#this is from three years ago. what the fuck

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

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“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[wolfish-trickster]

Don't make me choose

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: it's been some time since you've started dating the infamous Satoru Gojo. But lately you feel more like the two of you are just cuddle/fuck buddies and not a real couple. You make him choose his priorities which is something the strongest doesn't like.

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

When Gojo Satoru first asked you out you couldn't be happier. The first time he caught your eye was when he zoomed past you together with Geto on one bike. You got so startled you fell to the ground and scratched your knee. You thought at first that they will just leave you there and probably laugh at you later at a pub, talking to their friends how they knocked over a clumsy girl in a park. What completely shocked you was Gojo running up to you with Geto pushing their bike behind him asking you if you were okay and if you need any help.

The rest is history.

Now, three years later, things have been going well. Mostly.

You had the ultimate boyfriend experience. Nice dates, wholesome anniversaries, moving in together, having fun. You did everything in your power to not get boring, for him to not get bored. You cooked, cleaned, asked him how his day was, acted silly with him even when you were exhausted after a long day.

So why? Why was he spending more and more of his free time away from you?

It started out small. The first time you started noticing was like a month ago. As soon as he came home he told you he's going to the pub with Geto and Nanami. You told him to have fun of course, not wanting to seem like that girlfriend that doesn't allow their boyfriends having fun without them. Then from one weekend it became every weekend. Both of you were busy during the week, the only time you had for yourself was during the night and weekend. It soon became just nights.

Even during the week it was "babe, i have a day off tomorrow i'm going to Geto's" or "sorry we have to move the date night to sometime else, Geto is sick and has no one to take care of him" and once even "babe, remember how you told me about this place you used to love as a child? I'm going there with Geto! What a coincidence, right?". The last one hurt the most. Honestly, the last one was also what made you start noticing these in the first place. Once you looked into the past and counted all the times Gojo chose to spend his free time with his best friend instead of you you nearly slapped yourself. It was too many times. How could've you been so blind?

All off days were for Geto. All special days were once again for Geto. Weekends, holidays, his and yours birthdays, all for Geto fucking Suguru.

You needed to have a talk with him.

If he comes back that is. Lately he started to have sleepovers with Geto. As if both of them were teenage girls. You did ask to join them but they always told you off to "not disturb their boy time".

Steps echo outside your apartment. The door unlocks. And in comes...

"Babe," comes the voice of your beloved white haired guy, "I'm home."

"I can hear that," came your answer. You prayed it didn't sound too agressive. Your stomach was full of nervous butterflies, making it even worse to come up with a decent way to start the talk.

While you were thinking he came from the entrance hall to the kitchen where you were sitting and kissed you on the crown of your head. "I wanted to ask, do we have plans next wendesday? Because Suguru said he'd-"

"Listen," you interrupted him before he could even finish, "can we talk?"

Gojo chuckled. "That's a very scary sentence."

"Why? Have something to hide?"

"Nope," he put his bag down and leaned his back against the wall, "I'm listening. What is it?"

You took a deep breath. Then another. "Don't you think you're spending a little too much time with Geto?"

His playful smile loosend into a neutral line. "Elaborate?"

"It's just... you've been with him so much lately and I miss being with you-"

"I'm with you all the damn time. Every single night we-"

"Can't you let me finish?!" you said a little louder than intended but enough is enough. "Is that all you see me as? A fuck-buddy to warm your bed?"

Gojo groaned in annoyance. "No, of course not. But you're literally overreacting over here!"

"Overreacting? How? By wanting my boyfriend to be home on his off days? To spend some time with me and have fun like before?"

"Have fun times with you? What am I your babysitter?"

"Are you Geto's? All the fun stuff we used to do you're doing with him!"

"No, no darling," he stood up straight and walked towards you, backing you into the corner, "all the stuff we used to do I did with him first. He's my best friend! I've known him half my life! You have to have at least a bit of empathy to understand that."

Even cornered by a giant of a guy like him you didn't feel fear. The butterflies in your stomach died. What remained was just pain in your chest predicting what was about to come.

"Do you even see me as your girlfriend anymore, Gojo?"

"Oh, so we are on last name terms again?" he asked sarcastically and walked away to pour himself a cup of water.

"Answer me."

You watched him drink. Slowly. You've never seen a man drink this slow.

"Of course I do," he put the glass down, "what kind of a bullshit question is that?"

"It's how I feel Gojo. You're never here with me!"

"I am here now aren't I?" he poked his chest with his forefinger. "I'm here every single day and night, twentyfour fucking seven ever since we moved in together! Well excuse me I want to have some quality time with my best friend from time to time!"

You didn't want this. The yelling, the arguing. But it has to be done.

Now as a finishing touch. "Who do you value more?"

"Excuse me?" was all he said, too surprised to not hear you yell in return, just calmly asking your question.

"Who is more important to you? Your best friend or your girlfriend?"

Gojo covered his face with his palms and threw his head back. "You can't be serious right now," he groaned. "Suguru is my best friend. You can't just make me choose!"

"So I'm below a best friend. I might as well be called your friend with benefits..." you say more to yourself than him.

"There you go hating yourself again," he shook his head. "I get it, you want to hear me say how much you mean to me, how you're the most important thing in the world and other stuff I've told you a million times already and yet you still slip into this state. I might as well record myself saying those things so you could listen to them everytime you're attention starved," he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He sighed. "You know what? I'm tired of this. I still care about you, but you have to understand Suguru is-"

"I know," you interrupt his rant. "I'm tired too."

Gojo sighs. "Okay. Good. I knew we could talk this out," he said and picked up his sleepover bag again. "I hate arguing with you."

He walked past you to the bathroom to dump his pyjamas into dirty laundry. "Let's go to bed, okay?" he shouted from there.

After a quick shower he walked out the bathroom with nothing but sweatpants on and a towel around his neck.

However you weren't there. Not in the bedroom, nor living room, nor anywhere else. Confused Gojo walked around the apartment, looking for any signs where you might be hiding. Maybe you want to jumpscare him again to light up the tension?

Fine, two can play this game. He tiptoed into the bedroom to your massive closet and yanked it open.

You weren't there. But neither were your things. He quickly checked under the bed to see your beloved backpack missing.

Panicked he started calling out for you, thinking this was just a prank.

It wasn't.

You made him choose and without even realizing it he did.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk gojo x reader

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 0.1 Eddie Munson

☾

Synopsis: what did your parents think of you? did they worry what strangers on the street might perceive? did they wake in a cold sweat, unable to sleep over fears of their community whispering behind their backs? did bile rise in their throats as they smelled sweat, cigarettes, and fornication on their eldest daughter?

good. clutch those fucking pearls.

"that Buckley girl is going to hell, what a waste of life."

(While this prologue takes place in Season 4 of Stranger Things, the majority of TICK will be set in the years prior, cause I mean for the love of all that is holy, Eddie deserves a backstory)

Rating: Overall this is an explicit slow-ish burn, but each chapter will be labeled accordingly!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC (Robin's older sister)

A/N: I posted this a couple years ago on Wattpad, took it down because I was in a terrible place in my life. Of course, being the sadistic goblin that I am, here you go... that haunting year of my life actually spawned something beautiful. 21 chapters of TICK are already written out, ready to be revised & reborn. I am open to comments/suggestions/requests.

☾ TICK // 0.1 - prologue

☾

Robin sighed, rubbing her left temple and looking around the video store.

"Guys… my sister might know where Eddie is hiding."

Dustin raised an eyebrow as Max scoffed, hand on her hip.

"Since when do you have a sister?"

Exasperatedly, Robin grabbed one of the phones and handed it to Max. "Since forever,” the brunette explained with a grimace. “She graduated last year. But she won't help us if I call her. One of you better do it. She isn't… she's a very private person."

Drumming his fingers on the countertop, Dustin pressed Robin. "And why exactly do you think your sister knows where Eddie is?"

“Umm…” Robin’s voice reduced to a mumble as she coughed out the last bit: “he's her... ex… boyfriend?” 

Two pairs of young, wide eyes stared at her. “What?”

"They kinda used to date, or whatever. A couple years ago."

Max snatched the phone from her, annoyed with the wasted time. "Just give me her number. I doubt she's that bad, if she fell from the same tree as you."

Frantic, Robin's hands were in the air. "That's the thing! I swear she was actually raised by wolves or something." 

"Just dial, Robin!"

The phone rang three times as Robin and Dustin stared at Max in anticipation.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this… uh… Ms. Buckley?"

You hesitated, suddenly feeling feral and defensive, as an instant layer of sweat formed on your palm that was holding the phone.  

"Might be. This better be a damn good reason to bother me in the middle of a perfectly good Saturday."

Max felt a little intimidated by the tone in your voice. "Well, I was wondering if you had seen or heard from Eddie Munson recently?"

On the other end of the line, you snorted rudely at Max's question.

"Why? Does he want his virginity back?"

☾

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

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

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

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

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

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

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

[coco-loco-nut]

imgonnagetyouback

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: you aren’t sure if you want to destroy his car or take him home with you

a/n: most of this was written late at night and not proofread. love y’all, thanks for answering the poll, that was fun. might do it again

requests open masterlist

————————

You enter your usual Miami haunt with your friends, one mission in mind. Your lilac skirt fits your like a glove, showing off your legs and curves. It was Logan’s favorite.

Logan was an asshole, he knows it, ever since he broke up with you last year. He’s been keeping tabs on your socials recently, knowing this is where you go when you are in Miami instead of Fort Lauderdale. He brought Oscar with him as moral support, they stand at the bar, laughing over some bubbly drink.

Your eyes scan the club as you walk in, slightly pausing when you recognize the blonde guy staring at you from the bar, you can tell when someone wants you. Instead, you train your eyes on some guy on the dance floor, sending him a flirty smile and joining him for a dance or two, giving Logan a chance to pull himself together before going in. He can’t help but tell Oscar how good you look. The trap has been sprung. You are going to get Logan back. Whether romantically or by revenge, you weren’t sure.

You walk over to the bar, pretending to have not noticed the pair, standing one seat over.

“Tequila shot,” you order and Logan takes his chance.

“Add two more and put it on my tab,” Logan tells the bartender, Oscar gags a little, but doesn’t protest. You give Logan a look he can’t decipher, but you slide into the seat beside them.

“Thanks,” you say, the awkward small talk between the three of you filling the time as you wait for the shots. Logan salts his wrist for his shot. You grab his wrist, lick it, and throw back the shot. Oscar barely suppresses his laugh as you turn to go back to the dance floor. Logan quickly throws back the shot and follows you. Your friends find Oscar and chat, the group curious to see how this pans out.

“Y/n,” Logan catches your wrist, you act like you don’t care about him, but you can see the whispers in his eyes searching if you still love him. It breaks your cold heart a little. “Don’t be mad, please. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, trying to win you back.

“I’m like your fucking car. You steered me into the fucking ditch then ran off,” you say after a second, turning back towards the crowd, he just pulls you closer.

“I’m so sorry. I hate myself for that,” he admits, you ignore him, dancing to the beat, not pushing him away but not encouraging him to dance with you either. Just when things are feeling too comfortable, you walk away in the direction of the bathrooms. Logan follows.

“Will you give me a chance?” he asks, the music quiet in the background. ‘God, he’s so fucking fine’ you think to yourself. The lighting doing everything right, the shadows enhance his jawline but his eyes shine bright.

“I haven’t decided yet,” your eyes revealing more than you intended. He can see the hurt and love in them. You aren’t sure if you want to curse him out or bring him home.

“What can I do,” he grabs your hands.

“I don’t know. I’m between being your wife or smashing your car,” you say, steeling yourself. Logan is thinking twice, unsure if he was ever yours or was never not yours. Logan pulls your closer, kissing you. Your body automatically responds to him. letting him pull you close.

“You’re mine,” you whisper, the temptation to both flip him off or pull him into the bathroom strong. He follows you back to the dance floor, you can feel the tension and chemistry coming back, electricity humming in the way you dance together. It’s like pressing a reset button, becoming something new. Oscar and your friends left a while ago, knowing the two of you were determined to leave here together from the start.

You tell the cab the address of your Miami apartment. Every moment that passes sees the hurt and past fade to gray.

“Pick your poison, I’m poison either way,” you had told Logan earlier, he chose you anyway, the both of you wanting to play with the broken pieces of your former relationship.

He pushes you against the wall, kissing you passionately.

“Before we do this, where do you stand? If we go ahead, there is no turning back,” Logan stops, needing to know that you belong to him again, you already know he belongs to you.

“I hate you but I love you just the same. I’m gonna get you back,” you tug on his shirt, pulling him back to you, a feral need for him growing.

It wasn’t a surprise to Logan’s friends when you showed up to the Miami paddock later that week.

What was a surprise was the ring around your finger, one that matches the one around Logan’s.

“What the hell?” Oscar asks, a smile on his face.

“I’m not going to let her go again,” Logan looks down at you with a smile.

“I chose to love him till the end, luckily for Sauber,” you joke, referencing the team who decided to take a chance on Logan and help him develop.

“I’m happy for you two,” Oscar says, happy to see his best friend happy. Everyone but your parents were happy for you, the parents were just mad you got married without them there.

“I am too, but I will take it out on his car if he hurts me again,” you tell Oscar, joking but not joking. Logan just holds you closer. You both told each other about your plans to get each back, it caused a lot of laughter.

“That’s my wife,” he grins proudly. Oscar shakes his head at his friends.

“You did what!” Alex runs over to the two of you. “Where was my invite? Oh, glad to have you back Y/n, Lily missed you,” Alex says, as the two of you just laugh.

instagram

y/nsargeant what if i told you i’m a mastermind, and now your mine ❤️

logansargeant it was all by design ❤️

oscarpiastri not letting the two of you go back to a club, Y/n will end up pregnant or something

y/friend1 you both took getting each other back a little too seriously. this is why i love you

user1 hold up, since when were mom and dad back together??

user2 AND MARRIED??

y/friend2 you really went to the club heartbroken and left ready to get married😭 ilysm

alexalbon they are so unserious 😭

sauberf1 when did this happen? LOGAN??? we’re not mad. pick up your phone

charlesleclerc ^^^

carlossainz55 ^^^

landonorris ^^^

georgerussell iconic

y/nsargeant thanks pookie 🫶

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader

[squintyeyedjoel]

Look For The Light | (Joel x Reader) - Coming Soon!

Synopsis: When Joel and Ellie are on their way to find the Fireflies, they stumble across something else in an abandoned farmhouse. Something unexpected and life changing - you. ….and the three year old toddler you rescued three days ago that happens to harbor something familiar Joel has a hard time reconciling with.

(Sneak peek below the cut!)

Suddenly the handle on the door to your room jiggled, making the breath stutter in your chest.

The low voice on the other side of the wooden barrier made you jump. “I’ll give you to the count of three, otherwise I’m breakin’ this thing down.”

You gulped.

“One.”

Silence.

“Two.”

A beat more.

“Three.”

Suddenly the door swung open, the latch busting into pieces and skittering across the floor as the hulking frame of a man barreled through shoulder first. Just behind him you saw a teenaged girl peeking in curiously from the top of the steps.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering a timid smile. “I’d have met you at the door, but,” you looked down toward the bundle in your arms, the smile turning more genuine. “My hands are full.”

“Holy fucking shit,” the teenager mumbled, before trying to make her way around the grumpy looking man. He caught her by her backpack, not allowing her any closer, to which she turned a skeptical look his way. “Really, Joel? It’s a baby. What’s it gonna do, drool me to death?”

You snorted a laugh, arching an eyebrow at the man- Joel’s unimpressed look your way.

“It’s a toddler. They’d scream your ear off b’fore they’d drool-” He stopped when he glanced from the tiny human in your arms who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, and focused back on the teen, finding her already looking at him with raised brows.

After a moment he released her with a sigh, and she took a few tentative steps your way, wide grin climbing up her face.

“How would you know, anyway?” She teased the man without sparing him a glance.

The look he shot at the back of the girl's head made you want to grin, but you successfully tucked it into the top of the little human’s head in your lap.

“I’m older ‘an you. Been ‘round the block a few times, is all. Know a thing or two.” His voice was a rumbling grouse, the dry tone exasperated and saying he’d been here a time or two before, this argument worn and thin.

“Yeah, because you’re ancient,” she mocked.

“Ain’t that old,” he grumbled.

“Dirt is younger, Joel.”

“Not worried I’m infected?” You kept your voice calm, not wanting to poke the angry bear known as Joel.

The girl smiled in a way that said she had more to say than what she was telling as she knelt next to you. “No. Not really.”

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, taking a step closer as the teen sat next to you, her shoulder lightly bumping against your own as her back pressed against the wall.

“I’m not, by the way,” you looked between them both. “Infected.” Looking down to the toddler in your arms, snorting as she tried to hide further into your threadbare shirt, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “Neither is she.”

“What’s her name?” Ellie reached out a finger for the little one to hold. It was taken tentatively, and given a firm shake like she had seen countless adults do around her in the QZ you’d been in before.

It made Joel snort out a laugh through his nose.

“Sarah.”

The laugh turned into a choking sound, quickly melting into a coughing fit as Joel bent over at his waist, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought for air.

“You okay, old man?”

You tried to stifle the smile Ellie’s comment brought to your face before you turned your gaze back up to Joel once again.

After a long moment, he stood up straight with a huff. “Fine.” Another long pause. “Just swallowed wrong.”

Wanna be tagged if/when I write any future Joel stuff? Here’s how to sign up!

#the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fluff #tlou imagine #tlou reader insert #joel miller comfort #joel miller angst #the last of us reader insert #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x y/n #tommy miller #ellie williams #dina the last of us

[jaggybotexe]

chonny jash/cccc fandom PLEASE rb + share how you got into chonny jash i wanna know!! thru his covers, animation, a recommendation or somethin else?! can be a super long or short explanation, im so curious as to how we all ended up here lol

i'll go first(kinda lengthy so its under a readmore)^-^

I had a whole miracle musical/tally hall phase in the summer of 2022, was obsessed with The Mind Electric, and i made a yt playlist w like 50+ versions. fastforward a year later, in the middle of 2023, i found a crazy 12 minute cover by this weirdo named Chonny Jash(what kinda name was that??) and gave it a try and holy shit my mind was blown, the three songs were easily the best covers i'd ever heard and i fucking loved them so much

at first i was just a fan of those three songs, but slowly thru the end of last year but surely i started listening to his other covers, like Hidden in the Sand, Variations on a Cloud, Ruler of Everything, The Bidding, and The Whole World and You, in that order(they all have a soft spot in my heart cus of it). I realized thru The Bidding that the songs were actually all connected so on the last day of 2023 i gave the whole album a try and fucking loved it, both song and lore-wise and from then on I was a huge fan. i've since listened to a lot more of his music tho not everything yet

it's kinda crazy that I've only been super into it not even for that long, but my journey def started like almost a year ago now lmao. you could say i fell very slowly into a hole i couldn't s

#chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cccc #i also watched several animations + that one 1 hour analysis video that def fueled the obssession #at first i thought the 3 mind electric songs were abt simon and a split from all the electroshock therapy #which is a fun interpretation but man. mannnnn is it actually so much crazier than that #anyways pls share i rlly wanna know yalls experience too!! #jaggy posts

[lovebittenbyevans]

See No Shame | Part 2

Summary: You and Nanami were only seeing each other for three months. You eventually wanted more but of course they always say “don’t be someone second choice” in a man life.

Pairing: Billionaire! Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Warnings: cursed words

Author note: second part of this mini-series is here! I like writing for this. If you like you can reblog, comment but enjoy reading!

Part 2

Three months went by fast when you used to be around Nanami a lot. You didn’t care what he did and how rich he was at all. You just wanted to be around him all the time but now everything changes between you and him.

Sometimes you can't bring yourself to cry about him anymore even though your heart still beats for him. You tried to avoid him after he didn’t want to deal with you like that anymore but he only calls or texts you when she is not around.

For the past few weeks you only took shifts at the library when you thought it was necessary. You didn’t want to face Nanami again and cry about him some more.

You were trying so hard to get over he doesn’t feel the same about you but Tiffany kept sending you articles about him with Ariel nonstop. Of course Tiffany would send you a whole text message about how Ariel isn’t shit at all. You would laugh at anything she sends you with a comment.

Ignoring Nanami calls and text messages is all you have been doing for the last few days. You couldn’t bring yourself to cry about him anymore. You are regretting going to Yu Haibara party since he is Nanami's best friend.

You placed the gift you got for him on the table with a bunch of other gifts. “Don’t look now but Nanami is here with Ariel.” Tiffany whispers next to you.

You sigh and roll your eyes. “It seems like they came matching tonight.” She whispers to you again.

Fucking great

It shouldn’t be a surprise for you that Nanami was here at all. Yu and Nanami have always been close since their high school days. They always say fake it until you make it.

You made your way to the other side of the room as Tiffany followed right behind you. You greeted some people you knew but didn’t chat with them for long. You pour yourself some champagne into a tall clear glass cup as you hear a voice behind you. “Y/N and Tiffany.”

That whiny and flat voice, you only heard three times. “Ariel.” You gave Tiffany her tall clear glass cup as you turned around with a fake smile on your face.

“Wow, small world.” Tiffany clears her throat and takes a sip of her drink.

Ariel looks stunning wearing a purple body-con dress that shows her curves. You thought she was dressed up going to a club.

Ariel grabs tall clear glass from one of the butler’s who was handing them out on a tray. “How are you, Y/N?” She takes a swig of her drink.

“I’m good.” The only thing you said to her.

Tiffany jumps right in the conversation. “I’m good too. Work is killing me.”

Everyday you thank god for Tiffany because you have no idea where you would be without her.

You excuse yourself and walk around the place. You had to admit Yu always knew how to throw a party. You stop to admire one of the paintings on the wall when a raspy voice can be heard behind you. “Hello, Y/N.”

Suddenly your heart was racing fast as fuck.

Shit, Shit

“Yu, got that painting of his beautiful mom for Mother’s Day three years ago.” He says standing next to you.

You take another sip of your drink before speaking. “Hi and it’s beautiful.”

Nanami nods, placing both of his hands behind his back. “Hmm, I also want to say I–” You interrupted him as you locked eyes with him. “Don’t apologize. I am happy for you and Ariel.”

Fuck! It hurts for you to say that

A piece of your heart felt like it was being ripped apart again. You told yourself you had to say it in order to move on from him. You let out a breath while feeling a lump in your throat.

“Um. Thanks.” He muttered.

You squeezed his shoulder. “Happy looks good on you Nan.” You look at him again before making your way back to Tiffany.

You truly need to stop lying to yourself for once. For now you feel like a complete idiot when you know you didn’t mean those words to him.

You cough getting her attention, setting your empty tall glass down on the table. “I want to leave.” You hate the way you are feeling right now.

“Y/N, don’t take her away from me.” Gojo pouts while squeezing her cheeks with his palm.

You scoff and shake your head. “Nice to see you too, Gojo.” Sometimes you can't stand Gojo at all. He acts like a child half the time.

Tiffany gave him a kiss on the cheeks and followed right behind you out the front door. “What’s wrong? What did Nanami do? Is it Ariel?”

You let out a loud whine and start rambling. “I told him I was happy for his relationship.”

Tiffany smacks your arm playfully. “Now, why would you tell him that lie? We both know you are not over that man.”

You sigh. “I know. I know.”

She embraced you with a hug and rubs your back gently. “Look, I love you but you need to stop running away from him. Fuck Ariel.” She continues. “He doesn’t deserve you and he still can’t see it.”

You stood there listening to her as she pulled away from you. “Y/N, learn to feel your feelings then eventually brush it off.” Her eyes focused on you.

You understand what she was saying but it is hard for you to do that. You never saw yourself brushing off the feelings you have for this man. Your heart still beats for him and that’s scary.

“Oh my god.” You felt completely sick.

Tiffany hates seeing you like this over someone who just ended things with you three months ago. She never saw you act like this over guy before.

She opened her mouth to comment when you felt your phone vibrate against the pocket of your black jeans. You pull your phone out and a text message from Nanami on the screen.

Nanami: I don’t want you out of my life, Y/N

Nanami: I love you

Your eyes widened, those three words shocked you completely.

Is he serious?

“What happened?” Tiffany asked.

You turn your phone off and put it back in your black jeans pocket. “You can stay. I’ll just go home by myself.” You take the car keys out of her purse.

Tiffany gave you a side eye glance. “You sure?” She can see right through you that there was something you aren’t telling her.

“Yeah, tell gojo to take you home. I want to take a walk first.” You gave her a hug and then began walking down the block.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you continue walking while rereading Nanami messages a couple of times. You notice three dots appear for a second and then he sends another message.

Nanami: let’s talk soon, I want to take you somewhere ❤️

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x fem!reader #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x y/n #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x y/n

[bullet-prooflove]

Coy: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl @mimi-8793

Releasing early as a birthday gift to my babe @mandy426

Dean found out his wife was cheating on him when he discovered he had syphilis during a routine medical check. He tells you that after you've been trapped in an elevator together for over three hours. He’d exhausted all of the small talk options after the first two so now the you’re digging into the real stuff, the stuff you don’t even tell your best friend because you’re terrified they’ll murder someone on your behalf.

You’d already disclosed how you found your husband fucking another woman on a sheepskin rug in the cabin you owned together. So it was his turn and well that’s apparently that’s the secret he chose to disclose.

“It’s gone now though right?” You say gesturing towards the lower half of his scrubs and he gives you an offended look. “You’re not just walking around sowing your wild oats…”

“One, that would be horribly irresponsible if I didn’t get treated and secondly I do not ‘sow my wild oats’.” He says making bunny ears with his fingers.

“I just assumed, an intelligent, attractive man like yourself would have a busy social calendar.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yea, Netflix and medical journals.” He responds before backtracking. “Wait you think I’m attractive?”

“Dean, don’t be coy.” You say, kicking him lightly in the knee with your shoe.

“I’m not.” He tells you, his cheeks colouring as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling and closes his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time someone told me they found me attractive. It’s usually grumpy, egotistical…”

He laughs before he tips his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m not selling myself am I?”

“Do you feel like you need to?” You ask him and he frowns before he shakes his head.

“No I…” He trails off before he looks at you a little differently. “I’ve never felt like that with you, it doesn’t feel like trying. Hell I’ve just told you I’ve had syphilis so I think we can discern I feel pretty damn comfortable around you.”

“Yea.” You say with a sigh, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Comfortable.”

“I’ve said something wrong.” He says quietly. “I didn’t mean…”

“No.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s just, I’m not the girl that gets the guy. I’m the weird one that cuts up bodies in the morgue.”

“You do a valuable job, we learn things from that, people get closure.” You give him a look and he realises he’s doing it again, saying the wrong thing. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“No you are.” You say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I understand perfectly.”

Silence falls between the two of you and now it’s his turn to sigh because he’s never been good at communicating, not when it comes to the important stuff. Up until three hours ago you were just a colleague, the woman he had a thing for. And now…

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” He tells you because you took a risk and now it’s his turn. “And it has been intimidating actually, because you’re also smart and funny. The perfect package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, why would you? You’re ex-husband spent years lying to about his affairs. He knows how that feels, how it erodes at your self-worth. He also knows that sometimes actions speak louder than words.  

“I mean it.” He tells you, his fingertips tilting up your chin so that he can look into your eyes. “I never thought I had a shot with you.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” You say softly as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

“We are trapped in an elevator.” He agrees, his nose trailing along the length of yours. “And I’m terrified what other secrets I may end up spilling if we stay in here any longer.”

“You wanna do something other than talk?” You ask him and he smiles against the corner of your mouth.

“Yea.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I think I would.”

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#dean archer #dean archer x reader #steven weber #one chicago #chicago med

[whimsyeo]

norman f*cking rockwell

જ⁀➴ jeong yunho x fem!reader (ft. san)

❝love, as you knew it, began and ended with yunho. ❞

wc; 2.7k

cw; angst, infidelity, unhealthy relationship, crying, insecurity, slightest bit suggestive towards the end

🎧 norman fucking rockwell, pretty when you cry, national anthem, cinnamon girl, shades of cool by ldr

Jeong Yunho was a dream.

You often wondered, especially in the beginning, how you could ever be so lucky. Thought, why in the world had he noticed you in a room full of people with so many others much closer to him in status. Although three years ago, he wasn't quite yet the household name he has become now. But from the moment you meet him, you knew. What Yunho could be - what he would be someday.

From dating around in the city, your qualifications for a decent partner became more vague with each dead end, nothing-more-than-a-nice-dinner date. Don't be a complete jerk, was the only remaining requirement on your list when you first met Yunho. Perhaps made to be the slightest bit of a cynic by then because of so many bad experiences, you didn't so much as swoon when he directed his truly angelic smile at you. Complimenting your appearance only after he greeted you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Stereotypical and overly chivalrous as he was, you didn't buy it. And you wouldn't have admitted it then, probably not even now - that the effect, still, was immediate.

You knew then you shouldn't get your hopes up. Yunho was still up and coming in the industry, but working as a writer had showed you just how little experience had to do with how any and every actor could walk around like the world owed them just by existing. But what was one more possible bad date story to tell San over a brunch debrief the morning after? What have you really to lose?

So when Yunho asks you once the party ends if you're free for lunch the next day, of course you say yes. Never would you have anticipated how quickly he could crumble your walls to dust and worm his way through your rib cage into hold such a vice grip on your heart. Maybe it was always supposed to happen that way, as you can't imagine falling any differently with Yunho on the other side of it.

Everyone he meets always falls a little in love by the end of the conversation, you were sure of it. So, in a way, there wasn't ever a timeline in which you didn't end up completely in love with Yunho. You were just fortunate enough to be living in the one where somehow, he did, too.

When you think of Yunho, you think of the sun. Fireworks lighting up the sky after it sets along the horizon and the summer breeze rushing past while you still feel warm to the touch. It's the little things, too. His hand on the small of your back when crossing the street. His insistence on opening every door you ever walk through. How he waits to pick up his own fork until you to take the first bite at dinner. The blinding smile that takes over his face after finding you in a crowd across the room.

When things had begun to change, you hadn't the slightest idea. Everything did, and yet nothing did, really. He still opened the car door for you, but no longer texted you random updates in between breaks for filming. He still swung your interlocked hands when you walked down the street, but now didn't ask to stop and take pictures together every few blocks. You still had date nights, however rare with his constantly packed schedules, but these days you spent most dinners at home like you had most nights as well. Alone.

You go to sleep and Yunho's not there, or wake up to him long gone - sometimes both. At one point he would leave cute little notes on your nightstand, apologizing for having to rush out and detailing his plans for the day, but even those had eventually stopped.

You don't talk about it. You can't, not really. Not when he goes about life as normal. Smiling at you gently on those hard to come by mornings you do have together, your coffee waiting for you on the counter, made just the way you like it. How can you say anything is wrong when he looks so happy to finally be able to share a meal with you, going on about the outtakes behind his latest drama, questioning you with the stars in his eyes about your recent works right after?

There's never a right time to admit you're hurting. Especially not when it appears you are the only one feeling this way.

"You're thinking too loud," Yunho grumbles from behind you, voice laced with sleep. He lazily throws his arm over your middle to pull you close.

At times you could almost forget you're still sharing the same bed. Even with your lover pressed against your back, it feels as though you really couldn't be further apart.

"Sorry," you mumble back. "Did I wake you?"

You feel his hair brush against your neck as he presumably shakes his head. His lips press against your bare shoulder. Not quite kissing, just resting them there.

"Want to talk about it?"

Your instinct is to say no, brush it off like you often do. Like when Yunho catches your dazed look drifting away from the conversation, or the brief lull that follows from cutting yourself off right when you are about to ask. The situation never seems right for it, and you're beginning to realize there likely won't ever be a good time if you don't just speak up now.

"I miss you," you start. Too vague, you realize, so you continue. "It's like we're always just missing each other, I guess. Going through the motions, but not together. It doesn't even feel like we're living in the same house anymore."

Yunho hums against your skin. You assume it's an encouragement to keep going, but you have nothing more to say. The pressure of those words lifted such weight off your chest that it seems like saying anything more about how you've felt recently would be too much, and you'd flounder.

"I'll be better," he promises. He makes a lot of those lately. You still believe them every time. "Filming finishes soon, and then I'll be all yours."

You should say something else, but what? You are both well aware that once filming ceases for his drama he goes straight into preparations for his next movie. And once the final episode for his current project airs in the coming weeks, there will be even more offers pouring in. For movies and shows and the likes. Everyone wants a piece of Jeong Yunho these days. You're not the only one.

Yunho adjusts his hold on you, not letting up as he moves to lay back down. It won't be long before he falls asleep again. You can only hope exhaustion will catch up to you eventually, before the burning behind your eyes finally form the tears you've been denying for what feels like forever now.

You think back to a comment San had made the last time you too had hung out. Some time has past since that cloudy morning you saw your best friend last, when he softly spoke words that would unknowingly stick with you for the weeks to come. He likely believed you hadn't even heard him over the hard rainfall against the café windows, but you did. Once you realized the cracks in your heart hadn’t yet filled, you wished you hadn’t.

"If things seem too good to be true, they probably are."

As he was with most things, San was right.

He had never liked Yunho, not from the very second San had met him at the very first group hangout he ever came to. San was polite at least, if not overly formally in a way that was telling to only you. As for why - he couldn't really explain it himself.

"It's just this feeling I get around him. I don't like it."

San's gut instincts were never wrong. And while you were already nothing short of completely enamored by Jeong Yunho, you weren't in too deep. Yet. It wasn't too late pull back, but San hadn't asked that of you. Wouldn't, either, without impeccably good reason.

Rather, he pulled back. Often missing outings with your other friends when he knew Yunho would be there. You saw less and less of him the more you and Yunho's lives became intertwined. It made you feel awful, but San insisted it was a him thing.

Being completely caught up in Yunho's web led you to accepting that fact much faster than you probably should have.

On the rare occasions you do hang out, one on one, no Yunho in sight - you never talk about him. Until one day, San's curiosity seemingly gets the better of him.

"How have you and lover boy been?" He would ask. And he always did, avoided saying Yunho's name like the plague.

"Don't ask questions you don't care about the answers to."

You can't pretend it doesn't hurt. Not having your boyfriend and closest friend get along is one thing, but San's seemingly unfounded detestation for Yunho is something else all together.

"I do care about you," he mumbles, continuously fiddling with his cup of iced coffee. He's done more passing it back and forth between his hands than ever drinking from it.

Your silence is all that answers him. There's not much you can say, when nothing is out right wrong, anyway. You don't trust yourself to not break down, either. Because saying it out loud will make it real.

San sighs, "I'm sorry for not spending much time with you these days." He finally takes a sip from his drink, no doubt long since watered down now from going untouched this whole time. "I try not to step in your time together, either. I know how hard it probably is to come by lately. He’s all over the place.”

There was a point in time, not even too long ago, that you would've told San everything. You find yourself fighting the very urge to now, to tell San that those days were more rare than he would believe. That you're beginning to doubt everything about yourself and your relationship. And that it seems like you are the only one bothered by it all.

Maybe you're also scared of proving San right, of hearing him say 'I told you so'. You're entirely too afraid to admit that you know something is going on and all the insecurities you had in the beginning of your relationship have come back a tenfold. San surely wouldn't leave you alone then, if he knew just the kind of downward spiral you were heading towards, being stuck in your own mind all the time.

So you bite your tongue, and reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

You don't anticipate ever opening up to San about the problems you're facing regarding Yunho. But one minute, you're sat alone at a table meant for two, hours after the time your reservation was made for. Then the next you're standing at San's apartment door, drenched from the pouring rain outside.

You barely remember the ride here or why you thought coming to San was the best first choice of action. Knocking before you can even stop yourself, and barley given the time to consider running away when San opens the door.

You meet his worried eyes, and the first brick of your carefully crafted walls fall.

You still haven't cried. Not even after you're sat on the couch with San, dressed in dry clothes, freshly made cup of coffee in hand. It's going cold and you haven't even taken a sip. Can't. It's not the way Yunho makes it.

San doesn't ask. Doesn't really have to, but he's always been the curious type, so you know he's only holding out for you. Which is why you start talking and don't stop.

A hand on your back, soft spoken reassurances in between your brief pauses for air. Even when you go quiet for extended periods of time San never says 'I told you so'.

Instead, "You don't deserve this."

You want to believe San. He was right about Yunho after all. But San could've never accounted for how hard you’d fall - how your heart would bend and mold to make a perfect Yunho shaped place in your chest, a spot only he could ever fill.

You hadn't know love before Yunho. Not like this. This feeling like if he ever stopped loving you, you'd be left afloat in the middle of an ocean’s storm, simply praying for the sun to come out again. Every fulfilling breath you could take now, not filled with salt water, is only because he loves you too.

It's almost comical. Cheesy enough to have been a moment pulled straight from one of Yunho's many drama scripts; the white button down in your hand, and the burgundy lipstick stain on it's collar.

For a reason you can't explain you just know this isn't a one off, possibly drunken after party mistake. It doesn't help that Yunho doesn't even jump to fill the silence with carefully crafted defenses of himself, only standing in the doorway to your bedroom with wide eyes, noting your every expression. You hope you don't look as defeated as you feel, but with how Yunho is walking towards you with slow steps while you remain entirely unmoving, you already know you've lost.

"Do you love her?"

There's no point in pretending anymore. The truth is out, and it hurts more than you ever thought it could. The prickly feeling of thorns that have been growing around your heart for what feels like forever now suddenly morph into bigger, sharpened blades, stabbing deeper with seemingly every breath you take.

"I love you."

You're eyes burn like never before. You think if the tears start now, they may never stop.

"Do you love her?"

The slightest pause, and then a baited breath.

"I love you more."

It's not enough, you want to shout. You want to do anything but sit there in silence, as Yunho's hands find purchase on your waist. You want to push him away when he starts pressing kisses on your cheek and then down to your neck. You don't want to love Yunho, not anymore.

But the love you feel won't go away overnight. It doesn't go away even now, with his indirect admission of not only infidelity, but deep affection for another. You were foolish to ever believe love was a word that could only ever exist between the two of you.

You briefly wonder, does he hold her chin when he kisses her, too? Does he buy her flowers? Does he send her silly pictures of himself during costume changes? Does he trace shapes on her back while they cuddle? God, does he talk about the future with her? All light eyes and giddy smiles, thrilled by the prospect of simpler days. With a wrap around porch and a dog and a garden?

The first tear falls, and Yunho is quick to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb. His hands are all over you, so gently, as if a more lingering touch will lead you to break. You don't believe it will make a difference.

No, it only makes it worse. How quickly you melt into his embrace, clinging onto his shoulders like your life depends on it. In someways it does - because even if you can't have all of Yunho, any bit of him will suffice. You need the breath of fresh summer air he brings, not the salt water.

Like that of an addict finally getting their fix. His words are the only drug you could ever need. They keep you going if only for a little while, and when you start to fall all you need is the slightest taste - and you're reminded once more of what you could've been missing.

Jeong Yunho was always meant for great things. The world cannot contain him any better than love can. He has always been too good to be true.

"Let me love you," he begs. And you do.

#whimsyworks #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst #yunho angst #san x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yunho imagines #yunho scenarios #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho x you #choi san x reader #choi san x you #san imagines #ateez reactions #yunho reactions #yunho x you #san reactions

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Helpless part 40, It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us

"Neeks, you awake?"

"What time is it?" The Hades child mumbled, pushing his hair out of his face.

"11:24."

"How the fuck am I still tired?"

"Because you still need to catch up on sleep and you're off drugs medical and others after a while so you're still adjusting."

"I'll be honest I didn't process half of that." Will rolled his eyes teasingly, walking over to mess up his hair more than it already was. Will started to look through some files he'd brought in with himself as Nico started to get ready,

"Can I braid your hair?"

"You know how to braid?"

"Not very well, but Kayla made me learn a few years ago before she had to let Aussi cut her hair on a dare."

"I can imagine how well that went, but sure." Will sat next to him, brushing out and parting his hair before starting to do a french braid. "Do you have the second volume of Heartstopper?" Will laughed, quickly kissing Nico on the cheek.

"I can't believe I thought you were straight but yes, I have all the books."

"I can't believe I thought you were straight."

"Think you were the only one Neeks."

"Oh shut up Solace."

"Don't think I will di Angelo."

"Gods save me."

"What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing." He answered almost instantly,

"Not an option."

"I'm not hungry." He promptly ignored him and pulled out three ceral bars from his pocket,

"Pick one."

"Leave me alone."

"Do you feel sick?"

"I- I- just... can't, drop it William."

"I'll leave them here, just eat when you can, alright?" He said, half hugging him.

"Fine."

"Nico, have you considered talking to someone? Maybe keeping a journal as well?"

"Only if you'll also get help." He couldn't think of something he wanted to do less but Will needed help, desperately.

"It's not your job to worry about me."

"Will, I'm your boyfriend, it really is."

"Are you comfortable with the idea of talking to someone?" He was fine, he knew he was worthless what's the point of lying to himself.

"N-no." Fuck, this wasn't going the way he hoped.

"Nico, you don't need to do anything that you aren't comfortable with, that won't help. Also... I'm sorry about last night.. I- it's- yeah I'm just sorry."

"Will, no one's perfect, you need help, please, just try to."

"Neeks, I'm fine, really. I was just shocked last night and yeah, there have been a lot of people in the infirmary because of the war normally it's just less hectic." Lying through his teeth, he hated himself for it but that's fine, just another thing to add to the endless list. He wasn't Nico's responsibility, he doesn't need anything else on his mind.

"Just, take a break every now and then, I swear you're always working."

"Actually Kayla's ban me from working for the rest of the week soooooo."

"Good, you need it. Wait does that mean I don't get to see you for a week?"

"Nope, you can't get rid of me that easily. Apparently I'm too much of a simp for that, but I have a feeling she's timing it to make sure I don't spend the whole day here."

"I can see that happening, but you need a break so she is completely right."

"I really hate you sometimes di Anglo."

"I know." He whispers, blowing the son of Apollo a kiss.

"Solace, times up!"

"Better go Sunshine, also... I'll try journaling, I don't know if it'll help but I'll try."

"I'm proud of you Neeks," He ruffled his hair before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, he kissed him back, wrapping his hands around his neck."I'll see you soon."

***

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fandom #nico di angelo #pjo #fanfic #will solace #solangelo #annabeth chase #fanfiction #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fan fiction #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percyjackson #fan fic writing #fan fic #fan fiction #solangelo fic #my fic #fic writing #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fanfiction #gay #leo valdez #reyna avila ramirez arellano #jason grace #piper mclean #frank zhang #hazel levesque

[iventig]

“A new recruit? What do we would need a newbie for?”

“Soap, there's no use questioning it,the decision has been made months ago.Now quit bothering me.” Price is truly annoyed. Ever since he broke the news to his team,Soap has not stopped asking about why, when, how and for what reason this new teammate will arrive to the taskforce.

“Okay,Okay,I get it at least tell us where they’re from,I mean we need to work with them at the very best of our abilities and-“

“Johnny”

Finally, freedom and peace arrived in the menacing form of Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley. Never, in his years of work had Price thought that peace and Ghost would occur in the same sentence within his thoughts. As he stood just a few meters away from his office,and the peaceful moments that he’d get by just getting through that door, Gaz came from behind.

“Captain,outside is -“

“what time is it Gaz?” Price asked in the most nice and calmest tone he could muster. Inside his chest panic rose, as he reminded himself of today's date. The recruit is coming today at exactly 16:15 pm

“Its 16:13, sir”

“Thanks Kyle, I need all of you to go. To your bunks,or the main hall,or somewhere else. Now.”

“Why?” again, Sergeant soap thought it was a good idea to talk again and so to break the last straw of his captain’s calmness.

“Ghost make sure this nuisance doesn’t get in my way with his stupid mouth today again, or he’ll gets to experience a whole week of outside recruitment training.Understood?”

With that Price turned on his heel and out of the sight of his teammates

“Fucking bloody muppets” he mutters as he made his way outside

“Great job, Soap.Now what?”

“I know we’re all thinking the same. So, Gaz , even if you don’t want to say it, Im going to say it.We’re going to follow him, obviously.”

Soap looked to his brothers, expecting a quick response,but none came.A minute of silence followed.

“Soap,no”

“C’mon L.t, I know you give more fucks about this as you let on,so if nobody’s going to stop me,I’ll be following my Captain.”

With that he to turned in a over dramatic way just as Price did three minutes ago, and got to follow his captain way outside.

“This godforsaken scottish bastard.A’right ill better follow him and get him back before the captain does, if anyone asks for me tell’em i’m dead or drunk. Thanks sergeant Garrick.”

And so Gaz now stood alone in front of his superiors office door , neither knowing how to react to the oder given or the situation that had just occurred, while he simply wanted to inform his captain of the helicopter sighted near the base. So, he decided, he will do as told by both his Lieutenant and Captain Price, staying right where he was and tell anyone who asked that the Captain is on his Period,Ghost is drunk and Sergeant McTavish turned feral.

A rather peaceful start for them, Garrick thought.

In the helicopter, a young man looked down at his wrist, the watch showing exactly 16:14.

In exactly one minute the helicopter should land,he’d get off his seat, take his duffel bag and backpack, depart the helicopter and meet the Task force 141, under command by the British army and the CIA. He would meet his new colleagues and captain, staying with them for a exactly three months before He would be seated in this exact position, back to his home country and comrades.in exactly 45 seconds he would be on time, he thought, in 46 he would be late.

He hated being late, he despised the thought of being where he was supposed to be even a millisecond late.He knew how much could change within a single minute or even second. His time out in the fields made it even mir obvious to him, how important it was to be accountable, accurate and quick. He dreaded the thought of being late, as he knew, the seconds one waste, may be the last of anothers life

How long are thirty seconds really?

He looked down at his watch, he laughed. It was a quick moment of bitter happiness filled by empty thoughts.

29…28….27

The Helicopter landing and the small ruckus of the helicopter as it touched the ground was the only thing he felt.

16:15 exactly on time, Second.

#call of duty #original character #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #tf 141 #fanfic #should i continue? #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #cod #I may need a title if i continue this

[theonotti]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Years have past since the Battle of Hogwarts, and through his grief and desperation, Theo fights to get back every second lost since then.

Warnings: Major Character Death (Not Theo), it's just angst lads

Notes: Been a while! But I'm back with some writing! This fic will be 3 parts in total. Shoutout to @classyartisanpizza for letting me write this idea! <3

Masterlist

~

The nightmares are the worst part.

It's always the nightmares.

Theo wakes with a start, his chest heaving as he abruptly sits up. It takes a moment of his eyes darting around in fear for him to realise he's simply in bed. No battle. No green bursts of light flying inches from his head. No bodies dropping around him.

He closes his eyes, running his hand down his face to rid the beads of sweat rolling down his skin. Though he forces himself to take deep breaths, his heart continues to race. The room feels so warm. Why does the room feel so warm? His chestnut curls fall over his eyes, slightly matted to his forehead, and for the briefest of moments, he considers shaving his head.

The vivid technicolor of the nightmares always gets him. Blaring realism and exaggerated memories have him waking in a panic without fail.

A hand runs up Theo's lower back, followed by a soft voice speaking in tongues and distortion. A chill runs up his spine as his fight or flight kicks into high gear, causing him to jump off the bed and point his wand directly at the perpetrator.

Daphne Greengrass stares back at him, looking mainly annoyed yet mildly confused as she wraps the sheet around her naked form. There's a long, tense silence as the two of them stare at each other, and despite knowing there's no threat, Theo doesn't bother to lower his wand.

"I thought I said no sleeping over."

His voice is clipped, a stark contrast from the sultry tone he had taken with her the night before. Then again, he doesn't ever have to work in order for Daphne to become putty in his hands. Not really. Him putting on the show just makes him feel better about using her.

She sits up slightly, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. Even in the dark, the blush that fills her cheeks is unmissable.

"You fell asleep and I-"

"That's not an invitation."

You're such an asshole, He tells himself. But he can't help it. The point of the rule was so that he'd never have to wake up to Daphne. She's not ugly, or entirely terrible to be around. But his care for her only extends to the point of what she does for him. A means to an end. And the end is to distract him from the never ending abyss of his mind and the standing void in his chest.

Besides, that spot in the bed belongs to someone else.

Belonged-

No. Belongs.

Another beat passes before Theo realises that his wand is still raised, and he finally lowers it to his side. Although he should feel worse about his overreaction, he's only a slight tinged embarrassed. It's being overshadowed by his annoyance.

Daphne takes a moment to stare at him, her eyes searching his face for the humour that never comes. A quiet sigh of relief escapes his mouth when she finally climbs out of his bed and starts to get dressed.

"What are you doing later?" She asks while pulling her shirt over her head.

The clock on the wall reads quarter till three in the morning.

Theo tries to hide his smug irritation at the fact that she's already trying to plan when she sees him again, despite his complete disregard for her only moments ago.

When he doesn't respond right away, Daphne looks over at him, throwing a sock off his floor right at his face. In another life, with another person, Theo would've found this gesture amusing, but right now, he just stares at her in exasperation.

"I'm busy."

Merlin, you're a fucking asshole.

But Daphne remains unfazed as she pulls her jeans up her legs and fastens them.

"Maybe next week then? I'm working all weekend."

And despite his self awareness, Theo just can't fucking help himself.

"I'll call you."

Now he's done it. The sting ripples through her face as she pauses all movement, her eyes falling back on him. Under her confused gaze, the temperature in the room falls, but Theo keeps his expression neutral. For a long moment, they just stare at each other in tense silence, before finally Daphne breaks the prolonged eye contact to finish putting her trainers on.

"I don't understand why we keep doing this, Theo," She says in a low voice as she ties her right shoe. It's clear she's trying to be more confident in her words than hurt, but she's failing. "You clearly don't want to commit to me or even care about me. Why do you keep phoning if you can't be bothered?"

Theo leans his back against the wall, his shoulder brushing the door frame of his bedroom. The words leave his mouth before he's able to process them, or to consider not saying them.

"Because you always come running."

Twenty years on this planet and you still don't know when to shut your bloody mouth.

Daphne looks appalled as the words hang in the air. Despite the fact that Theo's guilt is radiating off of him and filling the room at a suffocating rate, he continues to say nothing else. An eternity later, she snatches her coat off the floor and storms out of the room, slamming Theo's bedroom door so loudly that he flinches, followed by the slamming of the front door of his flat.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Theo pushes off the wall, walking over to his bed and collapsing on top of the covers.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

As he buries his face in the pillow, desperate to go back to sleep, his mind starts to drift back to the nightmare that started the domino effect events of the evening. A chill runs up his spine for a second time as he dives head first into the dreams that haunt his subconscious damn near every time he closes his eyes.

The falling bodies.

The walls crumbling down.

The flashes of bright green flying passed his head.

The set of eyes. His favourites. Watching as the life drains out of them.

Theo abruptly jumps out of his bed, his hands trembling slightly as he walks briskly to the door and throws it open. His flat is dead silent, save the sound of his footsteps across the hardwood floor. Through the darkness, he can make out the faint outline of his black cat moving quickly across the floor towards him.

"Piss off, Shadow," He mutters to the cat. She doesn't seem to notice his hostility as she continues to move between his legs. But he's quite rehearsed in this dance at this point, and manages to cross the pitch black living room without tripping over her and falling on his face. He makes his way to the spare bedroom, the room that used to be where he worked on his potions.

That is, until more important projects grabbed Theo in a chokehold.

Unlocking the door with his wand, he quickly goes inside quickly, making sure the cat didn't follow him through before shutting the door behind him.

~

"Mattheo, I'm fine."

"Is the kidnapper in the room with you and forcing you to say that?"

Theo rolls his eyes, rubbing his right eyelid with his free hand as his other one stirs the brewing potion in the cauldron in front of him. His phone rests on the desk next to him with his best friend's display name taking over the screen, the call on speaker.

"You think a kidnapper would willingly keep me?" He asks as he lets his free hand drop back to his wooden desk, accidentally into a puddle of spilled potion that had toppled from the cauldron. Making a face, Theo instinctively wipes his fingers off on his jeans. "They'd return me before you'd even realised I'm gone."

Mattheo lets out a quiet laugh before saying, "You're right. I'd say we could use the break, but no one's seen you in weeks."

Theo lets his other hand drop to the desk, sighing exasperatedly.

"Mate. We've just hung out. At the Leaky Cauldron, yeah? When Malfoy got so piss drunk, he fell in the toilets and smacked his face on a sink."

The memory causes a ghost of a smile to form on Theo's face, but the silence on the other end of the phone causes it to fade just as quickly.

"Hello? Did I lose you, Riddle?"

When Mattheo speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

"That was two months ago."

Every single muscle in Theo's face slackens.

"What? No. That can't be right. It was just two weeks ago, yeah?"

"No, Theo. It was two months ago."

Shaking his head, Theo grabs his phone, switching to check the date as he stammers whispered denials, more to himself than anything. But Mattheo is right. Two months have passed since that last hangout, and besides the occasional mess around with Daphne, which he assumes are now over since the debacle a few nights prior, Theo hasn't seen anyone else since.

Where did the time go?

You know where the time went.

"We're really worried, mate," Mattheo says in a soft voice. "I know it's been hard, but-"

"Don't," Theo barks, almost instinctively as he sets his phone back on the desk. He knows where this conversation is going, because this is where the conversation always goes.

"It's been almost three years, Theo."

Theo shakes his head, his eyes closing as the air slowly starts to syphon from the room.

"It's not- Surely I can't be expected to just forget."

A quiet sigh rings out from the other side of the phone, as Theo fights to keep his rising emotions in check.

"Of course you wouldn't forget. We just-"

Theo quickly shakes his head, not wanting to hear the same things he always here's when one of his friends decides to play therapist for him.

"Oh shit, I've just remembered I have better things to do than have this conversation."

Theo lifts his hand towards his phone, with the intent to hang up, when he heard Mattheo's desperate voice quickly calling to him.

"Meet in the Three Broomsticks tonight!"

Theo pauses, staring at his phone as his brain starts its usual war on itself whenever someone wants him to do anything that isn't rotting at home. On one hand, going out with his friends would placate them for long enough that they won't have yet another conversation like this one. But on the other hand…

He's close. He's so close to figuring it out. And any time that isn't dedicated to figuring it out is, in his eyes, a complete waste.

But as he stares down at his best friend's name on his phone, he lets out a heavy sigh.

"Piss off."

He can practically hear Mattheo's smug grin in his voice.

"See you there," He says, before promptly hanging up the phone.

A heavy sigh forcing its way out of his mouth, Theo turns back to the cauldron in front of him.

You need a break.

Maybe stepping back for a night and coming back will trigger an epiphany.

Theo lets out a resigned sigh. The last thing he wants to do is step away. When he's away from the work room, he feels like he can't breathe. When he's not working or researching or planning or even contemplating, he feels like he's drowning.

In his head, he's running out of time. But with every centimetre closer he gets to the finish line, he gets another centimetre closer to getting every lost moment back.

~

The remaining butterbeer swishes circles at the bottom of the glass as Theo twists it with his wrist. A quiet yet fake laugh comes out of his mouth, if only to mix in with the loud, howl-like laughter surrounding him from whatever funny thing Blaise just said.

Merlin, I should've gotten a firewhiskey.

Though, he knows it would've been a bad idea. His tolerance for alcohol has grown concerningly high over the last few years, and he doesn't want to explain why he would've been fully functional after seven hard drinks while his friends would be well beyond wasted.

So he sips his butterbeer under the guise that he has an early morning the next day. If he had more observant friends, they would see through this excuse, but fortunately for him, they tend to miss a lot when it comes down to the quiet, chestnut haired lad whose mind is rarely on planet Earth.

"Oi. Space Cadet. Can you join us for a moment?"

Theo takes a casual drink from his glass as his eyes land on Malfoy.

"Give me something worth joining in on," He quips as he gently sets the glass back down on the table. The blond rolls his eyes as Mattheo and Blaise both let out a chuckle.

"We were just talking about the Harpies. Whether they'll make the cup," Mattheo explains just as the barmaid approaches with their refills. The fresh butterbeer is set down in front of Theo at the same time as he lets out his own laugh. A genuine one, this time.

"The Harpies will make the Cup the same day Malfoy stops bleaching his hair."

Now it's howling laughter from the two other lads as Malfoy slams his mug down on the table, pointing at Theo maliciously.

"Don't start your bullshit, Nott."

"I saw the bottle in your trunk, Malfoy. Third year. One never forgets."

"I don't bleach my fucking hair, and if you say it again, I'll make sure you can't see it ever again."

Theo doesn't miss a beat.

"Is that a promise?"

As Riddle and Zabini keep giggling, the alcohol already to their heads, Theo keeps his wits about him as he stares at the tip of Draco's finger that's still only inches from his face.

"Stand down, Malfoy," Blaise finally interjects. "You've become entirely too serious since getting hitched."

The silver band on that left fourth finger glints in the dim lighting as Draco pulls his arm back down towards his lap. Despite his recoil at the scolding, his eyes don't quite stop glaring their daggers towards Theo, who takes another unbothered sip of his drink.

"Maybe it helped me grow up. Someone should take a page out of that book."

Theo feels his fingers tense around the glass, the heat rushing to his cheeks.

Prick.

Prick.

Absolute wanker.

Dead man walking.

If my life hadn't fallen apart, I would've been married by now. Maybe I'd even have kids.

A wave of nausea hits him at the thought. Instinctively, his eyes shift to look at the door, as his mind searches for his excuse to leave. If his shift in demeanour isn't obvious to every person at the table, it definitely is to Mattheo, who quickly clears his throat.

"Anyone hear about the hunt for whoever's trying to replicate the time turners?"

Theo's entire body ceases, his throat trapping any sound or breath from escaping, meanwhile his brain starts to race at speeds he has never experienced before. The conversation shifts to this topic as Theo desperately tries to remember how to breathe.

"What's the hold up?" Blaise questions before he empties his glass. Mattheo does the same while lifting his shoulders into a shrug.

"Whoever is doing it, they've covered their tracks quite well. But the Ministry has their best people trying to find them before they're able to muck up anything."

A quiet murmur fills the silence of the table. Sweat beads Theo's forehead as he accidentally chugs his entire glass. No one appears to notice, to his relief.

"How are they able to track that?" Malfoy asks curiously as he drums his fingers against the wood top table.

"A time turner has an Hour Reversal charm encased in the centre," Mattheo explains. "The Ministry is alerted every time one is cast, but whoever is doing it has protected themselves so much that their location is damn near impossible to track." Mattheo pauses to take a drink before he continues. "If it wasn't so infuriating, I'd be impressed."

A slight smirk crosses Malfoy's face before he says, "I take it the 'Ministry's best people' includes your team?"

Mattheo rolls his eyes, though the slight pink hue that covers his cheeks is unmissable. Despite him being nothing like his father, Mattheo has always been slightly embarrassed by his position in the Ministry. While Zabini, Malfoy and Theo all view it as a growth and a middle finger to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, Mattheo sometimes views it as a betrayal, though he only mentions it after he's hit a certain point of inebriation.

"It is a job for the Misuse of Magic department, in my opinion. So yeah, the best people include my team."

Silence fills the table as everyone takes a sip of their drinks. Theo swallows the lump in his throat.

And then he speaks.

"Any evidence that they've been successful?"

The table turns to look at him, and he does his best to appear casual when he shrugs.

"Just curious."

Mattheo shakes his head.

"We'll be alerted if they actually go back," He explains. "Which will lead to their arrest, if they continue to use the Hour Reversal charm."

"Doesn't that only go back five hours?" Blaise asks, receiving a nod from the curly haired man to his right. Theo can feel the impending panic rising in his chest, but he swallows it down.

In theory, it's only five hours.

But with a little tampering, it's longer.

Not that I would know.

No sir.

"Not unless they do something to strengthen the spell," Mattheo says casually. "Like some sort of potion. Or enchanting the sand in the Hourglass."

Theo's face goes slack, and it feels like his entire body grows hot.

There it is.

That epiphany.

His eyes fall back onto Mattheo, the room glowing in a new light as a chill slowly trails down through his extremities and his fingers and toes.

Instinctively, Theo tries to stand before he realises he's in the corner seat of the booth. The rest of the table looks at him in surprise.

"Nott?" Malfoy asks as Theo uses the table and the ledge behind the seat to launch himself over Mattheo and the booth, out into the aisle, only making their shock grow further.

"Fuck, sorry I forgot. I need to- I have-" He stammers, knowing full well nothing he says will be able to explain his sudden change in demeanour. The looks on their faces are the same sort of looks they'd have if he had stripped down in front of them and started screaming like a banshee. He closes his eyes, putting his hands out in front of him as he takes a second to calm down. When he speaks again, it's with less urgency. "I need to go."

And with that, Theo turns and sprints out of the Three Broomsticks.

Before the door swings shut behind him, he can make out Mattheo's distant voice shouting his name. But if any of the lads make any attempt to follow, Theo moves too fast for them to have any sort of success. Once out of the village, Theo apparates back home.

Where he stays for almost ninety six straight hours.

He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat. He barely leaves his office to use the bathroom. And he definitely doesn't shower.

Theo's marathon is filled with work. The spell strengthening potion alone takes sixteen hours to brew, needing close management. And that was after all of the work he needed to put in in order to put the potion together. Meanwhile, he does an appalling amount of research, scouring text upon text about how one would enchant the sand. When he comes up with next to nothing after twelve hours worth of reading, he moves on to Plan B.

He starts to create his own spells.

It's not the first time Theo's dabbled in spell creation, but it is the first time it's something that's more serious than trying to make Malfoy's farts come out as actual bubbles. (A failed experiment, much to his thirteen year old self's detriment.) But this time is different. Hanging over the desk where he works is the picture of his motivation. And every time he starts to feel like he's failing, he looks up at the picture and a new resolve fills him.

Because he can't fail.

Failing isn't and never will be an option.

Every botched attempt leads to more research. Every new piece of information brings him that much closer.

Until, after almost ninety six hours of what he thought was going to lead to nothing, the moment is here.

He pulls the time turner out of the cauldron, and he can feel it. Despite having used the tongs to pull it out from the potion, Theo can feel the silver metals vibrating with magic, and that's how he knew.

It worked.

His hands tremble in the same manner as he reaches to touch it, almost hesitant from the anxiety that is running rampant in his head. But when his fingertips graze the warmth of the metal, nothing happens. Nothing changes. He looks around the room for a brief moment before looking back down at the makeshift Time Turner in his hands.

Spinning his chair around and leaning back, he examines the creation. His mind is quick to resume his doubts that it didn't work, despite the pure confidence he had just a moment before. Couldn't have worked. Because nothing he's done in the last few years has.

And yet.

There's only one way to find out.

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he props it up on his knee before he turns the screen on.

And then, he gives the spindle in his hand a turn to the right.

Theo can feel his heart stop as he watches the minutes on his phone go down with every tick of the Time Turner.

It worked.

It actually fucking worked.

A tsunami of emotions runs through Theo, overwhelming him so strongly that he has to turn back around to lean on his desk. For a moment, he lays his head on the desk, in the cradle that is his arms, basking in the darkness as he takes three long, deep breaths.

And then he looks up to the picture on the wall.

To his motivation. To the one he's been working for.

To the picture of you.

"Did you see that, pretty girl?" He asks in a gentle voice.

The spell hits your chest.

And the life leaves your eyes.

His voice is a little choked as he raises the Time Turner to the picture on the wall, wishing once again it was actually you and not just a moving idea behind a piece of paper.

"I'm coming for you."

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfiction #golden trio era #golden trio era fanfiction

[the-holy-ghosted]

Came out of the ocean, like you came out of a dream...

#the heron giveth #lord huron #i really dont feel like looking at this anymore so here you get to have it lol #i think tumblr crunghecd ther details adn image quality but! i do not give a fuck any longer #im gonna post this and get a bunch of spam notes on tma art from three years ago i can feel it but whatever. whatever anymore #i did promise lord huron art from that poll. so i thought a redraw was in order #i love this concept love this painting. hate the old one. but! this is what art improvement is for #also its about time for a new icon weee #anyways throws this at you and self isolates again #lonesome dreams #i taged that shit as strange trails oh my god

[kraviolis]

Belos: I’m going to raise Luz as my daughter and ensure that she remains pure and loyal to me.

Also Belos: I’m going to let the 7-years-old clone of my brother take care of her I’m sure he’ll be able to do that.

you joke but thats LITERALLY his entire thought process at first. he's so isolated and arrogant that he couldnt possibly comprehend the idea that luz wouldnt see him as her father despite the fact he literally told hunter he was going to be her older brother and never once encouraged hunter to see him as anything but an uncle.

i attribute this to the fact that philip is an orphan who only ever knew his blood brother as his only caretaker, so he sorta took having a brother for granted and didn't realize that was something you could want rather than something that just Is.

(also caleb was the only person philip ever truly knew + loved and even well into his 300s he never once picked up a child psychology book and realized that Perhaps His Worldview Was Skewed Because Of That.)

he literally like. could not comprehend the idea that you could even choose your own family outside of like. being adopted by someone. thats the other thing with him being so annoyingly christian in this AU, he was taught that your blood family (esp yr parents) is always the most important thing in your life & you should always be grateful to them no matter what.

(this is another factor into why he keeps making grimwalkers. in his own twisted viewpoint, it's him giving caleb another chance. and another. and another-- at least in this specific characterization of him.)

philip thought that him adopting luz would mean she would immediately be eternally grateful to him and call him father and the whole nine yards. but he forget to actually express that expectation until it was too late (aka until he heard her call him uncle for the first time)

honestly, hes not MAD about it. he's just sorta :( about it bcus hes not actually insane and can still logically think like "she did say she had just lost her real father to an illness its perfectly reasonable for her to not want to replace him" (he doesnt think it outloud but he also enjoys living thru her vicariously

but also later on as she gets older it gets to a point where he's like "ok its been years now why isnt she trying to replace him yet" bcus he thinks its a normal + healthy part of the grieving process to replace the person you lost (figuratively or, in his case, Literally)

#qna #anonymous #little lamb au #toh #also luz is sort of catholic in this AU bcus she was raised like that #as in camila + manny would take her to church on sundays and she did sunday school sometimes and they'd encourage her to pray #but they never like. enforced it on her. it was more of a cultural thing for all three of them than a spiritual thing. #but belos is DELIGHTED when he hears baby luz praying out loud before bed on her first night in the castle #he tries to casually ask her about it like 'what is this God can you explain it to him' #but then as he listens to her little five year old explanation of God and Jesus she drops enough hints to make him realize #'Oh Good Lord She's Fucking CATHOLIC?' #'god truly is testing me by guiding this lamb into my care but no matter. no child is beyond redemption' #cue belos trying to push her more towards protestantism by attempting to have religious debates with a fucking. five year old #who has no concept of religion beyond 'jesus died for my sins which means i shouldnt lie to my abuela about taking an extra empanada' #sorry i love belos forgetting that religion exists up until luz arrives in the demon realm #and then he realizes Oh Fuck Thats Right. Im Doing This For God & Jesus Not Just For Fun #and then suddenly remembers everything his pastor from 400 years ago ever said to him

[noknowshame]

my little source of egotism is that I am fully convinced the black sails fandom is responsible for making the concept of Doomed by the Narrative popular on tumblr

#WHICH of you put the fucking clock in Goncharov #maybe im just in my little Boat Media echo chamber #but a year ago I feel like no one more than three degrees away from bs would know what I meant by The Narrative (threat) #those three degrees obviously including the greek tragedy bloggers who i am sure are at root of this #love playing the game of 'how many steps until I can blame this on the Trojan War'