#we’ll see if it’s successful in a month or two I guess

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (1/2)

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

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

Word count: 6.9k

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

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

Part 2

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Riley, your girl!"

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

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

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Johnny?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is cold."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"C'mon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

"No."

Part 2

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

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Linger

Sirius Black x rockstar! f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, rough sex, like pretty rough guys he bites you till you bleed, underage drinking, underage smoking, a lot of smoking tbh, drunkish sex, kinda has a plot so yeah lmk if i missed anything

summary: you and your band mates decide to go out to a pub, where you end up meeting the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: guys i’m so bad at these summaries holy. this is probably my favorite fic i’ve written. the flirting and the tension like omg. trust me. also, let’s pretend The Runaways are british and let’s pretend everything id accurate hahaha. enjoy ;)

~~~

“Do you think we’ll be recognized tonight?”

You turn to your bandmate, Joan, and shrug. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

“What pub are we going to again?” She asks.

“The one where they let underage people in, of course, you’re still the only one who’s twenty-one in the band you know,” you reply.

The other two members of your band, Sandy and Lita, are ahead of you, engulfed in their own conversation. You slide your hands into the pockets of your jacket and try to keep up. You’ve been in the band for a few months as the new lead singer. Their old one left to start her own band, claiming it to be more successful. Yet your band is the one that’s gotten sold-out shows, interviews on television, and pictures in magazines. Sometimes you like to think it was fate that she left, and you just so happened to be in town the night they were holding auditions. The fans surely enjoy your voice more, they make you out to be the leader even though you’re only seventeen and the newest member. You don’t mind though, and neither do your bandmates.

It’s almost ten when you arrive at the pub and thankfully no one has recognized you yet, or they have and simply haven’t said anything. There’s no one at the door to check IDs just like Sandy had said. The four of you enter fast and find a table. The music is loud, the lights are low, and people are dancing all over. You like it, a lot.

“Drinks?” Lita questions a few seconds after you sit.

“You know it!” Joan replies.

“I’ll be right back then.”

Sandy takes out a pack of cigarettes. “Care for one?”

“Obviously,” you answer, holding your hand out. She hands you one, you’re quick to light it and stick it between your lips, inhaling a deep breath of smoke. “How come the police haven’t found this place?”

Joan rolls her eyes. “They have.”

“And? Why don’t they shut it down?”

“They have people who come here, of course, sons, daughters, you know that sort of thing. It may be illegal but it’s trustworthy,” she explains. “Why do you care anyway?”

You shrug. “Just curious I suppose.”

Lita arrives back at the table, four glasses held in her arms. You take yours fast, eager to taste whatever liquor she got for you. It’s bitter, with a hint of sweetness in it. Based on the color as well, your guess is some sort of vodka mix. You drink it despite the awful aftertaste it leaves in your mouth. The cigarette between your fingers helps a bit. The four of you talk for a while and enjoy the peace of having no fans around.

“You should go to the bar y/n,” Lita says after some time. “Or well it might be too late now, but when I was there, I saw a boy your age, remarkably handsome.”

Sandy laughs. “You’re trying to send her home with someone already?”

Lita nudges the other girl with her shoulder. “No, I’m only trying to get some new song material.”

“We’ll see if there’s any potential,” you say, taking the last sip of your drink and getting up. You brush down your hair. “Do I look alright?”

“You’re always beautiful,” Joan answers, letting out a cloud of smoke.

“Wish me luck.” You chuckle before heading to the bar.

With every step you take, you feel eyes on you. Most belong to older men who shouldn’t even be paying you any mind. You’re used to the feeling of being watched, with all the fans and paparazzi that corner you before and after gigs. So, you move through the pub without a second thought about it.

In the back of your head, you curse yourself for not asking Lita what the guy looks like. For a moment you question how you’re supposed to find him, but then your curious eyes find one guy who stands out. He’s leaning on the wall, a glass in his hand and a cigarette between his lips. Based on his face, you figure he can’t be more than nineteen. And oh, how right Lita was. His hair is dark and long, almost reaching his shoulders. He’s dressed in a simple white tee shirt and baggy jeans. Despite the distance, you swear you can make out a sliver of a tattoo on his shoulder. He’s gorgeous, almost too gorgeous.

You approach him carefully, thinking of different opening lines in your head. Would it be wrong to use your fame to get him to take you home? Probably. But you’ve seen Joan do it plenty of times. She always says it’s simply a tool and that you should use it to your advantage. You’ve never done it though. Perhaps it’s your little amount of consciousness that remains that tells you it’s wrong. You don’t know and the alcohol in your system doesn’t help. So, when you reach him, you say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Hi.”

He looks at you, the cigarette dangling between his lips. “Hello.”

“How old are you?” You ask, immediately feeling stupid for such a question.

“What are you a cop?” He chuckles.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “No uh... sorry.”

“It’s fine love, just not a very good pick-up line,” he replies. He takes his cigarette out, his eyes locked on yours. “Especially since you look like you’re sixteen.”

“Seventeen actually.” You correct him.

“Ah, well there’s something we share then.”

Something about the way he’s looking at you comforts you. There’s no recognition in his eyes at all. You can tell. To him, you are just another girl. Not the lead singer of The Runaways. Just a simple girl.

“You can try again if you’d like,” he says. You look at him, confused. “Try another pick-up line.”

You gently smile and think for a few seconds. Nothing better comes to mind.

“Come here often?”

He laughs. “Somehow I think that was worse than the first one.”

“Sorry. Usually, I’m better at this sort of thing,” you reply. You put your hands back in your pockets, suddenly feeling very hot with embarrassment.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment of silence. He takes a sip of his drink; you stare at his hand. The way it looks wrapped around the glass makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You hate how much you want him to take you home. You don’t even know his name. But he’s handsome, so much so it makes you unable to think straight. You need to know more.

“Are you from around here?”

He nods. “Born and raised in London. You?”

For a split second you wonder, if he’s from London how come he doesn’t know who you are? Sure, your band isn’t on the same level of success as Queen or ACDC but you’re also not underground. You push the thought away.

“Originally from Westchester but now I’m here in London for... work,” you answer.

“Work? I thought you were seventeen.”

“Yes but, eighteen next month. I already finished school.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Wish I could say the same, I still have another year left. Though, I rather enjoy school, gets me away from my dear parents.”

“Oh, where do you go?”

You notice the way he shifts his posture. “Out of the country, you wouldn’t know of it.”

“Like a boarding school?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

You look around the pub, a slight feeling of awkwardness blooming within you. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ve done this before. You decide to blame it on the cheap vodka because really, you’re better than this.

“So, what’s your name then?” You ask after a few more minutes.

“Does it really matter?” He replies, catching you a bit off guard. He flicks the ash off his cigarette, his dark eyes on yours. “All of it’s the same.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t play dumb love, I know this isn’t your first time. I’m sure you’ve chatted up many other lads and had them take you home.” There’s something about the tone in which he speaks that has your knees almost wobble.

“Why would you think that?”

He sighs, leaning over to a small table discards his cigarette in an ashtray, and leaves his glass. When he leans back on the wall, now with both of his hands-free, he buries them in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He looks down at you with an expression that could send your morals far out of mind. You want him, terribly. And you think he knows this.

“Besides the fact that you said you’re usually better at this, you’re also possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he eventually answers.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I highly doubt that, but nevertheless thanks for the compliment.”

“I mean it. Most girls I see still wear those long skirts and sweaters, but you, you’re dressed like you could pass as a rock star.”

Your face heats up once again. You know he’s right. With your leather jacket, flared jeans, high-heeled boots, and small tight top you know it’s clear what kind of person you are. Your makeup only adds to it, black smudged eyeliner and glitter on your eyes. It’s a toned-down version of what you wear on stage. He doesn’t need to know that though.

You give him a smile and shrug. “Rock is my favorite genre, what can I say? You sort of got that look too though, not quite as intense.”

“Not a gentleman?” He chuckles.

“No.” You laugh, shaking your head. “At least I hope not.”

“I see. You don’t fancy the good boys. Well fortunately for you, I’m a bit of a troublemaker. At least, that’s what my schoolmates and family say,” he mentions. “What’s wrong with the good boys anyway? They could treat you like a lady.”

“Too gentle, I’m not a fan of it,” you answer honestly.

He smirks, sending warmth straight to your core. “So is your intention to get me out of here and treat you... not gently?”

“My intention is simply to buy you another drink, maybe enjoy a dance or two. What happens at the end of the night is not particularly on my mind right now. I’m more focused on learning your name. Why? Is that what you’d fancy?” You counter, looking up at him through your long lashes.

It has the effect you hoped for because he stands up straight, his back finally off the wall. He offers his hand to you, and you take it softly in yours. It’s so much bigger, so much warmer. You try your hardest to kill all the thoughts of where else you’d like him to touch you with his hand.

“Sirius Black,” he introduces himself.

“Like the star?” You question without thinking.

“Yes, like the star. Now what’s your name.”

“Y/n y/l/n,” you say.

“Charmed. So, how about that drink?”

You smile. It’s going to be a good night, you know it.

The next few hours go by in a flash. You and Sirius drink more than you probably should and dance to the many different songs that play on the jut box. A few different times throughout the night you find the eyes of your bandmates, each of them giving you big smiles and thumbs up as they watch you with Sirius. At one point Joan makes a lewd hand gesture, and you barely get a chance to see Lita smack her. It’s past twelve when you find yourself outside the pub with Sirius sitting on a curb sharing a cigarette.

“I hate these bloody shoes,” you mumble as you dig your heel into the pavement. “They make my feet sore.”

“Then why do you wear them?” Sirius asks, amusement evident in his tone.

You exhale a long breath of smoke, passing the half-burnt cigarette back to him. “I dunno. Beauty is pain.”

“For some, but I’m sure even without those things you’re just as pretty. Actually, I would bet pounds on that being true,” he replies.

“I think I’m rather plain without all this. Would you think the same of me without my makeup and outfit?”

You watch him smirk. “I should think you look even prettier without all of that on. Especially the clothes.”

Your stomach fills with butterflies for the thousandth time tonight. Your shyness left hours ago when you took your first shot. So, instead of simply blushing and looking away, you stand and look down at him with your own smirk.

“Quite the charmer. How about you find come back to mine and find out for yourself?”

He takes one last drag of the cigarette before standing, flicking it to the pavement, and crushing it beneath his sneaker. You watch helplessly as he releases a cloud of smoke, his hand now held out to you.

“I’d quite like that. Lead the way.”

~~~

You don’t know how you keep your composure the whole way home, especially with Sirius’s hand handing yours the entire time. On the train, as you sit, your head on his shoulder, he rubs his thumb across your knuckles. It’s a gesture that makes you glad you aren’t standing because your legs feel like jelly. And on the walk up to your apartment, he lets go of your hand and instead places it on the small of your back. You almost fall down the stairs at the contact.

Once you’re inside you immediately take off your boots, leaving them somewhere by the front door. Your jacket follows, only it’s hung on one of your kitchen chairs. When you turn to look at Sirius you find his eyes wandering all over your apartment, examining the details you assume. His sneakers are off, his hands are in his pockets.

“You must have a special job, this place is wonderful,” he says.

“My mates help me with the money, it’s not all mine,” you reply. It’s true, they do help you earn money from performing. You step closer to him, your hands behind your back. “And it’s really not that big. One bedroom, one bathroom, and one very tiny living room combined with the kitchen. But it’s more than enough for me. Would you like the tour?”

“Of course, if the tour starts in your bedroom.”

You can’t help the blush that takes over your face. “Follow me.”

The walk is fast, with every step you feel your heart rate increase. You’ve done this a few times, but for some reason, this time feels different. Perhaps it’s because all the other guys can’t compare to Sirius’s beauty in the slightest. Or perhaps it’s because you already like him a bit more than you should for a one-nighter. You don’t know. And you don’t care to know because you’re about to reach your door.

You open the door fast, letting him in first, and closing it behind you. It’s dark, the only lights coming from outside your small window. You don’t reach for the lights though. Instead, you step closer to the boy, the sound of your breathing suddenly far too loud for your liking. His silhouette moves closer to you as well. It’s almost like there’s an invisible force pushing the two of you together, and you find yourself liking it.

He touches you first. One of his hands finds your waist, he guides you to him faster. Soon enough, you’re practically pressed against him. You can barely breathe from the proximity. You’ve never felt something this intense. You look up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Still want me to not be gentle?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say, pressing one of your hands to his chest. You’re happy to find his heart is racing just like yours. “Don’t hold back.”

“Alright.”

Before you can even think of another thought, his lips are on yours. You kiss back instantaneously, your hand moving up into his hair. It’s soft, like you expected. He’s far from gentle with his kissing, and you’re glad. His lips move fast on yours, his teeth scraping your tongue. He bites down on your lip so hard you whimper, and the metallic taste of your blood clouds your senses.

Still, despite the pain, when he pulls back you almost whine from the loss of contact. But his hands move fast to pull your shirt up. You help him get it off, then move to his. Through the darkness, you can see the few tattoos he has on his chest and shoulder. They’re dark, they’re beautiful. You run your fingertips over them as he leans back down and connects your lips once again. You begin to guide the two of you towards your bed.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. Sirius doesn’t follow you though. Instead, he stands between your legs at the foot of the bed and begins to undo the buttons of your jeans. You watch in awe, lifting your hips to help him drag them down your legs, leaving you only in your bra and panties. You sit up, your eyes on him, as you start undoing his belt.

After his jeans are on the floor he pushes you back down on the mattress, climbing over you this time. You kiss him deeply, dragging one of your hands down his warm back, and weaving the other through his hair. That warmth deep inside you has grown, consuming you entirely. You can feel the wetness between your legs, surely staining your panties. You’ve never been so turned on by a guy in your life.

He suddenly parts your kiss, his lips beginning to move down your jaw and neck. You moan, throwing your head back to give him more access. When he bites down on you, so hard you can feel a stinging from it breaking skin, you pull at his hair, sounds of pleasure escaping your swollen lips.

Eventually, after leaving many hickeys and bite marks on your neck, he pulls back entirely and flips you over onto your stomach. You smirk against the mattress as you feel him unclip your bra. To help get it off, you lift yourself on your hands, and the straps quickly fall. You throw it off without even thinking about it. You’re about to turn back but Sirius presses a hand between your shoulder blades, silently telling you to stay as you are. You don’t hesitate to comply.

You feel him move and instinctively you lift your hips in the air. He places a kiss on your back, it almost makes you shiver. Then his hands are on your hips, pulling your last piece of clothing off. You normally would feel some sense of vulnerability at this point. Completely naked with your ass in the air. But the alcohol mixed with the utter need you have for Sirius takes control. You feel him shift.

“Do you have a rubber?” The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your legs together.

“Unless you have a disease, you don’t need one. I’m on birth control,” you answer, looking over your shoulder at him.

“No diseases I swear,” he says.

“Then proceed.”

You get up properly on all fours, the anticipation killing you. When he positions his tip at your entrance, you inhale sharply. He rubs his cock through your wet folds for a few seconds, brushing against your clit ever so slightly, before thrusting inside you in one quick, hard motion. You can’t help the moan that leaves you. He’s big, stretching you in a way that’s on the brink of being painful. It’s perfect.

He fucks you hard, very hard. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. At one point, your arms give out and your face presses against the mattress. Your hands twist in the sheets, your moans muffled by the bed. Sirius doesn’t like this. He twists one of his hands in your hair and pulls you up, the pain only adding to the building of your orgasm.

“Sirius,” you gasp. “Fuck Sirius.”

He’s relentless. He fucks you through your first orgasm, not faltering for even a second. He only stops when you can’t hold yourself up anymore, pulling out and flipping you onto your back. You scratch your nails down his back as he begins to fuck you in missionary, your lips on his.

You don’t know how long passes by the time he tells you he’s close. What you do know is that your second orgasm is not far either. With tears in your eyes, you let him switch positions once again, this time you’re on top of him. Your muscles are weak and sore, but that doesn’t stop you from riding him as well as you can. Sweat covers your body, and incoherent words drip off your lips. You can barely take it anymore.

“I-I’m almost there,” you mumble.

“Me too love,” Sirius replies, his breath ragged. “Finish us both off.”

You struggle to hold yourself up, a tear rolling down your cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, just a few more minutes,” he assures you, running one of his hands through your hair.

Much to his word, in a few minutes, he finishes. Hard. He moans your name in an indescribable tone, and his cock pulses inside you so intently, it causes your second orgasm to occur. As this happens, you lie on his chest, both of your breathing very uneven. He holds you tight against him.

Eventually, you roll off him and stare at your ceiling. You try to comprehend what just happened. Never in your life have you experienced something so intense. Most of the time when you told guys to be rough with you, they’d be turned off. But Sirius... You turn to your side to face him.

“Want a smoke?”

“Certainly.”

~~~

It’s safe to say, you don’t let him go all summer. You spend every second you can with him. Most of the time in your sheets, but a good amount doing other things. You paint his nails black, teach him how to wear eyeliner, and how to dress more like yourself. You enjoy every second you get with him.

He never does discover your fame, at least he never says so. You think he would know. Each time you go out you try your hardest to be unnoticeable and you always hide away magazines and switch the channel whenever something about your band is shown. But he never does say anything. Sometimes at night, you sing to him softly and you always laugh when he tells you that you should take it professionally.

You learn how much he hates his family, except for his little brother. You learn he loves Queen and David Bowie. You learn his favorite color is ironically black. You learn as much about him as you can and with each fact you do learn, you only fall more for him. But you never speak of it. You know the inevitable ending.

On the night before he goes back to school, the two of you lay in your bed, a thick silence between you. As usual, you pass a cigarette back and forth. Only this time, there are no words accompanying. Until he speaks.

“For once, I’m not looking forward to going back.”

You turn to your stomach and look at him. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me either,” he agrees. He holds the cigarette to you; you take it fast. “I can phone you if you want. You know, while I’m there. Or send letters.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” You question.

“I think I really fancy you, and I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”

You give him a weak smile and press a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Oh, Sirius.”

~~~

A few months later...

“Five minutes till show time,” an assistant tells you.

You’re sitting in your dressing room backstage. Joan, Sandy, and Lita all have their own space now. You find it funny how much The Runaways have blown up since the summer. Now, everywhere you turn you see yourself in a magazine or a news article. You can’t go anywhere without being recognized, or without the paparazzi showing up.

As you look in the mirror your mind travels back to Sirius. This happens a lot. Right before a concert, you think of him. Sometimes you wonder if maybe he’s out there listening. You haven’t heard from him since he went to school. You aren’t angry, only a bit sad. You’re mostly grateful though. He inspired most of the songs in your number-one album that got the band all the new attention.

You stand from the vanity and sigh. Tonight, your performance is being televised worldwide. Beside the door is your guitar, you pick it up as you begin your journey out to the stage. You’ve got a good lineup, even a small intermission for a happy birthday song. You hope wherever he is he hears it.

After all, it is November 3rd.

#fanfiction #sirius x you #i love smut #sirius black smut #smut #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius being sirius #harry potter fandom #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the runaways #fanfictions #i wrote this instead of sleeping #smutty #smoking #smut prompts #i love this so much #my favorite #sirius black is a little shit #flirting #sirius black being a flirt #fanfiction is life #i am smut writing rn #best writing ever #marauders #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #summer love

[futbol16]

Rio Manuela ・ England Lionesses/Barcelona Femení

This is a platonic story with the England lionesses and the Barcelona Femení girls. The character has a given name, but the story is written in second person. I was also bored enough to make an edit so hope you like that as well.

Id love any feedback you guys could give me! English is also not my first language so excuse me if anything is incorrect. Enjoy!

Word count: 3,7k words

It’s been a month since you and your team have won the 2022 EURO’s and to say team spirit was still high would be an understatement. It was one of the many reasons why your team felt like a big family, especially with being one of the younger ones. 

You were an incredibly successful player at the ripe age of 24 and by many fans' requests, you had been working on a biography. Although you had been keeping it on the down low, it was no secret.

That is exactly why the team was buzzing today as it was the release day of the movie. You on the other hand weren’t only excited but anxious as well. You didn’t have the best upbringing and you were scared of how the world would react to this side of your story. Moreover you were nervous about the team’s reaction, only a handful of people knew and even they only knew what you let them know.

“IT’S MOVIE NIGHT TONIIIIIGHT!” - Ella screamed as she ran around the pitch as training started. A few of the girls laughed at her excited antics, they too couldn’t wait. 

You laughed even bigger as you felt her jump on your back, screeching in your ear when you nearly dropped her.

“All right girls, gather around. We’ll do skill exercises today and a bit of strength training, I need all of you to be ready for the match that’s in two days.”-Sarina called you guys over.

Warming up in pairs you stood in line with the rest as you started training.

You looked up from your feet as you spotted Hempo getting ready to cross the ball. Picking up your speed you jumped into the air hitting a perfect header to the back of the net. Despite it only being a scrimmage in training you ran to the blonde smiling at her and celebrating.

“This is why they call you Barcelona’s bird.”- she grinned, making you chuckle.

“I think it’s also the name, you know, Rio and the movie with those blue birds?”- Rachel spoke up from behind the two of you, most of the team heading for their water bottles as training came to an end.

“Oh, yeah i guess that makes a bit more sense”-You laughed as a look of embarrassment washed over Lauren’s face, nudging her in the shoulder.

“Maybe, but I’m only Barcelona’s bird when I play for them, here, with the national team, I'm England’s lioness just like you guys.”- you smiled at the two then shrieked as they both squeezed the water from their bottles at you. Running away, the other two laughed loudly as they chased you around.

Lucy grinned as she watched the three of you. Turning to the other two as they waited for you. 

“Her biography is out today, right?” - Keira asked with a hopeful expression.

“Yeah, god the kid’s so young and she’s got a movie done for her, makes me feel old.”- Lucy chuckled, though with a proud smile on her face.

“Mhmm, the younger ones are really excited to watch it tonight.”- Leah continued.

“Pretty sure the whole world is. I mean she’s one of the best players in the world, it’ll be interesting to see her journey throughout her younger years.”- Leah’s smile faded a bit at that, she was one of the few people that knew, knew the little you shared.

Sitting in the relaxation room of the national team’s facility, all 23 of you got yourselves comfortable. Carrying three bowls of popcorn you thanked Leah and Alessia as they each took one and handed them to a group of girls allowing you to sit down between Lucy and Ella.

“WHO’S READY TO GET STARTED??”- Ella once again shouted forcing you to cover your ears with a smile as the others cheered.

 “Okay I was thinking about first watching the trailer and then we can start the movie.” - the others voiced their agreements as one of the girls started the trailer. Sitting back comfortably you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited patiently, this would also be your first time seeing the finished product, seeing the story of your football career.

The opening scene flashed across the screen showing you sitting in your cubby in a locker room, your England jersey proudly hanging behind you, the number 10 and Manuela printed onto it.

"All my life I had to fight, no one believed in me, so I had to believe in myself.”

Your back was to the camera as you walked through the tunnel leading you to the stadium’s football pitch. “To all of you, I have one thing to say. I’m not like you, because I’m not you. I am Rio Manuela.”

As the trailer finished, the girls seemed even more interested in your biography than before. Glancing around you took in some of their expressions before your gaze landed on Leah who smiled at you reassuringly and nodded her head. Smiling back at her softly you turned back around as the movie started.

1998, 𝖣𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 10, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Soft cries indicated your arrival into the world, the nurse handing you to your father as he looked down at you with tear filled eyes.

“She’s so beautiful.”- he looked up at your mother, a tear running down his face.

“Have you got a name ready for her?”- one of the nurses asked with a polite smile turning towards your parents.

“Marcia Rio Manuela” - your mother answered, watching as your father placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead, your soft cries subsiding.

2002, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Age 4

“Come on Marcia”- your father extended his arms as he scooped you up, turning back towards the reporter as she asked him something in Portuguese. Quickly getting bored, you got distracted with the short curls on his head, reaching up playing with them as he smiled at you.

Giggling at him you snuggled into his neck as the reporter decided to wrap up with her questions.

You smiled as a few other happy clips were seen playing on the screen. Willing yourself to not tear up, you felt Lucy wrap an arm around your shoulders from your right, allowing you to lean into her.

2007, 𝖲𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 21, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Age 9

Your little feet hurried towards the ball as you played with a few of your team mates. Hearing your coach call you over, you picked the ball up trying to put it under your arm as you walked towards him.

“Listen Marcia, mom is here to pick you up, she said you needed to go somewhere. Go get your stuff, she’s waiting for you.” the smile fell from your lips as you took in what he was saying.

“But coach practice is not over yet, I wanna play.” - you all but whined, not happy with having been interrupted while you were so close to scoring a goal.

“I know amada (sweetheart), but your mom is waiting for you.” - he smiled at you sadly, confusing you but you blamed it on him also being sad about you having to leave.

Nodding your head you took off towards your mother who didn't spear you a glance as she opened the car door for herself, waiting on you as you got in too.

You didn’t dare ask questions after getting a harsh ‘quiet’ after your first two. 

The car pulled into the driveway of the familiar family house, getting out and into the house, you watched as your mom pulled out suitcases throwing different articles of clothing into them.

“I wasn’t told until after we landed in England that my father had died during one of his missions at the Navy. I remember I was in such despair as the words slipped out of my mother’s mouth. But I know I was also upset that she took me away from home, from all that I knew.”

You spoke into the camera, sitting on a chair with a gray background behind you. Your face showed one of sorrow as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I decided to go by my middle name after that, Rio, in honor of my dad. He and I both were born in Rio de Janeiro and he always told me his happiest memories were from growing up there, he loved Brazil, it was his home” a small smile made its way onto your face

2010, 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

Age 12

“Go Rio, drive forwards, come on!”- your academy coach shouted at you as he saw your hesitation. Nodding to yourself you sped up coming face to face with one of your opponents, making eye contact with her you sent her a devious look before megging her and running around her to collect the ball. 

Moving past her you skillfully dribbled past four other opponents, looking up you saw you were one on one with the goal keeper. Pulling your leg back you aimed and then watched as the ball soared through the air and hit the back of the net. Your teammates screamed as they piled on top of you, the whistle being blown signaling the end of the match. 

The camera zoomed in on your face as you grinned, your coach sending you a proud thumbs up.

2012, 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

Age 14

“Good job girls, practice is done for the day. Go home and rest alright?”- your coach smiled at the young girls as they ran off towards the locker room. Hanging back a bit you took your time getting to the changing room.

Entering you were met with one of the taller girls on the team, a red head. Her name was Grace and she really had it out for you. “You could’ve passed more today.”

A few of the others looked up from their own chatter, now paying attention to what was about to go down in front of them.

“You weren’t open, you can’t expect me to pass to a player that’s clearly being marked.”- you answered her with an unimpressed look, this wasn’t the first time she came for you.

“Oh shut it Manu, we both know it’s only because of your huge ego.”- she seethed her palms pressing onto your shoulders as she tried to shove you back, but you didn't budge.

Raising an eyebrow at her, a small smirk made itself present on your face.

“That’s all you can do? Come on, I thought you wanted that ball.”- you commented with a smug look. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the short blonde girl stand up about to intervene before this would go the wrong way, but you gently shook your head. She sat back down with a worried look on her face. 

Focusing back on the redhead in front of you, you barely dodged her hit as her fist grazed your cheek. A collective intake of breath was heard throughout the locker room as she tried again, this time you ducked before hitting your elbow to the back of her knee. You watched as her knee buckled and she fell on her bum. Deciding that you’ve had enough, you made your way out of the locker room.

It was half an hour after practice, all of the girls had been picked up already. You sat against the wall as you seemed to zone out staring at the ball in your hands. The sound of boots hitting the ground woke you out of your trance, looking up at your coach as he exhaled.

“Has she not come yet?”- you shook your head at his question, though you thought the answer was obvious enough. - “I’ll be back in 15 minutes, if you’re still here I’m taking you home myself.”

With that you stood up making your way back onto the pitch which by now was lit up by the big lights. Fooling around with the ball at your feet, you already knew you would have to walk home alone.

Entering the apartment you shrugged your coat off as you chucked your training bag onto your bed. Making your way into the living room you spotted her figure hunched over what you assumed to be paperwork.

“Where were you? My practice ended an hour ago.”- you asked her, rightfully upset as she barely acknowledged you.- “You were supposed to pick me up.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” - you scoffed at that.- “Eat whatever you find and then go to your room, I’ve got work to do.”

“Diane failed to act like a mother, I could count on one hand the amount of times she’s cared enough to show up for her daughter.”- your academy coach spoke as he looked back on those times. He sat in front of a maroon background as he scratched his chin.- “I’m glad Rio had the academy, she had us and we supported her through everything.”

You felt a few of the girls glance towards your way, Lucy squeezed your shoulder as she sensed your discomfort.

2014, 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝖾 6, 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇’𝗌 𝖭𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖳𝖾𝖺𝗆

Age 16

“We both made our debut for the national team in 2014. She was one hell of a player, I think that’s why many didn’t like her at first. Even when we were younger and in the academy, if she wasn’t looking for trouble, trouble found her. People always looked down on her. And then she’d step out onto the field and prove them wrong.”- Leah Williamson spoke as she chuckled at the childhood memories you shared.

A few videos were shown of your debut, your first goals and first assists for the national team.

The girls’ eyes widened as one of the clips showed you jumping over a defender trying to slide tackle you, the ball held firmly between your ankles before you landed at the other side of her and ran towards the goal. 

2016, 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆

Age 18

Hey Rio, why are you still here”- a young Leah Williamson appeared on the screen. You were still in your training gear as you smiled at her sheepishly.

“Well..you know.”- you pulled your lips into a tight smile.

“She didn’t come to the game?”

“She doesn’t come to any of them, never has, said she’s got more important things to do”-you looked at the blonde with a confused expression she dragged you towards the stands where her mother and brother stood.

“Rio sweety, come here.”- her mother wrapped you up in a hug as you reached over and ruffled Jacob’s hair who only groaned at your actions. - “Come on, you’re having dinner over at ours.”

You and Leah grinned as you swung an arm around each other, walking out the stadium.

Behind you Leah smiled fondly at the memories grabbing ahold of your hand as you reached it out to her and squeezed it.

2017, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖥𝗎𝗍𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝖥𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇í

Age 19

“I met Rio this year actually. She amazed us all right in her first training session. We quickly became friends, because we both were the rookies of the team.”- Maria Leon, Mapi laughed into the camera. - “She’s got this amazing personality too. I remember this one time -it was actually when she got her nickname- I remember she scored a banger of a goal with an assist from me and I was so happy I just ran through her legs and lifted her onto my neck”- she laughed out loud, her voice fading as the clip played on the screen, both of your younger selves laughing loudly at each other as someone - you assumed Leila Ouhabi- filmed the two of you, laughing along before speaking up.- “And there goes Barca’s bird”

2020, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖥𝗎𝗍𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝖥𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇í

Age 22

“What was your favorite goal of the season so far?”- the interviewer asked you in a post match interview, your hair still damp with sweat and a bit out of breath.

“That absolute rocket I just scored!”- you exclaimed happily, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the win as you pointed your thumb behind you to the pitch. The rest of your team was seen dancing around and celebrating.

“How does it feel to score a winning goal in the Copa de la Reina?”- she asked you as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“Absolutely fucking amazing!”- you screamed into the camera as you got up close. The camera man and the interviewer laughed out loud as you got swept off your feet and onto the shoulders of your captain.

Mapi ran up behind you as you were seen waving at the camera while Alexia walked you back to your team to celebrate with you. - “That bicycle kick was one for the history books!”

“Bar-celo-na’s li-ttle bird, Rio,Rio! Our goal scoring hero,hero!”- your chants were screamed by the fans in the stadium.

Watching your bicycle kick being played on the screen a sense of pride filled your chest again as you heard not only the fans in the stadium screaming for you but your national team mates sitting around you as well, a few of them leaning over to pat you on the head or shoulders.

 It definitely was still one of your favorite goals.

2021, 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇

Age 23

Another interview was shown on the screen. It was one with a few of your Barcelona teammates, some of your trophies laid out on the ground.

“OH, MIS BEBÉS!”- you shouted as you hugged the two Ballon D’ors close to you. Alexia and Jenni laughed loudly at you as you grinned back at them.

“Those are definitely her favorite trophies.”- Alexia turned towards the camera.

“Are you kidding me? They’d be my favorite trophies too.”- Jenni jokes.

“Don’t worry Jenni, you’ll get your own.”

2022, 𝖴𝖤𝖥𝖠 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇’𝗌 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉

Age 24

England vs Germany

“Germany has always been a great threat to any country they’ve played against. Today the England Lionesses face them at home grounds, at Wembley Stadium.” - the commentators were heard as your team lined up for the anthems.

“Yeah I think this team has really shown just how good they are. They’ve got great quality and obviously a good mix of experienced and inexperienced players. Every single one of them has great potential, and you know, working together and cooperating, the sky has no limits, this team has no limits and hopefully we get to show that to the world at the final match.”- Sarina Weigman spoke at the press conference.

Dropping to your knees you allowed the tears to fall freely as the final whistle was blown. Looking up at the sky you placed a kiss on your pointer finger before pointing upwards.

Soon you felt a body colliding with you, Leah’s familiar blonde hair clouding your sight as the two of you hugged.

“We fucking did it!”- she all but sobbed, holding you tighter by the back of your head. You laughed in glee, pulling back you wiped her tears.

“We fucking did! My captain, my Leah, we did it!” - you told her proudly as her tears kept flowing down her face. Pulling her up you gave her another squeeze before she sent you towards Lucy.

Falling into the arms of who you considered to be your big sister she spun you around before inviting you to slide into the confetti pooling on the pitch.

2022, 𝖲𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 21, 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆

“Who do you think you can thank your success to?”- you were asked. Leaning back in your chair you briefly glanced at the dark blue background behind you.

“I’d rather answer another question first.”- you lightly laughed as the person behind the camera nodded.

“What do you think your greatest trait as a player is?”

“Hmm, I’d have to say my drive to succeed for not only myself but for the club, the country and most importantly my teammates.”- you answered with a thoughtful look on your face.

“Oh it’s definitely her passion for the sport. I have met many great players, myself being one of them, she’s one of the players with the greatest passion towards football. I really do admire that about her.”- Lucy answered halfheartedly in a separate interview, sitting in front of the blue background.

“The strength she has, not only as a player but as a person as well. Her mother sort of..abandoning her…in some sense, obviously hurt her a lot, it would hurt anyone, but not everyone would be able to fight in spite of that. To continuously show up and prove others wrong.” - Alexia answered the same question with a sad smile on her face but a proud look by the end.

“Her love for the sport and for the people around her. She has such a loud and fun energy to her, on and off the pitch. She’s hard to forget.”- Leah smiled with a chuckle.

“Well I mean if nothing else works then she’s got a real good death stare. Like you can see the opposition back down from her…but most of the time I guess her skills are good enough”- Ella laughed as Allessia sent a jab at her ribs, laughing as well before answering. - “Yeah, she’s got it all.”

“Back to the first question, why do you think you succeed and continue to succeed in football?”

“My family.”- you answered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Your family?”- she asked with a somewhat confused face.

“Yeah, it’s thanks to them that I’m still here. I’ve learnt everything from them and they continue to make me not only a better player but a better person as well.”- you smiled big with a light blush coating your cheeks.

“By family, do you mean your parents?”

“No, I mean I know my dad’s watching me from up there and I know he’s proud of me, that’s more than enough for me. But my family is my club team and national team. All 46 of them have my back and I have every single one of theirs.”- you answered truthfully. - “And I absolutely adore every one of them.”

The girls cheered as your biography ended, some with tearful looks on their faces, others with big smiles but all of them with a proud glint in their eyes. 

Your mother might have not cared enough, that redhead at the academy might have caused you more trouble than you would’ve liked and yeah, your abilities were definitely doubted by many at the start of your career, but you knew you were right where you belonged.

 In the arms of your teammates, your best friends and sisters. And when you’d be back for preseason at Barcelona, you’d be with the other half of your family. 

Football gave you a home.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson x reader #barca femení x reader #england lionesses x reader #mapi leon x reader

[minologistt]

00

TOO MANY NIGHTS I PJM

your lovely boyfriend gets you a bodyguard. one or two drinks lead into a spiral of things. however don't forget, never mix business with pleasure.

genre forbidden love / fwb(ish) -> lovers

M.LIST

warnings angst, implied cheating and neglecting partners

it was getting warmer, ice cream trucks starting to resurface, more fun shows and movies, even better outfits. however instead of feeling the warmth of the outdoors. you stuck inside, your expensive hotel room, arguing with your boyfriend.

why are you arguing with your oh-so-loving boyfriend, you may ask. well it all started about a couple months ago.

———————————————————————--------------------------

“babe have you seen the concept photo sketches for my latest runway?” you excitedly scroll through the photos on your ipad. you’re a very successful model and you’re gorgeous. in fact you’re the global IT girl currently, known for breaking beauty standards and such. in all, you’re a pretty big deal.

“yeah of course i did.. i don’t like that outfit they put you in” your boyfriend, jihoon, scoffed as he tapped away at his screen. jihoon is a famous producer in the music industry. you both have been together for roughly a year and a month, however—

RING RING RING

“hey sara.. now?… hmm i’m not busy so i’ll be right over”

jihoon is also a total A-hole.

your boyfriend is a horrible person, well towards you. lately he’s become over protective, controlling, and over all just toxic. so why are you in this relationship still?

people were too fearful of your boyfriend to even get close to you.

and you might be wondering—

“who’s sara..?” you shut your ipad off and looked over at your boyfriend that is putting on his best cologne.

“my assistant”

“why didn’t you say you with me..?”

“i’m not busy am i?”

“guess not.. we’ll i’m going to call taehyung over to—“

“no you’re not, go take a nap or something”

“are you serious?”

“hell yeah i am.. i’ll be back a little late so just go to sleep without me” and with that he was out of the door, quick footsteps were heard going down the hall.

a sigh escaped your lips, you knew who sara was already. she was the woman who accompanies him to almost every event. yes she was his assistant but she didn’t need to be attached to his hip. you sat on the windowsill watching as your boyfriend walks toward a all white benz. a short slim blonde hops out with a wide smile.

———————————————————————--------------------------

back to present day.

“jihoon are you seriously telling me that i’m a cheater?!” you raised you voice and threw your hands up in the air with pure rage as your boyfriends eyebrows knitted together. “you can’t be fucking serious—“

“don’t you go swearing at me—“

“you’re not my fucking dad, okay?! hell is wrong with you jihoon..” you huffed out as your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“either way i don’t trust you, so i hired a body guard for you and he’s gonna watch over you..” jihoon walked to his side of the bed and laid down with his back facing you. “he’s my ex bodyguard so he’s pretty good and i trust him, not your little taehyung friend” jihoon curled up and took his phone out. “you can get going now or whatever you said you were gonna do” he made a ‘shoo’ing hand motion.

you didn’t want to be in his presence any longer so you stormed out of the hotel room. “bodyguard my ass, are you kidding?” you muttered under your breath as you made your way to the lobby doors. your car was parked in the downstairs garage, because you didn’t drive yourself places often. as you tapped away on your phone, you bumped into someone. before you could even begin to stable yourself, a firm arm came around your waist.

“be careful miss” a soft voice came from the person holding you. as you looked up to see whom this person was, your mouth parted a bit as you admired the man’s features. he had a mask on however his eyes were captivating and his light blond hair was a compliment to his beauty. “yeah, uh, sorry..” you moved out of his grasp and noticed he’s standing in front of your car. “excuse me but this is my car so, uhm.. can you move please?” you held up your keys and jingled them to push the point.

“oh i’m aware!” the man’s eyes crinkled into half moons as he watched the keys in her hand. “i’m your bodyguard but if you wanna get fancy then your personal escort!” he ended the statement with a small bow.

“don’t skrew around dude..”

“i’m not and my name is jimin park.. not dude”

there was a beat of silence that went by before you sighed and just handed the keys over. you didn’t have enough energy to argue with a stranger. mr park took the keys and held the car door open as you made you way over.

———————————————————————--------------------------

the drive was silent until you spoke up to break the awkward silence. “so.. mr park, how much is he paying you..?” you glanced from the side of your eye to look at him. he still had his mask on but he looked a bit stiff while driving.

“huh?”

“my so-called-boyfriend, how much is he paying you to give a fuck about my well being?” you rolled your eyes as you watch the street lights go by. it was just 5 pm but it felt like night was approaching sooner.

“enough”

“honest i guess, so how does your partner feel about your job? are they ever worried?” you wondered aloud. he let out a hearty chuckle “i actually don’t have a partner”

and then there was silence.

however just like the world is on your side, you arrive to your destination which is a a night club. you were called over to do some taste testing but this club wasn’t some random club, it belong to your close friend taehyung.

your bodyguard parked on a side street near by and then let you out of the car. “you can wait here if you’d like mr jimin park.. i’m just taste testing so i’ll be back in a bit” you said as you began walking towards the club, jimin followed closely behind.

as you stepped into the club you were greeted with workers coming to bow and welcome you. you smiled and waved at them as you made you way to the bar with jimin on your tail. “y/n it’s so good to see you and who is this pretty boy? finally got a new boyfriend?” the deep voice came out of nowhere as a tall male approached the duo standing idle at the bar table.

“no actually this is my bodyguard—“ you made sure to do air quotations when saying ‘bodyguard’. “—that my boyfriend thought i needed..” you rubbed your temple to show how stressed you actually were. “well don’t let that get you down too much, yeah?" taehyung came up behind y/n and rubbed her back in concern.

jimin carefully watches the interaction and takes a few mental notes of the environment. "so y/n's bodyguard.. want to help taste testing the drinks?" tae offered a friendly smile as he watched jimin's eyes turn into half moons. "i'd love to but i have to be sober to drive miss y/n home", y/n scoffed after the statement and took a seat at the bar. "okay tae.. hit me with the latest and strongest stuff you've got"

______________________________________________________________

it's about 2 hours into the taste testing hangout and y/n is a little more than just tipsy.

"i can't believe you're still with that dickhead of a man.. come on you need to get out more" tae shook his head at the drunken woman whom was now leaning on jimin who was been sitting silently as the two held their long conversations with the occasional drinking. "jimin-" tae called the man and turned his head towards him, "don't you agree that y/n can totally get out more?"

jimin turned his gaze to taehyung. "i don't condone cheating however, y/n is beautiful so if she did get out there then she'd pull everyone of them", he then turned his gaze back to the half sleeping woman. "i believe i should bring her home now, thank you for the entertaining talks you both had, mr kim." jimin smiled beneath his mask and began to bring y/n towards the exit. "of course mr park, have a nice night" tae yelled back as he began cleaning up the bar.

jimin makes it to the car and puts y/n in the passenger seat. he goes around and takes a seat in the driver's seat and starts up the car. "mr park.. do you think i should actually go back to that man" y/n asks as she frowns and leans her against the window. "what man? your boyfriend? you most likely should however i'm just here to keep you safe", jimin then drove off from the bar. "oh.. guess you're right" y/n closes her eyes and a sigh leaves her lips.

it felt like time flew as jimin pulls up to the hotel room that y/n is staying in. "we've arrived, miss y/n", jimin turns the car off and opens the passenger door for her. she steps out on wobbly legs, so jimin helps her up by wrapping an arm under her arms. y/n and jimin make their way up to the hotel room at a very slow pace. "mr park.. thank you for accompanying me today.. i know it may have been a bit awkward here and there but it felt a little nice to have someone with me that didn't yell at me all day or ditch me." jimin kept looking ahead even as he heard y/n sniffling and holding back tears. he wasn't sure why she was so thankful for the bare minimum but he was also getting paid to spy on her every move, not be her company or 'bodyguard'.

so he simply responds, "you're welcome, miss y/n"

 minologistt | do not copy, translate or edit this.

#jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin x you #park jimin fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic

[bullet-prooflove]

Washington!Series Part Four: Family - Captain Joe Milius x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @witches-unruly-heart @shhoooketh @greenies-green @thandesa91 @atomic-art-dragon @irishavengersassemble @factualfic @mydarkestsecretlol @burningpeachpuppy

Washington Series:

Part One: Washington - You and Joe spend the night together before he leaves for Washington.

Part Two: Positive - You call Joe for the first time in two months.

Part Three: Tonight (NSFW) - You and Joe get reaquainted after two months apart.

Joe lets you sleep in. It’s rare that you do past seven, you’re usually up and out before six am swimming at the pool. It’s been your schedule ever since he can remember, something that started in college and has played out into your thirties. You never miss a day if you can help it. He’d like to think he has something to do with it but he’s sitting on your couch looking at three positive pregnancy tests, lined up neatly on the coffee table.

He guesses this is the reason you called last night.

You’re having a baby, his baby.

Joe’s both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

A family is never something he’s allowed himself to envision. He’d enlisted in the Naval Academy at eighteen, gone on to have an active and established military career. He’s seen the world, participated in more missions than he could count and never found somewhere he wanted to put down roots. That was until he met you.

He started to settle after that, get comfortable. For the first time he was thinking of a future outside of his career. A house, maybe a pet. He saw the way you were with Inoki, Kai’s dog. He loved the idea of going on long walks on the beach, just the two of you and dog of your own. He’d been working up to disclosing your relationship before he’d been assigned to Washington.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” You say softly as you sit down on the couch alongside of him.

You’re wearing his t-shirt from last night, the one he’d stripped off you before taking you to bed. It falls past your thighs, barely covering your assets. His hand comes to rest on your knee, his thumb ghosting over the indentation. Touching you grounds him, it always has. When the world doesn’t make sense, you’re the safe space he comes to, the person who helps him figure things out because this situation it’s complicated.

“How far along…”

“Two months.” You tell him, your gaze coming to rest on the pregnancy tests. “That last time we were together.”

That night in the park, he remembers. The two of you looking up at the stars before he made love to you under that tree, the one he’d carved your initials into before his flight to DC.

There’s no delicate way to phrase his next question. You’ve never talked about children, and neither has he. He had assumed there would be plenty of time for that further down the line. You’re in the midst of a successful career, a baby means taking time away from that, missing out on opportunities that could help boost you up the ladder.

“Do you…” He swallows hard past the ache in his chest because this has to be your choice, he can’t make it for you. “Do you want to keep the baby?”

Your hand comes to rest on his, fingers entwining.

“Yea Joe I do.”

It’s a relief, he didn’t think he realised how much until he heard the words leave your mouth.

“I want this too.” He tells you, tilting his head so that he can look into your eyes. You can see the earnestness in them, the honesty. “I know we’ll need to figure out what this looks like but…”

He finds himself smiling as his palm comes to rest upon your abdomen, his thumb ghosting over the space where the baby resides inside of you.

“I want to be there for the baby, for you. I want us to be family.”

He means every word of it. This baby may be unplanned, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t loved, that it won’t be loved. There’s going to be sacrifices, compromises he has to make, he knows that. He doesn’t want to be the type of dad that flies in from DC, sees his kid once a month. He wants to be present, through the pregnancy and everything else.

“I want that too.” You tell him as the two of you settle back into the couch.

His arm wraps around your shoulders, drawing you close. His lips brush over your hairline, his hand rubbing over your stomach lightly. Joe realises he’s right where he’s meant to be at this moment in time.

At home in Hawaii, with the woman he loves and their baby.

Love Joe ? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#joe milius #joe milius x reader #joe milius x you #captain joe milius #ncis hawaii

[jmdbjk]

Anyone else still alive out there? It’s been a week...

After so, so, SO long of just craving to hear Jimin’s voice ... his vocals in a song of his own making ... we have all of these songs with his voice only, and hearing the deep house remix of Like Crazy is like a dream come true for me. Listen to that clip...

Every ad lib, every aching note is like bathing my eardrums in silky ... silk ... just Jimin caressing the auditory cortex in my brain...so sexy. Every time I listen to it I fall deeper and deeper. 

Yoongi said Jimin's voice is neutral and I took that to mean gender neutral but I'm not a vocal expert so I'm not sure if that is what he meant. All I know is my ears are not the same after this deep house remix. I’m not the same. Is this what they mean when they say life changing? 

In other news...

Do y’all feel like we scored a touchdown this week? Maybe that analogy doesn’t resonate with those of y’all who don’t live in the U.S. but let me illustrate:

Or that could be a victory sign... sorta... in a Jungkookie kind of way. Either way, SCORE! 

Gotta hand it to Jungkook to gate keep his own body all these years. I respect that. If anyone is gonna make money off those abs, its gonna be Jeon Jungkook and no one else. No wonder he was doing that hardcore ab workout at Coach Tommy's during that one and only live we'll ever get from there (thanks to assholes). 

You know, at first these fashion ambassadorships were confusing me. It’s because I was not thinking it through. We know the guys have to enlist soon because they keep talking about being together in 2025. Why would multi-billion dollar fashion houses contract with them not knowing how the next two years will pan out?

Because I was too caught up in the time frame of the scramble to get their solo stuff released, the promos involved and enlistment getting closer and closer I could not see the obvious: In this time before enlistment, ad campaigns will be produced that will run through next year, keeping the members at top of mind. Brilliant. Now we know why Kookie said he has to take care of his body for the next 365 days. 

They can’t do anything while enlisted, so let these upscale fashion houses do the work and promote their brand/images for them, riding their marketability into next year and we will get to see them being their classy-ass selves from time to time in Dior, Tiffany, Celine, Valentino, Bottega Veneta and Louis Vuitton... Calvin Klein... It’s a win-win-win. 

The successes this year of Hobi, RM, Jin and Jimin’s work so far is adding to that marketability. We are one year and 9 months away from 2025. We’ll see how it all plays out eventually I guess.

#jimin face #deep house remix like crazy #i still think no one will get between JK and his Calvins #except maybe jimin #precise tonotopic map #hoity toity medical terminology that means THATS MY JAM

[hypno-cc]

HYPNOVEMBER DAY 3: BUNNY SUIT

This month, C&C will be doing a micro story every day based on a Hypnovember list curated by Robohypnoo on Twitter. Day 3’s prompt was “Bunny Suit”.

It all felt a bit demeaning. Sydney had been looking for a new job for so long that she was in no position to refuse any opportunity that came her way, but seeing her new uniform, what little there was of it, had her second-guessing if applying to the Flip-Hop Cafe had actually been a good idea.

The Flip-Hop was the newest internet cafe in town, highly rated by both customers and employees as a great place to work and a great place to hang. Sydney hadn’t necessarily wanted to work there, given the skimpy bunny outfits that the girls who served the customers were required to wear, but she had enough confidence in her body and enough need for the cash that she at least threw her hat in the ring. But now that she was in the office, looking at that tiny suit, she was having second thoughts. 

“It’s okay.” Robert, her new to-be manager, walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “A lot of the girls who come in here look at the outfit and have their worries, but it’s a big part of the success of our cafe. The more money we make, the more we can pay y’all, and the happier the employees are. I’m sure you understand that showing a little skin tends to boost the tip and sales numbers.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sydney looked away from him and shrugged off his touch. “I get it, but man, I’m gonna look ridiculous. And it feels a little bit weird to go out in front of a bunch of strangers in what’s basically just a bikini with big fluffy ears on your head, you know?”

“I understand, Sydney. How about this? I’ll get you through the new-employee orientation, no need to go out in the costume a single time. After you’ve gone through the training and videos and all that, we’ll see how you’re feeling. I think you’d make a stellar addition to the team, so I’d like you to at least consider it.”

“Well, I guess.” She had never been great at saying no. 

“Excellent. Let’s get you through the video orientation first, okay? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Okay…” Sydney dropped her head and allowed herself to get led into the other room, costume still in hand.

Robert walked over to a large monitor and double-clicked on a .MP4 file on the desktop. “I’ll see you in a minute.” 

She looked behind as he exited the room and fixed her eyes on the screen. The bar showed only 7 minutes of video, so she knew it would at least be a short video. “Well, I can leave after t-aww!”

The monitor showed something that didn’t seem related to the job at all, a scene of a couple of fluffy gray rabbits frolicking in a field. Two of them began to nuzzle into one-another as the rest bounced around joyfully in the dew-covered grass. Sydney couldn’t help herself: She was immediately invested. For as little as she wanted to take the job, she was a sucker for a good cute animal video. 

“I… It’s so cute… I love them…”

For several minutes, the bunnies continued to mess around in the grass, and Sydney forgot that she was supposed to be watching an employee orientation video. It was just too cute for her to take. She hardly even noticed as the screen began to flicker, at first a few times every minute at the start and then far more frequently as the time passed.

“So cute…” She couldn’t find any other words. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

She was completely lost in the video, watching the adorable bunnies hopping around in the grass as her eyes began to glaze over. Had her senses been with her, she’d have noticed that the screen had gone darker and that text was flashing quickly above the video she was so infatuated with. Eventually, the video stopped entirely and she was far too lost to realize it.

“So cute…”

“Yes, yes you will be.” Robert took her hand from behind her and lifted her to her feet.

“I… cute?” Sydney’s synapses were fried from the flashing video that had numbed her brain.

“Of course. Don’t you want to be cute, love?”

“Cute…”

“Just put this on and I’ll show you exactly how you can be the cutest, Sydney.”

“Yes… sir…” Sydney looked at the skimpy suit in her hand, ready to be the cutest bunny that she could possibly be.

#bunny #transformation #hypnokink #hypnotic video #mind control #our stories #hypnovember

[janeykath318]

Kitties And Canoodling (Wintershock)

Meow! Meow! Meow!

It was the persistent pitiful mewing that had drawn the bride and two of her bridesmaids away from the waning reception to follow the unknown kitty’s pleas for help. They’d each taken turns trying to coax the frightened black kitty out of its hiding spot and Darcy, with her skirt bunched up around her, was now sweet talking the distressed creature, who couldn’t have been more than two months old.

“C’mon sweetie. I won’t hurt you. I’ve even got treats with me…..” She held out the enticing kitty treat to the kitten, who stared at it suspiciously with greenish yellow eyes.

Meow!

“You know you want to….” Jane added from behind Darcy.

The kitten limped forward and hesitatingly nibbled at the treat. In the better light, Darcy’s heart broke even more at seeing the injured paw and skin and bones condition her new friend was suffering from.

“Ready?” she heard Natasha whisper.

At Darcy’s nod, the kitten was captured in a burrito hold, using a large cloth napkin from one of the tables. There was struggling and hissing, but kitty was safely deposited in the car carrier from Darcy’s car.

“Poor little void,” Jane crooned, “we’ll take you to the vet and get you all fixed up so you can find a forever home.”

“He or she will make a nice house panther for somebody,” Natasha added. “You’ve got some dust on your gown, Darcy.”

Darcy shrugged and leaned down to brush the debris off of her wedding dress. The rustic barn on Clint’s property was impressively clean and had been the perfect spot for her small cozy wedding, but the corner where the kitty had been hiding was rather dusty.

“It’ll clean up. I’m more worried about the kitty.”

“What’s going on over here?” Bucky queried, making a beeline for his new wife. Darcy pointed to the carrier and its occupant.

“We had a rescue mission! Poor little kitty was injured and abandoned.”

“Awww, poor little guy,” Bucky sighed, leaning down to get a good look at the small cat. Kitty responded with more hisses, which only made Bucky grin knowingly. “A spicy one. We gonna keep him—or her?”

“I’d like to, but that depends on Alpine,” Darcy answered. “Natasha said she’ll take the kitty if we don’t. Either way, they’ll have a good home.”

“You and your heart for strays,” Bucky sighed lovingly, wrapping his arms around her. “One of the many reasons I love you. I was pretty feral myself when we met.”

“Oh, you were,” Darcy agreed, fondly remembering her long efforts to befriend and socialize Bucky Barnes. “But you understand why I do what I do. The happy-ending-in-a -forever-home stories are incredibly worth it.”

She smiled happily up at her husband who hummed his agreement and wiped a speck of sawdust out of her hair right before he kissed her.

BONUS

“Was the rescue mission a success?” Steve asked Natasha as she rejoined him under the brightly lit rafters.

“Very much so,”she confirmed, grinning at his disheveled state. Steve had clearly been enjoying himself, judging by the absent jacket, wildly crooked tie and the mussed hair. “Were you and Thor playing catch with Mjolnir again?”

Steve looked adorably sheepish.

“Well…..maybe. But we were strictly outside. We discovered Mjolnir likes Sam, which was pretty cool. Sam was very excited.”

“I bet he was,” she agreed. “Did he already head out?”

“Yeah. He wanted to canoodle with Sharon in private.” Steve replied slyly. “I’m guessing Bucky was also looking for some canoodling with Darcy.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “They are so adorable together. “She was just what he needed.”

“And you were just what I needed,” Steve murmured, expression turning very soft and sappy. Natasha took the opportunity to perch on his lap and indulge in a little canoodling herself.

#wintershock #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #fluff plus kitties!

[ask-princess-lilly]

One day. :I

[ In all seriousness, though, I have four asks in my inbox that’ve been there for about a month now. I just don’t really have any way to answer them, the fact I had to ask for them to be sent in the first place discourages me greatly, and the general lack of interest in this blog is putting me off bothering at all anymore, if I’m honest. There never was much interest, but back when all the connected blogs were still active, well. It made sense for me to continue. Nowadays, though? Not so much. I don’t receive asks without prompting them anymore, and I don’t exactly interact with anyone on here either due to my own reclusive personality, fear of being intentionally ignored and general lack of ideas, which I suppose doesn’t help much.

So I’m kind of just debating on abandoning this altogether. Not really sure I want to, since it’s at least something to do with spare time that’d otherwise be wasted away doing nothing at all, and I’d always wanted to run an ask blog back in my early days and never quite managed to because my art was so horrid back then they never went beyond my sister and the two friends I had back then spamming me with stuff I never even answered before deleting the blogs lol, but I also see little reason to put time and effort into something about two people care about. I guess in that manner, this one’s about as successful as my past ones were, ironically.

Not to mention Lilly’s original owner let me have her because she liked what I did with this stuff. I’d feel kind of mean if I just let her go to waste. Guess we’ll have to see on this one. Sorry for the long ramble, I don’t usually get into my personal feelings online (This is the first time I have since....2013 or before, actually.) but I’ve been feeling especially bothered about this blog and it’s lack of going anywhere for a while, so I thought I’d post this and hope for the best.

Ah well. ]

#Princess Lilly Sparkle Rose #ask-princess-lilly #Ask-Princess-Skyla #Massive out of character rant under the Keep reading button

[edupunkn00b]

Ours, Ch. 6: Our Secrets

Prev - Our Secrets - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Secrets can mask danger. or, as a wise man once said, "Secrets, secrets are no fun. Tell me now or else we're done."

Day 6 of @royalityweek, Secrets WC: 2599 - Rated: T - CW: blood, vampirism, thrall/mind control, suggestive

Sweet Ro had insisted he would return quickly after his next performance. Patton had been walking him home each evening, with Luka covering the gap in their patrols. "But I enjoy meeting you afterwards," he'd insisted, brushing kisses against his cheekbone, his jaw, his ear. "You still wear the scent of your stage make-up, and your voice is fizzy with excitement. It's beautiful."

"I'm a sweaty mess after shows!" he'd protested, bright pink dusting his cheeks.

"And beautiful," Patton murmured, interrupting his attempt to put on his shoes by wrapping both arms around him and snuggling close. "You sound surprised I'd want to see you like that." Ro's only response had been a quiet laugh as he'd pulled him into a kiss.

Ro's earlier surprise that they would even permit him to continue his theatre work had been heartbreaking, though.

“Oh,” he’d blinked, mouth working silently as he burrowed deeper into his spot between them in the big den. A passing glance at the calendar after lunch one day had pulled him into a near panic, sharpened teeth elongating and fur sprouting on the backs of his hands. His control was improving, but sudden emotional jolts could still bring out the wolf involuntarily. 

Drawing him down into the nest of pillows had helped and eventually Ro had gotten out that he was expected for a play.  

“I wasn’t sure if… if it was, you know, allowed,” he’d whispered, leaning in to their little touches with a soft rumble.

“Of course it is, cookie,” Patton murmured. He scritched the blend of fur and hair at the back of his neck, fingers buried in the fluffy softness he’d come to love, to crave. “Oh, Love, you never need to be afraid to tell us things.”

“Barring emergencies, we’ll have no problem working around your performances.” Luka’s voice was low, soothing them both. “And even if it was difficult, little pup, we'd still make it work. It's important to you.”

Ro had rumbled again then, the fuzzy sweet sound broadening Patton’s smile. “It is,” he’d nodded, eyes fallen shut under the attention of his new pack. “Thank you…”

And so Patton waited for him just outside the stage door. He and Ro had completed a successful hunt the night before, taking out three of the band of bloodsuckers who’d spent the past two months prowling the streets, looking for revenge for Yann. The monsters didn’t care that it hadn’t been their Hunter guild following V’s marching orders and were out for blood. Ro was simply too new to hunt on his own.

A sudden shadow loomed in front of him and Patton reached for his herbertz blade. “Don’t even try it, buddy…” The scent of blood and cold copper filled his lungs. A vamp, but one he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a young one, either. Patton couldn’t quite guess its age, but its days as a living being were long, long past it. 

Chuckling quietly, he grabbed his freshly sharpened stake instead. “Well, then. What do we have here?” He drew closer. Earth and dust. Old silk. It was calm, entirely too calm for a bloodsucker cornered in an alley by a trained Hunter. Patton chuckled again, almost pitying the creature. Almost. It had no idea who it had decided to accost. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?” he asked it, giving it a chance to run. Make it a fair fight.

The bloodsucker stood its ground, posing as though it was the one with the upper hand. Arrogant, too?  “Oh, who’s a bright little Hunter?” Its unctuous voice was thick with sarcasm and scorn. Patton snarled and stepped closer, positioning the vamp between him and a solid brick wall. Soon it would be nothing but dust mixing with the rest of the dirt underfoot. 

The bloodsucker didn’t even know enough to be afraid, warm, golden eyes sure and confident. He smiled at Patton, gleaming white teeth peeking past dark red lips. . “You’re not afraid to meet my eyes, little pup.” His voice was low and buzzed in his brain.

Patton shook his head, cutting off the start of a rumble deep in his chest. “Don’t call me that, you filthy bloodsucker.” Luka was the only person alive who could call him that. Certainly not this strange, cocky vampire. Patton eyed him, inspecting him for the telltale bulges of a weapon.

Nothing but his teeth. His mind buzzed again and he drew closer, chasing the faint scent of jasmine and rosehips.  “Of course I’m not afraid to meet your eyes.” Patton stood tall, the smooth finish of the heavy stake in his hands lending him strength. He pushed out a laugh, a little tinny. laughed. This vamp thought he’d be afraid? “Your thrall won’t work on me.”

The vampire only smiled, full, dark lips parted to reveal more of his strong, sharp teeth. “Oh, is that so?” He stepped closer, wrapping Patton in the soft scent of flowers.

Stake it now! Rush it and stab, it won’t expect it. Do it, Pathos, do it now!

Patton inhaled deeply. Spring rains, the tang of ozone, the crackle of lightning. He blinked. He’d nearly put away his stake and he looked up at the vampire again, raising the pointy end of his stake back where it belonged.

“That’s right, bloodsucker." He thumped his chest, fingers grazing the turquoise around his neck.. "Thrall won’t work on members of the Pack.”It’s playing with you, Pathos. Why is it so confident? Stake it, get Ro, and run!

“Are you quite certain about that?”

The vampire drew even closer. If Patton reached out, he could touch the heavy velvet cloak, his gloves. The yellow leather looked soft and pliant and Patton wondered what it might feel like against his skin.

"Put down that stake." The command battered his mind, seeping through his skin and filling his body until it reached his fingers and he released his grip.

No! Pathos, what are you doing? Patton watched himself from above, growling as his stake rolled away from his body. Run, Pathos, run!

The vampire gifted him with a smile, soft and beautiful. They were so close, his own body’s heat bouncing off the vampire until it seemed to come from him instead.  He could touch the vampire, if he wished, if the vampire would allow him too. 

Sweet, blood-warmed breath ghosted against his neck and Patton shuddered. His muscles fought under his skin, driving him back, away from the vampire at the same time as they pushed him forward.

Run! Just run! Get Luka, get help, just run!

"Now isn't that better, pup?" A warning growl bubbled up from his chest, thighs trembling with frozen effort to run. 

His body just wouldn’t obey. The vampire’s pheromones screamed at him, the bloodsucker’s hunger bathing him in it’s dizzying, aluring stink. Patton’s claws burned at his fingertips and toes, called to emerge from the danger. 

The vampire only laughed at his turmoil. "I don’t care much for the taste of full werewolves”—Run Pathos!—”but you hybrids smell delicious.” 

Delicious? Patton’s face stretched into a smile and he breathed in deeply. Copper and flowers stung his nose, sharp and bright. He wanted more.

The vampire drew closer, lips dangerously close for one tantalizing moment. But then he moved away and Patton bit his lip, stifling a whine.

Run!

“And I know you smell me. You're practically vibrating every time you inhale." Patton’s feet sank into the ground, boots heavy, laden with wet cement and lead. His eyes followed the vampire as he circled him, long, lithe fingers petting his hair, his shoulders. Two fingers stroked the shell of his ear. He shivered. 

The vampire’s skin was smooth and cold, burning ice against his bare skin. Despite the ache, Patton leaned in to the soft brushes, neck muscles twitching as his brain shouted and tried to yank away from his touch. "Oh, and you do like a little affection, don't you?" 

The words were quiet but his voice boomed through Patton’s body, rattling his bones and echoing through his mind. "I like it, too." Soft, cold lips pressed against his ear. "What’s your name, pup?”

“I am called Pathos.”

His deep, gravely laughter sounded more like a packmate’s rumble than mockery and Patton’s body reacted, his own near-silent rumble pushing up from his chest. The vampire’s scent grew sweet and he opened his mouth to taste the air.

Get out of there, Pathos! Now! Just go!

“That’s not what I asked…” The vamp stroked his turquoise, the stone vibrating its outrage against his chest. Icy hands then dragged down his body and locked onto his hips, digging into his flesh. Electricity fizzled through his nerves and their commands to move, to shove, to run went ignored. He only swayed closer as the vampire stared into eyes.

“What’s your name?”

The vamp’s command ripped the word from his mouth. “Patton.”

“Patton…” 

His name on the vampire’s lips was wrong, terrifying. How could he have given up his name to a bloodsucker?

And it was beautiful. He growled, a warning and a plea to hear it again. “Patton…” Patton gasped, fear and need coiling in his belly. “I like the way that feels in my mouth.”

Patton shuddered.

“A little pop at the beginning, just like when I finally let you feel my teeth pierce your tender skin.” Fangs grazed the side of his neck, drawing a single drop of blood. He managed to inch his feet back even as his eyes wouldn’t leave the vampire’s face.

Run, Pathos!

“Then a soft hum at the end when you’re satisfied.” A soft, frozen tongue traced a line up his neck and Patton stopped breathing. “Patton,” the vamp murmured, nuzzling his neck.

Run!

“Patton…” The soft whisper was followed by teeth stabbing through his flesh and ice cold lips closing on the wound, slurping up his blood. Patton pushed against him, hands twisted in the vampire’s cloak. It was as soft as it had looked. The lining was heavy silk, a perfect butter yellow.

Luka had once told him how Dracula wore yellow to replace the sun that now scorned him.

No! Run!

He pulled Dracula closer, melting against him. A soft, pleased rumble spilled from his lips even as his blood spilled into Dracula’s waiting mouth. Before long, Dracula broke away from his neck but kept one iron hand on his hip. Cold fingers brushed down his cheek.

“Patton,” he said. “Now… tell me where you last saw my Virgil.”

“Your sired is building an army, my lord. But the Hunters will defeat him. We know where he lives, we know where he plays. We know which of his own kind will help us. We'll make him watch his spawn die by our hand and then his dust will feed the rats of the City.”

The fiery threat consumed the last of his fight and it was only Dracula's hold that kept him upright. Patton now only observed from a tiny spot in the back of his skull, seeing through his eyes, feeling the bruises growing on his hip, frosty fingers against his skin. 

“Yes, I know you think that, little pup,” The words were gentle, but the on his hip tightened painfully. Dracula drew closer and kissed his neck. When he straightened, blood glistened on his lips.

He licked them slowly then asked again. “Where is my Virgil now?”

“V will likely be at Emile’s soon. His sireds will need to feed, my lord.”

Dracula frowned and Patton drew closer. He’d disappointed him.

Please run, Pathos! He screamed and stomped, the heavy scent of blood and flowers smothering him in his skull. Fingers twitching, he gripped Dracula’s cloak even tighter.

“Oh, my little pup, no,” Dracula cooed, wet fingers brushing his cheeks. “Don’t cry, pet. Don't cry. You’ve done so well for me.”

“I have?” His voice shook, knees locked.

“You have,” he nodded slowly, brilliant golden eyes locked on his. “And I want to give you your reward.”

“Reward?” he parroted back and inside his skull he raged. Claws out, a full wolf pushed and kicked and howled.

“Yes, of course, little pup. But first you must promise me to keep this a secret. You never met me, my pet, did you?”

The scent of his own blood on Dracula’s breath, hip aching from his bruising grip, a lazy trickle cooling on his neck, Patton nodded. “I promise, my lord. We never met.”

“So good for me, little pup,” he smiled, sunlight and fire, warmth and danger. Dracula drew close, then pressed ice cold lips to his neck again and drank.

All too soon, it was over. Eyelids fluttering, his muscles trembled and Dracula tutted quietly before scooping him up in his arms and walking him closer to the stage door. A folding chair sat a few feet from the door, smashed cigarette butts littering the ground beneath it.

“Here, my little pup,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet. “Rest here. You’ll want to hide your marks until they heal, won’t you?”

Patton nodded dumbly.

“You smell like blood…” Head hung low, Patton nodded. He was right. “Give me your claws,” he ordered.

Patton obeyed.

Dracula held his hand and scraped it against his jaw until Patton felt his own hot blood drip down his neck. “It’s a pity to waste your sweet blood, but you’ll need a reason to smell as good as you do.” He curled over Patton in his seat, one hand snaking up to curl through his hair and tilting up his head. “See you again, my little pup,” he whispered against his lips and pulled him in to another kiss.

And then he was gone. He was gone.

Patton whined, looking up and down the alley for any sign of where he might have gone. There was no trace. Dracula had left him. He was gone.

He’s gone! Patton leapt to his feet full strength returning in a flash. Hackles up, his claws extended, fur spreading over his face and neck and hands. His skin burned where Dracula had bitten him and, after a long, panting moment, Patton regained control and returned to his human form.

Touching his neck, he felt the rapidly healing puncture wounds, a shiver of pain and… anticipation raising goosebumps over his flesh. 

'See you again, my little pup…'

The stage door slammed open, laughter and music filling the dank, quiet alley.

“Pat!” Ro’s voice filled his ears and he rumbled, relief and joy chasing away the last of Dracula’s icy chill from his skin. “You didn’t have to come.” Still, he was smiling, and Patton waved back, waiting patiently while he said goodbye to his fellow cast members.

Skipping the stairs, the young Hunter leapt over the handrail and threw himself into Patton’s arms. He pulled back almost immediately, arms still wrapped around him. Gently, protectively. “You’re hurt!”

“Nothing to worry about, cookie. Only a skirmish,” he mumbled, nuzzling against the side of Ro’s head and absorbing the comfort of his scent. “You won’t even be able to see it by the morning.”

Warn him! Tell him! Tell him now! What might that bloodsucker do if he got his hands on sweet Ro?

Cupping his cheeks, Patton stared into Ro’s eyes. The words were right there, he could taste them on his tongue. Dracula is here and we are vulnerable to the thrall. We’re all in danger!

Dracula’s golden eyes filled his mind. ‘You never met me, my pet…’

He smiled and brushed a soft kiss against Ro's lips. “Let’s go home, Love.”

#Ours #ts roman #ts patton #royality #slow burn #slow-ish burn :) #okay maybe not slow at all #Roman Prince #Pathos #Patton #hunter!Patton #Ire #Luka #vampires #werewolves #hunters #ts remus #mentioned #royalityweek2023 #royalityweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders side fanfic #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Lucas Sanders #for the tags

[almost-a-class-act]

This was going to be a Ron’s Birthday fic and then I found out his birthday was on 420 and I took a hard right turn. For @latibvles, fellow citizen of Gremlin Town and equal opportunity lover of rarepairs, resident Ronspert and I guess a Gemini but we’ll let that slide. Happy birthday!

Pairing: Grant/Speirs Fandom: Band of Brothers Content warning I guess for marijuana use, in case that was unclear.

--

It is not very easy to roll a joint one-handed.

It can be done, the way many things can be done with one hand, if a person absolutely has to. Chuck has discovered workarounds for a lot of everyday tasks, with varying degrees of success. He has given up entirely on opening jars, wearing shoes with laces, and cooking anything that needs to be drained, but by and large he can muddle his way through most other things.

The rolling itself he has figured out how to do with some practice – and a not inconsiderable amount of waste – though it remains not ideal. Grinding, though, is virtually impossible without two hands. Luckily, the perfect constellation of situations played out in conjunction with one another, which are, in no particular order:

Ron, not given to showy displays of affection, prefers to express himself by quietly and unostentatiously doing literally anything Chuck asks him to do.

Chuck, accustomed to managing on his own during the months at a time when Ron is away, rarely asks him to do anything.

Ron is therefore always on the lookout for whatever Chuck might need, even if it’s a task with which he is initially unfamiliar.

Ron, unsatisfied with being mediocre at anything, teaches himself how to roll possibly the best joints on the western seaboard.  

He does it first thing when he shows up these days, settling in at the kitchen table and arranging the finished product neatly in the tin that Chuck keeps for this purpose. Chuck makes him a cup of tea and then sits by the open window in the sunshine. Sometimes they talk, but not always. Neither of them has ever felt obligated to fill a silence, and Chuck is quieter now than he was, still feeling his way toward pulling sentences together with the ease he used to.

“Thanks,” he had said, a little awkwardly, the first time Ron had done it. Ron, not overly demonstrative on his best day, hadn’t exactly been readable about whether he had any moral objections to what he’d been doing, and Chuck had felt obligated to add: “It’s better than the pills. Doesn’t make my head float away.”

“I know.” Ron can be unambiguous when he wants to be – when he sees the need for it. “You don’t have to justify it to me.”

It’s not really a topic of conversation after that. Ron does it without being asked.

On a Tuesday evening in June, with the sun inching toward the horizon, Chuck is putting dishes away after dinner as Ron stows leftovers at the table behind him. He has been feeling the headache creeping in around the edges of his vision since late afternoon, and when he leans on the counter to take a break, dropping his head between his shoulders and closing his eyes, he hears the movement stop behind him immediately.

“You should sit down,” Ron tells him.

“I’m fine,” Chuck says, taking a breath and letting it out. It’s not the worst it’s ever been. It’s even bearable. He just needs a second. “I’m almost finished.”

“Sit down, Charlie.”

His tone brooks no argument – the nickname is almost unfair – and Chuck doesn’t have the wherewithal to fight him on it. Ron is already up, and he takes Chuck by the elbow and steers him toward his chair by the window. Chuck leans forward as soon as he’s sitting, tipping his forehead into his hand and resting it there, waiting for the throbbing to die down. He is dimly aware of Ron setting his tin on the table in front of him, and as soon as the ache ebbs enough, he fumbles for it, blindly taking one of the thin, tidy rolls.

Ron lights it for him, his hand holding the flame steady.

Chuck fills his lungs, and the world doesn’t press quite so close after that.

He leans back to rest his head against the worn upholstery of the chair as the tightness behind his eyes stops bleating at him, and the breeze from the window feels good too, a little on the cool side and smelling like rain. When he opens his eyes, he finds that Ron has dropped down into his recently vacated seat, watching him, zeroed in close in that way he has.

“Do you feel better?”

Chuck nods, slowly, glancing down at the joint. “Yeah, actually,” he admits. “It works fast.”

Ron follows his gaze but doesn’t immediately say anything. Chuck has gotten better at sussing him out, but he’s not perfect at it. These days, though, he is happier than he used to be to wait him out, to let Ron tell him what he needs to tell him and not fight so hard for the rest.

“Good,” he says, at last. It doesn’t sound like there’s anything particularly disapproving in it. Is it thoughtful?

“You ever…?” Chuck has never asked before, because he has always assumed that the answer is no, since Ron doesn’t even drink and is so the opposite of the let-loose type that it almost makes Chuck smile to think of it.

“No,” Ron says. “I don’t like…” He hesitates. “I don’t want to be out of control.”

Chuck considers that. Because he’s never asked, he’s also never really considered the reasons why Ron might not want to, so it takes him some time to turn it over in his mind. “It’s just us,” he points out, finally. He’s suddenly curious, though he’s not about to push. Ron has been coming here every time he’s been on leave since Chuck got home from the hospital. Chuck knows by now that Ron trusts him, even if he hasn’t said as much.

And he also knows that there are particular contexts where Ron doesn’t mind not being in control, not that he’s about to bring those up right now.

Ron watches him for a moment. Zeroed in.

“You don’t have to,” Chuck says mildly, and for some reason, that seems to decide him.

He reaches out without immediately taking his eyes off of Chuck’s face, and Chuck lets him take the joint, their fingers knocking gently together. Ron eyes the thin tendril of smoke twisting free of the cherry for a moment before taking a drag that goes down easier than Chuck was expecting, though he still coughs, twice, on the exhale.

Chuck doesn’t bother telling him that you get used to the burn. He has a hunch it won't be happening enough for that.

Ron presses his mouth closed in that pensive frown that is so familiar – not a negative, necessarily – and takes another, shorter drag before he returns it. His gaze on Chuck is less sharp as he settles back in his seat, and Chuck realizes with a faint degree of surprise that it means more than he’d thought, to have company in a small, specific way he's never had before.

He smokes the rest of the joint down to the bottom, because it’s the kind of thing that makes the difference sometimes in whether or not he gets to sleep tonight. He doesn’t ask Ron if he wants any more, and Ron doesn’t request any. Sitting together like this feels little different than usual; they are often quiet anyway, in the twilight, unburdened by the need to make sense to anyone else. Chuck is aware of the muted ache in his skull, but it can’t force its way forward, make itself louder than the comfortable silence.

“Do you wish I’d shot that replacement?”

The question is so out of the blue that Chuck turns to stare at him. Ron isn’t avoiding his gaze, exactly, but he doesn’t turn his head either, apparently watching something play out far away.

“Do I…?” The question catches up slowly and then all at once, and for a few seconds, Chuck doesn’t have an answer. Does he wish that? In the long months that have passed since that night, in the hospital and then figuring out how to get by at home, he has spent a lot of time at first simply getting through the day, and of late, grappling with what the rest of his life will look like – that he might keep healing, for a little while, but fundamentally this will be with him always. He hasn’t had a lot of time or energy for recriminations.

And he doesn’t remember it anyway, can’t attach a face to what happened, so there is nothing to hang his anger on even if he wanted to.

“Colonel Sink said I should’ve,” Ron adds. “To save everyone the paperwork.”

Chuck swallows a laugh that bubbles up, unbidden. It’s such a peculiar thing to say that it doesn’t quite feel real. “That’s not a great reason to kill someone.”

Ron does turn to look at him then. His eyes are like a spray of sea glass in the last of the daylight, copper and green and amber, fading into darker hues around the outside, and Chuck finds the very edges of a memory, the first time he ever saw him, and tugs it in, lets it superimpose itself on this one.

So fucking pretty, he’d thought. Obviously not meant for him. But worth looking at nonetheless.  

“I knew you were going to live,” Ron says – this version, who Chuck knows better now than probably anyone else, maybe meant for him after all. “That made the difference.”

Chuck doesn’t feel the need to wrangle his thoughts into order the way he usually does, the pressure to be timely about it, to seem normal. He lets them swirl and settle before he speaks. “I hope that’s the kind of thing that only comes up once,” he says. “But in case it’s not. I don’t need you to do anything like that for me.”

Ron mulls that. “You don’t wish I had shot him.” He’s confirming, maybe. Chuck wonders how often he’s thought about this and then never brought it up.  

Chuck shrugs, as much movement as it feels possible to muster. “What difference would that make?”

There’s a long pause before Ron speaks again. And then, with a faint note of bewilderment that is surprising but thoroughly endearing: “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that. I never meant to.”

He has thought about it, then. Chuck feels a strange little rush of affection and reaches over to squeeze his knee, gentle and warm. "That's okay," he says. “It’s kind of nice when I’m not the only one not mentally cornering worth a damn.”

Ron doesn’t say anything to that, but he settles his hand on top of Chuck’s.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

[thessalian]

Thess vs An Unfortunate Tuesday

There are no words for how fed up I am with today.

Started poorly in that “I woke up too early and couldn’t get back to sleep” way, but I thought, hey, I can check the bus routes and go pick up some mallet meds before I start work, since I am currently out. Except that according to the route finder on my phone, all the nearest bus stops are shut. I found out why when I went out to the corner shop - I’d forgotten they were resurfacing one of the main roads in the area. So every bus in my area that doesn’t require climbing a massive hill is diverted away for basically the whole week, and trying to cross said road is an absolute nightmare because, again, resurfacing the entire road.

(Though I have to say, while I can get away with forgetting about the signs that have been all over the place for a month talking about it because I don’t even drive or live on that road at all, I don’t understand the people who actually park their cars there. One of the things that was going on when I went to find a place to cross the road was somebody’s car getting towed. Oopsie.)

So, yeah, it’s going to be a hellish walk however I do it because such hill, and also raining. I swear, since I’m not crossing the entirety of London, I’m about half-tempted to get a taxi. Okay, more than half-tempted to get a taxi. We’ll see after my grocery order arrives, since I have to be here to pick it up. Might end up having to take a taxi anyway to get to any pharmacy that’s open. Not a problem if I go to a supermarket pharmacy counter; I kind of wanted to go to the big Tesco anyway because they have a better range of gluten-free stuff and there are some things I missed on the big shop.

Anyway, then there was the work itself, which was its usual blend of manageable and really fucking annoying. First thing I got was "Hey, send all these reports to this person, please; the hospital numbers probably won’t be right so use the NHS numbers”. Some of them weren’t registered under NHS numbers either so I had to go by names and wanted to kick the individuals responsible for not providing dates of birth. At least none of the names I was looking for were particularly common. Anyway, point is that there were a lot of names on that list and only about two-thirds of them actually had reports on the system anywhere, so I sent what I had with an apology and effectively, “There’s this one we have no record of at all from January and the rest of them only underwent surgery on Friday so their reports might not have gone through the system yet”. The email I got back was, “Oh, yeah, I guess if you only got the samples yesterday afternoon we can’t expect an authorised report; and that other guy in January was a no-show so you won’t have his reports because there aren’t any”.

THEN WHY WAS HE ON THE LIST?!?

Anyway, after that, my laptop demanded rebooting twice in quick succession, but in between times I found that Temp was playing her usual game of leaving all the long bullshit to me. She was really blatant about it today, too. I mean, fuck’s sake. So I got a significant portion of the long and aggravating bullshit. I don’t know who got the rest but I had a look and it was not her. I swear, I’m going to have to ask Scruffman to really take a look at what she’s doing because none of this is fair, to any of us that do any typing.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, my Stuff What I Ordered arrived. So I have a new egg slicer (tougher than the last one, thank the gods), a proper salt shaker, two new window boxes, and a bunch of seeds. Hey, @fauxfire76 - I’m planting petunias! I mean, also cornflower and hollyhock and zinnia and forget-me-not and a bunch of other bee-friendly flowers, but you know. Also need to start the basil, coriander, tomatoes and probably the dill (I know I’ve still got the rescue dill but I cannot have too much dill; it is impossible). And obviously the soil to make the planting happen. I am alternately amused and bewildered at the fact that I quasi-regularly buy dirt.

So, yeah, today’s been unfortunate on a number of levels and it’s not even really over yet. Hence the wanting to go to the big Tesco for some gluten-free treat or other.

#Thess has a day job #Thess on gardening

[professionallyunprofessional]

ToonMakers Sailor Moon- The (No Longer) Lost Pilot episode

If you or someone you know is part of the Sailor Moon fandom, it’s very likely that you know about ‘Saban Moon’, the English version of Sailor Moon that almost was. Created by a company called ToonMakers and taking a page from the success of Power Rangers (which itself is a combination of action scenes from Japan’s Super Sentai series and newly created storylines for Western audiences), it was the original concept for Sailor Moon in the US and would have combined live-action with animation. It was never greenlit, however, and the only evidence of its existence for years was in the form of a music video that was shown at Anime Expo in LA. In the early 2000s, a few animation cels and a script *for* the pilot appeared. However, there was still no episode to be found. Until now.

YouTuber Ray Mona has spent months investigating the lost pilot episode, getting in touch with anyone who might be involved with the production, from directors to cast members. Her investigation is spread across two videos, which you can check out here. I highly suggest you do, because the amount of work that went into this is beyond impressive.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdYD5StqHxk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0L67YFwnQCQ

The second link, at the 1 hour and 45 minute mark, is where the lost pilot episode can be found. When I heard the news, there was no way I *wasn’t* going to watch it and review it here. As always, review under the cut.

Right away, the animated bits are very reminiscent of the 1985 version of She-Ra. As someone who grew up with that cartoon, I personally don’t mind the animation style. Slightly less successful is that the voice acting during these parts also reminded me of the 1985 version of She-Ra. I won’t say it was bad, but it was definitely a product of its time. I will say, though, that I love its dedication to keeping a few things from the anime. The Sailors’ respective color schemes, Jupiter and Moon’s attacks looking like those of their anime counterparts, even Tuxedo Mask’s signature rose throw. With the last one, I thought it was a nice touch that the rose actually did something and gave Sailor Moon a power boost.

The live-action parts were very 90s, in terms of both the acting and the way it was filmed, and I kind of loved it. The ‘dressing up for the dance’ montage, the quirky jump cuts and dance moves...it was kitschy and charming as only a 90s kid show could be. One thing that immediately caught my interest is that, in this version, Sailor Moon’s civilian name is Victoria. That’s the exact name used in the original promo for DiC’s dub of the series:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GLYx-sGdjUc

Does this mean we would have also gotten Blue (Sailor Mercury), Sarah (Sailor Jupiter), Dana (Sailor Mars), and Carrie (Sailor Venus)? I guess we’ll never know, as Victoria is the only one whose name is mentioned in the pilot. Speaking of Sailor Mercury in particular, she just by herself would have sold me on this series if it had aired. 1994 was about the time when I first started using a wheelchair myself, so seeing a girl in a wheelchair as one of the heroes would have blown my tiny mind.

Am I glad that we ended up with the dub that we got? Yes. DiC’s dub of Sailor Moon, despite its problems, paved the way for a lot of other anime to be introduced to North American audiences. Do I wish we could have gotten to see more of this version? Also yes, I won’t lie.

#professionally unprofessional #Sailor Moon #Saban Moon #Toonmakers Sailor Moon #Toon Makers Sailor Moon

[dianaxhayes]

✦ POPPY DRAYTON, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ DIANA HAYES the THIRTY-TWO year old has been in Hidehill for HER ENTIRE LIFE (RETURNED RECENTLY) and was a FAMILY FRIEND to Miyeon Kang, the murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the THERAPIST who lives in HOVE LAKE are said to be COLLECTED and SELF-SABOTAGING but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves. WRITTEN BY MEL.

TRIGGER WARNING: death, cancer, infidelity

⸻  𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

Diana Lillian Hayes. The eldest child. It's a trait that seems ingrained in her psyche, no one's doing but her own. Edwin and Leah did everything they could to make sure their children had every luxury at their disposal within reason.

Their Hagfield property had been passed through several generations, Diana joining the rest of the farmhands as a little girl simply because she wanted to. Taking care of something lit a sense of pride aflame in her.

While her younger brother, Jordan, was the athlete amidst their clan, Diana was the scholar. From a very early age, teachers spoke to her academic potential and she did well in all of her classes growing up.

Love was not hard to come by in her early years. Family and friends were always abounding, and at times some wondered if she ever felt sad. Ever felt pain.

Even if she was a quieter soul, Diana was able to find a close-knit circle who she found comfort in spending time with all through high school. She quickly learned that it wasn't hard for her to make friends, she just had to find the right people.

Diana was ready to go to school in Chicago. See the world. When her college acceptance letter came, the day truly was a dream come true. Initially she planned on studying Forensic Science, but made a transfer into the psychology program in the middle of her first semester. She had always wanted to help people, but wasn't quite sure how until now.

During her Sophomore year, her mother passed away after a long, hard-fought battle with cancer. Something in her felt selfish for living so far away, which caused her to transfer to a school a bit closer to home and finish out her degree. For the rest of her education, she would commute to and from her institution. Diana Lillian Hayes. The eldest child.

At twenty-one, she sits down to have a conversation with her brother Jordan that starts by saying two words: I'm gay. Following this, she had never felt more free.

At the age of twenty-seven, she relocates to New York City where she begins working at a successful practice looking to assist more patients. It is also during this time that she meets and falls in love with Irene Porter, a barista at her local coffee shop. The two fall in love, getting married after a whirlwind romance a year later.

Shortly after their second wedding anniversary, talks began about a baby. Something in Diana had always wanted to be a mother, again, that love for taking care. That feeling was soon replaced by a feeling of foolishness when she walked in on her wife cheating on her with a male coworker. The affair had been happening for six months.

When it came time to move Edwin Hayes into a care home, Diana began to feel a familiar pull. A pull to go home. But she had clients here, people who needed her. But so did her family.

Then, the murders started. First came Miyeon, a friend of the Hayes family. By the time the second body dropped, Diana had bought a place on Hove Lake and had packed up and sold her apartment.

She's recently been given the keys to a space to host her own private practice, moving her things in and getting everything situated. However, the longer she stays in her hometown the quicker she's realized that she's going to have to put the pieces together faster than anticipated..

⸻  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

While Diana seems extremely calm and collected, some of her favorite music comes from the Rock 'N Roll genre.

Has two cats, a tabby by the name of Margo and a black cat named Midnight.

Would rather spend her time with her nose in a book instead of going out.

Struggles heavily to take her own advice. Even though she certainly should.

While she's struggling to put herself out there again as a consistent romantic partner due to some heavy trust issues, when Diana loves, she loves hard.

Did have one serious ex-girlfriend in high school but they broke up because Diana was not ready to come out of the closet. Not even her siblings know about this relationship.

more to come.

⸻ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Siblings (1/2): Jordan Hayes, Alexis Hayes

Patients: Emmeline Astor-Roberts, Carter Thompson, Mckenna Ford, OPEN

Friends: Adriana Martinez, OPEN

Ex-girlfriend from high school (lets discuss please): OPEN

Hookups/FWB (women and nb muses only): Mallory Goldmann, Lakeyn McCray, OPEN

Any other connections are welcome! Lets chat!

#hidehillintro #diana // about

[themculibrary]

Slow Burn Masterlist 2

part one

a couple rebel top gun pilots (flying with nowhere to be) (ao3) - notcaycepollard sam/bucky E, 19k

Summary: That seems to be the thing that breaks the ice between them; Bucky's never really hung out with Sam before, past being jammed into a too-small car for six hours and then two uncomfortable months in a safehouse trying not to get on each other’s last nerve. Now they’re getting lunch or coffee every few days. Sam falls asleep on Bucky’s couch three more times. Bucky joins him and Steve a couple of times on their morning run.

He doesn’t notice, is the thing; doesn’t notice how ever since Sam slept on his couch that night he’s been letting Bucky closer bit by bit, that as Bucky’s been wondering about the boundaries and structures of friendship, Sam’s been drawing in.

a stranger to my eyes (ao3) - jaih0 sam/bucky T, 50k

Summary: He should have expected it, but somehow, he still let himself feel a certain amount of shock upon seeing the door of his apartment ajar. The new supplies were placed on the floor with a gentleness that could have only been due to the fact that Alpine was in one of those supplies. Technically, there was no point in being stealthy now, given the grace and finesse he had used to trample up the stairs with the fruits of his shopping spree. Still, old habits die hard, and people who sneak into apartments die harder.

In which Sam saves Bucky, Bucky saves Sam, and they just can't seem to figure out what it means.

birds flying but i'm still there (ao3) - overnights sam/bucky N/R, 45k

Summary: “Shit,” Sam says, staring at the thin golden ring on his finger. He blinks quickly, like he’s pushing through it all: the hangover, the too-bright sunlight, the pure insanity of this moment. Bucky watches the dark curl of his eyelashes, staring for just a second too long.

Sam blinks again, then starts to laugh. “Shit. Well, I guess we’ll have to file for annulment.”

And maybe it’s the leftover buzz of the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way that Sam has started to feel like safety to him, but something makes Bucky blurt it out; he clears his throat and says, “Yeah, or we could just stay married.”

colors of the heart (ao3) - sodium_amytal sam/bucky N/R, 21k

Summary: “Just hear me out,” Bucky interrupted, and Sam did so. “Steve knows a lot of my secrets, but there’s one I haven’t told anyone. I like you a lot, so if I’m ever going to talk, it has to be now—before things ever get serious. You get that, don’t you?”

Dissonance (ao3) - stuckybarnes peter/wade M, 121k

Summary: Wherein Deadpool is reluctantly hired to protect Peter Parker from an organization out to hunt him, with varying success on both ends and quite a lot of feelings, revelations, and identity crises.

Don't Look Down (ao3) - NamelesslyNightlock loki/tony M, 256k

Summary: When forced to decide between the lives of Tony Stark and Iron Man, Steve Rogers chose wrong.

Tony is left to deal with the consequences, but it’s not like he’s helpless, and he certainly isn’t alone.

Illuminate Me (ao3) - Half_SubmergedinPurgatory bucky/tony M, 130k

Summary: Tony isn't a healthy man. He's fine with that, really. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, he has a job to do that kind of has his health as a major requirement. So he unmakes himself, remakes the Accords, protects every single child super that enters his field of view, and hopes ferociously that the Avengers never come back to the US. He doesn't spend any time at all rebuilding Bucky Barnes' life. Not a single second. Anything he does that contributes to him is simply an accident.

Bucky is a patient man. It's ok if Tony wants to ignore him for now. He won't be able to forever.

(Somewhere in the world, a sense of dread crawls up the back of Tony's spine)

Re-Engineered (ao3) - Opy3332 bucky/tony M, 73k

Summary: “Tony blinks. He blinks and his entire world changes.”

Tony is sent back in time from mid-Infinity War to just after returning from Afghanistan.

How different is Tony Stark, and the MCU, with all that knowledge of the future?

Haunted by the guilt of Rhodey’s injury, the betrayal and pain of Steve, the fear of Wanda, the loss of Jarvis, and the foreknowledge of Thanos, this Tony is one the universe hasn’t contended with before. And he is more than ready to re-claim his title of genius, billionaire, and philanthropist in ways unexpected.

Scars (ao3) - Arvensis5 bucky/tony G, 26k

Summary: When Tony tried to urge the homeless guy sleeping on the steps of the Tower’s loading dock to move, he never expected that he’d found Hydra’s pet assassin—James “Bucky” Barnes.

Now, after months of keeping his presence a secret from the Avengers and helping Barnes learn to cope with both his returning memories and the modern world, Hydra is back for their favorite toy and Tony must call in old friends to save the life of the man he just might have come to care for a little too much.

Sharpen Your Teeth (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony M, 369k

Summary: A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Start Here (ao3) - howlingbuchanan (penmarks) sam/bucky M, 110k

Summary: "Tell him you will never know any better. Pretend to understand why that isn't good enough."

or

An exploration of grief and trauma through Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, who also happen to be accidentally, absolutely, and unconditionally in love.

Sugar Sweet (ao3) - ColorCoated steve/bucky E, 173k

Summary: College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

AKA a Sugar Daddy AU that no one was asking for.

War, Children (ao3) - Nonymos steve/bucky E, 106k

Summary: After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) (ao3) - notcaycepollard sam/bucky E, 33k

Summary: It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

What I Used To Be (ao3) - thepinupchemist steve/bucky E, 117k

Summary: When the police uncover a hidden sub-basement in the home of criminal Alexander Pierce and find a tortured omega and his three pups, they bring them to the Stark Omega Clinic, a non-profit dedicated to rehabilitating traumatized omegas.

After dark in September 2005, fourteen year old Bucky Barnes vanished. Eleven years and three pups later, he is far from the boy that went missing from a suburban neighborhood outside of Denver.

Steve Rogers is an alpha of some means. When he came into money, he decided to use what he had for good and sign up as a candidate to be a support alpha for his close friend Tony's charitable clinic. When he takes on the task of helping reintegrate Bucky and his pups into the world, he doesn't expect to fall so hard.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #slowburn #slowburn masterlist #masterlists

[from-chaos-make-art]

2023 NY Resolutions (& 2022 Reflections)

This past year (2022), my one real resolution was to make certain changes to my diet to gain particular results. I just got my test results back from my physical and I can happily report that I did it!! 

Now for 2023, I’d like to continue to focus on my physical health. I work a desk job where I’m sitting the vast majority of the time, and at home, I tend to work et al. in bed, so my back and neck have definitely suffered. This year is the year of moving my body consistently. I don’t want to say I’ll work out x amount of times a week or that I’m going to do specific exercises -- I’m going to see what I can do and go from there. My success will be in if at the end of 2023, I am consistently moving my body every week, and those are all the limits I’ll put on myself. (we gotta start somewhere, otherwise we’ll never get anywhere). 

Diet-wise, I’d also like to limit my sodium intake a bit more. I have a tendency to eat pre-packaged, on-the-go meals, which are already sodium-packed, but if I’m being brutally honest with myself, cooking is not going to be a realistic goal for me next year. So I’d just like to be a bit more careful with my food selection process. 

I’d also like to eat more vegetables & fruit and limit my red meat intake even more (this was the primary goal for last year). Chickin gud. 

These are the three real goals for 2023. 

Now for the cherries:

Creative

This year, I said I wanted to improve on three things: digital work, figures/anatomy, and backgrounds. I took two classes -- Digital Painting & Background/Landscapes and Character Design, so those took care of the first and third things. My anatomy has suffered this year, just because I haven’t practiced it at all because I was struggling trying to figure out how to draw lines on a tablet ^^;;. I also wanted to improve my self-discipline to not just rely on classes to draw...and I think this is something that I really do need to work on. My last class ended in August...and I haven’t drawn since then. Tbh, I have needed a bit of a break, so I’m not going to beat myself up too much over that, but I know that I’m not at the level where I can take time off from practice and my skill not suffer because of it. So this is something that I do want to work on for next year as well, especially because I’ll start to take actual animation classes in the spring, which will very much challenge me. Tall order from 2022 was to draw a comic...yeah, no. No tall orders for 2023. For 2023, we draw and just get better, that’s it. (I think I’m finally getting the hang of this ‘realistic’ goals thing)

Ok, so my ridiculous ass thought I could read 15 books total, and read 3 books of poetry in three different languages...yeah, wtf 2022-me. (I know this is baseline reading for a lot of people, but I do tend to struggle to read long form material now). Now, I did actually deny myself graphic novels this year because I was trying to focus on books...so there’s that...the punishment worked, i guess >.> and I actually did start reading more poetry! but I ended up reading a whole 5 books and 2 plays in 2022...so in 2023, I will actually attempt to go back to reading 12 books, and once I finish 1 book for the month, I will read graphic novels the rest. :D (i give myself a leetle treat).

I did not end up doing needle work at all this year...I took a much-needed break, and I think I’m ready to start again...I’ll take 12 designs for 2023.

No non-travel photographs this year either...but I’m starting to get that itch again...I don’t know yet if I’m ready to commit to this...I’m realizing that this year, I needed to take a bit of a step back from the things I used to do and see if I still even wanted to do them...and if so, then do them with intention...I won’t force myself to take photographs if I don’t want to...just like with writing. If it happens, great. If not, it’s ok. 

I wanted to wear everything in my wardrobe at least once...I did not accomplish that, but I did end up wearing a lot more of my outfits! Some progress is still progress! And so, I would actually like to continue this as a goal for 2023. It was really fun and I very much enjoyed the process of going out if I told myself I was going to dress up for it. It was the first year I started to dress with intention and I’d like to continue doing so.  

New goal: more nail art! I’ve been really enjoying painting my nails over the last few years, but I’d like to get back into doing some real nail art -- I bought tools and everything! I’m just real lazy and I’d rather whip on a pretty top coat or have all the sfx nail polish do all the work for me -- but I have designs and dotting tools and butterfly stickers I need to use!! The rhinestones aren’t going to glue themselves! 2023 is going to be the year of the Claire’s goth. 

Leftovers from 2022: I watched 220 movies, 15 foreign films this year. (And I wonder where all my reading time went). I participated in the film festival and had a blast. I’m definitely going to do it again in 2023, it was really fun.

I wrote 14 songs and 1 poem this year....not the best output, but it is what it is. I’m actually pretty surprised about that 1 poem -- I don’t think I’ve written one for 7 years, so, cool!

Personal

I said I wanted to work on being more sympathetic, kinder, and less judgmental; to have my internal thought processes match my external behaviour; and to not be tempted into my inherent negativity. This is an ongoing resolution obviously, and will probably be the #1 personal thing to work on for the rest of my life, but I do think that I have gotten better this year. What helped immensely, if I’m being honest with myself, is the person that I was struggling to define boundaries with moved away and that allowed me to get more space (physical and mental) from them. I was able to process my emotions easier and to decide on the kind of relationship I wanted to have with them moving forward, which really helped me to stop being so judgmental towards them, and in general. This year, I have worked on trying to listen first, and hold space, rather than jumping to solutions/advice...I’ve also tried to give myself emotional boundaries so as not to get overly involved or influenced by someone else’s emotions/issues. Basking in negativity has been a tiny bit less on the personal side this year, but has been a whole lot more work-wise, and so I’d like to do a little bit less of that next year (but I have thoughts about that!!! anyway, we’ll leave the socio-political discourse for another post).  These are things I need to continue working on, as well as thinking before I speak, and taking things a lot less personally. I have a big tendency to be gutted by the things people say (who doesn’t), usually off-hand, in passing, for years and years afterwards, and stew in my little gremlin resentment hut and howl at the self-pity moon, and I’d like to be a little bit less influenced by other people’s bullshit and gtfo it. 

Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude! Again, something to cultivate the rest of my life. But this year, there have been so many things that I am truly grateful for -- the places I’ve been able to go to, the raise I’ve received, my living situation, my loved ones, the opportunities I’ve received, the experiences I’ve had, and my improved mental health. Life is so so good, right now...and I honestly can not believe that I am this lucky to be right here, right now, alive and well, after everything. When I forget and I feel down on myself (which I often do), I read my journal entries from even just one year ago, and I realize that I have truly grown as a person, even if it doesn’t seem that way to me, or even to other people. I can see it in the way I think, the way I write. As anxious or frustrated or insert-negative-emotion-here I am now, it is nothing compared to how I was. When I think of myself five years ago, or even three years ago, it’s day and night. I legitimately don’t know how I even made it through, quite frankly. And for that, I need to be proud of myself and give myself a break, because I deserve it. I really do. (hey, look, i can do affirmations!)

Lastly...I’ve been flirting with the idea of getting back into certain social scenes. I think I’ve been craving certain kinds of experiences that are intimate, but not inherently sexual. I’d like to explore more identity-based and exploratory-based communities...it’s been 10 years...I think I might finally be ready...maybe? also, there’s still covid, so...we’ll see...

#personal #New Year Resolutions