#'One last toast' as an ending song

[i-bring-crack]

*48 hours after being introduced with a punic war hyperixation* There needs to be a Second Punic War Musical for god's sake WHERE IS HOLLYWOOD---

#idk man the romans #i dont even like the romans #imagine the freaking first song called 'enemy of Rome' and it goes through hannibal's youth in conquering the spanish peninsula #and the blood promise in baal's temple #then imagine some songs later scipio's song is 'protector of Rome' and some of the lyrics are almost the same as hannibals song but while #theres a lot of suspense and thrill in Hannibal's song with Scipius it is dread and caution awating for something impossible but not #surrendering #ohhhh a song about cannae will be hell on earth #'Monster at the Gates' for a song title about Hannibal arriving to the peninsula #'Monster of the Alps' also sounds good #'One last toast' as an ending song #okay got some worm juice out of my brain now i shall leave forever #punic wars #hannibal barca #scipio africanus

[deerest-me]

god i fucking love music

#could just listen and stare off into space for hours #songs that i listened to that prompted me to say this today: #ashura clock by p model (the way the buzzer sounds starts again at the halfway point when the pre chorus starts again???) #new body rhumba by lcd sound system (plus visualization of the ending scene of white noise where theyre throwing all the plastic bags) #the stains of time from MGR soundtrack (AND IT WILL COME. LIKE A FLOOD OF PAIN. POURING DOWN ON ME) #the live version of pagan poetry by björk (back up singers have great alto voices) #грезы by IC3PEAK (godddd the swells and release in a song that only lasts 1 minute 44 seconds) #Whirring by the Joy Formidable (huuuuu chant along with the chorus every time) #Big Thinks Do Remarkable by And So I Watch You From Afar (THAT RHYTHM IS INCREDIBLE. ik that's math rock baybee but this one is xtra specia #toothless by 100 gecs (sugar fairy sprite music and then the closing synth hook is so crunchy and AAAAAAAAA) #BUBBLES BURIED IN THIS JUNGLE BY DEATHGRIPS (no explanation needed) #angel by massive attack (that woodblock click is something i feel viscerally in my throat. and the bassline is like. mining equipment) #polynomial C by aphex twin (i am doing 1 million calculations a second and they are all wrong) #this must be it by röyksopp (karin's voice is a jam to spread on a nice piece of toast) #graagrggahgsg i LOVE MUSIC GOD

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —

“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.

“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”

except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —

“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”

“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”

“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.

so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.

rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.

they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.

and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.

once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.

it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.

they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.

jesus christ, eddie thinks.

they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —

the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.

eddie is maybe a little bit in love.

they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.

“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“

“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“

“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“

“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”

“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.

“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.

“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.

“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.

eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.

“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.

“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.

“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.

where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.

hm, eddie thinks.

“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”

#here have some dumb shit #steddie #stranger things #yes the joe keery dirty dancing lift video is playing in my head 24/7 #mine

[charliemwrites]

Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

CW for ✨spice✨

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #poly 141 #misters steal your girl #open relationship trope

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

dear spring, stay forever ; satoru gojo, suguru geto, shoko ieiri

synopsis; just another mellow breakfast shared between you and your partners. (you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it.)

word count; 3.8k

contents; sashisu/reader (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, all of u are whipped, lots of petnames, literally just breakfast fluff, it ended up kinda sugucentric on accident (not my fault btw he just really loves making breakfast for u that’s on him), also ended up kinda sappy at the end (that’s on me), implied no curses au, they’re in their twenties but it isn’t specified, everyone is eepy and in love <33

a/n; a little breakfast fic bc i love mornings and i love them :33 (tagging my beloved sashisu soldiers @catchuuu @staryukis i am making breakfast for both of u btw ☕️🥞) pls listen to spring thief by yorushika it’s the most sashisu song ever

as always, suguru is the first of you to make it into the kitchen.

he’s humming. it’s soft, a low lull of his voice, beckoning you closer like the call of a siren. sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, fiddling with a pan, sizzling and simmering and breathing in the scent of pancakes; it pairs well with the espresso steam from the coffee pot to his right, the vase of hydrangeas by the windowsill.

it’s a sunny morning. the perfect setting for the start of your day, an atmosphere you can savour, like the gradual sipping of your soon-to-be morning cup of coffee. somewhere outside your vision comes a morning symphony, chirps and songs by cicadas and robins. splotches of sunlight splatter against the windows, the kitchen table, the floorboards — illuminating the man in front of the stove.

something in your chest constricts, when you look at him. a tenderness uprooted, a fondness watered and trimmed, a hungry plant only satiated at the sight of this; the back of his head, raven locks cascading down his broad shoulders in obsidian waves, hair put up into a lazy half-down bun. a little messy, a little too breathtaking for words. wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his waist just right.

you should be used to it, by now. suguru has always been an early bird, always the first to rouse from his slumber, only ever contended by shoko and her occasional bouts of sleep-deprivation. he’s always waiting for the three of you, just like this — in front of a sizzling pan, adjusting his glasses by the kitchen table, cooking or reading or simply reminiscing. content to stir in the peace and quiet of the morning hours, before the world wakes up. 

and he’s always taken to preparing breakfast for the four of you, always ready to greet you with a smile and a cup of freshly made cappuccino. he enjoys taking care of you, all three of you. always has.

(it wasn’t any different back when you were kids. suguru was always the first one in the dormitory’s kitchen, messing with the rusty french press or making a grossly bitter smoothie for himself. he was snarkier, more roundabout — but no less thoughtful. grumpy little shoko would always get the last bitter pumps of espresso, and sleepy little satoru would get a french toast if he asked nicely enough. and you? 

you got to see them, be with them. that alone would’ve been enough. the steaming cup of cappuccino left on the kitchen counter — a little too tailored to your taste to be a mere coincidence — was always nothing more than an added bonus.)

the soft humming falters, for no more than a beat or two. suguru shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and suddenly you can’t resist the temptation.

with clumsy steps, heavy feet weighed down by a sleepy sense of numbness, you stumble towards your target. it’s a familiar waltz, five steps to reach him, a warmth that spreads throughout your body in tandem with the curl of your arms around his waist. slumped against him, cheek squished against his upper back, you hold your breath.

silently, you wait. one, two, until you hear the familiar roll of his breath; a delighted little sigh that slips from his parted lips.

when suguru cranes his head to get a glimpse of you, his amber eyes are leaking adoration. a sense of liveliness, a joyous spark — like a firefly, the flicker of a rusty lighter. he looks well-rested, dark circles long faded, only the dimmest remnant of them still visible beneath his eyes. 

he holds your gaze, steady and kind, and then he’s leaning forward; eager to press his lips against your waiting forehead. glasses slipping ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. the kiss is chaste, familiar. warm, warm, a faint heat that simmers in your chest, a tiny firework of a feeling. even the metal of his piercing feels warm on your skin. 

you melt into his spine, fingers searching for a pair of hands that find yours first — his thumb rubbing tender circles over your forearm. practiced, memorized, that familiar waltz of motions. he lingers against your skin, breathing in satoru’s favorite strawberry shampoo. you’ve been stealing it for weeks now. 

suguru’s lips curl up into something amused, still not quite willing to part from you. 

but then he does. turning towards the stove, reaching for the coffee pot with one hand, the other securing your own and lacing your fingers together. he gives them an affectionate squeeze, still resting on his lower stomach. a silent greeting that he always ends up voicing anyway.

”g’morning, love,” he croons, a little raspy, but sweet and nice. honeyed and deep, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. you hear him pour something into a cup. ”how did you sleep?”

all you can give him is a tired grunt, stretching your limbs out, blinking sluggishly to shoo away the drowsiness. suguru knows what to expect; he simply smiles, endeared, pouring steamed milk into your favorite cup. with a clink of his spoon against the ceramic, he adds the foam, stirring it carefully.

then he’s shifting his weight, angling his face towards yours, and pressing the rim of the cup against your lips — not before blowing on it gently. he watches as your eyelids flutter, waiting for the hum of contentment he’ll hear once you have your first sip. and he gets it. the rich aroma stirs you into a more awakened state, and a single taste of the creamy foam has you standing up a little straighter, humming in sleepy delight. suguru smiles, crow’s feet hidden behind his glasses. 

you accept the cup with a grateful squeeze of his palm, and he makes sure it’s steady in your hold before he faces forward again. another sip, and your throat feels a little less dry, your mind a lot less sluggish. so you answer his previous question. 

”… slept well,” another tiny sip. it’s hot, warming you up from the inside. ”i would’ve preferred waking up to you, though...”

a low chuckle bubbles up in your boyfriend’s throat. it makes you want to pout, but you smile instead. traitorous lips. 

he’s looking at you again, unable to help himself, reaching over to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. ”aw, ’m sorry,” he coos, teasingly, sickeningly sweet. ”but then you wouldn’t have woken up to a fresh cup of coffee, hm?” 

now you really are pouting. he shifts, until you're standing chest to chest, and kisses it away. twice, for good measure. he must be in a good mood.

he usually is, at this time of year. when the air starts smelling of honeydew and snowdrops, and he’s awoken by barking dogs, luscious sunbeams splattered on soft bedsheets, the pitter patter of sudden spring rain. when the apricot trees outside your apartment complex begin to bloom; a flurry of sickly-white kisses pressed against your windows, sticking to the locks of your hair. it gives him an excuse to run his fingers through it. even when shoko whines for him to cut it out, and satoru purposefully shakes the branches to make the tiny white petals even harder to find. he must like having his hair ruffled like a misbehaving dog. 

they make suguru sigh and sigh, exasperated, but there’s always a smile waiting somewhere out of view. he’s not very good at hiding it.

(he likes the apricot trees. likes watching them change shape, colour, likes waiting for them to wither and blossom and turn into fruit.

once they’re ripe enough to pick, i’ll make marmalade for us.)

the morning waltz continues. while suguru continues to flip his pancakes, you sleepily decide to set the table. fondness erupts behind his eyelids at the gesture, small as it is. you stand on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, just to grab satoru’s favorite mug; one you all got him for his 19th birthday, a heartfelt message of world’s okayest boyfriend etched into the front. it was meant to make him pout and whine, but you’ve never seen him drink out of anything else at home.

you place the cup on the table with a soft thunk, along with plates and cutlery. suguru has already brought down a cup for shoko, seated on the kitchen counter next to him, soon to be filled with the same rich espresso he always drinks. he’s waiting until she joins you both, so it doesn’t end up going lukewarm. there’s nothing shoko hates more. you can practically hear that grumpy scoff, see her cute little frown.

your sleep schedules differ from day to day. suguru is always up early, satoru always sleeps in. shoko fluctuates between the two. you usually end up rousing from your slumber whenever the bed starts feeling a little too empty — a fact you doubt they’ll ever quit teasing you about.

that differs from day to day, too. sometimes you sleep with suguru, sometimes the other two, sometimes all three. you have your separate rooms, but always end up with your limbs intertwined one way or another; even if one of you comes home late or falls asleep on the couch watching tv. satoru can’t sleep without hugging someone, and suguru can’t fall asleep unless he knows you’re all sleeping well. shoko isn’t picky, but you know she feels safest when she’s linking elbows with you, or touching pinkies with suguru, or snoozing on top of satoru’s chest like a weighted blanket. as for you… 

you’ve gotten way too used to their touch to ever go without it. last night, you ended up in suguru’s room, tucked underneath his chin, while satoru snuck into shoko’s bed to convince her not to pull another all-nighter. you’re assuming it worked.

”mm, smells good. you makin’ pancakes?”

a bubbly, groggy voice spills into the air, just as a light breeze flits in through the window. soothing, refreshing. you turn your gaze towards its source.

and there they are. sleepy satoru, and grumpy shoko, the former clinging to the latter like an overgrown koala. satoru seems to be in high spirits, calling out to you with a smile, blue eyes glimmering like a sunny sky; but you can tell he’s tired by the way he’s stretching out his limbs, only wearing a pair of pyjama pants. and shoko is silent, blinking drowsily, twitching when his loud voice buzzes in her ear. she makes no move to push him away. 

suguru gazes at them with a smile, in tandem with you, nothing but fond. loving, in the way the amber of his eyes gleams and swirls with promises of something everlasting. he’s a little intense, honestly. but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

and, admittedly, your sleepy little partners are a sight for sore eyes. 

shoko meets your gaze, and finally decides to shake off the man with an arm over her shoulder. said man huffs, but makes no move to follow her when she stumbles into your arms. 

her limbs find their way around your midriff, her chin to the curve of your shoulder. her hair is loose, almost as long as suguru’s, messy and brushing against your cheek. your hand goes to smooth down her back, the fabric of her oversized shirt, soft and laced with the scent of laundry detergent. she yawns, right by your ear, lips jutted out into a small pout, and something in your chest returns. a hungry plant, drinking up her raspy voice, the glimpse you get of that mole beneath her eye. her stretch marks, when she pulls away and her shirt rides up enough to expose her thighs. little lightning bolts.

”morning,” you chirp. she presses a tiny kiss against your cheek, dangerously close to your lips; sometimes you think she does it just to tease you.

”hey, how come i didn’t get a morning kiss?”

shoko turns her head, finding satoru’s accusing stare. he’s pouting, tilting his head, already making his way over to suguru. but she only rolls her eyes.

”you’re such a baby.”

”you know you love me!”

suguru stifles a puff of laughter, leaning back against the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the marble. watching his partners with barely contained delight. satoru notices, grinning softly, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

satoru’s kisses are always sloppy. you hear that drawn out mwah! even without looking at the pair, even without seeing his lips against suguru’s jaw. a phantom warmth sprouts on your skin. 

”good morning, handsome,” he purrs, low and rumbling through his chest, pressed flush against suguru’s — their heartbeats mingling together. soft skin against smooth fabric. there’s mischief in those aquamarine eyes, something teasing, and it makes suguru want to return the favour. 

”good morning, baby,” he presses his lips against satoru’s cheek. voice muffled against his soft skin, silky and deep. ”you kinda smell.”

a moment passes. the calm before the storm.

satoru blinks, barely registering shoko’s dry chuckle from behind him — and then furrows his eyebrows together like an irritated cat. a scandalized noise builds up at the base of his throat, and he glares at the man in front of him, frustration only growing when he notices that suguru isn’t returning the favour. his gaze is still fond, like an artist admiring a marble statue, drinking in his pouty boyfriend’s fluffy hair and droopy eyes and rosy lips. flattering, but the damage has been done.

”oh, i see how it is,” he withdraws his arms and takes a step back, crossing them with a hmph. ”bullying your sweet boyfriend first thing in the morning, huh? have you no shame?”

”sorry. you just look really bulliable today.”

another offended little noise. he turns on his heel, messy strands of hair swaying with the movement, glaring at shoko instead. ”unbelievable. and during women’s history month, too!”

”you aren’t a woman, satoru.”

”i could be.” 

you huff out a breathy laugh, taking a seat by the kitchen table while your lovers bicker. sipping from your cappuccino in silence, soaking up the mellow morning mood. until you feel satoru staring at you; eyes like marbles, big and bright, rich with mirth. his pout fades away, and he closes in on you with a smile. troubles forgotten. 

before you can greet him, he’s leaning down to leave a fat kiss on your forehead — messy, uncoordinated, but loving. a coo on the tip of his tongue. when he’s this close you can see his dimples, those tiny freckles that only come out in the light of the sun. 

you feel him smile against your skin, pulling back to speak. parting his pretty, glossy lips. ”and good morning to you, my dearest.”

he’s silly.

your lips bloom into a sweet grin, honeyed nectar on your teeth. he’s illuminated by the light streaming in through the window, a little disheveled, with his cute bedhead and bare chest exposed. a giggle slips from your lips, and your voice carries a melodic lilt, coming out as a soft croon. ”good morning, sunshine.”

satoru blinks. just once, before the telltale signs of his excitement start to show; his face brightening, breaking out into a cheshire grin, something sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. like folded origami, like messily cut fruit. citrusy and smooth.

before you can protest, those strong arms are reaching around your waist — hoisting you up into his arms with a coo of c’mere. he spins you around, just once or twice, and chuckles at the way you let out a sleepy yelp. even after stilling, he doesn’t put you down, only guiding your legs to wrap around his middle; his naked chest and muscles pressed flush against you. he’s warm, one large palm on your back and the other on your thigh. he touches you like it’s muscle memory, every ridge and dip, every part of you he’s already long mapped out. honestly, you don’t understand how he can get so excited this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain, when it means getting smothered like this? 

”oh, and i smell great, by the way,” he suddenly huffs, directed at the partners behind him. he’s quick to smile down at you, tilting his head and searching for approval. ”don’t i, baby?”

for a second, you’re tempted to join in on the teasing. some part of you wants to. unfortunately, it loses against the parts of you still mesmerized by the splotches of white inside his pretty eyes, those cute little freckles. so you nod.

”yeah,” you breathe. inhaling, taking him in, sunlight and strawberries and laundry detergent. ”you smell like spring.”

his smile continues to blossom, turning sweeter by the minute. brighter than the sun. he throws a victorious glance behind him, delighting in the simultaneous roll of their eyes — before finally putting you back down. he wastes no time in plopping down on the seat to your right, dragging your chair closer to his, until they’re pressed against each other. curling a leg around yours. so clingy in the morning. 

suguru and shoko are quick to join you. they blink slowly, sipping on their cups of espresso, a rich aroma spreading throughout the kitchen. it blends well with the plates of pancakes suguru scoots towards you, drizzled with the syrup satoru likes. he’s attentive, making sure you’re all comfortable, rising to his feet when shoko asks for a single cube of sugar. she’s started to mellow out a bit, no longer as grumpy, soothed by the bitter taste on her tongue. and satoru keeps your leg locked in place beneath the table.

it’s hard not to feel nostalgic, like this. when spring is blooming just outside your window, when all three of them are just the same as you remember. some things have changed, sure, but they’re still so unapologetically them. loud voices, rude eye-rolls, teasing comments and all.

they munch on their pancakes, sip on their coffee, and you chat about what to do when you all get home. what movie to watch, what food to order, what food to make because suguru doesn’t think you’ve been eating enough homemade meals lately. bickering and bantering. smiling.

(it feels like high school every day.)

shoko is the first to leave. she glances at the clock on the wall and stutters out a string of curse words, a mutter about being late. suguru plays dumb when she accuses him of not reminding her on purpose. she kisses you again, right under your jaw, and lets her clingy boyfriends give her one kiss each on the lips — despite her protests that they’ll mess up her lipstick. then she’s heading out.

”goodbye, doctor!” satoru calls, cheery even as your girlfriend rolls her pretty eyes.

”don’t call me that yet,” she snorts, adjusting her scarf. ”there’s still a good chance i’ll drop out. or cheat my way to a doctorate.”

so she says, but you all know her. you catch that glimmer of amusement in her eyes, something smug in the way she straightens her back. a little embarrassed, maybe. but the faith you have in her makes her glow.

then it’s satoru’s turn. he’s whinier, about it, ignoring the alarms on his phone on purpose. suguru has to bribe him, promising him kikufuku and take-out and an extra tight hug when he gets home. only then does he get up from his seat, untangling his leg with yours.

”do i have to?”

”yes, you do,” suguru tuts. ”the kids have an exam today. be responsible.”

another pout. but he listens, slipping on his sunglasses, putting on a coat and stealing a sip of your coffee that only makes him grimace. he has you both kiss the taste away, and you indulge him, because he’s silly and stupid and yours. 

and then it’s just you and suguru. he has a day off, and you don’t have to leave until later. the kitchen falls silent, back to a mellow morning rhythm, that quiet waltz of motions and sunshine. suguru pours you more coffee, gazing at you from across the table, and you thank him with a smile. he adjusts his glasses and flips through the morning newspaper; absently, you wonder if shoko and satoru would’ve teased him for it.

what the four of you have is an odd arrangement. but that’s what all of you are, anyway; a little odd. 

and as you sit there, serenaded by cicadas and morning birds, senses caressed by cappuccino foam and apricot blossoms and a hand holding yours over the table… you think to yourself that even if everything shattered around you — if the earth stopped spinning or the stars crashed through the roof of your apartment — you’d probably still keep on living. you’d do it, if only to continue chewing on these memories, these mornings, like savouring the faded flavour of an old piece of gum. over and over again, until you can’t tell where your teeth end and where the gum begins, so that you’ll always be able to taste it on your tongue. for the rest of your life.

it’s melodramatic, yes, but they are too. you’re sure suguru is pondering a sentiment even more dramatic, right now, even heavier with devotion. something so sappy you’d have to hide your face in your hands and beg him to stop talking. 

and, lo and behold, he suddenly speaks up. 

“are you happy?”

the question breaks you out of your silent stupor. you look up from your plate, his amber eyes already taking you in, drowning you in fondness. he’s smiling, and he’s looking at you like you’re spring personified. the silver of his lip piercing catches the light of the sun. a couple apricot petals are stuck in his hair, woven between his raven locks. 

you blink. inside your chest, something unfurls, twists and turns, grows and withers all at once. a whole garden of love, just for them.

you lean forward, elbows on the table, and brush through his bangs. petal caught between your fingertips. when you lean back, you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you answer, truthfully. inhaling the scent of spring. “i’m always happy when i’m with you.”

a breeze caresses your cheek, your hands, and the whole apartment smells of apricots. suguru seems pleased, returning to his cup of lukewarm coffee, a little clink of ceramic against porcelain that strikes you as distinctly heavenly.

soon, you’ll have to leave. you’ll have to manage without their jokes and banter and touches, without them, for a grueling number of hours, one tortuous lecture after another. but they’ll be waiting once you get back — and tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast again, just like this. forever and ever. you never want the coffee to run out, never want the apricot trees to wither. you want to stay greedy for a long time to come. 

and you’re sure they feel the same.

the sun lets her golden hair flow throughout the city, melting rivers and warming benches. she falls across shoko’s lecture hall, sneaks into satoru’s classroom, kisses her way up suguru’s neck. you let a sigh slip past your lips, and the sun breathes it in again. a vein of joy awoken, slumbering inside your veins; and you smile.

it’s springtime, now, a little warmer. 

(here’s to another year together.)

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #geto x you #geto x y/n #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x y/n #shoko ieiri x you #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #sashisu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - three.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 4,057

synopsis: you get wasted in a pub and Ghost has to take care of you.

warnings: mentions of drinking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, Ghost being a softie

notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. Here are the main videos that inspired some scenes (potential spoiler alert): one, two

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

three.

The traditional post-mission gathering at the pub was in full swing in the late hours of the night, despite it being a Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was almost cosy and relaxed if you were to overlook the three people on the karaoke stage and the way their out-of-sync voices resounded throughout the room.

Seated at one of the tables with a glass of sparkling water, Captain Price exchanged a distressed look with Ghost, who was nursing a shot of Kentucky Bourbon. It was the captain's turn to drive so alcoholic drinks were out of the equation for him.

So he had to spend the entire night watching you, Gaz and Soap getting wasted and trying every form of entertainment the pub offered. You'd started slow with a game of darts, the loser having to drink a shot of whatever the winner decided. As the night progressed you went on to the pool table, had a break to tell stories and debate the key moments of the mission and eventually ended up at the karaoke bar, drunkenly singing to whatever songs were popular at the moment.

You were currently wedged between Gaz and Soap, leaning against each other for support, swaying and gesturing with exaggerated expressions when a new song would come on. You had lost track of the quantity of alcohol you consumed a while ago, yet everything seemed brighter and more colourful than before, so you didn't mind. You didn't know most of the songs that were playing at the karaoke bar, but that did not stop you from singing along, even if your voice was slightly out of tune. What you knew is that you were happy, perhaps happier than ever and, out of a sudden, you felt the need to express that in the loudest way possible, by taking Soap’s phone from his hands and picking the next song.

Surprised by your sudden move, Soap chuckled and gestured to the bartender to prepare three more drinks, even though he had his arm sloppily thrown around your shoulder, and was fighting a tough battle with gravitation. On your right side, Gaz was sloppily reaching towards the microphones, almost tripping over an imaginary wire. You caught him in the last second, grabbing a seat and forcing him to stay put as the first notes of the song echoed through the pub. A surge of drunken determination rushed through your veins as you took one of the microphones and turned towards the table Ghost and Price were seated at, wobbling slightly in the process.

“Captain, Lieutenant - I just… I just wanted to say this is for you. To Price - always being the helicopter, yet cool dad of the group!”. The drunken cheers of Soap’s and Gaz’s quickly accompanied your words, none of them realising how quiet the room had got. Everyone else left in the pub at that hour seemed to put whatever they were doing on hold and watch the inebriated toast with interest.

“And to Ghost!”, you went on unaware of the mood shift, your voice gaining momentum with each word, “who is always taking care of us during missions and let me fall asleep on him once! Cheers!”

Shaking his head in an attempt to hide the grin dancing on his lips, Price raised his glass and beckoned Ghost to do so too. At that moment, Simon was glad he was wearing the balaclava - he could feel an uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, not to mention that he could not control the visible twitching of his lips. The public seemed to be satisfied with the makeshift speech as a round of applause rippled through the crowd, but stopped as suddenly as it began. A familiar tune began to play in the background, and Simon almost pinched his forehead in frustration and disbelief when he saw the drunken determination and the over-confident grin plastered on your face: he had seen that expression before, it meant you were up to no good. His fears were instantly confirmed when the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” filled the space, being quickly accompanied by the shouts and whistles coming from the crowd.

You, Gaz and Soap began swaying to the rhythm of the music, humming along to the first part of the song. Ghost was actually impressed that you made it sound nice, keeping your voices low and soft and singing in sync for once. He turned his head to Price, not surprised to see the older man had reached for his phone and was filming the trio like a proud father on recital day.

That is until the part of the choreo came. And literal chaos ensued, as the three of you began screaming because that was definitely not singing, the high notes, even stopping to gasp for air every once in a while.

"I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you've dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this, I'm wishing you love!"

He did not know when he made eye contact with you, but Simon found himself trapped inside your E/C eyes. The bourbon tasted sweet on his lips, but it did not compare to the joyful and carefree expression you wore on your face as you tried to keep up with the lyrics of the song, occasionally stumbling across Johnny and Kyle who were just as inebriated and dedicated to the artistic moment as you were. The familiar feeling of warmth and comfort was once again blooming in his chest, and for the first time, he decided to let it grow and see where it would take him.

---

You hadn't meant to lock eyes with Simon, definitely not when you were singing a romantic song you handpicked for the occasion. Yet your judgement was clouded by all the alcohol you'd consumed up to that point and now you couldn't tear your eyes away from his chocolate ones. And from his soft blonde eyelashes that made your heart flutter every time you saw them- making you even stutter on the lyrics of the song that you kept close to your heart. At one point you weren't even aware of the words leaving your mouth, just going along with Gaz and Soap, the two literally putting their hearts into the song.

That was until the second part of the choreo came. And you were so into it that you all fell down on your knees, pathetically crying and shrieking the high-pitched notes that Whitney Houston handled with ease.

Simon did not even know why the three of you bothered to come to training and shooting practices. In moments like that, your voices were lethal weapons alone.

And when the song came to an end, the crowd politely applauded you, secretly glad that it was over. Price was careful to save the video twice so as not to lose it, the proud and amused expression on his face not faltering once:

"I think it's high time we took them home, don't you think?", he asked Simon in an unusual cheery mode, downing his glass of sparkling water.

Ghost could only nod as his eyes were trained on your swaying figure. You were leaning against Gaz, a drunken smile on your face as you downed the drink the bartender slid to you with a wink. For a moment, Simon was too caught up in studying the way your eyes crinkled at the corners to notice them widen in an instant as you brought up a hand to your mouth. His jaw tightened when he realised you were stumbling towards the bathroom, probably sick from one too many a drink, and subtly gestured to Price that he'd get you and meet him at the car, before heading towards the bathroom himself.

However, he slowed down in his steps when he realised he wasn't the only one headed in that direction; the bartender had already beaten him to it. Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his fists involuntarily clenching as he noticed the man standing near the entrance to the ladies' room, wearing an almost expectant expression, his gaze directed towards the toilets. The sound of you throwing up was the only thing that could be heard against the muffled background sound of the pub, followed eventually by the rush of flushing water.

Washing your hands and face, you took a look at your pale face in the mirror, closing your eyes in defeat. It was definitely time to call it a night and find a ride home or crash on someone's couch, and you accepted the thought as you made your way out of the restroom. Yet you didn't manage to go far as a man you vaguely recognized as the bartender stopped in front of you, hands crossed over his chest in what was supposed to be a masculine stance. You internally scoffed at his posture; you have seen it all during the years you've spent in the military.

"Hey!", he eventually said, a light smile on his face. "Hello! Do you mind, I would like to go back to my friends?", you briefly asked, already trying to sneak past him.

But the man was insistent and stepped in the same direction, making you stop once more.

"Look, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show you put on tonight!". You raised a single eyebrow, a poker look on your face. "You and your friends, I mean!", he quickly added, blushing slightly. "And I was just wondering if you would like to stay for a drink after my shift is over and, you know, perhaps go to my place afterwards and…" Rolling your eyes in frustration, you let out an impatient sigh and tried to go past him again, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.

"Look, you should really think about it-" "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She may be drunk, but she can still kick your ass in at least six different ways."

Drunk as you were, you couldn't hide the grin that spread quickly across your face as you took in the imposing figure of the Lieutenant, his skull balaclava lending him a threatening air in the dim light of the hallway. The bartender swiftly let you go, his eyes darting between you two as you staggered towards Ghost, too busy to fully take him in to take note of the hand that was softly placed on the small of your back.

"Oh, mate, I think this is a misunderstanding! I was just… but who the hell are you actually? Do you know him, darling?"

You grimaced at the unjustified use of the endearment, a plain expression of distaste replacing the previous smile. You swayed slightly, having to lean against Ghost as you mumbled something unintelligible about the toast. An unexpected wave of fatigue hit you out of nowhere, making you nestle your head against his chest, your arms weakly wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'm tired, I wanna go home, Ghost!", you murmured gently into his shirt, the vibrations of your voice sending a quiver down his spine. Yet if Ghost was affected by the unexpected display of clinginess, he did not let it show. Instead, he made a quick job of scooping you into his arms, your head nestling in the crook of his neck. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes and unconsciously nuzzled your cheek against the soft material of the balaclava, breathing in the scent of his cologne, your hands still clinging onto his shoulders in a koala-like grip.

For a fleeting moment, he became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his mind consumed by the moment, struggling to make sense of the situation in which both of you had found yourselves. He didn't exactly freeze, but his brain didn't work properly either as the feeling of your breaths against his balaclava sent an electrifying jolt through him. You may have just washed your face and the perfume you wore must have faded during the night, but the subtle smell of your shampoo lingered, sweet enough to leave an impression that he knew would stay with him for the days to come. When he eventually realised you weren't alone, that the bartender was still loitering by the restroom's entrance, Ghost shrugged, remembering your previous words:

"You should have listened to the toast, mate!"

---

Carrying you to Price's pickup trunk proved to be no easy feat for Simon; he was too distracted by the hold you had on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if his mind had turned to jelly and he could not distinguish dream from reality. And at that moment, he experienced the sensation of living within a pleasant dream, you being in his arms just as he often yearned for when trying to fall asleep in the solitude of his room.

If Price was surprised by the state you found yourself in, he showed no signs. He had just managed to secure Soap in the passenger seat, while Gaz was passed out in the back, head leaning against the window, an empty look on his face.

"I'm sorry Simon but you'll have to sit in the middle tonight", the captain chuckled under his breath as he was watching Ghost put two and two together while you were still clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

He would not be able to get in the car while also preserving the position you found yourself in, yet he did not want to give it up. For a passing instant, he actually thought of walking to your place- a weak attempt at trying to make the moment last longer. But he could feel Price's badly concealed smirk like the heat of the sun in July and he had to fight, actually fight the groan that threatened to leave him as he nudged you with his shoulder.

"Wake up, Bambi! We've got to get you home, come on!" His words reached your ears as a distant sound and instead, you chose to relish in the vibrations that resonated against your skin, letting out a small hum of approval.

"Ok means okay, come on!" "Mhm, sure…" "Y/N…" "Simon…"

Clinging on him like a koala had no visible effect on him, but you saying his name, his real name, made Ghost freeze and set his dark eyes on you. He could not control the cocktail of feelings swimming in his orbs, ranging from surprise to pure adoration, and the thought of hiding them did not even cross his mind at that moment.

Until you were both showered in a sudden burst of light, quickly followed by a camera shutter. Behind the Polaroid camera, Price did not even bother to hide his satisfied expression as he watched the picture develop with a soft whirring sound.

You, on the other hand, instantly jumped from Ghost's arms, the flash of the camera making you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You were still inebriated, as the world was spinning much more than it should have, but the drowsiness from earlier had evaporated in an instant. Shaking his head in disbelief and muttering something along the lines of "fucking hell", Ghost did not even bother to answer Soap's cheers. He just squeezed into the backseat of Price's car, seating himself next to Gaz and trying his best to ensure you would not hit your head and get in safely. And the giddy smile he got as a response was worth it.

Price was the last to get in the car. As he positioned himself behind the wheel, Ghost couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden the Polaroid camera and the picture. Knowing the older man, he could only hope the instant shot would not be displayed in the lounging room, alongside other just as embarrassing moments.

Not that he had something against you or the picture.

He just thought that the moment was rather special, even intimate to him and that it should not be shared with all other SAS operators who spent their time in the lounging room when on base.

"You three did quite a show out there!", Price half-turned towards Soap and the backseat riders, a comic expression on his face.

"Thanks, dad!", you replied in an awfully cheery tone, swaying slightly from one side to another. You kept humming to yourself, not taking note of the awkward silence that had settled in the car.

"Bambi, did you just call Price 'dad'?", Soap asked from the front seat, his shit-eating grin being reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Do you see me as a father figure, Y/N?", Price quipped in, smiling softly at your confused expression. Simon did not even dare to glance in your direction - he knew the doe eyes were making a comeback and he was definitely not inebriated enough to handle them.

"I certainly do!"

Gaz's voice was muffled as his cheek was currently squished against the window. But the message got across and you reached across Ghost to pat his shoulder, aggressively nodding in compliance.

"And this is why", you began by raising a finger in the air as if to strengthen your point, "you are my brother, Gaz!".

Your drunken determination was almost comical to watch, but it topped when you squealed in excitement:

"Let me give you a kiss!"

"No, you won't! I'm definitely not getting caught up in the middle of this!"

Ghost's answer, more of a growl actually, was instantly followed by Soap's booming laughter as the Scot was trying to turn and face the backseat, extending a grabby hand towards you:

"I'm happily accepting your kisses if you'll let me, bonnie!", he slurred half of the sentence, his head comfortably propped on the headrest as he puckered his lips in your direction.

"No one's getting any kisses!"

----

"Come on, careful, there's a step there!" "I wanna go home…" "We are almost there, Bambi. Now, do you have your key?" "Yeah, it should be in my pocket. Let me… let me look for it…"

Murmuring to yourself, you fished the keychain and held it before your eyes, a small chuckle escaping your lips as the keys kept jingling. The tiredness from the pub was making a comeback and Ghost had to carry you inside after he managed to open the door while also balancing your swaying silhouette.

"Oh, this couch looks good!", you muttered to yourself, letting yourself fall on it.

But instead of touching the plush pillows, you felt two strong arms sneaking around your waist and keeping you partially suspended in the air. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you were aware of it, you were headed in the direction of your bedroom, a warm hand placed on the small of your back.

"You should change into something more comfortable…", Ghost muttered, frowning when you started shaking your head and slurring: "I'll do it in the morning."

He already felt like he was prying, being inside your home, in the privacy of your bedroom, so he did not push the topic and instead, knelt down and removed your sneakers.

"You should at least clean your face." He pressed on the issue, all too aware of your fixation with skincare and how you would complain to anyone on the base about the latest breakout on your face. "Mhm.." "Mhm means yes, Bambi!", he groaned in frustration as he bent down to scoop you in his arms again and carried you to the bathroom, where he laid you on the fitted furniture so that your faces were at the same level.

Ghost was no stranger to makeup removal techniques - he had his fair share of experiences he had gone through when learning what worked best for the black paint he used to smudge the area around his eyes. But he began to grow tired as well, and being in your house took him way out of his comfort zone, so he resumed reaching for a pack of makeup wipes, instead of looking for a cleansing balm or micellar water. His touch was gentle against your face, his fingers applying the suitable amount of pressure needed to get rid of any traces of eyeshadow and whatnot. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he reached your lips, but the remnants of lipstick had to be removed too.

He was not prepared for the sudden shiver that raced down his spine the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips. His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to delicately trace the outline of your lips, the warm and comforting sensation he'd felt before, making a return. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked at the moment, Ghost's eyes fervently searching for yours, as he rested a gloved hand against your face.

Letting out a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Don't fall asleep on me…", Ghost hummed under his breath, involuntarily rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His gentle touch was a far cry from the deadly one that had become second nature on the battlefield.

"I trust you'll catch me", you whispered back, a delicate smile on your face.

And he did. With a tender grin under his balaclava, Ghost lifted you into his arms once more, cradling you like the treasure you were. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you back to your bedroom, each step filled with a quiet intimacy, completely new to him.

He entered the dark room, gently lying you down on the soft sheets, almost amazed at how quickly you passed out, again. Yes, you may have been wasted, completely inebriated, but you also trusted him to let him take care of you in your state.

Even if the action was foreign to him, Ghost tucked you in as best as he could, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His internal conflict was a raging storm, but he eventually let the few shots of bourbon get to his head. With shaky gestures, he peeled the mask up to his nose and brought his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss. His warm breath lingered over your face for a couple of seconds before he quietly exited the room, leaving you in a peaceful slumber.

---

Bonus scene

Sitting by himself at the small table in the kitchen, Simon lifted the balaclava up to his nose and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. He could see the tendrils of steam rolling out of the freshly brewed mug, the late autumn morning sun filtering through the blinds and bathing the room in warmth and light.

After every single evening spent celebrating in the pub, you, Gaz and Soap had to take the day off and volunteer yourselves for the night watch. Ghost had grown so accustomed to the usual agitation, whether it was Gaz jogging in the kitchen for a snack, Soap casually napping in the lounging room, or you, asking everyone where they had hidden the cookies, and he was finding it weird to spend the day in relative silence and peace.

And he was so lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night in his head, that he failed to notice the private who was lingering in the doorway and looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. It wasn't until he reached for the milk, that he took note of his presence and gave him a questioning look. "Captain Price asked me to deliver this personally to you, sir!" The private placed a white envelope on the table, saluted and quickly left the room. Simon had no time to analyze the interaction as his eyes settled on the letter.

Only it was not a letter, but a photograph. And after double checking, he was alone in the room, Simon actually let out a small chuckle as he held the polaroid in the sunlight, his eyes softening at the sight of you cradled in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest.

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x you

[railingsofsorrow]

you are in love (taylor's version)

[spencer reid x reader]

SONG INSPIRATION » YOU ARE IN LOVE (TAYLOR'S VERSION) by taylor swift

summary: moments in which you realise you love him, but he has no idea.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 2.4K

warnings/content: friends to lovers trope; angst because spencer is an oblivious idiot; case related discussion; fluff I promise; a whole paragraph in italics means it's a flashback.

A/N: sorry for the delay to post this I've been busy. hope you like it, have a great day <3

[part of the “taylor swift anthology”]

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masterpost

taylor swift anthology

criminal minds masterlist

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❝ morning, his place 

burnt toast, sunday

you keep his shirt 

he keeps his word. ❞

“I thought we agreed that you were not allowed in the kitchen.”

Your voice startles Spencer for a second. He flinches while trying to pull the slight burned toast out of the toaster. Your mouth is pulled into a grin as you notice his messy curls on the top of his head, his hands working fast on turning the tap on to diminish the burning sensation on his fingers.

“I am not that terrible.” Spencer hisses, pouting at his red fingertips. “I can make breakfast... I think.”

“Without setting yourself on fire? I seriously doubt that.” You tease him, approaching his hunched frame over the sink. With a soft touch on his shoulder, you take his hand on yours and lead it towards the water. You nudge him playfully. “Thank you for this, it smells great.”

Spencer lets out a huff in protest but the corner of his lips betray him. His heartbeat as fast as a racing car as if he had been running away from someone, all because of your touch on him.

Last night was a rough one for you.

You didn't feel particularly great after a case and you completely shut down anyone who tried to talk to you. That included Spencer, but you weren't able to delay your conversation as he invited you over for a movie night, a request you could tell he needed as much as you did, and you ended up sleeping over at his place as many other times before. However, this time, it was different.

Not because you slept in one of his shirts and his smell lingered near you on the bed during the night but because you sobbed into his chest and he held you into his arms, comforting your shaky frame as his hands traveled across your back and neck with the utmost care in the world.

Although physical touch wasn't his forte, Spencer didn't seem bothered to cling to you the whole night, and his touch was more than welcomed by you. You fell asleep in his bed, in his shirt and in his hold. It was the best night sleep you've had in months.

❝ and for once, you let go

of your fears and your ghosts

one step, not much

but it said enough ❞

“You think it could work out?” You asked him one day in the middle of your chess match on your way back home. Everybody else was dozing off while the two of you remained in your own little bubble. Tired but not enough to refuse a chess game.

Spencer moved one of his pawns forward, eyes traveling up to you questioningly. “What could work out?”

“You know,” you trailed off, biting your lower lip distractedly as you thought about your next move. You were going to lose anyway, might as well make the best of it to not be a total fool in front of Spencer. He'd get pretty smug after he won and though you can admit that you found it endearing, you hated losing. “Two members on the team in a committed relationship.”

“The fraternization policy—”

“Spence, c'mon.” You give him a short laugh. “Forget the stupid fraternization policy. I want to know if you think it could work out.”

He was silent for a moment, pondering over your request and you could tell he was probably gathering as many statistics as he could to provide you an answer. Truthfully, you don't know why you had asked that. Your previous conversation had initiated because you commented that you still had not found a dress to Derek and Savannah's wedding, you had no idea why it ended up on that question. You blamed exhaustion for your poorly choice of topic.

“It depends on who you're talking about.”

You shrugged, crossing your leg over the other. “No one in particular. I was just... thinking.”

“If they manage to be professional while at work then I don't see how it would be a problem.” Spencer concludes, the corners of his lips twitching as he notices your slip. He wins the match not long after. Not that you were surprised.

“Would you do it?” You were responsible for the disturbance of silence once again, but the question has been hanging over your head since your previous conversation. What if it was... us? Would it work out? Has it ever gone through your mind like it has with mine? “Actually, don't answer that. It's none of my business, I'm just sleepy and asking dumb questions.”

“Yes.” He answered after a beat, lifting his attention from the book to you. His gaze piercing into your curious one. “If it was worth it.”

❝ you can hear it in the silence ❞

“You don't have to apologize for rambling.” You said, throwing a pillow at him after he suddenly cut himself off, blushed bright red and apologized. “I like to hear you talk. All the time.”

“All the time?” Spencer raised a questioning brow as if he didn't trust your words. You can see why, given that most of the people you know rudely interrupt him in the middle of his speech about something he's passionate about.

You nodded, your mouth slowly stretching into a soft smile. ��Yes. All the time. I mean it.”

His honey brown eyes scanned you for a long minute before he resumes his explanation about why Jung's ideas seemed to make more sense than Freud's. You listened to it, chipping in every now and then with a hum or a simple question. You'd do anything to keep him speaking, Spencer's voice was calming as observing the ocean on an empty beach. It's quiet and grounding. Peaceful.

❝ one night he wakes

strange look on his face

pauses, then says

you're my best friend

and you knew what it was

he is in love ❞

At some point, you drift off with your head leaning on his shoulder. His fingers carefully brushing stray strands away from your lashes. He was always so careful with you.

“You're my best friend.” You are able to hear. You don't move. You don't breathe. The following statement makes you glad you don't, because you wouldn't act with your head but with your heart and you didn't know if that was wise at that moment. “What if I love you a little more than that?”

❝ you can hear it in the silence ❞

There is a coffee cup waiting for you on your usual place at the roundtable one morning. The logo from your favorite coffee shop and you could practically taste the drink before it was even in your mouth.

He always knew your favorite order. And it seemed like he'd rather get you coffee from a place on the other side of town before work than actually exchange words with you.

A week after you slept over at Spencer's place, it all changed too quickly. He stopped answering your texts and proceeded to avoid you as much as he could during cases. You really tried to find the reason of why that could be happening. Did you do something? Did you overwhelm him in some way? But again, how was it fair to be treated so cold by your best friend if you didn't even know what you did?

So you don't apologize. You just treat him the same way. But you don't hold onto that coldness for long, because after the evening came around and you earned a busted lip and a concussion from an Unsub, Spencer finally seems to acknowledge your presence. He doesn't leave your side for the whole time the paramedic is examining you.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say, clenching your jaw after the paramedic finished their job. “Seems like you care for my wellbeing even if you're avoiding me.”

“Don't walk too fast. You still have a concussion.” He follows you as you walk towards the car. You turn around, too quicky for you liking cause your vision spins for a second until it focuses again. Spencer's about to say something, reprehend you, more likely, when you interrupt him with fury in your tone.

“And why do you care?” You fire at him. “It's not like you've been ignoring my entire presence for a week, is it?”

Spencer's widened eyes tell you he doesn't expect you to lash out like that.

“I- I haven't been ignoring you.” Spencer stumbles with words. Excuses. You let out a scoff, turn around and walk off to the second car Hotch would be driving. Rossi and Emily are talking amongst themselves when you enter the backseat and shut it without a second word.

Emily eyes both your figure inside the car and Spencer helplessly weighing his options of going after you or letting you go.

He decides on the latter, she observes as he retreates back to the other car where JJ, Derek and Blake are already getting ready to leave.

Upon arriving back at Quantico, the first thing you did was say your goodbyes to everyone and immediately head to grab your stuff on your desk, observing the remaining twenty manila folders for a split of second until you harshly decided on going home and finish them tomorrow.

“I am not avoiding you- Not, not on purpose.” Spencer clenches the strap of his satchel, watching you freeze as you are about to open your car door. You hadn't give it much thought when he left at the same time you did since you always parked close and he would probably ignore you again. You're tired of playing games, if he wanted to withdraw from your life without a reasonable explanation, then so be it. Well, at least for tonight. You need at least one good night sleep without Spencer Reid controlling your mind. “I'm sorry.”

You turn around quickly, not realising how close he is until both of you took a step back as if you have been burned. With pink cheeks from either the cold or embarassement, you cross your arms trying to get a grip on yourself, focusing on his shoulder rather than his eyes.

“Why are you apologising?”

Silence envelopes the two of you and you actually think he had walked away and you had been left by yourself in the parking lot without an answer. However, when you lift your gaze, you're met with soft brown eyes studying you with awe.

He doesn't look away when he realise you caught him staring. Spencer is tired of avoiding you. Avoiding this.

“I was a coward.” Spencer let out a shaky breath. “I was scared and-and that made me a coward. I never wanted to cause a rift in our friendship-”

“It's too late for that, Reid.”

Spencer flinches as if he's been slapped. You hold back your wince. You don't mean to be cruel with your words but your lack of sleep and stress from the last case were making you feel sick of interacting with another human being. Even Spencer, who you would never get tired of. Maybe his childish behavior had contributed to that.

Don't call me that. You never call me that.

He takes one step closer and then one more towards you.

“I have feelings for you.” Spencer breathes out as if he's been holding it for a while — well, he had. “I didn't know how to— I didn't want to lose you and I was terrified to do something that—” his stuttering is enough for you to see how nervous he was. You have no idea where it all came from, but there wasn't an ounce of hesitation as he confessed and his eyes glint with a newfound determination. You suck in a deep breath as he says the next words. “I love you as more... as more than a best friend.”

“You're my best friend.”

“What if I love you a little more than that?”

“... so I avoided you because I didn't want to ruin us. I... I'd rather be your friend than lose you for good. Did I ruin that too?”

What if it was... us? Would it work out?

“For an IQ of 187 you sure can be dumb sometimes.” You utter in disbelief, all of the cold of the night giving place to the warmth of a familiar feeling bumping through your chest.

Spencer gives you a puzzled look, hurt flashing through his gaze. “What?”

“Spencer,” you let out in a whisper, seeking for his hand slowly. “do you remember when I asked you if two people in the team could work out in a committed relationship?”

A frown etches into his forehead.

“Yes,” he answers carefully.

You bite back a smile, fingers raising from his arms to his shoulders until you can reach the back of his neck. Spencer is focused on your eyes, completely hypnotized.

“You told me it could work out—

“... If it was worth it.”

“... if it was worth it.” Your lips quirk up as his hands lower to fit perfectly around your waist. Your noses barely touching. Personal space becoming a an unknown language between the two of you. “Well, I happen to think this is very much worth it and it wouldn't ruin anything.”

His eyes lower to your lips for a short moment. “It wouldn't?”

“No. Mostly because I haven't exactly been discreet about it and I have no idea how you didn't realise but... I love you too, Spencer.”

His eyes snap to yours, hands tightening instinctively around your waist which made you slightly weak in your knees. “You— what? How?”

Raising a brow in amusement, you smirk, “you're asking me how I love you?”

“I—no. I don't— I just didn't... expect that.” I can see that. “You feel the same? You have feelings for me?”

Your exhale, caressing his cheek fondly. “Yes, Spencer.”

Spencer. Not Reid.

Spencer.

His gaze once again falls to your parted lips. “Then I was an idiot.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “Pretty much. Yeah.”

A large grin spreads across his mouth, so wide you'd think it might split his pretty face in two. God, you missed that. You missed him. Everything about him.

❝ you are in love. . .

“Can I kiss you?”

You scoff, pulling him closer by the tie, “Finally, I thought you'd never make a move.” Then your lips crash as if you are two people starved for weeks and the only thing keeping you alive is each other.

true love. ❞

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid; @yeonalie

#reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #the taylor swift anthology

[youryurigoddess]

A nightingale sang in the London Blitz

When exactly was that certain night, the night Aziraphale and Crowley met — and spoke for the first time in 79 years in the midst of the London Blitz?

And what’s the deal with the nightingale’s song, really?

Grab something to drink and we’ll look for some Clues below.

The night they met

The Blitz, short for Blitzkrieg (literally: flash war) was a German aerial bombing campaign on British cities in the WW2, spanning between 7 September 1940 and 10 May 1941. The Luftwaffe attacks were carried out almost non stop, with great intensity meant to force a capitulation and similarly strong impact on British life and culture at the time.

Starting on 7 September 1940, London as the capital city was bombed for nearly 60 consecutive nights. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed, half of the total victims of this campaign.

The night of 29 December 1940 saw the most ferocity, becoming what is now known as the Second Great Fire of London. The opening shot of the S2 1941 minisode is a direct reference to recordings of that event, with the miraculously saved St Paul’s Cathedral in the upper left corner.

The actual raid lasted between 06:15 and 09:45 PM, but its aftermath continued for days. The old and dense architecture of this particular part of the city turned into a flaming inferno larger than the Great Fire of 1666. Multiple buildings, including churches, were destroyed in just one night by over 100,000 bombs.

Incendiary bombs fell also on St Dunstan-in-the-East church that night, the real-life location of this scene as intended by Neil. It was gutted and again claimed by fire in one of the last air rides on 10 May, when the bomb destroyed the nave and roof and blew out the stained glass windows. The ruins survived to this day as a memorial park to the Blitz.

Such a delightfully Crowley thing to do: saving a bag of books with a demonic miracle adding to the biggest catastrophe for the publishing and book trade in years. 5 million volumes were lost, multiple bookshops and publishing houses destroyed in the December 29th raid alone.

Even without this context, judging by the seemingly unending night, overwhelming cold and darkness, broken heating at the theatre, and seasonal clothing (like Aziraphale and Crowley’s extremely nice winter coats), it’s rather clear that it was the very beginning of the year 1941.

Everything suggests that Aziraphale and Crowley’s Blitz reunion happened exactly 1900 years after their meeting in Rome — which, according to the script book, took place between 1 and 24 January 41 (Crowley was right: emperor Caligula was a mad tyrant and didn't need any additional tempting; there's a reason why he was murdered by his closest advisors, including members of his Praetorian Guard, on 24 January 41).

Interestingly, both events involved a role reversal in their otherwise stable dynamic, with Aziraphale spontaneously taking the lead instead of letting the demon be the one to do all the tempting and saving, and ended with a toast.

The S2 Easter Egg with the nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl playing table tennis at the theatre suggests that the Blitz meeting happened on a Tuesday afternoon, which doesn’t match any of the above mentioned days, but sets the in-universe date for 7 January 1941 or later.

The Chattering Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the nuns are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.

The nightingale

January means one thing: absolutely no migratory birds in Europe yet. They’re blissfully wintering in the warm sun of Northern Africa at the time. But, ironically, when the real nightingales flew off, a certain song about them suddenly gained popularity in the West End of London.

It might be a shock, but A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square wasn’t a hit from the start — even though its creators, Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin, were certainly established in their work at this point. The song was written in the then-small French fishing village of Le Lavandou shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War with first performance in the summer of 1939 in a local bar, where the melody was played on piano by the composer Manning Sherwin with the help of the resident saxophonist. Maschwitz sang his lyrics while holding a glass of wine, but nobody seemed impressed. It took time and a small miracle to change that.

Next year, the 23-year-old actress Judy Campbell had planned to perform a monologue of Dorothy Parker’s in the upcoming Eric Maschwitz revue „New Faces”. But somehow the script had been mislaid and, much to her horror, replaced with the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. She had never professed to be a singer but even so, she gathered her courage and went out onto the moonlit set dressed in a white ball gown. Her heartfelt rendition of the now evocative ballad captured the audience’s imagination and catapulted her West End career to stardom.

It was precisely 11 April 1940 at the Comedy Theatre in Panton Street and the revue itself proved to be a great success — not only it kept playing two performances nightly through the Blitz, but also returned the next year. And the still operating Comedy Theatre is mere five minutes on foot from the Windmill Theatre, where Aziraphale performed in 1941, and not much longer from his bookshop.

Now, most Good Omens meta analyses focus on Vera Lynn’s version of the song from 5 June 1940, but it didn’t get much attention until autumn, specifically 15 November, when Glenn Miller and his orchestra published another recording. And Glenn Miller himself is a huge point of reference in Good Omens 2.

According to the official commentary the infamous credits scene is establishing Aziraphale and Crowley’s final resolve for the next season using the same narrative device The Glenn Miller Story (1954) does in its most crucial scene. It starts with the tune (and audio in general) totally flat, then adds a piano on one side, and gradually becomes fully multidimensional. The Good Omens credits not only emulate the same sound effect, but bring it to the visual side of the narrative by literally combining the individual perspectives of the two characters together. Even though they’re physically apart, their resolve — and love to each other — brings them even closer than before. Aziraphale smiles not because he’s being brainwashed, but because he knows exactly what to do next.

Some of you might have noticed that Tori Amos’s performance for Good Omens is actually a slightly shortened version of Miller’s recording — much less sorrowful than Vera Lynn’s full lyrics that include i.a. this bridge:

The dawn came stealing up

All gold and blue

To interrupt our rendez-vous

I still remember how you smiled and said

Was that a dream or was it true?

Which is a huge hint when it comes to what we can expect from the main romantic plot line in the Good Omens series. The original song introduces an element of the doubt — it seems like there was no nightingale at all, only the mirage woven by the singer clearly intoxicated with love, much like Aziraphale and Crowley for the length of the last six episodes. Crowley’s comment in the season finale might allude to that interpretation, stating that there are no nightingales — never have been. It was all a dream. But the version we’re working with here is short and sweet, and devoid of that doubt. In the Good Omens universe angels were actually dining at the Ritz, the streets were truly paved with stars (or will be shown as such in the next season), and a nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square, as the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent narrator, God Herself, had shown us.

All in all, it’s not an accident that the “modern” swing ballad activating Aziraphale’s memory and opening the 1941 minisode is the Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It’s a track naturally associated with A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square when it comes to music style and the sentiment in the lyrics.

But why the sudden popularity? In the great uncertainty and hardship of the Blitz, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square provided solace and escapism for listeners, offering a glimpse of hope and love amidst the darkness of war. It became a universal anthem of resilience and a reminder of the power of love transcending difficulties. By January 1941 the whole city knew this tune by heart, including a certain West End aficionado with a cabinet full of theatre programs in his bookshop. Thanks to Maggie’s grandmother, he most probably had a record at hand to play during his spontaneous wine night with Crowley. We can only suspect the details, but it was was mutually established as their song exactly at that time or soon afterwards. Pretty sure we will see a third installment of that minisode for many, many reasons, but especially because of this “several days in 1941” answer by Neil:

The Man Hunt

In 1941 A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square gained even more popularity as the romantic theme of the Fritz Lang’s newest film Man Hunt. The 1939 story by Geoffrey Household first appeared under the title “Rogue Male” as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly Magazine where it received widespread comment, soon becoming a world-wide phenomenon in novel form. Its premise criticizes Britain's pre-war policy of appeasement with Germany, ready to sacrifice its own innocent citizens to the tentative status quo. Sounds a bit like Heaven's politics, right?

Yes, I'm trying to make you watch old movies again — like all the other classics, Man Hunt (1941) is easily available on YouTube and other streaming websites.

The next part will include spoilers, so scroll down to the next picture if you prefer to avoid them.

The plot of the movie seems simple enough: the tall, dark, and handsome Alan Thorndike, who nearly assassinates Hitler, narrowly escapes Germany and back in London continues to evade the Nazi agents sent after him with the help of a young trench-clad “seamstress” named Jerry, bridging the class divide and becoming unlikely friends-partners-romantic interests. It doesn’t end well though.

Jerry's small London apartment serves as a hideout for Alan when he was being followed by Nazis, similarly to how Aziraphale's bookshop is a safe haven for both Crowley and Gabriel in S2. She helps the man navigate the streets and eventually out of London — by sacrificing herself and getting forcefully separated from him by a patrolling policeman. The last time they see each other, Alan watches Jerry look back at him yearningly and disappear in the fog, followed by the elderly officer.

Unfortunately in the next scene we learn that the latter is a Nazi collaborator and helps the agents apprehend Jerry in her own flat. Staying loyal to her love and uncooperative, she’s ultimately thrown out of a window to her death, but posthumously saves Alan once again — through the arrow-shaped hatpin he gifted her earlier that is presented to him as the evidence of her off-screen fate.

Long story short, thanks to Jerry’s sacrifice Alan not only survives, but is able to join the war that broke out in the meantime and go back to Germany, armed with a rifle and a final resolve to end what he started, no matter how long will it take. The justice will be served and the dictator will pay with his life for his sins.

I wouldn’t be myself without mentioning that the main villain has a Roman chariot statue similar to the one in Aziraphale’s bookshop, an antique sculpture of St Sebastian (well-known as the gayest Catholic Saint) foreshadowing his demise, and a chess set symbolizing the titular manhunt/game of tag with the protagonist.

Aziraphale’s song

Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself as well? Or has he already? If his coin magic trick can be any indicator, we should expect at least a shadow of a danger touching the angel’s wings soon.

Let’s sum up the 1941 events from Aziraphale’s perspective: the very first time they’ve interacted after almost a century, Crowley actively sabotaged his entire existence twice by stepping onto a holy ground and by being outed by agents of Hell, both on the very same night and both because of his undying dedication to the angel. That’s enough of a reason not only for performing an apology dance, but also maintaining a careful distance for Crowley’s sake for the next 26 years. Only when he heard that his idiot was planning to rob a church, he gave up since he “can't have him risking his life”.

That’s when Crowley, sitting in a car parked right under his bookshop, offered him a ride. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was supposed to be a date, this time both of them understood it. But Aziraphale wouldn’t risk Crowley’s safety for his own happiness, especially not when he can name his feelings towards him and knows that they are reciprocated — the biggest lesson he learnt back in 1941.

So he did what he’s best at, he cut Crowley off again, but this time with a promise of catching up to his speed at some point. Buddy Holly’s Everyday, which was originally planned to play afterwards instead of the Good Omens theme, adds additional context here:

No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know… Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Aziraphale, carefully looking around and feeling observed through the whole conversation in the Bentley, consciously used the “Dine at the Ritz” line from A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, from their song, as a code only the two of them understand. Not as a suggestion to go out for a meal, but a promise. A hope for the privilege of being openly in love and together — maybe someday, not now, when it’s too dangerous — even if it leads to a bad ending.

Fast forward to 2023 when for one dreadful moment Crowley’s “No nightingales” robbed Aziraphale even of that semblance of hope. He looked away, unable to stop his tears anymore. Only their kiss helped him pull himself together and make sure that a nightingale did sing the last time he turned — just like in their song — this time without a smile, as a goodbye.

#a nightingale sang in the london blitz #the song is a code #and is miracled as a sign #aziraphale needs a hug #no nightingales #history rant #yuri is doing her thing #the good omens crew is unhinged #neil gaiman #st dunstan-in-the-east #1941 minisode #1941 flashback #a nightingale sang in berkeley square #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #go2 meta #go2 #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #1941 aziraphale #1941 crowley #the blitz #man hunt (1941) #the glenn miller’s story (1954) #why am i like this #why do i do this to myself #long post

[skz317cb97]

The Beat

Jisung x Female reader

Word count: 2.5k (no look they're really drabbles okay?)

Synopsis: Jisung is having difficulties with a project and asks you to help take his mind off work for a bit.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Okay seriously I'm on a roll right now but like I said they might not all come out so quickly so do bare with me if some of the others take longer. I am having so much fun writing these so I hope you all are enjoying them! Chan will be next! If you enjoy reading please reblog, comment, shoot me an ask, like, I love to hear from you guys! As always warnings and smut below the cut! 3/8

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! MDNI! Swearing/strong language, eluding to casual sex, oral (m receiving), deep throating, face fucking, cum eating, breath play (kinda not really), masturbating, cum shot, slight exhibitionism (kinda maybe, not really), slight MC dom/Jisung sub dynamic (kinda). I think that's all but if I ever miss something please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

It was the last morning before the guys were due back and you were on your knees under the kitchen table after you decided you’d rather blow Changbin than eat eggs and toast. You were sucking his soul out through his dick, choking and drooling all over his thick cock rubbing his balls and humming as you gagged on it again and again. Suddenly the front door opened and someone came walking into the apartment. Changbin had heard but apparently you didn’t because you were slurping and gagging on his fat cock when Jisung came around the corner into the dining room. 

“Hey Changbinnie hyung!” Changbin’s eyes went wide with surprise. 

“JISUNG! You’re home early!” You choked when Changbin shouted Jisung’s name and stopped sucking his dick for a second. But Jisung couldn’t see you or what was happening under that table and so you took Changbin’s cock back into your mouth and what you couldn’t fit you jerked off hard as you continued to fondle his balls covered in your saliva. You honestly didn’t know how he was holding it together, must be that strong jutdae of his. 

“Yea I wanted to come home a little early and get some rest before having to jump back into the grind.” Changbin bit his bottom lip and nodded, small beads of sweat were starting to form on his temples and forehead and he prayed Jisung didn’t notice. 

“Good idea Ji! Why don’t you go get you some rest!” Jisung looked at Changbin funny. 

“Yea, okay Bin I’ll do that.” Jisung shook his head and went to his room. As soon as Changbin heard his bedroom door click closed he groaned out and came in your mouth. You swallowed and kept slurping on him until he was sensitive and pulled away. 

“Remember this little moment the next time, pay back is a bitch.” Changbin laughed breathless, pulling you up from under the table. 

“For now though we should probably get you home.” Changbin kissed you deeply. 

“Go get dressed I’ll give you a ride.” He patted your rear end and you ran off to get your clothes on.  

A month or so went by and everything was still just the way it always was. You and the guys had your board game nights every other Monday and had been to the club to go dancing and drinking. You had fucked two of them and at least one of them knew and they both acted like nothing happened. Aside from a lingering touch here and there when passing you or sitting by you everything was perfectly normal. It was a nice day and you were walking to the park down the street from your place when you got a call from Jisung. 

“Hey Ji!” You heard him sigh heavily. 

“Hey y/n.” He sounded drained. 

“What’s wrong Sungie?” He took another deep breath. 

“I’ve been at the studio all night and I’m just so stressed over this song that I’m having trouble with. Do you...you think maybe you could come to the studio and help me?” You were confused as to why Jisung was asking you to do this when Chan or Changbin would be far better options since they actually knew how to produce music. 

“Ji I don’t know anything about music.”  

“I know I just mean come and hang out, maybe distract me for a bit, clear my head.” Well that made more sense, he needed to unplug for a minute. You were only going to go on a hike at the park because you were bored anyway. 

“Sure Sungie I’ll come hang out for a bit.” You could already hear his voice getting lighter. 

“You’re the best y/n. See you soon!” When you got to the studio the door was slightly cracked open. You knocked lightly and walked in. When you did you saw Jisung with his head laid on his desk; it looked as if he’d fallen asleep while waiting on you. You were just going to back out and let him rest but you bumped something by the door and Jisung’s head sprung up. 

“Oh hey! You made it great!” He rubbed his eyes. 

“If you want to nap a little longer, I can come back later.” He shook his head and stood up walking over to welcome you in. 

“No no I was only resting my eyes. Please come in.” He closed and locked the studio door behind you and ushered you towards the sofa in the studio. You sat down getting comfy and Jisung sat in the roll-y chair across from you. You both exchanged some small talk and caught up with what the other had been doing recently. Everyone had been so busy lately it felt like it had been forever since you’d see any of the guys when reality it had only been two weeks. The longer you sat there chatting with Jisung the more antsy he seemed to get, knee bouncing, eyes darting, if he chewed on his lip anymore he’d bite it off so finally you said something. 

“Sungie you’re supposed to be relaxing and clearing your mind a bit. You look like you're ready to crawl out of your skin. What’s going on?” His teeth let go of his lip and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“I... I really want to ask you something but I don’t want you to get upset with me or take it the wrong way.” His face was so soft and his big brown eyes seemed to have grown even bigger. You could tell he was genuinely scared you would be angry with him. You sat up and leaned forward a bit closing some of the distance between you and Jisung. 

“Well... I promise to listen and try to understand if that helps at all.” Jisung nodded and shook his head. 

“Okay... whewww... okay...” You braced yourself unsure of exactly what was going to come out of Jisung’s mouth. Jisung closed his eyes tightly. 

“WouldyoudowhatyoudidforChangbinniehyungformetoo?!” It all came out in a shouted jumble of words. You jumped at the volume of his voice and caught fragments of words but not enough to understand him. You shook your head. 

“Take a deep breath Sungie and slow down okay?” He took a couple more deep breaths and then closed his eyes again, softly this time. 

“Would you do what you did for Changbin hyung for me too?” Your brow furrowed in confusion and then the memory of you blowing Changbin under the table when Jisung came home flashed through your mind. You tried to play stupid. 

“Uh what do you mean? What did I do for Changbin?” Jisung’s face was buried in both of his hands embarrassed to say. 

“Well... you... know... you... uh... sucked his... d-” 

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!” Jisung jumped and looked terrified that he had in fact upset you. You were just caught off guard finding out he knew; you coughed and lowered your voice. 

“How do you know that?” Jisung wrung his hands together. 

“Changbinnie hyung said you were going to be over for the weekend. When I came home I saw your shoes by the door and then... well I saw your feet poking out from under the table a bit, that and Changbin hyung looked like he was about to explode.” Your face felt hot. You were so embarrassed to find out that Jisung knew the whole time that you had been under the table. Then it registered and you remembered Jisung’s actual question. 

“Wait did you ask me...” Jisung waved you off in a panic. 

“Never mind about that, sorry! I shouldn’t have suggested it! You’re my friend and I respect you and I shouldn’t have...” You couldn’t help but be endeared by his babbling. 

“Sungie do you want me to suck you off or not?” His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. 

“Words Jisungie. Do you want me to suck your cock?” He gulped hard shaking his head up and down. 

“Yes!” You tsked him. 

“Yes what Ji?”  

“YES PLEASE!” You hummed pleased and smiled at him. 

“Good boy.” You got on your knees in front of him and ran your hands up his firm thighs towards the waist band of his pants. He looked down at you with his wide hopeful eyes. You could see his pants already starting to tent from his growing erection. You slowly unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down one tooth at a time, a little whine came out of the back of Jisung’s throat and you looked up at him. 

“Aww poor Sungie, you need it bad don’t you baby?” Jisung licked his lips and nodded. 

“Please?” You smiled at him sweetly 

“You asked so nicely how could I say no?” You grabbed the waist band of Jisung’s pants and underwear and pulled both down to his ankles. His cock was hard and leaking, smooth and pretty and while not as big as Changbin’s he was not lacking. 

“Such a pretty cock Jisungie.” You praised him. 

“Really?” He sounded surprised by your compliment. 

“Oh yes Ji, pretty cock for a pretty boy.” His cheeks started turning red and you thought it was so cute. You had always thought Jisung was cute, his chubby cheeks and toothy smile. You licked your hand and wrapped your fingers around his cock. You started to stroke him slowly, your thumb rubbing the tip of his cock before twisting your wrist and sliding down his shaft again. 

“Ffuck!” Jisung’s cock started leaking even more precum. 

“You’re not going to cum already are you Sungie?” You leaned forward and licked the precum off the head of his dick and he twitched in your hand hard. 

“N-nno I w-won’t please suck on it please!” The way he begged for your mouth made your body buzz with excitement and you could feel your arousal wetting your panties. You nodded and started gently sucking on the head of Jisung’s cock, slowly going further down his shaft, coating him in your saliva. Jisung gathered all your hair into a ponytail and looked down at you with your mouth full of his dick. When he hit the back of your throat and you gagged you pulled off and started jerking him off, looking up at him, your hair still held back by his hand. 

“You’re such a gentleman Jisungie, holding my hair back for me while a choke on your cock.” You hummed and took him back into your mouth bobbing your head up and down sucking, drooling, and swirling your tongue around him. 

“It’s s-so good y/n feels... Oh FUCK!” Jisung was glad the studio was soundproof because he moaned out uncontrollably when you gagged on his dick again and continued to suck him off. The grip he had on your hair tightened a bit as you repeatedly took his cock to the back of your throat, squelching, spitting, and gagging on it with pleasure before pulling off and stroking him again, harder than before. 

“You’re being so good for me Sungie. Stand up.” He did as you said although on shaky legs since you were still firmly jerking him off. He looked down at you and thought he’d died and gone to heaven. You were kneeling in front of him, blushing, your chin covered in spit and precum giving him those sparkling doe eyes. 

“Okay Jisungie, fuck my face.”  

“Excuse me what...” You giggled a little, seeing you all messy and sweet then hearing that come from your mouth short circuited something in Jisung’s brain for a moment. You repeated. 

“I said choke me with your pretty cock, make me deep throat you, hold me down on your dick until I’m gasping for air, face fuck me Ji, be good and I'll let you cum wherever you want. 

Jisung twitched uncontrollably in your hand and he got a little sparkle in his eye. 

“A-anywhere?” He asked unbelieving and you nodded, kissing the tip of his dick softly again and again. 

“That’s right baby. Now, fuck. My. Face.” You took Jisung’s cock into your mouth again and started a good rhythm then Jisung started to gently thrust into your mouth testing the waters. When you hummed in pleasure he went a little harder. Your hands came up and grabbed his ass pushing him deeper into your throat still. Jisung got the hint and started fucking your throat harder and faster. The sound of your spit and gagging, you moaning around his cock, it all made Jisung feel so lightheaded. Jisung’s grip shifted and one of his hands cradled the back of your head as the other supported your jaw. Once he had his hold adjusted he really started jamming his dick into your throat. He pulled you off and tilted your head up to look at you. You were panting, a little sweaty, covered in spit and blushing. He shoved you back onto his cock, pinched your nose closed and pushed the back of your head down until your nose was buried into the soft spot above his cock. He made several shallow thrusts, drool dripped down his cock and balls as your throat constricted over and over again around the tip of his dick while you were struggled to breathe. Jisung looked down and realized you had one of your hands down your own pants riding and fucking yourself on your fingers as Jisung choked you with his cock. He pulled you off again and spit trailed from your fucked out face to the tip of his swollen red cock. You smirked up at him. 

“Where do you want to cum Jisungie? Hmm?” You started stroking him with your free hand, your other still teasing and rubbing your clit. He bit his lip and whispered embarrassed. 

“uhon your f...” You spit on his cock and started stroking him faster and harder. 

“Sorry Sungie I can’t hear you baby. Where do you want to come?” You sucked on the tip of his dick as you continued to stroke him fast and hard, your warm wet tongue teasing. You stopped playing with your pussy and started gently playing with his balls. 

“ON YOUR FACE! GOD PLEASE LET ME CUM ALL OVER YOUR PRETTY FUCKING FACE!” You spit on Jisung’s cock again and stroked him as fast as you could, two fingers from the hand playing with his balls followed a wet trail down until you were softly fingering his perineum. You aimed his dick at your face. 

“Do it Ji paint my face with your cum baby.” The strangled moan that came from Jisung as he came almost made you climax untouched. A thick stripe of cum shot across your lips and nose, another across your cheek and one eye, another across your nose and forehead, more across your other eye, it pooled in your puckered lips as more stripes of his cum shot across your face. Your hand had crept back down into your pants again and you rubbed your throbbing wet cunt as you started to lick at the cum dripping down your face. Jisung helped wipe you off and once your face was clean again you stood and slumped back on the couch your legs spread wide.  

“Look Sungie, you made such a mess.” Your hands trailed into your pants again and you played with your pussy. Jisung crawled on the floor on all fours and his face hovered over your warm cunt while you continued to tease and finger yourself. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“Come now Jisungie, clean up the mess you made baby.”  

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤 #skz smut drabble series

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: This is a long one, it took me a while but hopefully the waits been worth it? EMOTIONS is all I'm going to say.

Warnings: Lots going on- talks of car crashes, alcohol abuse (both in the past) also some previous thoughts on trauma and different coping mechanisms

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

It takes a second for change to implement itself, though it can take a while longer for its realisation to truly hit.

…

I could hear him. 

Bustling his way around my kitchen, singing quietly as he worked on the breakfast he’d promised the night before. Tins clattered, the kettle whistled, and the fridge door rattled closed, all whilst I padded my way towards him, pausing in the entryway to simply take in the sight I’d been gifted.

I grinned over at Teddy, who was currently tiptoeing on the wooden stool I had tucked away for whenever he felt inclined to help me cook, and then at Matty who seemed happy enough with making him giggle whenever he chose to lean in close to sing by his ear. 

“Thinking this through… It's like, one,”

“..TWO!” Teddy laughed back when Matty pointed at him, beaming brightly at the sight of the man’s all too amused face.

“Yeah, ‘cause I'm in love with you-”

“I-I-I-I!”

It was something I’d never thought to even picture, let alone see, my son staring up at a man with such adoration and pride. The two of them simply belonging. The whole scene made me ache with a wanting for it to never stop, but even the best of things had to come to an end I supposed.

Matty turned, a smile painting on his features, only to pause when he caught sight of me, watching them from the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, then gave me a sly smile, before he placed the plate he’d been holding down on the counter and shuffled on closer, arms stretching out towards me as he continued to sing along to his own song. I mean, the ego on him.

“… I’m in love with you.”

It was hard going, attempting to dampen the grin that pulled at the corners of my mouth, especially when Matty wrapped his arms around my hips and started to sway us to and fro. He raised his brows up at me, fully expecting me to finish off the song for him, so I rolled my eyes and laughed the final line out, accompanied by a much louder Teddy, “I-I-I-I-I.”

Matty leaned in close to press a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth, his tangled hair tickling my cheek. He chuckled lowly to himself when I wrinkled my nose at the feeling and tried to escape from his hold, but did eventually let me go.

“What are you even making?” I asked the pair of them around a fond smile, crossing the kitchen to ruffle Teddy’s curls and open up the little window there. I sniffed lightly. “Did you end up burning something too?”

Matty rolled his eyes at that and shook his head with a tut, before he moved to pick up his plate once more, sliding past Teddy and I to grab at the toast which had just popped up. “No.”

“Liar.” I laughed with Teddy, picking him up and settling him on my hip whilst Matty turned his back on us to start buttering the bread. “What’s with the big breakfast then anyway? I thought you had to record today.” I asked him, praising Teddy quietly for the way he’d spooned some sugar and two teabags into a pair of matching mugs for us. 

“Later on,” Matty answered me in a quiet murmur as I peered over his shoulder to nick a fresh piece of toast. “Oi!”

Grinning around the bite I’d just taken, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t completely charred. “Better than the last batch.” I told him honestly and with a wry smirk.

Matty just shook his head at me, but even as he turned back to the task at hand I could see the tiny beginnings of the smile he wore. “Said I could cook.”

With a sarky hum, I could only reply, “Does toast even count as cooking?”

I was simply swatted away with a tea towel in hasty retort and Teddy squealed, wriggling to be let down.

“Okay, okay!” I relented with a laugh of my own before I slid on over to press a grateful kiss to the side of Matty’s neck. “It’s very good, merci mon amour.” 

I pulled away with a grin when I felt him tense beneath me, gesturing to Teddy for him to go ahead and grab the milk for us from the fridge whilst I began to pour the hot water into the tea he’d started. 

“What are you up to today then?” Matty asked after having cleared his throat, tossing the butter-covered knife into the sink before he looked over at us. He thanked Teddy proudly when the little monster hurried back from dumping the tea bags in the bin to point at the man’s given cup. “Lifesaver!”

Teddy giggled happily.

Matty’s question had me chewing on the inside of my cheek as I went about lifting Teddy into his usual seat at the kitchen table and laying a plate in front of him. I smoothed down his tousled hair and didn’t quite look in Matty’s direction when I finally said, “You know, the usual… Quick trip to the shops, phone mum, speak to Finn, maybe pop into the park. I hear they’ve put in this new little greenhouse by the pond, you know, just across the bridge?”

I’d thrown it in there, hoping that he might just brush over it. But then Matty didn’t offer me an answer of any kind, so with nothing else to occupy myself with I slowly peered over to where he still stood, propped up against the kitchen counter. 

He was staring down at the bowl of fruit he’d prepped sometime earlier, almost as though the grapes had suddenly grown legs and the banana pieces had turned purple. I sighed quietly to myself and felt my shoulders drop an inch before crouching down to whisper in Teddy’s ear, “Go turn on the tele for me, yeah? We can eat on the sofa today.”

Teddy’s entire face lit up at the very prospect and was so eager in his haste to hurry into the living room that he almost toppled out of his chair. I chuckled in fond exasperation, helping him down and handing him his plate with a quiet caution before allowing him to run off.

It was then that I turned my attention back to the main issue at hand. 

We hadn’t spoken much of Finn and what had happened back at the studio. I’d given Matty his space after it had all gone down, allowed him the time to mull it over and hopefully forget the words that had been said, but I knew that had mostly been wishful thinking on my part. 

Still, I was kicking myself for it now. We’d been good. Things had really been looking up; at work and at home, with Teddy and Matty, and then with Matty and I. Stupidly, I had thought that this might just be something we could have simply plastered over and left to settle, because admitting to the fact that things weren’t alright between two of the most important people in my life just wasn’t something I was ready to face yet.

I’d been selfish in that regard though, it seemed. Because of course Matty had taken the brunt of it all and pretended to shrug it off like it was no skin off of his nose. Leaving me to realise all too late just how much this whole thing had affected him. 

“Matty.” I called to him softly before I gently rested my hand on the crook of his arm, testing if I was welcome. When he didn’t immediately shy away from my touch, I slid in behind him so that I could press my forehead to the curve of his back, to where that little dip in between both of his shoulder blades resided. 

Thoughtlessly, my fingers trailed over the hem of the jeans he’d thrown on that morning, toying with the two belt loops which sat at the very centre. 

We stood there for a long moment in the quiet space of the kitchen, the food going cold but neither one of us really caring. It was only when I felt some of that tension finally ebb in his shoulders that I slowly wound my arms around his middle, smiling slightly when I felt his hands take hold of mine at his front.

“I hate this.” I admitted to him, voice so faint it was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers squeezed my own.

“I know.” He told me after a small pause and I felt him raise his head to gaze out of the small window sat opposite. “I know, Squeaks. Me too.”

I squeezed back.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spoken about it either. That I let it fester. I just wished, hoped even, that you might not linger too much on it, that things would- I don’t know, just end up working out. But I was stupid.”

Matty heaved a weighted breath and I let my eyes slip closed at the motion before he carefully turned in my grasp. He stopped to stare down at me, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of stray hair behind my ear, thumb brushing over a whitened scar I had yet to hide with makeup.

“Don’t. There’s no need.” He murmured to me, though his gaze was focused on the slow movement he’d just made. “Talk to him. He’s your mate, it’d be weird if you didn’t. But, I don’t know. Reckon I just might need some time. That alright?”

I was already nodding before he could even finish his sentence, more than okay with that. “‘Course it is. Though I don’t know much about talking with him, I’m betting on a screaming match. I’m still fuming with how it all went down.”

Matty gifted me a soft chuckle, and although it was hollow he had tried and that was what mattered most to me. It would take time to move past this, I could understand that. “Let him explain first, yeah?”

I frowned, brow pinching with it. “What do you mean? What’s he got to explain?”

He smiled, one of those soft dopey ones of his, the kind he often gave me whenever I’d said something silly or he was humoured by my confusion. “I get it, Mouse.” He sighed quietly, “I don't like how he went about it, it was cheap, shitty even, but he was just looking out for you, babe.”

My frown deepened and I didn't care to give his words much thought. “There’s looking out for me and then there's being a massive prick, Matty.”

With a huffed breath of a laugh, Matty trailed his thumb down my jaw to skirt over the bottom edge of my lip. His eyes finally met mine. “He went about it the wrong way, but he’s been good for you, baby. Looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.” 

My expression softened. 

Matty’s fingers pinched my chin as he coaxed me back up to meet his gaze.

“Do that for me?” He asked, and who was I to say no to an ask like that?

Instead of answering him though, I simply leaned in and kissed him sweetly, cradling his jaw in my hands so that I could thumb over the tops of his cheeks. I wondered, momentarily, where I’d gotten so lucky.

–

A kid in the studio had both its perks and disadvantages, Matty had soon come to see. 

Squeaks had been messaging Finn not long before he’d gone to set off, slowly pulling out some clean clothes from the ever growing pile he kept adding to each time he went round to her flat, whilst Teds completed his phonics, sat on the bed.

He’d kept calling out to Matty whenever he’d stumble onto the next, asking him to sound it out for him before trying to memorise it himself. Matty had enjoyed it- enjoyed all the time he spent with the little monster as a matter of fact- but helping him with the lessons he knew that Teddy would soon carry on further into his life… He didn’t know, it just settled something within him. Made him feel needed. 

He hadn’t ever felt much of that.

Anyway, Squeaks had come into the bedroom just as he’d been tugging on a jumper, one she had said she’d liked the last time he’d worn it, and mentioned that she had to get ready to drop Teddy off round Adi’s so that she could head on over to meet Finn. 

Matty had tried to keep his expression fairly neutral each time she mentioned the man. Because he hadn’t lied earlier when he’d asked for her to give her mate the benefit of the doubt. But it still irked him. The whole situation did, in truth. See because he knew that he was running on fucking borrowed time here with her. He’d never claimed to have been a lucky man either, so he knew that something was bound to happen sooner or later. He was merely praying that he’d be able to hold onto this small bubble of peace he’d found for himself for as long as he possibly could.

Teddy had appeared put out by the fact that he would have to head on over to Adi’s, who still lived with her elderly grandmother. All pouty and sweet looking, proper cute in actuality, and Matty had honestly gone and spoken before his mind had even had a chance to catch up with his massive mouth.

Mouse had been just as surprised by his offer to let Teds tag along with him down to the studio, spilling out claims that it would be fine with the guys (who’d yet to even meet the tyke) and that they weren’t actually working on anything too big that afternoon (just recording the ending of a session). And even though Matty hadn’t exactly asked the lot of them beforehand either, he figured it to be true enough.

And with the relief that had visibly fallen off of Squeaks at his reassurance, Matty hadn’t had it in himself to regret the offer. So with that, he’d set to helping her get Teddy ready for the day and then headed out the door.

Thing was though, the last time he’d ever gotten the tube with a little kid had been years before when his mum had visited with Lou. And back then she’d been the one to worry over his every move, not wanting to lose him in the crowd or have him swept under a carriage. Gruesome yeah, but it was a real fucking fear Matty realised. 

This time around it had been his turn though, and God, did he feel sorry for all the shit he’d given his poor mum throughout the years. Was this why parents looked so tired all the fucking time?

Teddy was good enough though, curious sure, always asking questions and pointing at everything, but he listened, held onto his hand and didn’t ever wander off. He’d enjoyed counting the stops on the train too and didn’t think much of the few stares they’d gotten on the platform and again when they’d sat down. 

By the time they’d made it to the studio, Matty had felt as though he’d just gone and ran a half marathon.

It was only when Teds had crowded into his trouser leg upon first walking through the entrance that he realised that this was just as new to Teddy as it was to him, and the fact that he was now being forced into an unknown setting probably didn’t make things much easier for the kid. 

Still, he had managed to perk up on the small tour Matty had given him. Wanting to ease his nerves before they ventured much further, it had just been the two of them wandering the halls aimlessly and simply nodding or smiling at the very few people who passed them by. 

It was only once Matty had figured it time to head into the room the band usually booked did Teddy quieten again.

“Where’ve you been? Only texted you like twenty times!” Matty heard George huff from around the short corner they were hidden behind after he’d called out to let them know that it was just him. 

Matty paused by the door to cast a glance down at Teddy, but the kid was already looking at everything the walls had to offer; the big plaques with the even bigger names, the posters and many album covers that dotted the dark paint. It was only when Matty crouched down to level with him did Teddy glance back.

“You alright, monster?” He asked quietly, wanting to give Teds a second to wrap his head around things. Matty noted that he was back to chewing on his lip again, eyes wide and unsure, but Teddy gripped onto the hand Matty silently offered him. 

After a moment, Teddy nodded at the question and Matty gave him a hopeful smile. “Good, ‘cause imma need you to kick this sorry lot into shape for me, alright? I mean, I know I’m good but they can’t just depend on me for everything, can they?”

He was gifted a quiet giggle, one which eased Matty’s mind a tad. 

“Matt!”

Matty rolled his eyes at the shout of his name then shook his head mockingly at Teddy, who seemed to have jumped a bit at the beckon. “Told you, didn’t I?” He tutted playfully to the boy, rolling his eyes too for added effect, “Fall apart if I’m not here.”

Teddy was back to smiling now, “Like mum.”

Matty laughed at the comparison, certain that Squeaks would say that she had a much harder job with the show than he did here in the booth. But Matty wasn’t too inclined to disagree, she worked far too hard in truth.

“Exactly, mate.” He replied anyway, then nodded in the direction of the many voices that were bouncing their way towards them, watching as Teddy peered round him once more, “You think you’re gonna be okay?”

Teddy blinked and then looked over towards him, it was in moments like these which Matty saw just how much he resembled his mum, he reckoned it was those big eyes of theirs that held so much emotion.

“Yeah.” The boy finally breathed out and so Matty squeezed his hand just once in support, before lumbering back to his feet. He stole a quick breath for himself and then started leading them both further inside.

George was stationed where he always was, by the decks, surrounded by laptops and many a monitor. Ross was sprawled out on the beanbag they’d lugged in on day three, fiddling with the bass he held in hand. Hann, however, had chosen to sit nearest to the door and so he was the only one to glance upon at their nearing footsteps.

Matty watched on as a flash of surprise flickered across his mate’s face. Brows rose and a slow blink was seen before Adam finally smiled, looking every inch the father Matty knew him to be. 

“Just who might you be then?” Hann greeted cheerfully whilst tucking his mobile back into his trouser pocket. He didn’t make a move to get up off the settee corner though, something which Matty felt immediately thankful for, it seemed neither of them wanted to crowd the kid just yet. 

It was with that greeting though that Ross’s head finally shot up and George turned to face them in his big fancy chair. The pair of them flicked both alarmed and shock filled gazes to Matty, who did his very best to ignore their all too familiar mugs.

“This is Teddy.” Matty acknowledged, crouching down once more so that Teds could lean further into his side whilst his wide eyes surveyed their way about the rest of the room. Matty wondered what it must’ve felt like for him, struggling to recall moments from his own childhood when his mum and dad had brought him along to their interviews to sit in the audience.

“Teddy love, these three doughnuts are my mates. You remember, the ones I’m in a band with?”

Matty let Teddy have a second, waiting quietly as the little boy dragged his gaze back towards him with parted lips, he blinked and then nodded, hands wringing the sleeve of Matty’s jumper.

Matty merely smiled, bringing the kid in closer to press a quick kiss to his head of hair. “Look, Teds. See that one there, with the funny face? That’s Hann.” He was delighted to hear Teddy’s soft laughter, however muted it was, even as Adam scolded him with an unimpressed glare. “Then in the corner there, that guy?” Teddy dipped his chin, eyes trained on the bearded bloke who was grinning away like a twat, “That’s Ross, he looks like a giant but cries when he’s hungry.”

“I do not!” Ross shot back scathingly, narrowed eyes pointed at Matty which only proved to fuel Teddy’s quiet chuckles.

“Yeah alright, MacDonald.” Matty ignored whatever else Ross attempted to say after that, rolling his eyes theatrically towards Teddy before he gestured over to where George was sitting in his chair, pushing those pretentious sunglasses he often wore up onto his shaved head. “And that one there, that’s G.”

Teddy leaned in close again to whisper in Matty’s ear, “Drums.”

Matty chuckled despite himself, loathing the fact that of course Teds would have remembered the drummer. Most did. “Yeah, mate. That’s him.”

George quirked a brow at the hushed conversation shared but said nothing on it, at least not then. Instead he just waved Teddy on over, “You want to come see? Got a ton of buttons you can press.” He added as though he was trying to entice the kid. 

Matty dampened the mirthful grin that crawled up onto his face when it seemed to work though, even as Teddy tugged him along by their joint pair of hands. 

By the time Matty finally got around to stepping into the booth to record a few verses a while later, Teddy felt comfortable enough to wait for him just outside the door with the three giant idiots he’d left him with.

–

A stalemate.

That was where we were currently sat.

Even with everything that had gone down, him starting this whole mess, I had been the one to go to him. To his loft where he worked most days when he wasn’t with clients, or visiting galleries. 

Finn had welcomed me in with his usual hello through the intercom, buzzing me up into the building and then meeting me just past the front door. He’d been kitted up when I’d entered, still in his apron and covered in paint, the latter of which he was trying to wash off when I first spotted him. 

He’d had the kettle already going and he smiled slightly after asking me how I’d been. I’d been truthful, said that I was doing good- all things considered.

There’d been an awkward pause at that, the two of us unsure on where we should then go with the encounter, but the kettle had whistled and on instinct I had turned to grab the mugs. 

He had nodded gratefully, but then gestured me over to where his colourful sofa sat by the large open bay windows, joining me with two steaming brews not a minute later. 

“How’s Teds?”

I licked at my lower lip at the question, peering into the still swirling mug. “Good, on Easter break soon enough.”

“What have they been working on then?” Finn asked next, because we both knew this was a safe topic, an easy starter. 

“Phonics at the moment,” I replied with a small smile that couldn’t quite be helped, recalling the way Teddy had puttered around after Matty this morning calling out each sound he’d needed to learn. “He sounds them out after breakfast most days and then again at night.” We shared a brief smile, before I mentioned, “Matty’s been helping too.”

Finn hummed. 

I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting out everything I wanted to say at the sound of it, attempting to stick to the plan I’d formed on my way over here. Letting Finn open up on his own, rather than come in all guns blazing.

“How is that going then?”

My brow pinched as I peered over at him from across the settee, “What, with Matty and I?”

Another hum, though this one was accompanied by a slight nod.

I was wary of how to answer Finn, especially after having learnt what the man truly thought about our whole relationship, but figured I should at least be honest.

“We’re happy.” I love him. “He’s good for me, I think.” It terrifies me. “He brings out a part of me that I haven’t seen much of since- I don’t know, maybe my first year of uni?” I let go of a breathy chuckle, picking at the wrinkled hem that sat at the knee of my jeans. “It’s been, really nice.”

When I chanced a glance back up, it was only to find Finn already looking back at me, his expression carefully set, almost as though he was trying to suss out any sort of lie in my answer. I waited a second and then he smiled. Nothing less than genuine, and I felt my whole body relax at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted.” Finn spoke softly, placing his cup down on a side table to slide on a tad bit closer. He rubbed at the back of his wrist before settling his hands in his lap, “I shouldn’t have gone about it the way I did, I just- You know I care so much, Mouse. And this is me in no way asking to be let off the hook or anything of the like, but, you have to remember I was there through it all.”

Frowning slightly at his words, I followed Finn’s prior motion, putting my own mug down so that I could pull a leg up under me, settling nearer. 

He let go of an exhale, “I was there when you found out about Teddy, I was there before that and then after. I saw the line of broken hearts you left in your wake, chasing this thrill you sought so hard to find, and all of the games you wanted to play.” 

He took my hand then and I just let him, thinking on his words, on how it must have seemed to someone else looking in from the outside. I knew I’d been a right mess after leaving home. 

In truth, I’d been a mess since the night of the accident, when my whole world had been flipped on its head, turning me into this scarred little kid. Leaving me not only alone, but wanting to chase after everything I felt I’d missed out on because of it the second that I’d gotten the chance. Which had meant finding friends and casual sex, bar hopping and clubbing for days on end, looking for the next best thing to simply entice or excite me.

Finn had been there.

He’d been there through most of it, if not it all. He had watched me jump from guy to guy, get my stomach pumped at the local A&E, not just once but three times. He’d been the one I had turned to in my lowest moments, when I’d felt dirtied, when I’d just wanted to cry, or to merely laugh. He was there.

I could understand what Matty had meant now. 

‘He looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.’

“I can still picture your face, you know.” Finn murmured, stare fixed on the tight hold I now had on his hand. “That night you turned up at mine after finding out that you were pregnant. You looked a fucking state, soaking wet from the rain and wearing only your pjs.” We shared a light chuckle that echoed before drifting off. “It broke me, to see you like that.”

“I know.” I whispered in a rasp, emotions clinging to the back of my throat.

Finn only smiled sadly. “But it worked out. Enough that you seemed happy enough with what you had. And I know that Teddy will always be enough fro you, but you deserve so much. You deserve to live and to love, to have that family you’ve always dreamed of.” I went to protest but he just shook his head, “I know it’s what you want, Mouse. You don’t have to say anything for me to notice the looks you give other parents in the park, or the kids who meet their mums and dads in the school playground. I can see how much you want that, and not just for Teds. But for you too.”

I swallowed thickly, feeling all too seen suddenly.

Finn squeezed my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze once more. I hadn’t even realised I had shied away. “Does he do that? Does he give you that hope?”

The inside of my cheek had practically been bitten raw these last few days, but it didn’t stop me from chewing on it again as I looked over at Finn with a watery stare. “I think so.”

With a slow, albeit fond, tilt of his head, Finn hauled an arm over my shoulder to crowd me into his side. The two of us huddled in close on his artsy sofa that would look so out of place anywhere else.

I smiled at the thought.

“If he means that much to you, then I’ll make up for what I did. What I said.” Finn reassured me, his voice quiet in the large expanse of his loft. I hadn’t actually expected it to go this way. “But I do want to know. I want to make sure that he knows that he’s not just getting you out of this, that Teddy isn’t a deal breaker here. That he’s grown enough to understand the implications and repercussions of his life and whatever the fuck goes on with it. That he is clean-”

I opened my mouth, guard jumping right back up. But Finn just tucked my head under his chin, hand gripping at my shoulder enough to keep me there with him.

“Sobriety is hard. I understand that. When it finally comes to light that he actually is with you, that means Teddy too, and it’ll be a fucking mess. I want to make sure that he won’t fuck up and throw it all away the second shit gets hard.”

Inhaling, I could only nod. I knew what he meant, it was something I had thought about an awful lot. Too much in fact, I’d worried enough over it that I was still so wary over whether or not to broach the topic with Matty himself. But I hoped, for the first time in a long while.

And that had to be enough for now.

–

Finn’s had been an emotional affair, but not a place I’d lingered too long after our initial apology. We both still needed some time to process and to lick over our wounds.

I’d been more than thankful for it though, it had been a real weight off of my shoulders in truth, because knowing that there was a chance to move on past it without having to pick and choose, or divide my time, was something I hadn’t really held out hope for.

I was a pessimist at heart.

But that being said, I’d been quite optimistic about Teddy’s few hours spent with Matty- alone. Which should’ve been daunting in retrospect, insane even, and had probably once been, but Matty had quickly come to prove himself not only to me, but to Teddy too. So although I’d been cautious, I hadn’t necessarily been quick to stamp out the idea. 

The last little excursion the pair had been on without me had gone down a treat, with Teddy having been tuckered out and fast asleep the second he’d gotten into bed, and Matty having bonded further with him somehow.

Then there had been the whole ‘I love you’ mess.

And God, if anyone would’ve told me that I’d have been the one to say it first I would have laughed in their face. Cackled loudly enough to be heard three streets over and on the very urge of wetting myself. But then exactly that had happened.

The words had been lingering in the corners of my mind for a few weeks before last night. Tittering, almost. Having started popping up around Christmas time, with the unannounced gift giving ceremony we’d shared and the incredible bond Matty seemed to have formed with my son. And had then settled in not long after that demo I’d received and the midnight visit where Matty had turned up at my doorstep in a downpour. 

I hadn’t loved.

Not really.

I’d loved people, friends and family. Sure.

But someone to keep? Someone that I could call mine?

No, that had never really felt like much of an option for me. And Matty… he’d sort of come out of nowhere, hadn’t he? This mess of a man, but so very wonderful in his own way. He had really crept up on me, and looking back it almost felt as though it was bound to happen. Us, I meant. It felt strange to imagine it any differently.

Messages now

I’m here! Come get me, it’s freezing!!

It didn’t take long before his telltale pop of curls emerged from the main entrance to the same studio I had found him perched outside of during the aftermath of the big mishap with Finn. It almost felt like coming full circle with our decision to have me meet the pair of them here after just having talked with Finn.

Matty’s grin was infectious as we moved to meet one another in a quiet hello, his arms catching themselves around my middle whilst I buried my face into the curve of his shoulder. 

He was warm, that was my first thought even as he pressed a chaste kiss to my head, enough so that I didn’t mind the fact that he kept me tucked up under his arm as he pulled away to lead us back inside the building.

“You get here okay?” Matty asked me once the door had rattled shut behind us, his voice travelling in the sparse lobby like area I’d yet to get acquainted with.

Humming, I answered his question with a nod, “Yeah, walked most of it, Finn had a client call out of the blue.”

Matty’s cheeks hollowed a tad but he hummed too before tilting his head over to the right, we started to walk that way. “It go alright then?”

I let go of a heavy breath, eyes surveying every inch of the studio as we wandered further inside, “As well as it could have, I ’spose. It’ll take time, I reckon, though he wants to make it up to you, too.”

Matty appeared to blink at that, the words seemed to have caught him by surprise, but he didn’t falter in his wandering, leading me down a narrow walkway.

“Are you up for that?” I pushed.

He wet his lower lip in thought, dipping his head at a maintenance worker who passed us by before looking back at me. “Told you, I’d give him a little leeway. But I wanna know more about what you spoke about first. If that’s alright with you.”

I was nodding away before he could even tack that last bit on, “Of course, I wouldn’t think not to, in truth.”

I was gifted a sweet smile and quick peck to the cheek before Matty paused, his hand catching on the handle to a heavy door. Soundlessly we slipped past it, Matty closing it slowly behind us to stop it from banging against its hinges and alerting the rest of the room’s occupants to our sudden arrival. Not that it would’ve been all that easy a task, what with the noise that consumed you the second you entered.

Matty smirked at the look that must’ve crossed my face at the sound before he held a finger to his lips, signalling me to keep quiet. I rolled my eyes but took the hand he held out towards me, the two of us creeping over to the corner that gave way to the real chaos that greeted us beyond.

First thing I took notice of was the loudmouth four year old who had seemingly taken charge of the band’s rehearsal, a sight which had me biting my lip to muffle my sudden hysteria. 

George was seated by a stretched desk full of slides and buttons, elbows rested on the tops of his thighs whilst he listened animatedly to Teddy’s thoughts on whatever he had Ross and Hann tinkering about with. 

The latter two were just holding onto their instruments, Ross stood with his bass and nodding along to what strings Teddy pointed at, whilst Hann was told to ‘look happier’. Something Matty had immediately snorted at, endlessly amused by Adam being told to liven up by a kid who’d only been out of nappies for a little over a year and a half.

The snort seemed to catch George’s attention though because his head shot over at the sound, which in turn forced the rest of the room to follow.

I heard Teddy’s gasp before he came bounding over, wearing a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than my monthly rent. 

“Alright, lovie?” I laughed, swiping up an excited Teddy before he could barrel straight into my legs. “You been having a good time?”

Teddy’s enthusiastic nod was enough to assure me of that but then Ross spoke up, “Should hope so, been hounding me to get this bassline right for ages, ain't you, mate?” He smiled at the giant grin he received in turn before nodding over towards me, “He’s got a proper good ear though. Should get him into it soon, especially if he likes it.”

Blinking, I could only look back down at Teddy, who was now informing Matty on everything he’d missed out on in the sparse moments he’d been gone in a tangent like ramble. 

George sniffed as he made to walk on over to us which forced me to glance up again. Hann had started to take off his guitar strap whilst Ross went back to fiddling with his strings once more. Seeingly wanting to get whatever he was working on down before he had to leave for the day.

“He’s a good kid.” George commented to me, watching on as Teddy reached out to be taken by Matty, the man not even second guessing the motion of catching the boy under his arms and settling him on his hip. “And Ross ain’t wrong either. He seemed to really enjoy himself, had him messing about with the console for a bit and Matty even got him to play a couple chords on the guitar for us.” He chuckled lowly, a soft sort of smile breaking up his typically stoic features.

“Hope he wasn’t too much for you guys, Matty reckoned you’d all be alright with him tagging along but I didn’t even think to double check.” I mentioned, eyes caught on the way Teddy was now so enthralled by the story he was telling both Matty and Hann, arms stretched out wide as he exaggerated something or other.

George was shaking his head when I glanced back at him, “It was nice. Having him here, but seeing Matt with him too.” George’s mouth thinned when he lifted a hand to tug on his ear, “I didn’t think he could be like that. It’s strange, him letting someone else hog the limelight whilst he’s sat on the outskirts.”

We both shared a fond chuckle, because I could see what he meant but also, “He’s taken to Teddy better than I expected, really. It’s something I’m most thankful for, as well as the fact that Teddy seems to really like him too.”

My smile was warm, I could tell, and when George caught a glimpse of it I got to watch him almost mimic the gesture, as though he was thankful for it all too.

“You’re good for him.”

My breath caught a little at that, but I kept on smiling as I peered over at Teddy and Matty who were giggling between themselves whilst Hann, and now Ross, had seemingly taken to shaking their heads at the pair in indulging amusement.

“He’s good for me.”

…

The walk home from the studio had been spent hand in hand. The three of us just padding along the narrowing pavement, Matty more often than not trailing alongside the curb so that we could keep it up.

Teddy seemed to enjoy it though, even more so when Matty and I had started up a game with him, lifting him up off his feet so that he could swing back and forth in midair for a few brief moments.

By the time we’d made it home we were all just content to find something to eat and curl up in front of the tele, me listening to Teddy tell me all about his day with Matty whilst Matty pulled my feet into his lap.

He put Teddy to bed not long after, upon the boy’s sleepy request, and had returned about fifteen minutes later, having read a story and bundled Teddy up under his duvet covers. It had been then that I’d gotten to tell Matty more about the conversation I’d had with Finn, rehashing his words and even delving a little deeper into my past with him.

“How long have you known him again?” Matty asked me, thumb trailing back and forth over the jut of my knee whilst the tv played on low.

“Only since the first year of uni.”

Matty appeared quite surprised by that, he said so too. “Seems like longer.” I grinned tiredly at his musings, eyes squinting with it as I leant further into his side.

“It does a lot of the time, but sometimes it doesn't. Wasn’t lucky enough to have been gifted a group of bandits and made to start a band.” I teased, not unkindly, appreciating the way his hand travelled up to run his fingers through my hair. I peered up at him, “They’re all so lovely, you know.”

He answered me with an airy titter, the sound soft enough not to echo out of the living room and down the hall to where Teddy slept, “You’ve never been on tour with them, sweetheart.”

I laughed then too. “Maybe, but Teddy likes them. And I like them too.”

“I’m glad.” Matty whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. When he pulled away, I moved to capture his hand in my own. “You have anyone like that?”

I shook my head minutely, not wanting him to disturb his position, “No, wasn’t in school long enough to make any lasting friendships and then I guess when you reach a certain age it always feels a little harder.”

A quiet swept over us then and I took the time to simply admire the few tattoos Matty's forearms held; the passport number, the box, the postcode on his inner elbow.

“Was that because of what happened?”

His voice was cautious, which was unusual for Matty and more than likely the cause which had me peering up at him, rather than his ask that had gone and broken our peaceful bout of silence. 

My nose wrinkled, “What, with my scars?”

Matty gave a soft hum of assent, watching me from under a careful gaze, obviously anxious not to overstep or force my hand on the matter. I smiled at his care and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it shook me a lot. I mean, I spent weeks in hospital and then after that, I was on strict bed rest whilst at home.” I explained to him, fingertips trailing over the faint grooves in his palm. “I was homeschooled for a long time too and when I did finally go back, well most of my class didn’t much care for me beyond the horror story they’d been told. It grew old quickly enough though, but even so it was hard to connect with people beyond the basic level.”

Matty’s thumb had begun to trail over the skin of my wrist, settling once or twice on my pulse point before going back to stroking again. “What did happen? I mean, only if you’re alright with saying anything about it, I know sometimes shit can still be hard.”

I breathed out an airy chuckle, turning my head to hide my enamoured smile in the wrinkle of his jumper. “I don’t mind. I don’t like mentioning it with strangers much, which is why it’s not really public knowledge unless you go digging. But it was a car accident.”

I felt Matty tense beneath me but his touch didn’t stray, only became that bit bolder, the hand in my hair coaxing me to glance up at him so that he could kiss me sweetly, nose nudging at the curve of my cheek before withdrawing. I hummed happily.

“My dad was with the local police. High up, but a drinker. Only started though after this one case, and then it spiralled. My mam worked night shifts sometimes at the hospital, which was a good way away from where we lived, so it would just be him and me until she got home.” 

I took a breath, realising it had been quite sometime since I’d actually spoken about the crash, or even thought of it really. The scars were a constant reminder, yes, but the crash itself was something that had occurred almost two decades ago now, so I’d had time to sort of come to terms with it. As much as I could. 

Not to say that it still didn’t wear at me, it had been a big event in my life, changed things in more ways than one. Because it had also been the spark which had sent my dad packing.

“It’d been raining that night, I remember ‘cause the water had been leaking in from under the backdoor. My dad had sworn up a fucking storm when he’d noticed it but could only really stick a couple towels down, claiming that he’d fix it on his next day off.” 

A light chuckle escaped me at the vivid memory my mind made up, his tall figure, the odd phrasings he would use, but nothing of real substance. I couldn’t quite recall his face, or the depth of his voice, seeing as I hadn’t looked over old videos or photos we had since I’d visited mum back home.

“It had been a bad storm, had the tides reaching the cliff peaks if I remember rightly. Which meant that the hospital had started to flood, at least the north ward where mam had worked.” I continued, enjoying the delicate caress of Matty’s thumb as it trailed up my arm, “She’d been sent home after they’d managed to move most of the patients on the ground floor westward, but her car broke down about a mile out.”

I could hear the call even now, the sound of my dad’s heavy footsteps when he’d come to wrap me up in a coat, murmuring that we had to go and pick her up.

“The winds picked up, I guess. Dad didn’t have a car seat, that was what we used mam’s car for. So he just sat me in the front seat before setting off.” 

Matty’s touch faltered slightly, probably having suspected where I was headed with this before it picked up once again. “The rain was relentless and we weren’t too far from the shore so it almost felt as though it was just thick sludge falling from the sky. It was hard to see past the first metre or so.”

I swallowed, noting how the light from the tv screen stretched out across the floor and flickered each time a scene changed. 

“Our town wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to warrant a couple T-junctions and the odd roundabout. There was a fourway, just up past the old baptist church, a road mostly used for when you were coming off the main motorway or headed out towards the airport. Dad had been drinking, you could smell it on him some days, but at night it was always stronger. He blew through it, the traffic light teetering on amber before it finally turned red.”

Staring blankly out across the living room, I could almost picture it. The downpour which had clouded the windscreen, the old dash of my dad’s car, the familiar scent of his preferred brand of tobacco.

I licked at my lower lip, mouth suddenly dry. “A van had been crossing. On the passenger side.” I added quietly, appreciating the grip of Matty’s hand as I carried on, “All I really remember after that are headlights and the blare of a horn. Woke up a couple days later, having missed my seventh birthday and my dad nowhere to be seen.”

I huffed a small chuckle, reaching up to rub at my eyes before turning to face Matty. I wasn’t quite prepared for the wet gaze I’d been met with or the single tear that had seemingly escaped and come to a pause on the bridge of his upper lip.

I lifted a hand up to wipe it away, smiling when he kissed the pad of my thumb.

“You’re incredible, you know that.”

I’d been called many things, but I don’t think incredible was one of them.

I leaned in to kiss him, wanting nothing more than the feel of having him close, even if that meant tasting the salt of his tears or enduring that careful way he held my face. It was everything I had needed then.

–

After the little moment I had shared with Matty the previous night, I’d gone to bed feeling a little more drained that usual, but I’d put it down to the exhausting day I’d had and the fact that Matty’d had to head home so that he could do a skype interview early the next morning.

I’d almost been tempted to say that he could do it here in the flat, but with Teddy you could never tell when the kid would be coming or going, so it was safer for Matty to stick to his typical routine.

But I’d woken up all sniffly and foggy headed the next morning. The pounding at the base of my skull had forced me up out of bed in search of painkillers, as well as the fact that it had just gone ten, which meant that Teds was already up and mulling about.

I took a couple of nurofen I had tucked away in the medicine cupboard with a glass of water and figured I’d be better getting a move on with my day than heading back to bed. I knew that Matty would be popping round sooner or later too, so I attempted to sort through a load of washing that desperately needed to be done as well as tidy away the mess we’d created last night.

Teddy had helped himself to a banana from the fruit bowl at some point but was already asking for breakfast by the time I’d stuck the washing machine on- unaware of how close to crying I’d been after I’d gone and dropped a wad of detergent on the floor.

Even so, I’d set to start on a pot of porridge, knowing he would enjoy it with either some jam or spread, but I was surprised when I heard the front door rattle shut not long later, having not heard a knock nor Teddy answer it. I went to scold him, frowning at the fact that he thought he could just answer the door to anyone when Matty appeared with a few Tesco bags in hand.

“I knocked on the window, so he saw me before he let me in,” Matty was quick to rush out, grinning down at Teddy who had since spotted his breakfast and made a dive for it. “Figured I’d grab some stuff before stopping in, knew you mentioned feeling crap last night before I left so..”

He shrugged, moving over towards the kitchen before I could even think up a reply, a little bewildered by the fact that anyone would have the foresight, let alone the sincerity to do something like this for me.

“Matty.” I breathed out, so utterly warmed by the gesture as I followed after him, “You didn’t have to.”

Matty rolled his eyes at me, settling the bags down on the counter, “Shut up, you idiot. Just let me feel like an adult for once, yeah?”

I laughed, unable to help myself, even as he gestured for me to take a seat at the table, claiming I looked a little warm and confirming it when he pressed his hand to my rosy cheeks. 

“Do you ever stop?” He questioned around an exasperated smile, settling some basic cold medicines down as well as a few sweet treats. “Washing machine’s already going, the kid’s been fed, floor seems to have been swept too. How’ve you not dropped?”

I rolled my eyes at his ever growing eccentrics, though was still wearing a rather pleased smile. It was nice, I deemed, having someone look after me for once.

“I can’t stop, babe, got things to do, a tiny person to look after!”

Matty just shook his head at that, obviously not too happy with my retort, “Guess we’re just gonna have a lazy day then, yeah? Got snacks, popcorn even. Reckon Teds will enjoy it. I can even take him out to the park for a bit, just to let him run off some of that energy.”

I blinked at the maddening man stood before me. Wondering what I’d done to deserve all of the things he'd done for me. And without having even been asked.

“Haven’t you got stuff to do?” I queried, content to simply watch him unpack the shopping he’d bought.

Matty shrugged a single shoulder, wrapping up a carrier bag and tucking it into the stash I kept hidden beneath the sink. “Nothing important.”

“The interview went alright then?”

He hummed, putting a couple tins of soup away in a cupboard just above his head. “Yeah, fine. Hann did it with me, other guy was in Paris or some other, I think. Definitely French though.” His phone sounded then, but it seemed he’d left it in the pocket of his jacket which he’d gone and thrown over the back of a chair upon walking in. “Look at that for me, would you?” He asked, peering down at a carton of something or other, probably pondering over whether or not it went in the fridge.

I was only a little surprised by his request, but did so anyway, trying to find the phone in one of his many deep pockets. “Definitely French?” I prompted, smirking smugly over at him before my fingers finally found the device. “You sound so certain, Healy. Almost as though you’ve been taking notes on the French dialect, or something like it.”

Chuckling to himself, Matty flashed me a big smile from over his shoulder before turning away with a wink. “The French are fit, baby.”

I laughed lightly with a halfhearted shake of my head, then peered down at his phone, “Password?”

“0709.” He told me, and so with a slight pinch in odd wonderment I typed it in.

“Why that?” I couldn’t help but ask, only glancing up again when I heard the shuffle of his feet. I raised a single eyebrow. “What, is it like the death of your guinea pig or something?”

Matty’s face pitched itself into a hearty grimace that made me cackle. “My guinea pig? Who the fuck owns a guinea pig?” He shook his head at me, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and instead said, “It’s the date we met.”

My eyes widened considerably. “Actually?”

With a light huff, he turned back to putting things away, “Thing gets lost or nicked more times than not, so I’m always changing my passwords. Figured I’d remember that one.”

“Matty!” I all but awed, honestly feeling the love. “You can be such a sap sometimes, you know that. The day we met!”

I received a glare in retort but I simply laughed at him before turning to look down at the message he’d just received. My forehead furrowed.

“You said you had nothing going on today!” I was quick to accuse, eyes flashing up to meet his somewhat startled face, “George’s party is tonight!”

Matty’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ before he merely shrugged, “G will get over it if I can’t make it. You need me here more, and besides, his birthday isn't even for a couple more days. They’re only throwin’ it tonight so that most people can make it.”

I looked heavenwards, hoping that the second pause would give me a little bit of strength. Did it fuck. “Matty, you’re not staying here with us when George, your best mate might I add, is out celebrating his birthday! He’ll want you there.”

“Squeaks, you’re sick. He’ll underst-”

I shook my head, “No, you’re going. I’ve got a little cold, nothing that’s gonna kill me. What will kill me though is you not going to be with G on his special day.”

Matty narrowed his eyes a tad, “Don’t guilt trip me.”

My next bout of laughter couldn’t be helped. “I’m not!”

With a scoff, Matty turned to put the carton he’d held in the side door of the fridge, shaking his head as though I was the one being outlandish. “It’s fine, alright?” He said once he’d spun back around, “I’d much prefer being here anyway.”

My head dropped to the side as I looked up at him, “Babe, please go. It would honestly mean a lot to me, but even more so to George. You know, who’s birthday it is. Go on. Please?”

Matty sighed and ended up dropping himself into the opposing chair, I slid his phone on over to him. “What about you though, and Teddy?” He asked and it was sweet, how much he cared. 

“We’ll be fine.” I assured him, reaching out to take his hand, “The party isn’t til later anyway, so how about we stick with your lazy day idea and then when you need to start heading out, I can just pop Teds in the bath and get him ready for bed.” When Matty still didn’t seem too keen on the idea, I squeezed his hand a tad and added, “You can even head back here after if you want.”

He perked up at that, but was still a little resistant to the whole idea of leaving.

“I promise we’ll be fine, love.”

And oh, did I wish that had been the truth.

#the 1975 #fic #matty healy #angst #radio host #reader #x reader #x you #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 band #adam hann #fluff #humour #smut #matty healy fic #matty 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy x you #ao3 #fame #strangers to lovers #mum reader #kid fic #getting together #SLOWBURN #mutual pining #Warnings #aipoban

[princesssarisa]

Since A Dickens December just recently covered the scene in A Christmas Carol, where Fred and his guests play Yes and No, I've found myself comparing the book scene to its equivalent in The Muppet Christmas Carol. In the book, the humor at Scrooge's expense is balanced by Fred expressing his compassion for Scrooge, who, as he watches invisibly, takes the joking in stride and ends the scene in a happy mood. But in the Muppet movie, Fred's compassionate speeches about Scrooge are cut, leaving only the insulting humor (which is reworded too – instead of "rather disagreeable" and "a savage animal," Scrooge hears himself called "an unwanted creature") and Scrooge is hurt when he hears it.

During last year's Dickens December, I seem to remember some criticism of the Muppets' version of the scene, since it alters the scene's entire meaning and does a disservice to Fred's character. That's a valid critique.

But I want to try to analyze what makes it work within the movie.

Not only is the scene rewritten in the Muppet version, it's also placed before the visit to the Cratchit family rather than after. The order of the entire Ghost of Christmas Present sequence seems to be altered in the movie to create a "rising line of tension." (A quote from Robert Wise about the re-ordering of songs in the 1961 film of West Side Story compared to the stage version.)

Both versions of Scrooge's travels with the Ghost of Christmas Present open with the Ghost showing him the happy hustle and bustle in the streets on Christmas morning. Then, in the book, they visit the Cratchits: a happy scene in general, but increasingly bittersweet with the evidence of the family's poverty and with Tiny Tim's illness, and increasingly grim for Scrooge, first with the Ghost's foretelling of Tim's death and throwing Scrooge's own callous words about the "surplus population" back at him, and then with Mrs. Cratchit's disgust and the children's gloom when Bob proposes a toast to him. But after this comes a moody yet uplifting sequence where the Ghost takes Scrooge to various harsh, gloomy places – a miners' hut, a lighthouse, a ship at sea – where nonetheless, Christmas brings people joy. And then comes the joyful scene at Fred's party, where Fred laughs and jokes about Scrooge, but at the same time reveals his compassion for his uncle and makes it clear that his door is always open to him. Throughout these visits, Scrooge's emotional engagement steadily increases, culminating in his being swept up in the joy of Fred's party, forgetting that no one can see or hear him and joining in the games, and ending the visit "gay and light of heart."

The Muppet version changes the order of events to create a steadier line from joyful to poignant. The bustling street sequence is accompanied by the song "It Feels Like Christmas" (one of the best Christmas movie songs of all time). In a less moody and more lighthearted, Muppety way than Dickens, the song also encompasses the theme of "Christmas brings joy to even the poorest and harshest places" (e.g. to the poor mouse family, and to the prisoner and the jailor who act like friends for the day). Throughout the song, Scrooge slowly becomes engaged, and finally, awkwardly yet joyfully dances along with the Ghost.

Afterwards, swept up in the newly-discovered joy of Christmas, Scrooge asks to see family, so the Ghost accordingly takes him to his only family, Fred. Scrooge enters the scene still on an emotional high from the last one, unironically calling Fred his "dear nephew" and happily joining in the game while forgetting that he's invisible. But then, like a punch or a kick, he hears himself called "an unwanted creature," and sees everyone laughing at his expense. At this point the book's Scrooge has already been reminded of how others feel about him by Mrs. Cratchit, and worse, he's already had to face the fact that Tiny Tim might die because of his callousness. This, combined with Fred's compassionate talk, lets him take the mocking in stride; it's mild compared to what he's heard and realized about himself already. But for Michael Caine's Scrooge, it's a startling and brutal reminder of how he's alienated himself from others, just as he's been realizing how much joy friendship and family can bring.

Then the film's version of the Christmas Present sequence culminates with the bittersweet Cratchit family Christmas, and with Scrooge's realization that Tiny Tim might die because of him.

I understand feeling as if the Muppet version does Fred a disservice by cutting his compassionate speeches in the party scene. But his goodwill and eagerness to reach out to Scrooge are still conveyed in his visit to Scrooge's office at the beginning, and including his compassionate speeches might have broken the line of tension described above.

"Rising lines of tension" seem to be generally considered more important in film than they are in books. Notice how most adaptations of A Christmas Carol, including the Muppet version, slightly change Scrooge's emotional journey in the Christmas Past scenes too. In the book's Past sequence, his biggest emotional breakdown is over his childhood – he breaks down crying at the sight of his younger self all alone at Christmas in the miserable school. But the film versions always break him more slowly; he shows restrained sadness when he sees his lonely child self, but doesn't break down in tears until a later point, usually when Belle leaves.

Another comment is I'd like to make is that in The Muppet Christmas Carol, Scrooge's character arc is framed around his loneliness, his realization that he wants love in his life (both to give it and receive it), and his ultimate desolation at how alone and unloved he is because of his own greed and cruelty. Followed, of course, by joy as he finally gives love to others and receives it in return. I'm not sure if this is exactly Scrooge's arc in the book, but onscreen it works.

Analyzing the changes in adaptations, and determining why they work onscreen or onstage (though without trying to claim that they're improvements) is something I could do for hours. Someday I might want to write a whole essay about how, in the musical of Les Misérables, "A Little Fall of Rain" is arguably the most poignant death scene in the show and one of the most moving deaths in any Broadway-style musical – even though some people validly argue that it's much too romanticized and sentimental compared to Éponine's death in the novel, and that it dilutes her tragedy by having Marius grieve for her instead of just coldly pitying her. While of course it's always nice to see a meticulously faithful adaptation of a book, sometimes certain changes do work well.

#a christmas carol #the muppet christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #fred #adaptations #analysis

[its-vannah]

Daisy Jones & The Six Masterlist

Graham Dunne

Along for the Ride (request)

The groupie scene was a defining movement of the 70's—and a monumental part of Graham's life (interview format)

Moving Forward (request)

After Graham discovers your self destructive habits, he offers you help—but you can't take him up on it (different perspective/format of "Along for the ride")

A Toast to the Bride and Groom

During your wedding reception, you're touched by the things the band has to say.

Another Love (request)

You've loved Graham Dunne for your whole life—but you come to find out that not all love is requited.

Angel of my Eyes (request)

After finding out that you're the inspiration for Graham's song, you decide to give him a chance.

Eddie Roundtree

Relationship Headcannons/Timeline

A timeline from when you met Eddie down to the two of you growing old together

Girl, Put Your Records On

After meeting Eddie through your dad, the two of you begin a whirlwind romance, full of highs and lows

Another Love: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

After Graham breaks your heart, you find yourselves in the arms of his bandmate, Eddie Roundtree.

Surprise

After a concert ends with a fueding Eddie and Billy, you manage to calm him down.

Last Forever (request)

You and Eddie finally reveal your true feelings for each other—after five years of pining.

Marriage Headcannons (request)

A list of headcannons about being married to everybody's favorite bassist

Warren Rojas

Relationship Headcannons/Timeline

A timeline of when you and Warren met down to the two of you growing old together

Rojas

Warren leaves for LA with one promise: that he'll come back for you—and he means every word.

West Coast (request)

You've made a name for yourself in LA; your main goal to support young plus-sized girls like yourself. During an interview, you meet another up and coming band.

Jealousy, Jealousy (request)

After Warren witnesses you filming an intimate scene with your costar on set, you realize just how jealous he is—and how much he loves you

Perfect (request)

When you come down with a cold, Warren does his best to take care of you.

The Alternative (request)

During The Dunne's Houseparty, you and Warren get high and talk about life.

#daisy jones #daisy jones and the six fanfic #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #djats #dj&ts #amazon prime #graham dunne #grahamdunne #graham dunne x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #eddieroundtree #eddieloving #warren rhodes #warren rojas #warrenrhodes #warrenrojas #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas x reader #taylor jenkins reid

[veryberryjelly]

Karaoke time: tis the damn season, remus lupin

remus lupin x fem!reader

tis the damn season - taylor swift ( i love this song so much, stop- )

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝟏𝐊 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

coming home during summer break was definitely not your favourite time of the year. you much preferred to stay up at university but you hadn't been home since christmas and you were only supposed to spend a few weeks there before going away with your friends.

you were certain that your mum had informed her friends of your return home, which in turn informed the entire town.

you were from a small town of gossips. everyone knew everyone and knew everything about everyone.

sometimes you just wanted to do something without the entire town knowing about it.

but you had never been granted that courtesy.

it got a million times worse when you started dating.

you learnt very quickly it was impossible to date in that town so you settled for only meeting people at university.

though that failed miserably.

until one christmas break during your second year at uni, you had met remus. a boy your age who had gone to a boarding school, which was why you never met him until he went off to uni and started going home for the holidays.

you had spent a lot of nights together during that winter break.

it was something amazing, but only for a few weeks. and you both knew and accepted that.

that didnt make it any easier to leave for uni every break.

but you relished the time you spent together.

you knew he was home for the summer, and while you hadn't made any plans, you both knew you were going to spend a lot of time together.

you spent your first day at home with your parents, but the next morning you met up with remus at a cafe in the centre of town.

the moment he walked through the door you were up out of your seat and it was as though you had never left eachother.

your day was spent wandering around town, more often than not with a coffee in your hand, catching up on what had been going on over the last 6 months.

you didnt talk much when you were both at school. the occasional message about when you would be coming back home, but not much information was exchanged.

you learnt that remus was currently at the top of his class, which earned him a muffin from you.

and when you told him you had been accepted for a job when you got out of school, he bought you a toasted sandwich.

you were shocked you didnt run out of things to say to him, but you didnt, eventually ending up back at his house while his parents went to a movie.

it was no surprise that you ended up making out on the sofa while a movie played on the tv.

the film had been bought with the full intention of watching it, but when you sat curled up in remus' side, he couldn't resist.

" i missed you " he whispered between touches of your lips

three simple words which sent alarm bells through your body, causing you to pull away from him.

you missed him too.

but you thought it was mutually agreed that you never talked about the prospect of seeing eachother more.

that you enjoyed the time you had and never spoke about it.

" i don't know what you expect me to say..."

" i mean, i kind of hoped you would say you missed me too "

" what are you doing, rem ? you know this would never work with us. "

" why not ? " he countered, growing slightly more passionate about the subject. " people make this work all the time. i could come visit you at school, we could meet half way...i just- i can't find anyone that makes me feel as.. alive as you do "

his words caused a burning to grow behind your eyes, which you tried to hide by ducking your head to avoid his gaze.

but he wasnt having it.

he lifted his hand to tilt your head up with his thumb and forefinger, delicately wiping away the tears from your cheek.

" why dont you want this ? " he questioned again, his voice soft.

" because i dont want to make you miserable. " you started, unable to stop the free flow of tears down your cheeks.

" i can't keep people close to me without ruining them. it's why i dont come home, it's why i dont have any friends at uni. its why i look forward to seeing you so much because i know i dont have enough time to ruin you. you are the only perfect thing in my life and i dont want to lose that " you rambled.

remus said nothing, instead choosing to wrap his strong arms around you and pull you close to his chest.

that broke you completely.

you let a damn break and the only thing holding you together was remus' arms wrapped tightly around you.

So we could call it even You could call me babe for the weekend 'Tis the damn season, write this down I'm stayin' at my parents' house And the road not taken looks real good now And it always leads to you in my hometown

#༊*·˚𝐣𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜 #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 #remus lupin #remus lupin fanart #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #james potter #sirius black #marauders roleplay #marauders map #marauders fic #marauders fandom #marauders headcanon #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders rp

[thatsdemko]

you are in love - m.schumacher

masterlist

t-swift inspired works list

requested: n

pairings: mick schumacher x reader

summary: the ways in which you and mick both know you are in love

warnings: fluff + one swear word

a/n: feedback is always appreciated xx

No proof, one touch

But you felt enough

in the silence.

when he’s sipping his cup of coffee in the morning, the burnt toast he’s crunching on while watching the news flicker across his screen. you’re in the kitchen, coffee brewing and eggs burning. there’s nothing more that he loves than the sounds of you moving across the room, he knows your foot pattern better than he knows his fathers favorite song.

he allows his semi heavy eyelids to close, listening to you hum along to a song that’s been stuck in your head since last night. you’re swiftly moving across the kitchen trying to plate your eggs and pour your coffee, it’s chaotic but mick loves the sound of it. the presence of you in his space.

he is in love.

on the way home.

his hand grips your thigh, while the other grips the steering wheel, his thumb gently swipes up and down your inner thigh, goosebumps dance your body. he has a way with his hands to make you feel good.

your hair whips in the wind the speed of the car is creating, little bits of it whips his head but he doesn’t mind. he loves watching your hair fly into your face, giggles and gasps escaping each time it interrupts you.

he’s not the only one enjoying the ride, you could watch him drive for hours. the way his eyes focus on the road, hand moving up and down your skin, there’s something about this that just makes you lick your lips and want to reach across the center console and take him. driving is not only his life, but a passion, and even in a car that’s not made to whip around at the speeds he does, it’s even more attractive to you. the sight of him, is everything.

dinner was perfect, but this? the way home? it’s even more of a thrill.

you are in love.

with the lights out.

it’s been a long day of travel back from Australia. he’s exhausted from his fucked up sleep schedule, the never ending race, and most importantly his lack of sleep.

ever since you silently moved into his space, he can’t sleep without your body next to him. how you’d curl up beside him, head resting against his bicep, arms clinging to any piece of skin of his. it used to bother him, how close you want to be, but now he can’t sleep without your body heat.

he’s careful to not wake you up, setting his bags by the door, he promises to get back to them but right now? the bed that you’re in is calling his name. he carefully placed his shoes at the door and tip toes his way into the bedroom, door half cracked waiting for him. he’s gentle pushing it open, afraid it’ll creek and jolt you awake, it’s the last thing he wants, but when he’s finally in the clear inside he begins to strip his clothes from his body.

he can make out your shape, you’re clinging to one of his shirts, your head against the edge of his pillow. this is the only way you can sleep when he’s gone. something of his and his pillow, he thinks it’s adorable, that you as well and can’t go without him.

he climbs in and you feel the weight of the bed dip indicating he’s home. a smile grows on your face as you begin to move closer until you’re met with his skin. you press your lips against whatever body part it is, you’re just happy it’s beside you. he smiles feeling the butterflies erupt in his stomach, how silly is it that a simple act of your head against his bicep makes him fall in love? he doesn’t understand.

“you’re home.” you whisper, voice groggy and cracked, he shushes you back to sleep as he sinks further into the bed, bodies intertwining with one another.

you are in love, true love.

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher drabble #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fluff #mercedes amg f1 #f1 driver x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 #f1 driver x you #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x you

[nycbabyjoey]

Escape From Silly Times Daycare - PROLOGUE

NSFW 18+ Only

Sunlight peeked in through the cracks in the blinds as the alarm on Michael's iPhone started to chirp. Michael struggled to crack open his eyes as he threw his large, weighted comforter from off of his body. He slumped his hand over and hit the phone to stop the incessant noise. His phone showed the same time it always did: 6:30 a.m. This was the start to Michael's day... every day.

Michael turned his eyes over to the other end of the bed to his wife, Phoebe, who was thankfully still sound asleep. Phoebe didn't work and Michael's habit of making noise early in the morning (i.e. getting ready for work) made it so he had to endure an earful from his cranky wife in addition to his early routine. So, as he slipped out from under the sheets, he made sure to do so without making a peep.

He quietly made his way over to his walk-in closet and slowly slid the door open. Rows of repeating articles of clothing were on either side - one shelf of khakis, one closet rod of grey suits. The only articles which offered a more colorful variety were Michael's button down shirts, which alternated between white or blue, and an assortment of ties to match with his outfit. The most standout tie was one covered in a pattern of dollar bills, which Phoebe had gifted him ironically enough with his own money to celebrate his first day at his new job three years ago. It was a novelty tie; obviously, he couldn't wear it to work but that didn't stop Phoebe from ranting at him that he didn't appreciate her gifts.

First, Michael stripped out of his sleeping outfit, including his dirty boxers, partially stained with the remnants of an especially exciting dream he had had last night. He chucked them into an ever-growing pile of his dirty underwear that was mounting in the laundry basket. These dreams were hazardous to the load of laundry, but they were pretty consistent since Phoebe had expressed her disinterest in having sex regularly.

Michael groggily changed into his typical outfit - white button down shirt with the top collar buttoned with a grey suit and a striped tie. After changing, he slid the closet door behind him, wincing in fear as Phoebe stirred at the sound of the door squeaking. With the door completely shut, he sighed a quiet sigh of relief, happy that he hadn't woken his wife up at the last possible moment.

Safely in the kitchen, Michael's breathing returned to an audible norm now that he was blissfully alone for the only time of his entire day. For thirty minutes, he was able to sip his coffee, eat his toast, and work on a few clues from Sunday's crossword without anyone interjecting and telling him what to do. Once the thirty minutes were up, he had to begin his drive to the office, which added to his alone time but was not nearly as relaxing as his morning coffee due to the overwhelming amount of traffic. It was a long commute into the city, which is why his alarm was set so early in the morning. He dreaded it; nonetheless, he grabbed his keys and braced for the flood of cars.

As the chorus of horns on the interstate surrounded him, Michael gripped his steering wheel and took a long, deep breath. Car horns were always the background noise to his yacht rock radio station, but Michael hadn't been able to come to terms with their daily occurrence; in fact, they only became more irritating with every commute. Michael turned up the current song, trying to drown out the roar of never-moving traffic.

"Arthur, he does as he pleases All of his life, his master's toys Deep in his heart, he's just, he's just a boy Living his life one day at a time And showing himself a pretty good time Laughing about the way they want him to be"

The verse echoed in Michael's head until he was jolted back to reality by a shout, "Mike!"

Michael was sat at his cubicle in the office with his computer monitor turned on and his email opened to several unread messages. He must've gotten lost in his routine, mindlessly parking his car, making his way up the elevator, and setting up his work area as if he were on autopilot. As if he were a zombie.

The shout came from his coworker Jim, who was sat partially on the edge of Michael's desk but with both feet on the ground. He held up a folder of forms. Michael hated Jim for always showing him up at work and brownnosing the boss. Jim had the charisma that Michael lacked but made up for in actual work.

"Morning Jim," Michael managed. "How's your day so far?"

"Not bad, not bad," Jim responded. "Just had a meeting with Mr. Boss Man. Seems like they're going to announce who's getting the big assistant manager promotion later today."

Michael had his eyes set on that promotion since the former assistant manager left the position. He was a shoo-in, after all. He had the most sales of any of the agents, was always on time, and even stayed late most days. He didn't want to seem too excited in front of Jim since that was the sort of thing that would earn him some ribbing from his coworker, so he played it cool.

"Oh yeah?" Michael inquired, continuing the conversation. "You have any idea of who's going to get it?"

Jim looked around the office, raising his eyebrows as a sly grin grew on his face. "Well... it's me!" he announced. "That's why I just had that meeting. Oh gosh, I'm supposed to keep quiet about it, but I just can't keep my big mouth shut!"

Michael's heart sank. Of course Jim had schmoozed his way into the big promotion. Why would Michael even bother getting his hopes up? Jim must've noticed Michael's reaction because he immediately took the opportunity to dig the knife in deeper.

"Hey, keep your head up," he feignedly encouraged. "There'll be other promotions. Now that I'm your supervisor, I can always put in a good word." Michael had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes and groaning. "Speaking of being your supervisor," Jim continued. "I have some sheets I need filled out before EOD that I won't be able to get to because I have a lunch thing with a client. If I send you a link with those sheets, would you be able to handle those for me?"

"Actually, I..." Michael began to protest.

"Perfect!" Jim celebrated. "That'll be such a big help! You are such a team player!" He then opened his manila folder and placed one of the forms in front of Michael. "Also, before I go, could you sign and date at the bottom there?"

Michael began to look over the form. "It's just performance review stuff," Jim clarified. "All very standard."

That was enough for Michael to sign - if it would get Jim to leave him alone faster.

Jim took the form back and thanked Michael before leaving him to get to those Google sheets that needed to be completed. Michael opened Jim's link to a folder with a dozen sheets, each with hundreds of rows that needed to be math-checked and approved. He groaned, mentally rescheduling all the tasks he had planned to work on today. These sheets would take him all day.

And so they did. As Michael diligently did the math for each row and verified the result, he felt his mind wander to the reoccurring dream he had been having. The dreams never involved his wife, which Michael would sometimes feel guilty about. Last night, the subject of Michael's fantasies was Zendaya. She had busted down the door in a pair of sexy lingerie and crawled towards the foot of the bed, ravenous for his cock. She jumped on top of him before whispering sensually, "I want to feel it throbbing inside me."

Michael came back to reality, realizing that he'd have to redo the math of the last few rows as he hadn't even been consciously paying attention to the results. He looked around anxiously, worried that someone may have noticed the slight bulge in his dress pants. It was hard for Michael to focus on the task at hand, not only because of his sexual frustration, but also because it was so goddamn boring! And as Michael would get distracted, it would only take longer and longer.

A coworker stopped by at five o'clock to tell Michael about the happy hour happening in the lounge area to celebrate Jim's promotion, but Michael still had two sheets left to do. Regardless, he would rather jump out his office's sixth floor window than "cheers" to the tool who assigned him the extra busywork anyway.

At 8:00 p.m., Michael finally finished the last row and forwarded them back to Jim before shutting down his computer.

The drive back home wasn't as painful as the one that morning, mostly because the interstate was clear of rush hour traffic at this late hour. Still, the impatience to get home after a long day frustrated Michael. It was 9:06 when Michael made it inside his front door, which gave him an hour and twenty-four minutes to eat dinner, shower, and brush his teeth before going to bed.

Phoebe was in the kitchen as Michael walked in to reheat some leftovers. She wore a black see-through lace robe, which caused the immediate return of Michael's bulge. She had rollers all through her dark hair and she snacked on some potato chips with one hand as she swiped on her iPad with the other. She didn't bother saying "hello" to Michael before rushing towards him with the iPad.

"Babe!" she exclaimed in her dash, "Look at this bag! Don't you think it would look so great with my new heels?"

Michael glanced at the Prada website only briefly, not really looking but just out of a sense of obligation. "Yeah, definitely," he half-heartedly agreed before making his way to the fridge.

"I'm so glad you think so, baby!" Phoebe cheered. "Because I ordered it earlier!"

"Didn't you get a Prada bag like three weeks ago?" Michael asked as he pulled a cold dish of ziti out of the fridge.

"I know!" Phoebe said. "Now, I'll have options!"

Michael popped the ziti in the microwave before turning back to Phoebe. "Ok, honey, just..." he stammered. "We may need to be a bit careful with spending going forward. I... I didn't get the promotion."

"Oh, honey," Phoebe said with melancholy. "I heard. I'm so sorry."

"You did?" Michael questioned.

"Um... yeah," Phoebe responded. "Your... your boss called."

Michael sighed as the microwave beeped. He dejectedly opened the microwave door and grabbed the now hot bowl of ziti, throwing it on the kitchen counter as his fingers quickly felt the burn.

"Come tomorrow, that silly promotion isn't even going to matter," Phoebe declared as she grabbed her bag of potato chips and started to head upstairs. She paused though and turned back towards Michael, "Oh, before you take a shower, can you take the trash out? It's full. Thanks, baby!" She made some kissy noises and made her way upstairs.

Once Michael finished his dinner and took the trash out to the end of the driveway, he took a shower before joining Phoebe in the bed where she was reading Gone Girl next to the reading lamp stationed on her bedside table. Michael, horny from earlier, started to cuddle up to his wife and kiss her on the cheek. Despite his obvious hints, Phoebe would just smile and giggle shortly with her eyes glued to her novel. Michael figured his best chance would be to just ask, preparing himself for the usual rejection.

"Oh, baby," Phoebe pitied. "I'm in the middle of my book."

"It'll be quick," Michael bargained, knowing that was typically a bad thing.

"Fine," Phoebe agreed, much to Michael's surprise. She lifted her robe to unveil her pussy, dry as a desert. Michael, on the other hand, was ready to go and his precum acted as an instantaneous lube. He climbed on top of his wife and inserted himself; his tiny penis didn't cause any discomfort for his wife as he did so. As he thrust, Phoebe held her book behind his head, continuing to read as Michael did his best to pleasure her. She read about a paragraph before the sex ended with Michael whimpering and keeling over to his side of the bed. Michael gasped for air in pure ecstasy while Phoebe turned to the next page in her book. "That was nice, dear," Phoebe said simply, obviously not believing her own words.

It was 10:39 at that point and Michael closed his eyes as Phoebe continued her book. As Michael started to fall asleep, he thought ahead to the day that awaited him. It would be another average day where he would be used and emotionally neglected by his wife Phoebe, teased and condescended to by his coworker Jim, and rendered involuntarily celibate much to his sexual frustration; all the while feeling trapped in this never ending, soul-crushing cycle that made him feel worthless.

Michael was right about the details of tomorrow, but his overall conclusion was not correct - tomorrow would be anything other than an average day.

Waking up to his alarm at 6:30 a.m. was much the same as was his regimen of throwing his messy boxers in the laundry, getting dressed in a replica of yesterday's suit, and making his way downstairs to the coffee machine without waking Phoebe up.

However, as he sipped his coffee and worked on his crossword, he noticed Phoebe coming down the stairs in the same lace robe from last night. He set his coffee down and immediately began pleading, "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you up! I'll try and be quieter next time!"

"You didn't wake me up," Phoebe said morosely. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Michael questioned. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Michael turned to it as if something alien was on the other side; no one ever knocked this early in the morning. He looked to Phoebe for some type of validation, but she stared at the floor. After a moment, he walked over to the front door and opened it. Two large uniformed men pushed past Michael and entered the house.

"Hey!" Michael called after them, following closely behind. "Hey! You can't just barge in here! What's the big idea?!"

He made his way back to the kitchen where the two men were stood next to Phoebe. "I assume this is him?" one of the guys said, pointing at Michael. Phoebe silently nodded and the man turned to address Michael for the first time.

"You've been enrolled in a special program for reeducation," the man explained coldly. "Your program begins immediately and we are here to escort you away as soon as possible. You are required to leave all personal belongings behind or they will be confiscated from you at your arrival. If you resist, we are authorized to detain you through force. If you don't have any questions at this time, then we ask you to turn around and leave with us peacefully."

Michael's mouth hung agape. For seconds - what felt like minutes in his head - he was speechless. "Any questions?!" he finally responded. "Any questions? Yeah, I have a few questions. Phoebe, what are they talking about?"

Phoebe looked up at Michael with some shame. Her voice cracked a little as she spoke, "I love you, Michael. I really, really do, but... you're not the kind of husband I need. I need someone who can provide for me. Someone who bets on himself and wins every time. I need a real, supportive man."

"I provide for you!" Michael shouted back.

"You can't provide everything I need!" Phoebe claimed.

Michael scoffed. "All of this is because I didn't get the promotion, isn't it?"

"It's not just that!" Phoebe answered. "Our sex is terrible. I barely feel your prick inside me and it only takes ten seconds of me lying there like a starfish for you to..."

"Ok! Ok! I get it!" Michael interrupted, suddenly embarrassed that this intimate conversation was taking place in front of two strange men. "So what? You think you can just send me away to this 'reeducation' program and they're gonna teach me how to be a big, strong man for you?"

"No, that's not what they're going to teach you," Phoebe clarified. Michael was puzzled. It felt like every minute detail Phoebe dropped into the conversation changed Michael's understanding of the problem entirely. Why was Phoebe complaining about his inability to provide and please her if she wasn't going to send him away to a program that fixed those issues? She continued, "When you come back, things will be completely different. But, we can be together forever. And happy! It's for the best."

"You can't make me go," Michael said, standing his ground. "You can't take me against my will. That's illegal!"

"We have all the proper paperwork," one of the men said, pulling a piece of paper out of his uniform's inside pocket. Michael's eyes widened as the man unfolded the form to display to him. Michael's signature and yesterday's date were at the bottom, clear as day. It was his performance review forms - except it wasn't. He had agreed to something else entirely without his knowledge.

Michael turned to Phoebe with a look of absolute betrayal in his eyes. Phoebe looked away again, unable to make eye contact with him. "Jim?" was all Michael could utter in absolute disbelief at Phoebe's disloyalty.

"Alright, time to go," the other man said, grabbing Michael by the wrist. The other man held Michael by his other wrist and Michael complied as they lead him towards the front door.

An unfamiliar van was parked outside Michael's house. Michael was lead to the back of the van and instructed to climb inside. The van doors were shut, sealing Michael away from his mundane, everyday life.

Michael took one last look through the van windows as the van pulled away from his home, unaware of the experience that was waiting from him at his ultimate destination.

If you missed my last post, then you may not know that all future chapters of this story will be posted on a monthly basis to my Patreon exclusively for patrons at the $7 tier. If you want to know where Michael is being sent away to (you can probably guess; it's in the title), then join the club over on Patreon! Thanks guys!

#ab/dl #ab/dl caption #diaper caption #diaper humiliation #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl story #ab/dl story time

[taurussbabe]

You are in love

pairing: mason mount x fem! about... Taylor inspired fic. a/n: i'm actually proud of this one! i tried to show anxiety the way i feel it, so sorry if it offends anyone 🫶 TW: anxiety, panic attacks word count: 1.8k

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight.

You turn around once again, cursing at yourself for not being able to fall asleep, looking at the clock, realising it was only midnight. You try not to move too much, considering mason is right by your side fast asleep by now. You stare at the ceiling one more time before getting out of bed slowly. You lean against the kitchen island, silently drinking your glass of water before walking to the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket and turning on the tv. You took the sound off almost completely before putting on your favourite episode of friends.

On the other side of the house, mason had woken up and searched for you in bed, when he couldn’t find you, he made his way to the living room, spotting you all curled up on one end of the couch, giggling at some silly remark one of the characters had made.

“Can’t sleep, love?” you looked in his direction, turning off the tv as he made his way to you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nope, I just couldn’t sleep without you. Are you ok?” he sat down next to you, enveloping you in his embrace, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah, just the usual” mason is aware of how your anxiety sometimes took the best of you, but he always found a way to deal with it.

“You have a beautiful mind, you know? I love how your mind works” you looked up at him sceptical by his words “I do! I love it because it’s part of you, and I love every part of you. You’re perfect y/n, I mean it, I could spend 24/7 talking to you, because you always make me smile and always make me feel safe, so I want you to tell me when it gets too much in your head, that way you can share it with me, and I’ll help you feeling safe”.

“Mason, that’s really sweet, but if I can’t do that. If I do that, instead of being just me with problems, it’ll be the two of us with problems and I can’t bear to think that it was me who made you feel that way”.

“What if, instead of both of us feeling bad, you tell me what happened and I’ll help you seeing things clearer, I mean, you always say that when you share things with other people it helps you see from different perspective, that way, we’re both feeling good. Ok? Can we try that?” your only reaction was nodding softly and pushing yourself impossibly closer to him. “C’mon let’s go”.

He got up and grabbed the car keys “Where?”

“Starbuck’s. I know how to make you feel better” you smiled at him as he offered his hand for you to take.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt.

He keeps his word.

Mason woke up first, the sun creeping through the curtains. He ran his hand through his hair before opening his eyes, only to see you still fast asleep, hair sprawled and cheek pressed against the pillow. He moved closer to you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The only sound in the room being your slow and deep breathing. He took this moment to take you in, how you had a tiny little mole just above your eyebrow and how your lips were slightly parted, memories of the night before came back to him which made him appreciate this moment even more. Now, you were peaceful, zero concerns on your mind. He kissed your cheek gently and got up quietly.

You opened your eyes, only to realise mason wasn’t there. After your talk, last night, you managed to get some sleep, mason holding you the whole time.

You got out of bed to find mason dancing to a song while cooking breakfast. You leaned on the doorway, just enjoying the sight in front of you, but then he finally looked up, causing you to step out of your little trance. “Cooking?” you asked him, and he nodded, pointing at the eggs he was making.

“You look good in that shirt” you looked down to see one of mason’s old shirts, the one you usually slept with.

“It’s yours”

“I know” he pulled you for a kiss, and what started as a soft and loving kiss, quickly turned into something more heated, more passionate, causing him to groan during the kiss.

“Don’t you smell something? Mase, I think something’s burning”.

“Oh my god, the toasts” you laughed as he pulled them out of the oven, more burnet than the usual, but still eatable. “You distracted me”.

“I distracted you? You were the one who kissed me” you pointed your finger at him, supporting your argument.

“Well, I’m sorry if you look extremely hot in my shirt”.

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight, and you talk.

You were walking side by side when he suddenly pulled at your hand, stopping you in your track. “What’s up?”

“You are looking very kissable right now” you almost laughed at his comment if it wasn’t for his serious face.

“Then do something about it, mase” and he did, he kissed you softly, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek.

You continue your walk until you got home and saw some pictures of the pair of you kissing earlier, you know you shouldn’t, yet you couldn’t help but to go through the comments. Most of them said nice things, but there was also some who called you nasty things, saying you were only with him for money or fame or some more awful things about yourself that you knew weren’t true, yet your anxiety took the best of you again, causing you to doubt everything.

Mason walked in the room in the middle of your breakdown, he immediately noticed there was something wrong with you. “Love, are you okay”.

You couldn’t help but to shed a few tears. Mason knelt down so he was at your level, both of his hands on your knees, begging you to look at him and focus on his voice, but your mind was already over reacting, thinking of a thousand different possibilities. “Please, tell me what happened, y/n.”

“I want to break up” it wasn’t true, you really didn’t, but at the time it felt like the easiest solution to your problem. You couldn’t think straight, you mind had a million thoughts on it, your heart beating way too fast, you couldn’t control your breathing anymore, it was becoming too much.

“What? Why?” his eyes now teary eyes were looking into yours “Y/n, talk to me, please.”

“I can’t, I can’t, we have to break up”.

After that, the only sound in the room were both of your sobs, you watched as mason breathed in and out a few times before speaking.

“Listen, we both need some time, ok? Let’s do something, I’m gonna go for a walk and you’ll be here, then we’ll talk, and I promise if you still want to break up, we’ll break up, but promise me you’ll be here when I come back.” You only had it in yourself to nod but this time he needed more reassurance “Promise y/n” he said, he’s voice breaking.

“I promise”

With that he got up, pressing a kiss to your temple and leaving. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to break up and there were only a few negative comments, you knew not everyone is going to like you, it’s impossible to please everyone.

Hours passed by and mason was still not home, it was dark and night by now, you were getting concerned and about to text him when you heard the door and saw mason walk in

“Can we talk?” he asked, his eyes were puffy and his nose red, you could he had been crying and I it killed you to know you were the one to cause him that pain. “I’m sorry y/n, I don’t know what I did but I must have done something to upset you, so I’m sorry” how could he think he did something wrong, and could you stand there, listening to him blame himself for everything and not say anything, that was your breaking point.

“Mason, stop” you don’t know where you found the strength to be able to control yourself but seeing him that miserable made your heart drop and you couldn’t take it anymore “it’s not your fault, it’s mine. Someone took pictures of us kissing earlier and I saw some comments and you know my head, I started to overthink, and I couldn’t stop. Last night, you told me to share things with you, I’m trying, I really am, I promise. I was wrong, I don’t want to break up, that’s the last thing I want, but I understand if you want to because of what I did to you today, but I need you to know, it’s not your fault, you’re perfect, the best thing I could ever ask for and yet, I still go ahead and ruin it. I’m sorry”

He stood there for a couple seconds, just staring at you before moving closer to you and enveloping you in his arms. You broke down at the gesture while he whispered soft things to you, brushing your hair in the meantime.

“I love you, okay? I’m not gonna leave just because you had a panic attack, I love all of you” He pulled you closer and kissed you softly “We’re good, and we’re always gonna be good”.

“I’m sorry, I really am mas-”

“Hey, stop apologizing, we’re okay, I love you”.

“I love you too” you don’t know how long you stayed like that before he pulled you to bed.

He took your shirt off carefully and kissed all the way from your lips to your neck, making you moan in response. That night, he showed you just how much he loved you and cared for you.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love.

You woke up once again, in the middle of the night, but this time it wasn’t your anxiety, no, this time it was mason, he was tracing weird shapes on the skin of your arm.

“Shit, did I wake you up?”

“I don’t mind being woken up by you” he smiled at you before his features changed, you couldn’t quite place what was this new expression, but he opened his mouth before you could ask.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“I though your best friends was dec” you laughed, and it made him chuckle as well.

“Yeah, well, you’re like a more special best friend. I love you”.

“I love you too, mase” he pulled you closer, so your head was on the crook of his neck, allowing you to kiss that skin.

#mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount concept #chelsea football club #taurussbabe