cup and overnight became a figurehead for body positivity and had instagram accounts dedicated to his abs. Sirius finds the latter hilarious and encourages to post thirst traps to his own professional account to give them new content. Remus begins working with charities on campaigns that help children feel comfortable with their visible differences, publicly talking about his scars in a way he thought he never would.

used to tell people Gracie was his daughter when he was eighteen for a laugh and to see the horror on their faces.

moves into a flat in Bristol with Sirius after graduating; equal distance from Remus' training and James' parents house. Gracie moves in with them after four years, after another accident forces Lyall into rehab.

Sirius

joined rugby in year seven because his first proper friend James said it was really cool and he knew it'd piss off his mum

got his tattoo's with a fake ID at seventeen the week after he moved in with the Potter's because he couldn't think of a better way to retake ownership of his body

a prolific vinted seller, makes bank by upcycling the cast-offs of his friends and re-selling them. in his final year, it gets featured in Teen Vogue and the exposure gets him fashion internships for post graduation.

(follow on) can sew. Effie taught him on the long nights he couldn't sleep post-running away, and so many of his clothes he's made himself

aside from his one night stand in first year, Remus is the first person Sirius has done bits at uni with because he was always too scared Peter would find out

swore himself off rugby boys and was so rude to Remus at first because he couldn't bear to admit his attraction

ends up working with NGO's to help queer youth, pioneering for the inclusion of queer kids in sport, helped by Remus' professional connections

Lily

had a weeny crush on remus when she first met him, and spent the first two weeks of uni gushing to her school friends about 'the cute welsh guy in my lectures' until she realised he really needed a friend, and she did her best to be that for him

likes her sleepovers with remus bc as a kid her and petunia used to share a bed but petunia stopped when they were fifteen and Lily always sleeps better next to someone else

used to hate being Ginger but her year 10 crush once told her it made her 'unique' and now she loves her hair

always wearing black winged eyeliner, even just to make a tesco run

has a tiny butterfly tattoo on her ankle that she got matching with her sister before her sister went to uni, back when they were on better terms. she hates it now, and tries to always wear socks

lowkey such a daddy's girl. watches the rugby with him and they have matching Ulster jersey's and scarves

James

had initially wanted to be a cricketer like his dad but his primary school had had a rugby club, and it was love at first training session

was genuinely shocked to be voted captain, doesn't realise how widely loved he is

obsessed with pickled onion monster munch

favourite song is unironically the rockerfeller skank by fatboy slim

his mum insisted he also take bollywood dancing lessons as a kid because she was scared private boarding school would make him lose his connection to his culture

was the main love interest in his year eleven school play after auditioning for a joke with Sirius and now has a genuine love of theatre and can still rattle off his lines

went to primary school with Peter and didn't know how to say no to him when he asked to join their second year house

gets invited to join the England team at the end of his final year of uni, and is genuinely more excited at the prospect of playing against Remus than he is to play for nationally.

he and Remus become known as a 'dynamic duo' amongst rugby fans, and create a fake twitter rivalry as a laugh, before staging a huge 'reconciliation' in the form of running their own summer training camps for underprivileged and disabled children. Gracie is the first to sign up.

#shoulder to shoulder #ao3 fanfic #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #lily evans #james potter #jily #marauders #marauders fic

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inexplicablymine · 11 months

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@welcometololaland you have DONE IT AGAIN. bows down.

Rules: List your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more).

I am humbly here to present my ABSOLUTELY insane WIP list for the Firstprince fandom and tell you a little more about them!

(Also to those who asked about WIP’s in my inbox those answers are coming ~ if anyone has any more questions or wants more ask box is open! I’ll be answering all of those tomorrow instead of (or with) Seven Sentence Sunday!)

Thank you to @welcometololaland for ANOTHER amazing weekend game truly a blast. To @kiwiana-writes @daisymae-12 @orchidscript @happiness-of-the-pursuit @gay-flyboys @rockyroadkylers and @anincompletelist for the tags I LOVED reading all of your words and answers.

If you have prepared yourself, then forge on ;)

1. WIP List

- The Firstprince Files

- The Ties That Bond Us

- Super Six and the Siren’s Call

- Looking for Orion

- Balls to the Wall

- Fifteen Hours Till Forever

- Watermelon Sugar

- Mr. Party Hardy (Mr. Bodypillow AU)

- Mr. Move It Move It (Mr Bodypillow AU)

- Mr. Massage (Mr. Bodypillow AU)

- S.M.U.T.

- No Laughing Matter

- Sweater Weather

- Ground(s) Up

- Delilah

- Minty Fresh

- Beast I’m an Animal

- Mind Over Matter

- [Switchback]

- [World Cup AU]

- [Orchestra AU]

- [Yoga AU]

- [Rugby Video AU]

- [Star Trek AU]

- [Oxford Slut Era AU]

- [Model/mistaken identity AU]

- [Pomodoro Method AU]

And probably more but that’s enough for now lmao

2. Which of your WIP’s is currently the longest?

Definitely Super Six and the Sirens Call. Currently at 48K but over the next two months I think a few of my other multichaps will also match it for length.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest

The Firstprince Files. The outline for it is 37 chapters long and the first two chapters that are written are clocking in at about 13K right now.

4. Which WIP is your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Going to go for broke here ~ my co-writes (Super Six and the Sirens Call w/ @read-and-write- and @happiness-of-the-pursuit, [Switchback] w/ @celaestis1, Watermelon Sugar w/ @heybuddy-drabbles, and S.M.U.T. with @affectionatelyrs) have been a BLAST. The words flow, I'm obsessed with the stories, getting to read others words and then add your own and make good soup will always be fun.

Outside of my cowrites? … hmmmm honestly I am obsessed with mystery and plotting out The Firstprince Files was truly a delight, but I enjoy writing all of my fics otherwise I wouldn’t write them.

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

The Ties That Bond Us. It’s a Bond/Q actor AU and there are already SO MANY great ones (and ones being written), and there is an extensive amount of epistolary writing that comes from different authors of articles and media works that need to have a distinct voice in order for the work to really work. I don’t know if I even have a distinct writing voice let alone if I can wear the masks of a bunch of other voices in a convincing way.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Whichever one is currently being written/focused on/about to be posted? It’s not a one size fits all answer, but at the moment I’m writing this it’s my Halloween Huh fic. It’s done and posted- ready to be revealed. I made myself go read it out loud one last time to hear it back (newsflash I hate doing this but I still do it because it helps) and that just made me doubt everything hahaha.

7. Which of your WIP’s will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

All of them. I always have a beta, I am incapable of posting a non beta’d work I have too much anxiety about it. The Firstprince Files deals with some much heavier themes so I will likely want a sensitivity reader there for those, and Super Six and the Sirens Call has quite a bit of Spanish in it that we have beta’s checking on.

8. Have any of your WIP’s been struck by the curse of writers block?

Yes this is why I have so many … (joking). Yes and no. I will just power through to write a bad section to have words on the page and then come back to fix them later which helps. I have a focused few WIP's that I work on at a time (small rotation inside the big rotation). The rest of these have an outline and a doc and at least a little bit written, but will not receive heavy work on them until I go through what’s first on my internal fic calendar.

What is in the current small rotation? SSASC, Looking for Orion, Watermelon Sugar, [Switchback}, Minty Fresh, my Mr. BodyPillow follow ups, and The Ties That Bond Us is my Nano project this November.

9. Which WIP has your favorite OC? Tell us about them?

At this moment Watermelon Sugar which is a co-write threesome for Threesgiving with @heybuddy-drabbles. Our third member of the threesome is AMAZING and we love them so much and we are very very excited for them to come into everyone else’s world as well.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

This is a toss up between [Switchback], [World Cup AU], Watermelon Sugar, and [Pomodoro Method]. We will see when they are finished what I think really takes the cake there.

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

I mean chapter two of Looking for Orion, but The Firstprince Files has quite a bit of angst. I don’t really write a lot of heavy angst or I haven’t yet we will see if the reception to LFO changes the tide there.

12. Which WIP has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

Looking for Orion at the moment, but I’m really hoping that Mind Over Matter takes that one when I have more written on it.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Oh my, Super Six and the Sirens Call has quest locations that change in a rotation. Truly I can't tell you more but it is SO FUN truly so fun. The Ties That Bond Us also just is jet-setting movie stars in Bond movie locations, stunt training, doing interviews in wild places, and campaigns in larger than life locations. So that is ridiculously fun to write and I hope it is just as fun to read.

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Super Six and the Sirens Call. This work has a promo schedule there is art being made, there are docs linked within docs. When I say this became a big brained thing it’s a big brained thing.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

I try not to ever have expectations, it’s better that way I find ~ but based on reaction and excitement (my irl bookclub today made me promise to send them a link) I would say Super Six and the Sirens Call. Outside of that I just hope that if one person likes it then it is doing it’s job which is to create joy. (but internally we all have those fics that we hope do a little better than others for one reason or another. My Mr. Bodypillow follow ups I hope people enjoy, my two longer Multichapter works I am deeply attached to, and Looking for Orion I am currently a bit obessed with and I hope others get obsessed with it too.)

16. Do you dream about any of your WIP’s?

NO I DONT DREAM BUT @happiness-of-the-pursuit LITERALLY DREAMED ABOUT ONE OF MINE THIS WEEK SO I'M COUNTING IT.

17. Do any of your WIP’s have any particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

[Orchestra AU] is meant to be read at pace with the classical pieces that are titled in the top of the chapter which is fun and funky but is going to make pacing HARD. Because people read at different times. + that posting schedule is supposed to mimic the NYC philharmonic concert series performance schedule.

The Firstprince Files has a lot of real world implications for the characters as it is a suspense mystery novel that requires so much research on realistically how things might work or play out.

The Ties That Bond Us is going to have SO Much coding in it for the media chapters and I am now thinking I’m going to do art for it which rip me I guess (hahaha).

[Switchback] has a lot of POV changes which requires a delicate hand to know when to stop and start a perspective

Mind over Matter and No Laughing Matter are meant to be laugh out loud funny and I’m going to need help with both of them for that … truly

A lot of the one shots I struggle with because I want to give the story enough depth while still not expanding them into multichapter works, which is something I struggle with.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humor?

Reiterating above, Mind over Matter and No Laughing Matter for sure.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Super Six and the Siren’s Call DOES and it’s SO FUN. Truly it has been a BLAST To get into the heads of these other characters, and flesh out how they see the main ship as well.

The Ties That Bond Us, every other chapter is an outside POV from the media perspective which as I mentioned earlier creates a lot of work for voice and structure.

20. Tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your WIPs.

Hmmm some super fast fun ones

- 14 of the WIP’s on this list are MultiChap works

- 4 of them are co-authored works

- The Firstprince Files has been outlined since February of this year and The Ties That Bond Us has been outlined since March. (They are my oldest outlined works but they are also long works).

- 6 of these works are my FirstPrinceWeek works that I will still publish. I got sick and had an “AO3 author note” standard few weeks which put me behind. I do have one FPW fic published so far.

- Balls to the Wall started after a conversation about how criminal it is that Starbucks doesn’t sell the "Off menu but actually on menu now because it is in the app" Medicine Ball Tea in take home form so you can make it yourself when you are sick.

- All of these are for Firstprince but I now have an IRL who told me TODAY that she wants me to write Tarlos so I better get started on finishing all of these.

- [Rugby Video AU] and Ground(s) Up are both based on TikTok’s that I saw and immediately went "ahhhh yes that’s firstprince."

- All of my Mr. BodyPillow follow up’s will have “Mr.” In the name, and the title of the collection is Mr. Ace Alex, though there is a bit of a push for me to rename it the snerdle collection.

- My ask box is open if you want to ask about any of my WIP's :)

And now I will be tagging my entire moot list because I have too many WIP’s (jk but … prepare for the wall of tags) there is no pressure here but this has been a DELIGHT to read through everyone’s and I want to read about a million more!

@affectionatelyrs @historicallysam @rmd-writes @treluna4 @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @cha-melodius @arand0mdutchgirl @adreamareads @vonpeepsisback @clottedcreamfudge @cityofdownwardspirals @14carrotghoul @cricketnationrise @myheartalivewrites @xthelastknownsurvivorx @mudbloodpotter05 @everwitch-magiks @leaves-of-laurelin @celeritas2997 @athousandrooms @smc-27 @three-drink-amy @sprigsofviolets @heartitinthesilence @sherryvalli @weighty-ghosts @heybuddy-drabbles @read-and-write- @raysletters @thesleepyskipper @kill8a @babiemonk @suseagull04

#lola's wip tag game #tag game #fic tag game #WIP tag game #WIP's #inexplicablymine wip #inexplicablymine #ao3 #firstprince #fanfiction

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padfootagain · 1 year

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Something Good (VI)

Chapter 6 : The Theatre Club

Hi!! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series! Things are slowly getting better between these two idiots, I hope you enjoy this story so far. Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none! Slow burn, professor AU.

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 2781

With his paperwork done and his archive issue solved, Ben felt much more rested on this Friday morning.

Besides, he was meeting up with the students of the theatre club again, and he was happy to see them once more.

And he was also terribly happy because his plot for revenge against your insults was finally upon you…

It was stupid, and he knew it. It wasn’t even a revenge; it was simply his satisfaction at showing how wrong you could be. But he called it retribution all the same. He had a kind soul, after all. Being content with your disappointment was already being extremely evil for his standards. But you didn’t know that yet.

For now, you entered the large classroom to find Ben laughing with about ten students. It was strange to see him so joyful. You didn’t dislike the sight though. Not entirely. No… no, actually you disliked it. Very much so.

He threw his head back and let out a loud laugh, his glasses catching the light of the neon hung at the ceiling, and you were suddenly a little annoyed.

He finally noticed you as you walked closer, and he greeted you with a polite smile.

“Alright, let’s introduce our newest member, then,” he said, his smile growing in warmth as you approached. “We’re all on first name basis here, is that alright for you?”

“Sure,” you answered with a matching smile and a nod.

You were thus introduced to the students, and started to talk with the group. It took about fifteen minutes for the meeting to truly begin, as the members of the club were catching up on their holidays and first classes. You were surprised to find Ben relaxed, answering personal questions… even if he remained professional and in a clear position of authority in the group, he was far from the teacher you had imagined: strict, kind of an asshole. Actually, his voice was warmer than you had ever heard before, and he felt calm and welcoming. You tried to ignore the sudden fondness you felt towards him, and listened to the conversation instead, as it settled on the coming year.

“So, Y/N has made some suggestions for this year, and I guess we should decide whether they’re good ideas or not,” Ben said cautiously.

“We thought that we could adapt a musical this year, for a change,” you offered.

Ben had to admit he was surprised at how enthusiastic his students were. You glanced at each other, catching each other’s eyes by accident, and you grinned at the annoyed expression on his face.

“Which one should we choose then?” Roberta, a sophomore student asked.

“We have a list of three plays, you can choose from that,” you explained.

“They seem manageable to our scale, and they might be fun to perform,” Ben added. “We should wait for the new recruits to be here to decide, though.”

“Which musicals did you choose?” asked David, a very tall guy you guessed must have been playing rugby, judging by the size of his shoulders…

“The Sound of Music, Hamilton, or Moulin Rouge!”

The students started to excitedly speak together, all at once… but it seemed a rather close fight, and impossible to determine, for now, which play would be chosen.

You sat down on a table next to Ben. The students were busy talking together, and were paying no attention to you and your colleague.

“So… I bet you will be very happy if my musical is not chosen,” you told him, seeing clear through his game.

“That would be mean of me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“I could hardly deny that I will be highly satisfied when Hamilton is chosen.”

“Yeah… I guess it should be it. Most popular one.”

Ben nodded.

“Can I confess something?” you added in a whisper.

“Sure.”

“I would have loved working on Moulin Rouge!...”

He couldn’t refrain a smile.

“Well, as we are being honest… I would have liked it too. Great occasion to listen to Ewan McGregor’s sweet voice for hours.”

“Exactly! I agree! Wholeheartedly!”

“We’ll see what they choose, I guess.”

Silence settled for a minute or two between the two of you, until Ben glanced over at you. Henry’s words were back in his mind… he needed to try to be nicer to you. The way he would be with anybody else. Besides… the last time he spoke to you, asking you to go to London with him… he had found that it wasn’t that hard to be nice with you.

He seemed to hesitate, but finally spoke.

“Is your daughter feeling better?”

You were surprised by the question, and even more by the warmth of his voice as he spoke it aloud. It didn’t sound merely polite.

“She’s much better, yes. Thank you for asking. It was a small cold, no fever, just lots of hugs needed.”

“Good. And so… seven for tonight is still good for you?”

“Sure. It’s fine. My husband is picking up our daughter… I mean… ex-husband.”

Ben nodded, not pushing it. He didn’t make any comment on your mistake, and you felt grateful for it.

“How many children do you have?” he asked, crossing his arms before his chest, and leaning a little more against the table you were sitting on, settling into a more comfortable position.

“Only one. Sally. A five-year old who is even more pig-headed than I am, and that’s saying a lot…”

Ben chuckled.

“I can imagine.”

“What about you? Do you have children?”

“No, I don’t. Not married either, if you meant to ask next.”

“Single?”

“Single.”

“Me too.”

“Welcome to the losers’ club, I guess,” he chuckled, and you were surprised to hear him joking with you.

He seemed more relaxed than usual, you wondered why. Perhaps it was because of the students he seemed to have genuinely missed over the summer. Perhaps he was just happy to work on the theatre club again…

“Is it too personal if I ask you for how long you’ve been single?” you ask him cautiously.

“A little bit, yes,” he nodded, and didn’t answer your question.

You saw him standing straighter once more, and cursed yourself for clearly hitting a nerve.

You and your usual clumsiness…

“Right…”

“Just… don’t push it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“Hey, Ben!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a very enthusiastic young man, with long blond hair and a leather jacket, the black ink of tattoos peeking above the collar of his Metallica t-shirt.

“We’re gonna grab a bite before heading to getting ready for the afternoon. Care to join us? We’ll get some fish an’ chips from the place down the street.”

“Sure, why not?” Ben accepted without much of a hesitation, and he turned to you before following his student.

“Are you coming?”

You nodded, jumping off the table.

Again, you couldn’t help yourself… you were kind of surprised by Ben’s warm behaviour…

Surprised… in a good way….

The members of the theatre club made an eclectic, hilarious, happy bunch of crazy people.

You were currently laughing at Nathaniel’s (the blond Metallica fan) stories about his job in a record store in a small town in Cornwall during the summer. And you were surprised by Ben’s behaviour.

Because he was relaxed. He wasn’t strict, or even serious. He was merry. Friendly. You could feel that he was remaining professional, not cursing, always remaining polite but… there was something warmer there too. You started understanding why he loved this club so much. It was nice to bond with students over a project you found interesting. But there was something more than that. You could feel it already.

“What about you, Y/N? Did you have crazy jobs when you were a student?” Giselle, a shy-looking girl with a buzz cut asked you.

She was majoring in philosophy, you remembered that…

“Oh… yes. But I am not certain that I want to disclose this kind of information in front of my colleague,” you laughed, looking at Ben.

“Why not?”

“He could use it against me one day…”

“I would not hit so low,” Ben reassured you, taking a sip of water before eating the last of his chips.

“Then, I think Ben should speak first, and then Y/N can answer,” David proposed.

Ben heaved a sigh, looking for an anecdote that would not be too ridiculous, but still fun to tell.

“Well, I… did work in a bar… when I was still underage.”

You all laughed.

“That must have been something!” you chuckled.

“I served alcohol while still too young to be allowed drinking… it was awesome. I was also particularly… let’s say… hefty, at the time. So, when a fight would break out, I was always of great help.”

You all burst out in laughter again, and you had to brush away a tear.

“Alright, Y/N, your turn. I’ve been made fun of enough by my students, it’s your turn now,” Ben smiled, and you recognized a glimmer of mischief in his dark eyes.

You looked for a funny story for a moment, drinking some water.

“I worked in a shop over the summer once, where we sold wedding dresses and suits. And… one day a woman and a man entered, and I thought that they were mother and son. And as we were talking about the guy’s suit, I congratulated the woman on her son’s wedding. Turns out they were going to get married…together. They were engaged not… not mother and son.”

Everyone was laughing again, and Ben almost choked on his fish.

“They did not buy the suit… it was kind of my fault…”

Ben doubled with laughter, just like everyone else. You didn’t mind his loud laughter this time. It was rather infectious, actually.

Rather… almost charming…

People kept on signing up for the try-outs.

You could see how Ben was excited at the thought, and you were happy for him. You had decided after that lunch to bury the hatchet for the afternoon. And he seemed to have taken the same decision. He didn’t sigh when you dropped the kettle and there was water all over the place. He didn’t say anything when you ‘organized’ the table, making the paperwork even more of a mess. He didn’t complain when you answered enthusiastically to the students’ craziest ideas. Instead, he remained silent, and he helped you clean the water you had spilled all over the floor as you apologized profusely, and he reorganized the piles of documents after you were gone looking for God knows what, and he nodded when you looked at him with an expectant glance.

It had been a nice day. He didn’t want to kill the mood.

Besides… he kind of liked it when you laughed that much…

It did not mean that he wasn’t annoyed. He was simply not complaining about it, or letting it show. Huge difference, an important one...

He looked at you as you grinned at a first-year student who was asking you something about the auditions. He wasn’t sure what this girl was asking though. He wasn’t paying attention. He was just… lost in thought… looking at you…

The afternoon passed, turned into the beginning of an evening. It was sunny and bright for a long time, and then artificial lights replaced our sun. Your throat was sore after speaking so much, and you felt very comfortable now, always answering the same questions. The words came out of your mouth naturally now, because you had spoken them so many times.

You proudly stared at the long list of names you had gathered along the afternoon. Many wanted to join…

“About… 60% of the people who have signed up today will come to the actual auditions,” Ben warned you. “But… that still makes a lot of people.”

“We did good, don’t you think?”

“Yes, we did good.”

“So… the musicals were not such a bad idea, right?” you asked with a teasing tone and a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“No… not too bad,” Ben admitted.

“So… I was right.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

But you grinned all the same, and a smile tugged at his lips…

You were so annoying…

Ben and you wanted to share one last meeting with the students, making sure everyone had written down the date for the auditions, making sure that all were going to think about which musical you should perform this year…

But your phone rang as you were cleaning the table you had borrowed in a classroom nearby, like all the other clubs filling the hall. It was a large space, with old stone pillars and white walls that had been painted not too long ago. There were many clubs gathered in the hall, and even though the students were gone already, many people were still filling up the large space, as club members were packing their things and cleaning up. You checked your screen, and frowned hard when you saw the name of your babysitter appear in white, luminous letters.

You felt a sudden worry crush your heart. Was there a problem with Sally?

“You’re alright, Y/N?” David asked with a frown.

“Yes, I just have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

Ben frowned hard as he saw you walking away, hurrying towards the exit. You seemed worried as you pressed your phone against your ear.

“What’s going on?” he asked David.

“Don’t know. She got a phone call. Didn’t seem to be good news.”

Ben slowly nodded, checking his watch. It was about seven thirty. Nothing good ever came from impromptu phone calls received so late in the evening…

He looked at you as you started pacing in front of the open door. You were too far for anyone in the hall to hear you, but you could still be seen. You quickly went from worried to angry, it was pretty obvious, even from afar.

Ben refrained his urge to join you outside and ask you what was wrong. It was none of his business, after all. He didn’t like you at all. You were insufferable. Why would he want to know anything at all about you? Why would he check on you to see if you were okay?

He kept an eye on you while cleaning up the table, and let two students carry the furniture back to its rightful place in a classroom down the hall. Meanwhile, he kept on looking at you from time to time…

When you finally put your phone away, you didn’t walk back to the building just yet. You remained outside for a moment. You were too angry. Too frustrated. You remained there for a while, your back to the hall, looking at nothing in the distance as the sun was setting. The sky was just beginning to turn from blue to gold. You would have liked this sight, of grass stretching towards tall buildings made of stone, and trees reaching out for the sun in the distance, while the world took a golden shade… but you were too angry to admire the view.

You jumped when a deep voice behind you called for your name.

You turned in a hurry, and were surprised to find Ben standing there, on the threshold. He was staring at you, a few meters away. As if he wanted to keep his distance. As if he didn’t dare coming closer; but he was leaning forward as if he wanted to.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a frown full of worry badly hidden across his brow.

You nodded. There was no need to tell your colleague – the one you didn’t even like – about your asshole of an ex-husband.

“Yes, I just… I’m terribly sorry but I have to leave. I have a problem with my daughter.”

“Oh… is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine but… I just need to go.”

“Okay.”

You frowned hard. You thought he would get pissed. You thought he would, at the very least, be annoyed. But he wasn’t.

“You… you’re not mad?” you asked, taken aback.

“Why would I be?”

“I’m leaving when you still need my help…”

“Your daughter needs you. I don’t have children, but it doesn’t mean I’m a complete jerk.”

He gave you a small smile, and you offered him the same gesture.

He truly was full of surprises today. You wondered what had gotten into him. He had been nice. Annoying, but nice. As he looked at you walking away, he wondered why you were so nice today. Annoying, but nice. The thought that perhaps you were always like this crossed his mind. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all…

***************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black

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