#but that shit needs to me pulled back on A LOT online because that framing can be extremely harmful to some people (like me)

[moghedien]

i swear if you people start uwuifying OCD like you did with ADHD and autism I'm going to start attacking

#the general idea of what OCD is already so fucking wrong and harmful #if you start being like 'oh my little meow meow is so OCD' or 'its not a disorder its just a different way of thinking uwu' #I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL #ALL OF MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD MEMORIES FROM AGE 3 AND UP ARE OF HAVING PANIC ATTACKS #PLEASE GO FUCK YOURSELVES THIS IS A MISERABLE FUCKING DISORDER ITS NOT CUTE ITS NOT QUIRKY ITS THE REASON I HAD GRAY HAIR AS A TEENAGER #i saw this like 'i let the intrusive thoughts win' isn't something people use all the time for like dying their fucking hair #its exhausting how many people what to be all 'mental illness needs to be more accepted' #and then in the next sentence want to deny that your mental illness is actually harmful to you and doesn't negatively affect you #and its just because society doesn't accept your different way of thinking uwu #NO I LITERALLY WOULD HAVE KILLED MYSELF AS A TEENAGER IF SOMEONE HAD CONVINCED ME THAT MY MENTAL ILLNESS WAS NORMAL AND FINE #figuring out that something was Wrong with my brain was like the best moment of my life #and this 'no you just think differently don't try to change' attitude may be helpful in SOME CASES #but that shit needs to me pulled back on A LOT online because that framing can be extremely harmful to some people (like me) #knowing exactly what is wrong with my brain is literally the only way I'm able to not let it affect me #and it not affecting me is literally the only way I can function and live happily #like you understand that some people do genuinely have things wrong with them #and telling them they don't is beyond cruel

[throwingmetothelions]

Briarleaf University Pt. 1 - Meet Me Where The Lines Blur Together

Niyah was all spent brass, Marlboro shorts, and three day old eyeliner. There wasn't room for anything else, really. Stuck in a class she doesn't want to take - can the stone-eyed TA change that?

Nicholas x OC (Niyah)

TW: The only thing I can think of would probably be that i used the word s****de but its just the word. Nothing comes from that at all. This is the first part! There is way more actual smut dont worry to come, but I'm trying this "plot" shit on for size. This is meant to kinda set the tone and introduce you to the AU. Thank you for your patience.

The urge to transfer to a fucking technical college like she’d wanted to do in the first place was never stronger than it was when Niyah’s advisor told her that she’d be retaking Psychology. 

“See … you passed the class in high school, but you passed it with a D. In order to advance to Abnormal Psych, we need you to at least make a C. I’m not sure how they skipped over that during your first semester, but I see that we have a last minute opening for Dr. Rider’s course. It isn’t online or mixed mode, and that seems to be what the kids are after these days, but this course is capped at fifteen students which is a bit smaller than average. It’s over in the Coleman building. Does this work for you?,” the woman sitting across the desk from her pushed up her glasses and glanced at Niyah from over the frames. 

“I mean … yeah. Yeah. And what time is that again?,” she asks. Mentally she’s beating the shit out of the under-qualified asshole that led the class when she was a junior in high school. He was way too obsessed with his shitty garage band’s last minute dive bar performances to show up half the time, and when he did he reeked of PBR and the weird smell of the inside of a condom wrapper. She carved “Mr. Dierkes sux ass” into the wood of a desk on the last day of school, and she thinks it's still there. Niyah taught herself the best she could, but when you’re convinced that your teacher forged his college degree … what the fuck do you do? 

“It’s an eight am start, but I know that Dr. Rider has received excellent reviews and between you and I - he’s pretty laid back … especially since he got that new TA. Has a Keurig in his office he lets students use, and he keeps a container of chocolate covered espresso beans in his bag for those early mornings. If I had to suffer through that, I’m not so sure I would complain,” she says pointedly as she confirms the selection. 

Niyah might not have been sure what she meant by that, but she didn't miss the awkward crossing and squeezing of the advisor’s thighs as she typed away at the keys. One course. Like three months. Material she already knew. Necessary for her degree. What the fuck ever. 

She found herself tipping her head toward the warm-eyed woman as she thanked her and exited the office. The mid-day sun hugged her as she made the walk back to her dorm. 

—-------

“I said I’d never let you go, and I never did. I said I’d never let you fall, and I alw-”

Alarms sound a lot louder and a lot more abrasive when they fire away like ship cannons at 7:15 on a Monday morning. 

After kicking her comforter off and cussing at her too-bright phone screen, Niyah pulls her tired bones over to the small wooden dresser the college provided. Black sweats that were branded with a sports team she’d never cheered for and at least two burn holes paired nicely with her “World’s Greatest Grandpa” hoodie. Real stunner - she knew. 

She’d stayed up till almost midnight the night before spinning the pros and cons around in her mind like some sort of fucked up rotisserie chicken. Call it overdramatic or whatever, she just wanted to be done, and this felt like a bit of an unnecessary backslide. The pros were looking like … did that lady say something about beans? Beans. Beans and good reviews and prior knowledge. The cons? The cons came out swinging with: potential boredom because of the aforementioned knowledge, someone might try to speak to her (or worse - claim a seat next to her), and the time she felt was going to be wasted on this. 

Niyah threw her dry shampoo crusted curls up into some sort of bun, and we can call it that if we don't stick to the definition, without paying mind to the few strands that fell in the back. After all, the back of one’s head is simply none of their business when they’re trying to preserve their mental health. Her tote bag held the essentials: gum, a handful of tampons, two pens (both full of purple glittery ink), her half dead airpods, and a blank spiral notebook she stole from the student center with a sticker that had a suicide hotline number on it slapped to the front. She slipped on some beat up forest green Vans that were so old and scraggly she couldn't actually untie them if she wanted to, and her feet hit the carpeted hall of her dormitory. Did she want to walk ten minutes to the Coleman building through that chilly morning fog? Fuck off. Did her lungs wail for air that wasn’t marred by blunt smoke and incense fumes? Yeah, she breathed deep the entire way there. 

—-------

There was a lot of shit that one could say Niyah might have been expecting once she got there. Same old uncomfortable chairs that held stains with origins she wanted no knowledge of? Yes. The back row already being full even though there were thirty empty seats up front? Absolutely how she’d imagined. Her professor being covered in tattoos, wearing a Dropkick Murphys hoodie, spinning a beat up drumstick, and having an equally inked sidekick carrying his giant pile of shit? Not on the bingo card. Not even playing the same game, to be honest. 

“Here the fuck we go,” her mind sighed. If Dr. Rider thought that he was going to mold the class with his “I’m one of yall” vibrational pattern … he was sorely mistaken. He looked like Cheech and Chong’s bastard son, she thinks. Their hot and pretty toothed bastard son. 

The man playing Robin to Dr. Rider’s Batman clumsily plopped a bookbag and the stack of unaligned papers down on the long table that spanned most of the floor space. He seemed the type of tall that could reach the back of the spice cabinet, Niyah thought. She could see the green gray of his eyes behind his glasses from her seat in the middle; like river stones speckled with moss and clay. His hair was piled up in a messy mass of waves and dips weaving together like some sort of desert rose. The man, save for the pigment littering his skin, was everything natural. He wore a black button down and some black jeans - the type you keep in the back of the closet because they don’t have holes … church jeans. 

Dr. Rider stared at him with a cocked head before grinning and nodding his chin up at him as if to say “that’ll do, buddy”. He shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets before turning away from the other dude and addressing the class. “Good morning folks. I’m Dr. Rider,” he spoke calmly as he began to walk back and forth from one side of the massive white board to the other. “Welcome to Psych. This is just plain ol’ Psych so if this isn’t where you’re supposed to be, go ahead and pop up and head out. We’re gonna talk about the syllabus in just a sec … it’s pretty cut and dry. Uhh … first though, I would like to introduce you to someone. Now, raise your hand if you’ve had me for Astrology, Developmental Psych, or if you’re retaking this because you maybe didn’t do so hot the first go ‘round,” he raises his own hand as a few others in the class join him. 

Because of fucking course he taught astrology as a college credential. 

“Cool. Then you’d know I’m usually solo up here. This is Mr. Nicholas Ruffilo, and he’ll be acting as a TA for me for this course. His addition was a bit last minute, so that’s why there isn’t a blurb about him on the syllabus, but I���ll give him the opportunity to speak here in a second,” he picked up the battered drum stick he walked in with and spun it between two fingers as he went on about the importance of attendance, the late work policy, and the ways that he could be reached after hours. 

Niyah sank down a bit further in her seat and crossed her ankles as she tapped the end of a pen against her lip. 

What would this dude do differently than Dierkes?

Would she actually need to study?

What the fuck was she going to get for takeout later?

The sound of laughter from a few students and Dr. Rider had her hitting the emergency stop on this carousel of important questions. 

“I can take it from here, bud,” Mr. Ruffilo chuckled off the tail end of whatever funny remark she missed and walked forward a few steps before wringing his fingers. “So … my name is Nick. I would prefer if you called me Mr. Ruffilo because the bachelor's degree I just completed was kinda expensive … so …”. 

If that was supposed to be a joke, it flew over everyone’s heads and into the sun where it burnt up and turned to carbon. He looked to be just a hair older than she was, but she could tell that some of the students in the room had him beat. If one could smell the anxiety ridden need for a bit of dominance coming off of anyone in the room - Ruffilo reeked. 

Nick (Niyah had already decided that Mr. Ruffilo felt a little too bumpy on the tongue for her liking) cleared his throat and began again. “I just came off an Abnormal Psych degree, and I decided that I'd like to stand where Dr. Rider is standing in the future. He was one of my favorite professors, and I am certainly not ashamed of the begging time I put in to be able to assist him,” and this time he did gain a few giggles. His shoulders relaxed just a touch as he picked up a stack of neon pink papers and gestured to a girl upfront to send them around the room. “You’ll see me lead a few lectures, assign a few in class workshops, and answer questions after hours. I’m letting yall know now that I accept bribery in the forms of Dr. Pepper, Skittles, and Star Wars memorabilia because I am also responsible for grading most of your work,” he gave a half smile as his feet shuffled across the stained carpeted floor of the lecture hall. 

Dr. Rider stood up from his seat behind the long table as Niyah straightened up in her own chair. The ache in her lower back told her that it was almost time to leave. 

“Okay. There's only fifteen of you on the roster, but since five didn’t show and did not contact me - that caps it. Ten students. I wasn’t joking about that attendance policy. We’re gonna have some fun here guys, but there's a power imbalance because I know nothing about you. Now … I don’t want to hear any whining about this next exercise, so silently and without vocal protest please write your name, age, where you're from, your major, your favorite song, and your favorite food on a sheet of paper and then crunch it into a ball and throw it at Mr. Ruffilo’s head,” he smiled broadly as he turned around and took his seat again. 

“Wha-,” and Niyah snorted as Nick was pelted with paper balls. She caught a brief second of eye contact with Nick - the type that has you doubling back for a second glance before peeling away because was that person really looking at you? 

Niyah snapped her eyes back to her bag on the floor by her feet, sunk down in her seat again, and thought about Chinese food, the cigarette she was going to obliterate when this class let out, and the glass-eyed mini-professor that her cheeks still held a bit of heat for. 

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #auntievwroteit #nicholas ruffilo fic

[starcrossedreaders]

RootBeer Floats

Azriel x Reader

Author’s note: Here is part three for you feins. If you have not read part I or part II I highly suggest you do. Thank you for all of the support, enjoy! NOT PROOF READ

Laying in bed and questioning my choice of major is not how I planned to spend my Saturday night. Mor was out on a date with her girlfriend and wouldn’t be home till tomorrow, so like any good college student I decided to take this opportunity to work on this paper. Only for me to fail immensely at getting anything done, my eye’s were becoming dry despite the glasses I put on hours before, my room was too stuffy, and the silence was too loud. One more key stroke and I would actually pull my hair out. I let out an  sigh as my head fell into hands. The base of my palms rubbed at my eyes until I was seeing white, I only lifted my head up because I heard my phone vibrate twice. Who would dare to send me a snap this hour? Checking my phone, Cassian had sent a video to a group chat that consisted of Me, Mor, Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Amren, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Over the past 3 weeks Mor’s friend group had accepted me with open arms, Nesta and I talk about the mass amounts of books we need to read or had read. Feyre had invited me to walk around a few art exhibits our school had to offer. Rhysand had asked for my help with a business venture. Cassian and I had sat in a parking lot late at night, eating greasy fast food and talked shit. I have yet to met Elain, and the last time Az and I even spoke was  their last game the other day.

Me: Congrats on the great season! You guys had a killer last game, be safe partying tonight.

Azriel : Thanks, will do.

Yea, I still cringe thinking about it. I don’t really understand why he is actively avoiding me. Maybe it’s because of the captain situation, or maybe I’m being over bearing? I fall back onto my bed sprawling out and sigh, “Men, so complicated.” I shake my head as I lift my phone to my face to watch Cassian’s video. 

“I swear to god if I don’t get written by a female I give up on life,” His face was very close to the camera in unrelenting focus. The filter stopped spinning and Cassian let out the loudest gasp known to man.

“The most chronically online person you know my ass,” He clicked his tongue before he stopped the video. Soon Mor sent a video back, “No no, that is surprisingly very accurate,” Cassian only sent a picture with him using a vulgure gesture captioned   ‘Rude ass’. 

I laugh a little, happy that I could be apart of this chaos. I scrolled through the different social media apps for a little. It was only till my stomach growled did I get out of bed. Shuffling to the kitchen I looked at the clock to see the time.

10:00

Opening the fridge to find food was utter failure as Mor, once again, forgot it was her turn to buy groceries. I’ll have to get on her about that once again. Going back to my room I threw on a hoodie, slipped on some shoes, grabbed my keys and left the shared apartment. Double checking the door was locked I made my way to the elevator.  

On the walk there humming the song stuck in my head, a flash of red hair crossed my vision before his voice filled the hall way.

“Y/N, wait up,” He did a little a jog to catch up.

“Lucien Hey, what are you up to?”  Lucien. The guy next door, he was quite handsome, super nice, a such a flirt. His long auburn hair was tied back showing off his sharp features while his wired frame glasses hid the full beauty of his golden eyes.

“Just getting dinner. What about you?” He shrugged his shoulders a little.

“I’m actually off to do the same thing,” I smile up at him.

“Well then, care to join me? I could never let such a pretty girl eat alone,” He offered his arm to me with a slight smirk on his lips.

“And I thought romance was dead. I would love to join you,” I hook my arm on to his and he whisked us away. 

On the car ride soft music played in the back ground while we tried to come to a agreement of what to eat.

“What about that one diner that is retro, I heard their milkshakes are pretty good,” Lucien quickly looked my way to gage my opinion.

“Sure why not, I could eat a burger right now,” 

“Great, me too.” He laughs a little bit as he drives towards our agreed location. 

When arriving Lucien was quick to get out of the car to open my door. When he did he offered his hand and bowed a little bit, “M’lady,” I laughed a little as I grabbed his hand and stood out of his car.  I was quick to drop his hand when we stepped foot in the restaurant.  We were quick to be seated in a booth near a window. Upon sitting down a waiter that looks like they are on their last straw drops two menus on the table. After a few moments of silences Lucien speaks up, “What do you plan on getting?”

I took one last scan before I answered, “hmm probably a burger with a rootbeer float.” I drop the menu from my face to be greeted with a smiling Lucien.

“Rootbeer float huh?”

“Of course, personally I believe they are superior to milkshakes, and you cannot change my mind,” I laugh a little upon seeing Lucien's betrayed look.

“How could say such a thing!” He gasps and puts his heart on his chest, We both let out laughs that were a little too loud for the quite diner. 

The laughing was cut short when the waiter came to take our orders. Falling in the small talk about school, life, friends, and work led into an easy way to pass time. Small shared laughs and understanding nods kept the conversation flowing before a small feminine voice floated through the air. “Lucien?”

Lucien was quick to lift his head up from our conversation, “Elain?” curiosity dripped from her name.

“Oh my gosh Hi, how are you?” She was quick to slide into the seat next him.

“I’m...good. How about you? What are you doing out this late?” He turned his whole body to face her and gave me a side glance that seemed to say: ‘I’m just as confused.’

She waved her hand lazily, “Az and I were meeting for a late dinner and I got here before him. Do you mind if I wait with you guys? Better yet, we should just all eat together!” How she was this chipperly at 10:30 at night was beyond me. What really irked me was the fact that she is supposed to be here with Azriel. This is why he was so standoffish, this beyond pretty girl in front of me, who was flirting with Lucien. What a good date. I cross my arms and scoff a little at the fact. This does not go unnoticed by the red hair across from me.

“Elain, have you met Y/N yet?” she stopped her conversation about her  floriculture class and turned her head towards me. She looked me up at down.

“Nice to meet you,” she turned back to Lucien before I could even reply. Lucien gave me a apologetic look before the bell above the door rang. Elain looked towards the door and started to wave franticly. I could only hear to foot steps of doom as he walked closer to our table.

“Azriel hey, I saw Lucien here so I figured we could all eat together,” ouch. He just nods his head a slides into the seat next to me. His scent was heavenly and left me light headed. Cedar and whisky, it had me squeezing my thighs together. 

“What’s up man,” Lucien and Azriel did the normal guy handshake.

“Not much, what about you?” Az leaned back and laid his arm on the back of the booth.

“Not much either, congrats on the season though, you guys kicked ass,” Lucien leaned back as well.

“Thanks man,” Conversation was cut short when the waiter arrived with our food and took the others orders. I smiled when the rootbeer float was sat in front of me. I was quick to take a sip, gods it was so good.

“You know those are bad for you right?” I’m going to lose my shit.

“Yes Elain I do, but quite frankly I do not care,” I smiled at her before I picked up a fry.

“Geez no need to be mean, I was just saying,” She rolled her before she slumped back in her seat.

“I’ve never had a rootbeer float before,” Azriel looked my way with a sheepish smile.

“You’re joking?!” 

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ while he shook his head

“Where was your childhood?” I was quick to steal the straw that Lucien left behind, unwrapped it and shoved it in the sugary drink. I pushed it towards him.

“Try,” He gave me a look that asked ‘are you sure?’ I only answered by pushing it closer to him.

He smiled and his grab the straw between his pointer finger and thumb and wrapped his soft, plump lips around it. He sucked lightly his Adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Gods, my thighs squished together, he was clueless to what he was doing and it made it all more painful that Elain and Lucien were sitting right across from us. He soon pulled back from the straw and time seemed to go back to normal.

“Soooo, whadya think?” He licked the remaining drink from his lips as he thought about it.

“That.... was the best drink I have had,” He smilled a little bit as he looked at me.

“Seriously?!?!”

“Yes seriously,” I smiled back.

“I’m glad you like it.” 

                                                              Azriel

That was the worst possible drink I have ever had. I would never tell her that, I mean look at how happy she looks. The smile adoring her face with the slight tint on her cheeks made her all the more beautiful.  If I was being honest I rather be anywhere but here right now, Elain was persistent to go out for dinner, which ruined my whole schedule for the day. Sleep in, eat breakfast, go to the gym, study, sleep. Simple, but much needed. Ever since the kiss with Y/N Elain has been all over me, it was smothering. It was bad before Y/N, but now? I can’t even pull up my phone without her wondering who I’m texting. I had also just learned that she had been replying to Y/N texts, or deleting the notifications. I’m trapped and I don’t know what to do.

Elain and I were just friends with benefits nothing more nothing less. We went to each other warm our beds, but now? She’s a parasite and she’s making me sick.  

Dinner was finished quickly before we were kicked out. Standing out in the parking lot we all bid our goodbyes Y/N being the last to say goodnight.

“Goodnight Az, it was nice seeing you again,” She gave me was quick hug. Her shampoo scent floating to my nose, strawberries. She was so divine. We pulled apart unfortunately and she turned to walk towards Lucien's car. Before she could go far I lunged for her arm.

“I- wait-,” She turned around and I let go her arm. What. The. Fuck. Am. I .Doing. The look of patience sent my heart racing.  

“Would... uh, would you maybe like hang out sometime soon?” I have never fumbled over my words, but I have also never seen her light up the way she just.

“I would love to,” 

“Great, I’ll text you,” 

“Goodnight Az.”

“Night Y/N.”

part IV

Taglist:

 @icey--stars @marigold-morelli

#azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #cold kiss #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar modern au #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

[foggyparadisecandy]

I used to be a sarcastic prick when I was younger. I've really tried to shake it in favor of a more authentic version of myself.

I believe strongly that the only way life really works, the only way to have truly deep and meaningful relationships, is to be open and authentic.

It's why trust is so important to me. It's why RULE 0 of my relationships with partners online is "always speak our truths, even if we feel it will hurt the other person."

I think it's so critical.

It also frames things up so that each party doesn't put the other person in a position where they feel a lie is the best answer.

It's hard shit. It takes work. It takes a leap of faith to be able to speak your truth and feel you will be heard and not shut down.

But it builds deep relationships.

What's my point? Well, I already made it.

I have the advantage of experience and years to know that a hard truth is a better path than a lie or evasion. Maybe not always ... I get that ... but certainly it's true usually.

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I am ... reserved ... to say the least. But people who know me closely know I am who I say I am. And if I give you my love, you have my love.

It takes a lot for me to pull it back from someone.

I've gotten a lot of grief over this stance but ... life is messy, people are messy, relationships are infinitely complicated things.

When you have someone in your life who is decent, kind, caring, well ... when they fuck up - and ... we're all people ... we ALL fuck up from time to time - well there is an absolute grace in forgiveness.

It's grace for them, yeah. But also for you.

Forgiving someone else is a form of openness and authenticity. You are saying "hey, I'm going to let this thing go because I trust you and your character. I know who you are. I know you made a mistake and it's ok. And I'm truting you to do the same when I fuck up. Now let's go hang out together and put that shit behind us."

Of course, if the damage keeps happening then ... well ... only you can decide when things get to be too much. I think forgiveness is still essential but there isn't much point in keeping someone around who keeps fucking you over the same way again and again.

And let's face it ... some people seem to be addicted to feeling bad about themselves and saying "I'm sorry" to beat themselves up.

Only you can decide how much you are going to give of yourself to help them grow and get over that shit.

I still believe in my four principles (in order of importance): FORGIVE YOURSELF LOVE YOURSELF FORGIVE OTHERS LOVE OTHERS

I think they are a solid bedrock for good living.

Personally I've always lived them backwards even though I preach them in the order above. My recent breakup has lit a fire under my ass to finally embrace the philosophy in the correct order.

It's hard shit but we'll see where it goes.

I forgive myself for anything I screwed up with my recent partner. It certainly wasn't intentional and I know I did my best.

I love myself and have stopped beating myself up and feeling miserable over things. Even though I am desperately concerned for her well-being and miss her horribly, I'm taking care of myself now. I need to resume living ... without her, which sucks but is what it is.

I forgive her. This is extremely easy for me. I honestly appreciate everything we shared. Even the lessons here at the end ... painful as they have been have taught me some great things. I owe her gratitude. And I wish her the best.

I love her deeply. It's backed away from the dangerous, overly hot insane love but at my core, I have a deep abiding love for her. I hope some day she remembers who I am and my character and realizes that I would be a good person in her life. But in the end, it doesn't change my feelings for her.

Anyway ... life goes on, right? What can you do but your best.

I'm here. Doing my best. Adjusting to something a bit dimmer than it was before her presence but hope springs eternal. There is more to life than her and what we had together.

I do admit that I ... am ... very concerned for her. I just need to put it away though.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Lots of trances queued up over the next three weeks. Hope you all enjoy them.

#self care #catharsis

[the1975attheirverybest]

Sadly I think our fandom has hecame too big and That's why it is what it is. Before it was different because this fandom was smaller, less seen, the band and Matty wasn't as talked about. We became a little bit like other fandoms unfortunately. The more people the more problems. It became like a competition for some to know as much as you can about Matty and creating theories about Matty like he is inhumane character is new entertainment for some. This is what happens whenever artist or whatever gets really big. And those people dont care about the connections between Matty and us, and how he is sacrificing himself they dont see it, they are here for the drama and their weird fun. We just have to accept it. This won't end as long as the boys are big. Sadly, I think people will continue send you intrusive questions about Matty no matter what you say. I think it would best if you ignored it, and deleted it. Dont give it an attention, its not worth it. Some people just dont get it. I don't want you too stress over those ❤️ Sorry this is long, I am a fan of your blog and wanted to share my opinion on our fandom.

I'm afraid you're right. as the fandom gets bigger, some of it is going to be diluted with garbage. i guess the reason that it upsets me is because we have/had a very unique dynamic. Both amongst ourselves, AND between us and Matty.

Like, back in May? with all the shit that was thrown at us? truly a horrific time. But I was in awe of how mature and kind and patient everyone in this fandom was. nowhere as crazy as some others. And I've seen similar things happen in other fandoms so i have a frame of reference to compare it to. This band draws in the kindest most intelligent and thoughtful people.

Then with Matty, it's hard to explain to others who aren't in the fandom. they all say oh yes yes we get it. it used to be like that for us too. Our fave also used to be online a lot but then stopped. And it's like, no, it's not the same. I know what these people are talking about. I've been in order fandoms where the celeb pulls back as they get more famous, and it's not that. It's different with us because our relationship with Matty has been a TWO WAY STREET. He doesn't just love us because we are the people who comes to his shows and buy his merch. He's PART OF THE COMMUNITY, he loves us like we all love each other and feel like we understand each other because of our shared love for this one thing. This man literally loves his fans and talks to them like he talks to his friends, not like he's an object of our admiration. and thats so rare.

So, I guess those are the things that im sad to lose. but yeah the idiots don't stress me out. I couldn't give a fuck. I'll put a dumbass in their place if need be :)

Thanks for being here and for your message. it makes me feel better to know that its something we're all navigating and figuring out💗

[xoxo-teddybear]

Cheater? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: fake cheating, cursing, angst, fluff, crack

Summary: PRANK WARS!! After coming to the conclusion that his own girlfriend pulls better pranks than him and has been one up-ing a lot recently, Katsuki decided to break their unspoken rule and pull a cheating prank

A/N: I recommend reading this fic as a continuation of this fic. It’s about Y/N’s revenge.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“I don’t know who the fuck is listening right now, but I, Katsuki fucking Bakugou, am begging whatever heavenly body, god, spiritual being, whatever the fuck it could be, to ensure that my girlfriend does not leave my dumbass for pulling this prank. Thank you, bless.”

Bakugou kept his eyes shut with his palms pressed together in a praying motion for the longest time while he spoke to something to protect his relationship. When he was done, he took a breather and got up from the shared bed. He took out the camera and set it up behind Y/N’s makeup stuff to hide it and began to put his prank into action.

A few hours ago he had Kirishima pretend to be a girl and had his best friend flirt with him through text. This went on for some time to make sure that if you were to scroll through his conversation, you’d find a lot of messages. At the end of the texts, Bakugou had Kirishima find a random pic online of some random girl’s ass and had the red head sent it. Bakugou answered it with a very flirtatious text, which had Kirishima send a very cutesy, appreciated reply in a very girly matter, which ended the conversation. Bakugou changed his friend’s name to some random name, Kiyoko, and finished the job. Yes, the two friends were very uncomfortable doing this whole thing.

With the camera now recording, all Bakugou needed to begin his prank was his prized possession. You.

—

Bakugou and you were cuddling on the king sized bed. You both were just talking about whatever while Katsuki remained on his phone. You didn’t see it yet, but Katsuki was “texting” his friend. In reality, he was just waiting for you to look up at his screen to notice the scandalous texts he and this “Kiyoko” were having.

“Baby?” You asked while looking at your pretty acrylics.

“Yes baby?” Bakugou said while still looking at his phone. He had his arm wrapped around you while you layed on him with your cheek on his chest.

“Ion know...I love you baby,” you said in the cutest voice. Bakugou could only make a face of extreme awe to appreciate his precious girlfriend.

“I love you too Teddy Bear,” he said. You lifted your head to smile at him but you took notice of how he was still staring at his phone.

You pouted before smirking and climbing up to come face to face with him. You got in between him and his phone and grabbed his face with both hands. He smiled at you before you leaned down to peck his lips multiple times. Once you were done you tucked your head under his chin and looked to the side, just enjoying the moment. He kissed the crown of your head before going back to “texting.”

At the sound of him pressing random things on the keyboard, your pout returned. “Baby~ Pay attention to me!!” You whined.

You removed your head out from under his chin and layed your head next to his. You looked at his phone and saw a ‘thank you’ with a kissy face emoji from a “Kiyoko” before Katsuki switched the screen to some random game. “Who’s Kiyoko?”

“Hm?” Katsuki asked, pretending to be oblivious.

“Who’s Kiyoko? You were just on a text chat with her, why is she sending you a kissy face?” You asked with a little more attitude. You tried to take the phone out of his hand but he pulled it away.

“She’s just a friend, babe.” Bakugou said.

“Okay, well if she’s just a friend then why can’t I see?” You questioned.

“Because there’s nothing to see.”

“She sent you a kissy face. That’s something I’d like to see.” You said while easily taking his phone out of his hand.

“Babe, no.” He said and took the phone back. “Shes just a friend.” You took the phone back and he tried to grab it again before you held the phone away at a distance to make sure he couldn’t grab it. “Babe. Noo, stooppp.”

“If she’s just a friend then why’re you trying to hide it?” You asked with the phone still far away and him attempting to reach for it.

“Cuz we’re about to go out and-“

“What the fuck?!” You said as you looked to the texts. You froze in your position as you brought the phone closed and scrolled through the texts, stumbling upon the picture. Bakugou tried to take the phone away from you but failed (on purpose.)

“She just wanted an opinion,” he tried explaining.

“An opinion?!” You asked while sitting up and pushing him off of you. “She sent you a booty pic with you complimenting her and shit. And you’re over here calling her babe!”

“It’s not like that-“

“Then what the fuck is it like Katsuki?!” You asked. You went back to the text and reread some of the messages out loud. “‘Bet you enjoyed it when I wrecked you last night, Relax Princess Y/N’s never gonna find out, I love you Kiyoko-‘ Are you fucking serious?!” You said with a cracked voice as you looked at him.

He put on a small smile for the act but on the inside it hurt him to see you like this, but the prank would prevail. “Baby, calm down.”

“I’m not gonna calm down Katsuki, you’re cheating on me!” You continued to go on and on about how pissed you were and Katsuki was struggling to hold back his laughs. He eventually got up to run to the downstairs bathroom so he could let out his chuckles. “Where the fuck are you going?! We’re not done with this conversation!”

Bakugou said nothing as he ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He bursted out in laughter as he crouched over due to all the excitement. He looked in the mirror and ruffled his hair a bit as he remembered the way you looked. The sad you would’ve made his heart ached but the angry you just made him laugh and kind of turned him on in a way.

After getting all his giggles out, he calmed down and got back into character. He opened the door to the bathroom only to see you walking down the stairs with your jacket and shoes on, carrying a small bag. “Baby?”

At the sound of his voice you only looked his way with a mean glare as you continued your walk to the front door. Bakugou ran to you as fast as he could as worry spilled through his body. “Baby, stop. Where are you going?”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m done, we’re done. I’m going.” You said with a cold voice. Bakugou ran in front of you and held onto your arms as he pushed you back further into the house but you fought against his hold.

“Y/N, stop. It was just a prank.” Bakugou whined.

“Like I fucking believe that.” You said while trying to pry his hands off of you. Bakugou whimpered as he grew worried and felt himself getting choked up. He could feel the tears approaching but held them back. He could still save himself.

“Baby please. Come back upstairs, I’ll show you the camera!” He begged but you finally got his hands off of you as you ran to the door. You ran out the door and Bakugou grew frantic as he ran to the room to get the camera. When he came back down and ran out to the front to show you, you had already backed out of the driveway and were driving down the street. “Y/N!”

Bakugou ran back upstairs and into the bedroom to find his phone on the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He was quick to find your number and call you but you declined it. He called again a few more times and like before, you declined them. He called you so much that eventually, you stopped declining them and just began to straight up ignore them. This led to Bakugou leaving voicemails.

“Baby? Please pick up it was just a prank.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I swear it was a prank! Please come back home!”

“Please come back Y/N! It was just a joke, none of it was real! Please answer me.”

“Baby, please come back. I love you.”

When he realized you weren’t going to answer, he opened up the messages with Kirishima and changed his name back before calling him.

“Hello?”

“Kirishima!” Bakugou said and his friend could practically hear the tears. “Prank went wrong! Went so wrong! Y/N fucking left! She didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

Bakugou began hyperventilating as he tugged at his hair and looked around. He didn’t even focus on what Kirishima was saying as he looked around the once shared bedroom. He went through the closet and saw some of your clothes and shoes missing. Some of your makeup was off the vanity and when Bakugou looked to the nightstand to see the smashed picture frame that held the image of you both on your third year anniversary, he began sobbing.

“Please! Just fucking call her to explain! That’s all!”

“Alright, I’ll do it. Don’t worry, okay?” His friend replied to which Bakugou only hung up. He had every right to worry. His dumbass was about to lose you. Bakugou sat back down on the bed as he cried into his hands some more. He looked at himself in the large mirror hanging on the wall before scrunching his face and screaming.

“FUCK!” He shouted and threw something at the wall. He didn’t know what he grabbed, he just knew it broke. Bakugou flopped onto the large bed and cried some more as he waited for something, anything, to happen. But that night, nothing did.

—

3 days had passed and for 3 days Bakugou had constantly been calling you, your friends, your family, anybody he could do that he could reach you. He had constantly been crying and regretting pulling that stupid, stupid prank. It wasn’t worth losing you.

For the past few days, Kirishima had been checking up on Katsuki. He had been coming over a few times a day by using the hidden house key you both left under a rock on at the house entrance. On the third day, Bakugou told him to stop coming by and that he wanted to be by himself.

—

Bakugou had been hallowing in sadness on the bed until he heard the door open. He sighed again and walked to this bedroom door. On his way there he took notice of his appearance in the mirror and even though he was in the dark, he still saw his red, puffy eyes and tired face. He finally opened the door and walked to the living room so he could ward off his pesky friend.

“Shitty Hair, I told you that I didn’t wa-“ his eyes popped open at the sight he saw in the living room. He froze on the spot but felt immediate relief. “Y/N!”

“...Hi Katsuki,” you said in a soft voice. Bakugou smiled and instantly ran to you to pull you in for a tight hug. He squeezed you tight and grew joyous when he felt you softly hug him back.

“I missed you so much! I’m so fucking sorry, it was just a prank I swe-“

“Katsuki! I know, okay? Kirishima told Mina and she told me everything.” You explained and pushed him off slightly so you could face him. He nodded in understanding and you took note of his red eyes and nose. You sighed before speaking. “This is why we don’t pull pranks like this Katsuki!”

He sadly chuckled at you reprimanding him but nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah...I’m so sorry, Baby.”

“You should be! I almost actually left you!” You said with a little pout. Bakugou sadly laughed with relieved tears in his eyes as he held you.

“I know. I swear I won’t do anything like this again.” He promised.

“You better not.” You said, squished against his chest. You leaned up and kissed his cheek before you dragged him to the couch. You and Bakugou spent the rest of the day making up and cuddling. Everything felt so right again and Bakugou definitely learned his lesson.

A/N: not spell checked, sorry! Ummm…THIS KINDA SUCKED😭🤣

Tag list : @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight

#bakugo x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #katsuki x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #boku no hero academia #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #boku no hero bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugo angst

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 01  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 4.3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The winter’s coldness is hardly enough for you to bear. Even though it’s just the beginning, Seoul is known to just go from season to season without a fucking warning. Not only that, but the first snowfall is going to come soon. The weatherman has been talking about it non-stop for the past few days. It’s going to be a brutal one he says but he says that every year so why believe?

Turning off your alarm, you take a few minutes to collect yourself and stretch. Barely any sleep once again but that’s an everyday thing now.. without Jimin. It’s been some rough months not having his body wrapped snugly onto yours. These days you long for his touch, but completely dread at the same time for very good reasons.

Your kitten greets you with small licks on your thigh in which in return you pet her head softly with a smile.

‘‘ At least I still have you babygirl. You keep me company. “ You coo softly while grabbing your phone off the charger. Texts from your best-friend just spamming you with love and apparently she’s coming over. Great. That’s normal.  But one text catches your eye. Jeon Jungkook.

You furrow your eyebrows as your finger slides to open it after typing in your password. In relief, he’s just checking up on you as always. Rolling your eyes, you muster enough strength to actually pull yourself out of bed. The cold tiles hit your feet like icicles. You jump from from foot to foot cursing yourself for not turning on the floor heaters as you walk out the room. Clara, your kitten, follows you out purring nonchalantly with a few meows here and there.

‘’ Alright Clara I hear you. Im getting your food now.’’ You chuckle, grabbing her food from the bottom kitchen cabinet right under the sink and pour her half a cup of cat food and a whole bowl of water.

After snacking on your morning granola bar you prepare yourself for your morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, skin care, get dressed, clean. Your phone dings once more just before stripping yourself of your clothes. You don’t bother to look it’s probably just a social media notification.

Drying your hair with a towel as you get out the steaming hot shower, you head straight for the mirror. Dark circles remain under your eyes from months of barely any sleep. You sigh, and gently rub under them. Jimin is the cause of this. Why would he do this to you. Surely enough he would not like to see you like this at all. The worriedness he would have over you is huge. But he has moved on and you just have to accept it no matter how in-love you still are with him.

As you clean up around the living room, another ding from your phone occurs. A groan escapes your lips as you place the pillows back as they should be. In hopes of it just being your manager giving you some good news, you let out a sigh and plop yourself down on the grey suede couch. Three new messages. Jeon Jungkook, who has text you twice, and Ryan your bestfriend. 

‘‘ Damn it Ryan why must you consistently text me twenty four sev- “

“ Beause I need to know if you’re okay.”

You jump and drop your phone onto the hardwood floor from the voice that comes from around you.

“ Holy fucking shit you scared me! “  You whine, turning around to face your best-friend. She smiles and holds out her arms for a hug. You roll your eyes and open yours waiting for her embrace.

“ Oh i’ve missed you so so so so so so so-”

“ You just seen me yesterday..” Your voice sarcastic and bland as you let go of her. You sit on the couch first followed by Ryan sitting right next to you.

She looks good today, the navy blue coat she has on suits her very well. Although, you cannot figure out why she decided to wear leggings today. It’s going to rain a bit later but you disregard that seeing as though she’s the fashion deisgner and not you.

You. The model and seemingly ex girlfriend of one of the biggest solo idol in the world right now. Thats what they call you in the news, headlines in magazines, and real life as if you don’t have a real name and just was his acessory. Your modeling career had taken off way before dating him. The world, or Seoul to say the most, didn’t acklowledge you to that point yet. 

“ Okay but still. You know we should be roomates. It’ll be easier for me to watch over you. “

Your head turns towards her quickly shaking no, “ I don’t need to be looked over im 20 years old.”

Silence takes place for the next few seconds. You know what she’s going to say next but pray she doesn’t. Those words will just make you even more upset. It’s already enough you have that constant reminder in your head. 

You watch her fiddle with the rings on her index and pinky fingers. “ But you know… you haven’t been the same since you and Jimi-”

“ Don’t fucking say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

She sighs harshly and stands up, “ Im just worried about you Yn”

“ Don’t be. Im fine. “ That lie escaped your tongue way too easily. 

Truthfully you haven’t and won’t be fine. Everyday there is something new about that girl and Jimin on twitter. Gossip pages, twitter fanpages, and online entertainment pages just always talking about them. They did this, they did that today. Oh we caught them going to this and that restaurant. That used to be you and him.. but now everyone has forgotten about you and focused on them.

Ever since you’ve told reporters and paparazzi repeatedly that you will not be holding or going to any interview they just stopped. A few calls here and there to your manager about scheduling one but she knew you didn’t want to do them so every request is denied. Although its been a year and some change, they still seem to want your side and your opinion to weigh in on. I guess that’s what happens when you date an Idol.

“ The door.. Y/N the door somebody is at the door.” Ryan says, tapping you over and over. You shake your head interrupting your thoughts for the time being. A few more knocks come through.

Finally up onto your feet you harshly walk to the door with each step making noise. It’s to early in the morning for someone to actually be knocking at the door right now. Whoever it is better be dropping off some sort of package, or they’ll surely get a piece of your mind.

Your frail hands grab onto the doorknob and swing it open. Your eyes almost pop through your sockets. How? How did he know you were here? You certainly did not tell him your knew address.

There he stands, his tall frame looking down on you. Lips formed into a tiny pout along with his eyebrows scrunched slightly. His brown eyes forming an ungodly stare into yours with his specs on.

“ Yn! Do you know how worried I was about you? Why did you not answer my messa-”

“Jungkook how do you know where I live?” You pace your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow at him. To your knowledge, you never gave Jungkook your new apartment address.

Jungkook swallows slowly and puts on his best innocent face on. Oh please like that would work in this moment right now. The only person who has this address is Ryan because she’s the one who helped you move. Even if you had the choice of not giving it out to Ryan you would of but you couldn’t do that to her. She would of been so upset.

Ryan’s voice blares in the background full of excitement. Here we fucking go. “Jungkook! Come in Come in.”

“ Ryan says I could come in.” He says quickly, brushing past you and removing his shoes.

You heavily sigh and slam the door shut. What is this a family reunion? On your way back to the couch you notice them laughing and giggling like two five year old children. They don’t even notice you when you sit right across from them.

You study their expressions. Their chemistry is something so strong. The way their eyes light up when they meet, the way that Jungkook smiles and scrunches his nose more often when she’s around. You miss that. You miss doing that.

“ So are you both coming along this afternoon?”

Your attention focuses back on them. Of course you weren’t paying attention once again.

Your eyes slowly meet with theirs, “ Huh? Where are we going?”

“ Kookie finally bought a house! He wants us to come tonight for chicken and beer. You’re coming right?”

A sharp pain goes through your heart. If the both you you guys go then theirs a possibility that Jimin was invited too. After all, that is his brother. If Jimin comes then he’s most likely going to bring Isabel. A recipe for disaster. Your poor heart, that most likely could not bare the sight of them infront of you, would shatter into a million pieces.

Jungkook’s expression is ready to burst into happiness or to turn into a pout awaiting for your answer. If you let him down he’ll surely be mad at you. But putting yourself before him this time would be the right thing to do right?

“ Listen Jungkook I.. don’t think I can go.” You start off, playing with your hair with your head down.

“ I’ll space you two apart.”

Your face automatically lifts itself up in shock. Somehow, that little confirmation of Jimin being there, gave you some hope. Hope for what though?

 “ Wha-what do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs heavily with his hand going up to his brown hair running it through lightly. “ I’ll make sure you two are distanced apart. You don’t want to come because of Jimin but I’ll make sure I’ll invite more people to keep you company and away from him. Okay?”

“ Please Yn. I’ll be there too.” Ryan begs, laying her head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook smiles a little, caressing her cheek with his other hand upon waiting your response.

Weird. When did they get so close?

The first thing you want to say is that you really could not go. But they already know the excuse now. You might as well just give in.

‘‘ Fine. What time tonight? “

Skincare and makeup products are scattered everywhere on your vanity. You needed the perfect look for tonight that says ‘Yes im doing fine without you’, but in reality you’re doing worse. This is the night where you’ll actually see him. Damn it’s been a while.

After you apply your highlight you step back and take a look at yourself. Not bad at all. You smile to yourself and start cleaning up the mess of products you had  distributed across the vanity. A new text appears on you phone as soon as you gather everything up and put it back in it’s place. Grabbing your phone, it’s Ryan giving you the address to Jungkook’s new house.

You sigh and mentally prepare yourself, ‘‘ Okay Yn. You can do this. It’s just one night of conversing among people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new.”

Before heading out you grab your coat and scarf. Clara follows you all the way to the door letting out her little meows once again. You bend down to pet her head lightly with a smile. “ Clara im coming back. I’ve put food in your bowl babygirl.”

She purrs under your touch then walks away to settle herself in her bed. You take one last final look at your decent sized apartment before heading out.

The subway ride was agonizing pain for you due to it being 30 minutes long. Well, at-least you can ride the subway now. Your mind wouldn’t even of thought of that when you were with him. Everybody would have noticed you and bombard you with questions.

The outskirts of Seoul is peaceful and quite. Not many people live over here. Mostly famous actors and idols. The taxi takes a few minutes to get to the fairly clean subway station. Once you’re inside you take a good look at the driver who seems to be eyeing you in suspicion. You pull out your phone and read the words to the address exactly to him. The taxi man pulls of into the empty streets of god knows where.

All it took was a ten minute ride and then you’re there. The taxi man pulls up to a security guard booth. Just beyond the gates is more street but  by squinting your eyes you can make out just a few newly built houses.

‘‘ Who are you here to see?” The taxi driver says.

“ Jeon Jungkook.?

The driver talks to the man for a few seconds before you see the security guard pick up a phone and start dialing. The security is extremely uptight, thats good. After a few moments of speaking the security guard finally opens the gates to be let through.

As you pull up to the house you’re automatically mesmerized on how big and beautiful it is. There’s fresh bushes and some white roses growing in the front of it complementing the white modern style home. The roundabout is full of luxurious cars, in which might be all the other guests.

‘‘ 10 dollars’‘ He says. You give him the ten, thank him, and grab your purse, closing the door behind you.

Your eyes meet face to face with the expensive house. Behind you is the tire wheels backing up and running off back down the roundabout. The time on your watch reads 8:15. Only fifteen minutes late, not bad right?

With each step you take fear quivers inside of you. What if he opens the door? What if that girl opens it instead? The wind blows harsh-fully hitting your cheeks making them turn slightly colored. You raise a small, shaky fist to knock on the door. Your blood turning cold, and face turning pale already. Your anxiety already taking its place inside of your body.

The door swings open revealing Ryan smiling from ear to ear. She pulls you inside without even a greeting. You kick your shoes off in a hurry as she pulls you more and more inside. Scanning the area around you, its a nice huge place. First the both of you pass the entrance, then the chef sized kitchen, which then leads you to the spacious living room where everybody seems to be sitting.

All eyes are on you now with some familiar faces and some not. They smile and greet you one by one and you slightly bow your head with a fake smile.

‘‘ Ah Yn, nice to see you again huh.’‘ Hoseok, the smiley one says, getting up from his seat to greet you once more.

‘‘ Nice to see you to Hoseok. Is Chae-Yeon here? I’ve baked the cookies she likes.’’  You say, holding up the big tuba-wear of freshly baked cookies. Nobody can resist those.

‘‘ No she had to work sadly, but I will enjoy them for her.’‘ He chuckles, bringing the tuba-wear out of your dainty, cold hands.

A very familiar voice booms from behind you causing you to turn around. “ Yn! You actually did come!’’ Jungkook, the owner of the voice exclaims. He wipes his hands with a napkin just before pulling you into a hug.You pat his back just before letting go.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head, “ I told you she would come.’’

Only one hour and 30 minutes into the festivities and half of the people here are drunk or nearly there. You on the other hand do not drink at all. Staying sober throughout this whole party is a must. Who knows what would happen if you start drinking and saying things.Ryan seems to be doing good with Jungkook who’s laying on the floor laughing and cracking jokes with her head laying on his stomach giggling along with him. The others have casually invited themselves into the guest game-room to play some pool.

You just sit there on the couch, munching on a cookie and smiling and laughing here and there at one of Seokjin and Jungkook’s back-to-back jokes that seem to never leave the air.

Only for a knock on the door to interrupt  their flow of jokes.

‘‘ I got it I got it.” Seokjin stammers, placing a beer bottle down and stumbling towards the door. You freeze, face turning pale once more. It’s them. It could be them. Your teeth find their way to your lips and you begin to chew on it excessively.

Ryan notices it and automatically gets up from Jungkook, ‘‘ Come Yn, lets go see if the game of pool is interesting.’‘

You nod your head slightly as you get up from the couch. What are you worrying for? You look extravagant tonight. No need to worry yourself.

Just before taking your first few steps you stop, that voice. That oh so familiar voice begins to inch closer and closer. The famous laugh that he always tries to stifle by putting his hand over his mouth, that you’ve always thought was so fucking cute, fills the air.

You don’t know what got over you, but you sit back down dragging Ryan down with you. “ Yn? What are you doing I thought you wanted to avoid him.’’

‘’ No it’s okay. Im going to be fine.’‘ You say, awaiting upon his arrival into the room.

The footsteps are haunting you with each step they take.

one..two..three..four..five..si-

‘‘ Everyone, Isabel and Jimin are here.’‘ Seokjin stammers, smiling wide clearly drunk from all the beer consumed.

Your eyes go directly towards his. The pit of your stomach flutters with nervousness as you hold the long stare with him. His facial expression shocked but not showing it at all. His partner, who’s arm is linked with his, smiles brightly at everyone bowing her head slightly to them including you.

‘‘ Sorry we are late. Jimin didn’t want to come out of his home studio but I’ve made him come along with me.’‘ Her voice gentle and soft.

‘‘ Yn I forgot let me show you my new painting i have received.” Jungkook says quickly, trying to escape you from the awkwardness.You can bare it though its not as bad as you thought.

‘‘ Maybe later Kookie. I’m going to grab some juice.”  You say, getting up from your spot. You brush past Jimin lightly with Ryan tailing along with you.

The spacious kitchen was perfect for you to escape for just a moment. Silence is golden. Ryan sighs, pouring you and her a glass of juice. Nothing is to be said yet. But you know she really wants to have her input.

Raising the glass to your lips, you take a sip letting the tanginess run across your tongue and down your throat. ‘’ Say it Ryan.’’

She puts her cup down and looks at you with your eyebrows furrowed, ‘’ You aren’t fine. Please just avoid them for the night.’’

You knew it was coming but you have to face the fact that they area couple anyways so why avoid it? Maybe your mind will finally accept it to see it in person.

‘‘ I have to face it one way or another so why not now?’‘

She shakes her head in disapproval, finishing the rest of her juice. “ No you don’t. You’re making yourself suffer and I don’t like it.’’

‘‘ Yn.. did you make these cookies?’‘ A voice says behind you. Ryan’s eyes go wide and then looks at you signaling for you to not turn around. But you do it anyways.

Isabel. How dare she call you by a pet name? You don’t even know her like that and she’s doing this. Anger wants to get the best of you but you remain humble and calm.

‘‘ Yes. Is there a problem though? Are they not good?’‘ You say, putting on your best innocent act.

She smiles as she moves a piece of hair of her perfectly framed face, ‘’ No they are great! I was wondering if i can have the recipe.. for Jimin’s purpose of course.’’

You breathe through your nostrils with your eyes closed. She knows what she’s doing. She likes seeing you suffer huh? ‘’ You can follow any recipe online. I just add almond extract and substitute white sugar for brown.’’

Ryan shakes her head slightly while sticking her cup into the sink. ‘’ I’m going to be back I have to use the restroom.’’

Once she leaves Isabel’s smile drops.’’ Almond? Im- Im allergic!” She says, semi yelling at you. You’re shocked more or so at the sudden outburst that you can’t speak. You had zero knowledge of her being allergic, it’s an accident for sure.

 “You did this on purpose!’’ She says, tears filling her eyes as she goes into a coughing fit.

Shit. You didn’t know if anyone was allergic to nuts here but you had put it in anyways because that was the secret ingredient

‘’ I- I didn’t know im sorry is there anything I can do?’’ You say, guilt taking over you while you rush to her side patting her back. 

‘‘ Get off of me! You did this on purpose! You never liked me anyways. Jimin! Jimin!‘ She scream’s, coughing and wheezing making her face red.

Multiple footsteps rush into the kitchen. You don’t know what to do at this point so you just back away and let whoever take over. All the commotion going on and yelling is starting to give you a slight headache. All of the boys surround her, bombarding with questions and asking each other what to do. 

‘‘ What’s all the yelling about? What happened! “ Jungkook exclaims rushing towards her hunched over body.

‘‘ What’s going on? “ That voice that haunts you everynight finally comes inside the kitchen. When he see’s Isabel he automatically rushes towards her side. It pains you to see him rush to another woman’s body. But that figure is no longer yours so he has every right to do that.

‘‘ She-She put almond in the cookies on purpose! She’s trying to–to-’‘ She manages to wheeze out before another coughing fit.

Jimin’s eyes meet yours full of rage but then taken over by concern. He knows your hurt. Still hurt from the past and from this very situation now. You don’t manage to keep eye contact, so the floor is your eyes’ bestfriend right now.

‘‘ Yn. is this true? Why would you do that?”  He says, eyes never leaving yours and voice soft.

You shake your head quickly, “ I didn’t know she was allergic. I always put almond extract an-’’

“ You knew better than to put any type or form of nut in a dish when bringing it to ones house. You never know if someone has an allergy to it.’‘ Jungkook scolds you, eyes furrowed in shame.

‘‘ Don’t blame her. She didn’t fucking know.” Ryan’s voice enters the room in madness. She comes to your side with her arms crossed. Your own personal savior. Without her, you’d still be feeling guilty and taking the blame.

‘‘ Besides, you knew better than to invite him if you knew he was going to bring the girl he cheated on her with.. right?’‘ She says, cocking her head to the side as her attitude takes over.

The room is silent again. Good girl Ryan. 

Isabel lifts her head in disbelief along with Jimin. “ Listen that’s beside the point. Just don’t do it again.” Jimin says, focusing his attention back on Isabel. He reaches into her purse to grab her Epi-pen.

His scolding is enough to send your eyes into tears. You shouldn’t of agreed to come. This is a disaster. You take the tuba-wear of cookies from the counter on your way out of the kitchen and dispose of them. Your vision is blurry and you don’t know where your going but you just need some air. You make lefts and rights down long and short hallways till you reach a room that has a balcony.

You slip on who-ever’s house slippers and open the sliding door revealing the winter’s cold harsh air. You lean on the railing and close your eyes breathe in and out heavily.

Wiping the tears away, You open our eyes and look straight ahead. The whole city is lit up such a beautiful view for a sad moment. The sad moment is cut short by the sliding door opening and closing. You don’t bother to turn around it’s probably just Ryan checking on you again. When are people going to stop doing that?

“ Yn.”

Thats the last voice you wanted to hear.

‘‘ Are you happy? Happy for scolding me infront of everybody.”  You sniffle, wiping away your leaking nose.

You hear some rustling before something is placed on your shoulders. You look down at the material and shrug it off of you.

‘‘ Give it to your girlfriend.”

‘‘ I can’t let you be cold. Put it back on.’‘ He sighs, picking it back up and coming closer to you. You both stand side by side. Jimin puts his jacket around you once more and before you could re-do your action just before, he speaks.

‘‘ Shrug it off again and I’ll scold you. Do you understand?’‘ He says firmly.

You don’t bother to speak. Silence is golden.

‘‘ Listen.. i know you still aren’t over the fact that we are through but-”

‘‘ Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. Please go tend to your dying girlfriend.’‘ You say, sarcastically.

He huffs, “ She’s resting right now. She wouldn’t have to be if you wouldn’t of put-’’

You turn towards him slowly and meet his eyes daring for him to finish the rest of his sentence. ‘’ Don’t you fucking dare Park Jimin.’’

‘‘ Honorifics.’‘ He says, slightly looking down at you due to the height difference.

‘‘ You’re right Jimin-ssi.’‘

Jimin’s expression is taken a-back. You knew that one honorific word would hurt him.

‘‘ If we are done speaking I will take my leave now.” You say, eyes never leaving his as you take off his jacket and toss it to him, leaving him outside in the cold

This night was one of your worst mistakes. You thought you could handle it, but couldn’t. So maybe Ryan and Jungkook were right. Maybe you can’t handle it at all..

#jimin #park jimin #idol jimin #idol!jimin #idol ! jimin #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin one shot #jimin imagine #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagines #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin angst #jimin sad #sad jimin #bts reaction #jimin reaction #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook

[themoonwheniamlost]

Last post I ever want to make about this @/lgbtmazight situation

Please do not harass anyone, no matter what their stance on this is. Please be kind to each other and to yourselves.

Here is a link to the original Post, Here is a link to a great focus/framing statement.

In this post, I’m gonna talk about a few things that I think need context, and then I never want to talk about this again. Okay? Ok.

1. Anyone who is using this situation to try and gain clout/respectability points needs to sit down and shut up. No one should be aiming for recognition. Saying “This needs to go viral/I was right all along,” is very unhelpful. If you were hurt by Len you definitely deserve an apology. But please stop trying to accrue brownie points over this discourse.

2. To the people defending Len. Please stop framing that post as a doxxing attempt. The content from that post is all things that Len made publicly available on the internet. Instead of saying “They pulled up tweets from ten years ago.” What should concern us is that for over ten years, Len has shown a documented history of holding dangerous and hateful political views and has constantly lied about different aspects of their identity.

What we should be focused on is the people that Len has hurt and the ways Len has misled our community. The only person who should be defending Len is Len. Speaking of,

3. Re- the subject of the silence of big blogs/ A new Discord server.

A few days ago, I was invited to be a part of a small discord group that was dedicated to “nuanced discussions and recreating the inviting spirit of the TOG fandom” from last summer. I accepted and was surprised to see some of the biggest names in fandom.

Four days ago the mods put out an announcement that a post had been made about one of their mods and that ALL of the accusations were false. And they then asked everyone in the server not to engage with the post at all. I didn’t even see the post until someone sent it to me directly.

The mods framed this call for silence as a way to keep Len and her family safe. As if anyone engaging with the post was directly putting Len in danger, rather than to face the fact Len was the person who put that much personal information online.

The mods in this discord did not allow for any discussion about this situation in the general server. So anyone who was concerned or had questions had to go directly and separately to the mods. How then do we know who has the same concerns as us? You don’t. In this server, a culture of silence has allowed Lens Closest Mutuals (a group of mostly white women) to act as a PR team that fields any and all concerns from people in the server.

The mods assured me that Len had done video calls with them and showed proper “documentation of their family,” to prove that Len is who she says she is. Which version of Len, is who she says she is? No one answered this question.

When I expressed my concerns to the mods, I got a stock response filled with defections, straw man arguments, red herrings as well as various statements that appealed to moral superiority and conflated separate identity terms all at once. I argued against all of their points and the response that I got was that if I was going to continue “not seeing eye to eye about the need for Len’s safety,” then I would be removed from the group.

I removed myself. I won’t ever stay in a group where one person's mental health is put on a pedestal above all the ways they have hurt and wronged others.

3.A - Please be wary of these White and White-passing women talking about what is and isn't racist. The people who claim that these accusations against Len will drive PoC out of fandom. As a whole ass Black and Indigenous woman, NO. What pushes PoC out of fandom is allowing people w/o racialized lived experiences to be the arbitrators of whether or not something is racist.

4. If an argument is made in bad faith but turns out to be true, it doesn’t mean that the accused should get away with everything just because someone accused them with ill intent. In this case, intent means nothing. Len has lied and holds terrible views. The end.

5. Race, Ethnicity, nationality, familial origin, religious background, class, and cultural upbringing are all different aspects of identity. Over the last ten years, Len has a documented history of lying about ALL OF THESE ASPECTS.

6. No one hates Len for being White-passing. However, you cannot be White-passing and “constantly racialized” at the same time. That's not possible because Race is what is read onto your body. If you are Read as White, and if you are allowed to exist in White spaces, you are not racialized. So which narrative is true?

7. I think that the aspect of race is one of the least important things in this to focus on. Len is a genocide denier, steals aspects of different religions, cultures, and lived experiences as their own. On top of this Len has made themselves a pillar/authority in TOG fandom while constantly lying to all of us, causing harm and posing as the authority on all things Maghrebi.

8. This news has already upset the fandom's past and present in ways we can't go back from. I know I personally feel really guilty for having ever followed this person. But again, the only person responsible for Len’s actions is Len. I'm simply dedicated to being more discerning in the future.

I know that a lot of us are angry. But I think there are ways for us to be angry and still kind. We have learned that someone close to us holds hateful views, but we don't have to act in hatred.

It goes back to the source material that brought us together right? In a terrible situation, we can still do some good. Still build bonds in honesty and nuance. Maybe I’m being naive, but I want to believe that our fandom can grow from this.

We're about to get a sequel! Let's get rid of the bad and move forward as a community. "Shit, Let's start a band."

#lgbtmazight #em look away #fandom discourse #racefaker #tw antisemitism #I hate that I'm still thinking about this #But I needed to get these words out of my head. #if anyone wants a safe place to talk my inbox is open. #please be kind to yourselves #the old guard

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Dog Tags

Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr​ : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations.    The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week.  The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.  

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”. 


With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place.


He only crossed the line once. 



You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.  

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.  

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.    

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday. 

Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was. 

You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again. 

Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction. 

Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along. 

“We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).  

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on. 

Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.  

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)  

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.  

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?  

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer. 


As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence. 



Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.  

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”

 Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy. 
You just couldn’t. 
You couldn’t leave him. 

There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him. 

Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.



That chest…



…was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.

Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock,  he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it? 


Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion. 

He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?  

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”

You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”



Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.

“…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him. 



A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.  

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

[ghoste-catte]

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess? #am i qualified to give this? #no #but im doing it anyway

[blouisparadise]

Here is a list of amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of January. Between the third month of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest and all the other fics that authors posted throughout the month, it’s clear that this was a great way to start off the year of bottom Louis fics!  Happy reading!

1) Leave It All Here In This Bed | Explicit | 1071 words

One of Louis’s many sleepless nights.

2) Games Are Only Fun If You Win | Explicit | 1554 words

Louis and Harry have a bet. If Louis wins that means he's off laundry duty. If he loses well.

Let's just say Harry won't be complaining.

3) If It Makes You Feel Alive | Explicit | 1691 words

Louis is horny one night on the tour bus so he and Harry fuck while trying not to get caught by the others.

4) Beg Me Silently | Explicit | 2140 words

“So, your boyfriend…is he planning a magic night for you at home?”

Louis snorts. “He’s not, actually. He’s pretty hardworking, you see, so he comes home late.”

“Such a shame.” Harry walks towards Louis, so close that they’re sharing the same space. “You’re so beautiful, Louis. If you were mine, I wouldn’t make you wait for me.”

5) Birthday Wishes | Explicit | 2895 words

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

The one where Harry takes Louis to dinner for his birthday, and gifts him with a vibrating butt plug he wears to the restaurant. Fluffy birthday sex follows.

6) New Year, New Beginnings | Explicit | 3577 words

Note: This is part 4 of this series.

The one where Louis and Harry unexpectedly end up at the same New Year's party. Louis makes Harry jealous, and Harry shows him just how bad of an idea that is.

7) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

8) Pits Of Love | Explicit | 3934 words

Harry smells Louis' sweat for the first time after they've moved in together. His alpha goes a bit wild.

9) First Blow Hits You Cold | Explicit | 3986 words

Louis wears a shirt with a big ass H on it for his livestream, and Harry really, really likes it.

10) Close Your Eyes And Surrender To Me | Explicit | 4209 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry hummed and pressed his lips to Louis’ forehead. “I am very stressed, but I also know you’re stressed and tired too.” He glanced to Louis’ face seeing the confirming nod. “But, if you’re sure you’re up for it.” Harry smirked, waiting for Louis to say it was okay before he laid the boy down on the bed and hovered over him. “I really love this color on you. You look so pretty. Always do.” He spoke quietly, rubbing his hands over Louis’ soft thighs and moving them to his tummy. He then moved his hands up to Louis’ hair. It had been a while since Louis’ last haircut and it was now long enough that he could tie it up in little ponytails and even little braids. Louis currently had two hair clips in his hair. One was gold with little stars on it and the other gold with a moon. “I love your hair princess. Do you feel pretty?” He asked.

11) P Is For | Explicit | 4349 words

Note: The pairing for this fic is Louis/Pedro Pascal.

Louis and Pedro, winter in New York, a coffee machine, and bilingualism.

12) Pull Out Your Heart | Explicit | 5028 words

He wants to apologise, the five letters sit on the tip of his tongue but he does not. It means nothing to either of them.

13) Loving You's the Antidote | Explicit | 5070 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 302: Alpha Harry & Omega Louis are divorced but still spend each other’s heat/rut together because they only really trust each other but things get complicated when Louis (or Harry, author’s choice) spend it with someone else. Cue angst with a happy ending.

14) Sweet Talk With A Hint Of Sin | Explicit | 5095 words

“What the hell are you wearing?” Harry had the nerve to ask, and Louis bristled slightly.

“Well, what the bloody fuck does it look like?” Louis snapped, breaking his seductive demeanor momentarily because he was wearing this ridiculous get-up for Harry. He had thought that this would go over well.

And now that the moment was here, it was going anything but.

Harry’s brain seemingly malfunctioned, completely unbothered by the fact that he was now standing in an actual pool of red wine, or that there might even be broken glass directly next to his feet. He was focused solely on his boy splayed out on their bed. “Are those ears?”

“Yes,” Louis mumbled, reaching up to finger the burnt orange fur of the fox ears. “And a tail,” he said, shifting to lay on his stomach so that his perky ass was on display, showing the way his lube slicked hole had been prepped and was now hugging the impressively sized plug attached to the fox tail.

15) New York's Beauty | Mature | 5274 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love.

Louis needs to feel comfortable with the camera so harry fucks him until he is blushing and calm and gentle.

16) I Went Astray To Make It Okay And He Made It Easy | Not Rated | 5537 words

Note: This is a sequel to #17 on this list.

Harry makes sure to put on his blue truckers hat that has 'if you ain't a fisherman, you ain't shit' printed on it to hold back his hair out of his eyes. He remembers when he came home after buying it and Louis went on for days about much he looked like such a Dad. He made sure to fuck him hard that night and show him that he's a fucking DILF not just a Dad. 

17) You Make My Heart Beat Like The Rain | Explicit | 6611 words

Note: This is the prequel to #16 on this list.

"You're stunning, eh?" Harry whispers, his Canadian accent thick with lust. It usually slips out when he gets horny because he knows it turns Louis on. Harry presses his lips into the curve of his neck. His hot breath makes Louis shiver. He opens his eyes and sees Harry's bigger, tattooed arms wrapped around him, completely engulfing his smaller frame—and, fuck, maybe he is up for it.

Why does his boyfriend have to be such a fucking DILF? He blames it on a twitter thread he read a few weeks ago.

18) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Explicit | 6837 words

Harry and Louis are going through a divorce after being together for 10 years, so Louis comes over to collect his things, and, well…what’s a little goodbye sex, just one last time?

19) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8113 words

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.

That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.

It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

20) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

21) It's A Game We Play In The Sheets | Explicit | 9426 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“Louis is… He’s a boy I’ve been talking to.” He bit his lip, grin evident. “After I watched one of his videos during a Harry Reacts a few weeks ago I messaged him and…”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of a timid little “Hi” being whispered into his ears.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, pausing to take in the online presence of the real-life fairy, before he opened them and smiled. “Hey Lou. Ready to play with me?”

22) One Track Mind | Explicit | 9911 words

“You have a lot of friends, huh?”

Harry nods again. “A few.” The muscles of his bicep flex under Louis’ touch, and the alpha looks a bit drunk from the feeling, his eyes blinking slower and lips quirking at the corners. He’s leaning in, his alpha scent surrounding Louis from all sides.

“Mm,” Louis hums, squeezing his fingers tight, just to hear the sharp way Harry inhales. Then, when Harry is least expecting it, Louis returns the earlier sentiment—leaning up on his tiptoes and pressing his weight into Harry for balance, drawing his lips up close to Harry’s ear, and whispering, “Why don’t you go tell them goodnight.”

23) See You When I Get Home | Explicit | 10308 words

"What are you thinking about?" He repeats Louis' question from earlier.

"You." Louis' reply comes out in a moan. It shocks Harry, and his brain scrambles for the right thing to do, the right thing to say. He doesn't even know how to feel, or if he even heard Louis correctly.

"Me?"

24) Floating | Explicit | 10435 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Louis has control over water in every form but he doesn't know what to do with it. Harry is here to guide him.

25) I'm At Your Mercy Now (And I'm Ready To Begin) | Teen & Up | 10552 words

Where Louis' soulmark was leaked, Harry keeps his private. They're both famous popstars. Louis is waiting for his soulmate, Harry has a feeling it's him but Louis is completely oblivious.

26) You And I 'Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

27) Moonlit Sky Over Gentle Waters | Explicit | 11377 words

Harry left his hometown to sail the seven seas and returns seven years later, yearning for something — or rather, someone — that he isn't sure he can have.

28) Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (And Never, Never, Ever Let Go) | Explicit | 11524 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Harry is a demon that feeds off of people’s nightmares. He finds his next meal in Louis’ dreams where he changes and molds them to become scary nightmares. Soon harry learns Louis is a lucid dreamer- he can act on his own in his dreams. They interact in the real world and have sex in the dream world. when the demon catches feelings for louis, he wants to live.

29) If You're Feeling Lonely | Explicit | 12807 words

The guest list is on the desk. Louis runs through it and stops a third of the way down, a familiar name catching his attention.

Harry Styles.

All he needs to do is confirm whether Harry Styles is the same Alpha whose scent left such a memorable impression on his body.

30) Want You To Play With Me | Explicit | 14335 words

"I'm quite not finished with you yet." Harry whispered right on the shell of his ears and squeezed the girth of his cock, making Louis shudder a sloppy puff of air as the tickling sensation ran through his spine, Harry was intoxicating. "Let me play with you a little more, Lou. I promise I'll give you what you want. Be my good boy, hm?" He slowly annunciated every word and licked a warm line on the nape of Louis' neck — Louis curled in his arms at that. Submitting himself a little bit more.

"Always wanna be your good boy." Louis whispered back and enveloped Harry's hand in his.

31) No Good Unless It's Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

32) Tennis Court | Explicit | 18285 words

Louis and Harry are co-workers and Louis is sure Harry hates him because he always refuses to help him with his heats.

33) Joker Is Wild | Explicit | 18444 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 390: A reality show AU where Louis, Harry, Liam, Zayn and Niall are selected to stay at confined in a luxury mansion for 1 month, where they are required to have explicit, graphic sex at all times, like a porn Big Brother kind of show. Every week there are several different sexual tasks and trials that they must overcome together, which all ends in orgasms for all of them. When the boys all discover Louis is strictly a bottom, and a slutty one at that, they all can’t wait to get their hands on him. Bonus if other hot celebs are there too, like Shawn Mendes, for example. Includes lots of hard gay sex, rimming, blowjobs, gang bangs, ass worshipping (Louis ass, of course) and double penetration.

34) Baby, Let Me Love You Goodbye | Not Rated | 20249 words

Louis almost calls Harry daddy. Cue denial, feelings, and way too much dirty talk.

35) Give So Much (Not Enough) | Mature | 24610 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

“For my little lion,” Louis slid the smoothie bowl in front of Oscar, letting him dig in with his little hands. “And for daddy.”

He didn’t process the bowl in front of him, the push across the table causing a raspberry to roll off and fall on his lap, because Louis calling himself mummy may make him feel all sorts of mushy emotions, but Louis addressing Harry as daddy was suddenly having a very different effect on him. Since when did Louis saying daddy out loud render him speechless?

“Daddy’s still sleepy, but we’re up bright and early right Ossie?” Louis’ cooing shook him out of his daze. The man coughed, picking the raspberry off his lap and swallowing it with unintentional, and very unnecessary, eye contact with Louis. “Well, is it better than your protein smoothies and why?”

Harry chuckled, spooning another heap of the strawberry banana goodness into his mouth, “Way better sweetheart.”

A friends to lovers au with tons of mama Louis and domesticity.

36) Short And Sweet | Explicit | 29658 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

37) Under Thorn And Bramble | Explicit | 31931 words

Note: The pairing of this fic is Louis/OMC. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 445: A historical AU where Louis is working as a servant on a farm. The family that owns the farm is exceedingly cruel to him and he is often exhausted and in pain from his work. A mysterious stranger boards at the farm and is very intrigued by Louis, but Louis doubts his interest in genuine. Any pairing fine.

38) Pink In The Night | Explicit | 32324 words

His finger was tapping on Louis’ chat before Harry could even think about it, eyes reading over the last text he’d sent Louis. I miss you. Do you miss me?

Harry had felt so pathetic that December night, alone in the dark room of the Japanese apartment he’d been staying at, the strong smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

Louis hadn’t replied, but Harry wasn’t surprised; he had texted Louis a few times before while he’d been away, but there had never been a response.

It pained him to admit that this was their new normal.

39) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

40) If The Sun Don't Shine | Explicit | 36330 words

In a world where you meet your soulmates in dreams, Louis has spent the last three years going to bed hoping to finally meet his, only to end up disappointed time and time again. It all changes with a violin.

41) The Pirate And The Piper | Explicit | 38396 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

The one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

42) Begged And Borrowed Time | Mature | 40198 words

Prompt 60: Time travel AU where Louis somehow gets thrown back in time and ends up in the dark ages, during the reign of the Styles family.

43) I Ain’t Gonna Fence You In | Mature | 40645 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 18 year old city boy who is forced to spend his summer before his senior year at his aunts farm. There, he meets Harry, a 19 year old country boy his aunt hired to help around the farm.

Maybe the farm isn't the worst place to fall in love?

44) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 43285 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

45) No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine | Explicit | 44963 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

46) Sedative Duty | Explicit | 46588 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Pop-star of the moment Louis Tomlinson is on his third-world tour. He decides to hire renowned professional dominant Harry Styles to unwind while on the road. In an effort not to raise suspicion by the crew, fans, and press, Harry pretends to be his bodyguard. He ends up being far more than that.

47) Just Always Be Waiting for Me | Explicit | 46837words

Note: Please be sure to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Harry Styles is a librarian at a private school who is not very devoted to his job but is very devoted to Louis Tomlinson, the resident English teacher, and has been ever since they met six years ago beneath a lonely streetlight.

Louis Tomlinson is a self confessed bookworm whose passion for Peter Pan, the literary classics and Harry Styles' happiness knows no bounds. He's self sacrificing, somewhat self loathing and haunted by a trauma he can't talk about.

Mutual pining abounds in this fic where a Peter Pan quote is never just a Peter Pan quote, caretaking is a love language and a platonic nude is never actually platonic. Louis has a kiss that belongs to Harry but he also has a painful past that might end up hurting them both.

48) Since The Future | Explicit | 48947 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

"It's done."

The words were barely above a whisper when they left Harry's mouth, but they hit Louis with the force of a freight train. It was done. Holy fuck. They had created a time machine. And tomorrow, they were travelling to the future.

49) Dirty Laundry Looks Good On You | Explicit | 50581 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

50) Hamartia | Explicit | 66970 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Six years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to be struggling in the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't take long for them both to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.

51) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this. words

52) Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | Explicit | 73825 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest! Check out the full collection here.

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day.

53) Rogue | Not Rated | 94992 words

Louis is a rogue Omega who's suffered through rejection and abuse for the biggest part of his life. He stumbles onto the Styles pack, quite possibly the kindness one he's ever met.

54) Chandeliers And Fake Smiles | Mature | 145010 words

On the brink of winning their first Grammy; up-and-coming rock band One Direction find themselves in the midst of the biggest scandal of their career - right before tickets for their world tour go on sale. in order to save their reputation, Louis Tomlinson must find it in his heart to forgive pop singer and heartthrob Harry Styles after his first impression rubbed him entirely the wrong way. after all, they cannot sell a relationship if it looks like they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #larry

[snelbz]

Spitting Image

Based on the anonymous prompt:  “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

Co-written, as always, with @tacmc​.

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

Cassian had been infuriated when he left his flat, but as he sat in his car outside of Nesta’s house, there was a hollowness settled in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t been back in Velaris for long. He hadn’t expected to be back so soon, but he missed his family too much to stay in the north forever. After their constant begging, and after he’d gotten his college diploma, he was packing up and moving back to the city of starlight.

Where she was.

He’d been avoiding her so far, hadn’t seen her once in the month he’d been home.

Until he found out.

Then he was going to confront her, going to pound on her door and demand how she couldn’t have told him. He was going to yell, was going to look her in the eye for the first time in years and demand answers she’d never given him.

Nothing came to him, though, as he sat in his car, staring at her front door.

None of it made any sense. It made as little now as it had then, when a single text message had shredded his heart, and sitting here, staring at the unfamiliar house, Cassian felt all those old wounds reopening.

With a weary sigh, he let his forehead fall against the steering wheel and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how they had ended up here, how any of this had happened, but he knew exactly what day everything had changed.

Just like everything else in his life, Cassian had gotten his information to Adriata’s head coach just days before the deadline, going back and forth on the decision of whether or not he should pursue his dream. Summer training was slated to start the following Monday and when his phone rang, he never expected it to be Tarquin Hadrian himself.

He’d immediately texted Nesta, telling her he had good news and that he was on his way to see her. He had to get packed. He was leaving for Adriata tonight.

She texted back and told him she had news, too, but he was so excited, he didn’t even think to ask what it was. He knew she’d tell him as soon as he got there.

But she hadn’t, because Cassian had gone first.

He’d told her about the scholarship, told him his education was paid for at one of the best universities in the country. He’d told her that he would be playing football, starting as a freshman.

Then she’d told him she was proud of him, told him how amazing it all was. Cassian was so hyped up that he forgot to ask what her news was.

She broke up with him soon after, because he would be too far away, and long distance was too hard. Cassian had left, and never heard from Nesta Archeron again.

Now, he would.

As soon as he got the nerve to get out of his car.

He looked at the clock on the dash. 

He’d been there for nearly half an hour.

It was time.

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath before throwing open his door and getting out.

He was sure she had to know he was back. He’d been to dinner with Elain and Azriel the night before. They’d firmly avoided the topic of the eldest Archeron sister, just as every conversation had since he’d arrived back in Velaris. Just as he’d been doing to the woman herself.

As he walked up the cobblestone path to the door, he was struck by just how much the home looked like it was made for Nesta. It was older, but you’d never be able to tell. Not with the glossy, navy shutters and the cheery garden out front. He was sure that was courtesy of Elain, rather than Nesta.

When he lifted his hand to knock, all of the anger that had built and built in him fell away and he felt a pang of nerves growing in his gut.

Five years.

It had been five years since he’d seen Nesta Archeron. Five years of wondering how she was, what she was doing, who she was with.

With a final deep breath, he knocked on the door. Cassian wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the door opened, but it sure as shit wasn’t Tomas fucking Mandray.

Cassian froze.

As did Tomas.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Tomas asked, which Cassian thought was funny, because he was just about to ask Tomas the same question.

“I need to talk to Nesta,” he said, evenly.

“Too bad,” he replied, leaning against the door frame. “She’s unavailable.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Cut the cheeky bullshit. I need to talk to her and it’s important.”

Nothing in his life had ever been this important. Not even the championship games he’d had the honor of playing in…and winning. And he knew nothing would ever be as important again.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” Tomas said, stepping out and getting eye to eye with Cassian. He hadn’t remembered being taller than the man, but he felt a small bit of pride as he had to look up at him. “Coming back after all these years, trying to come in like you still have a claim on her.”

Cassian had to take a moment to catch his breath, to remind himself that causing a scene, that kicking Tomas’ ass, would do no good. 

“Go get Nesta,” Cassian said, simply, calmly. “I’m not leaving here until I talk to her.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long ass time,” Tomas said, his voice low. 

“I’ll wait,” he replied.

The two men stared at one another, unblinkingly. 

Her footsteps began creaking down the old wooden stairs behind Tomas, and the moment that Cassian saw her, every thought he’d ever had fell from his mind. It went completely blank, and he suddenly began to panic as every emotion he’d ever had for Nesta flooded the surface. 

Love, lust, complete adoration.

Anger, hatred, complete heartbreak. 

“Who’s here?” Nesta asked, reading a novel as she walked. She always had her nose in a book. 

Tomas lifted his chin. “No one. He was just leaving.”

Nesta looked up then, and on the bottom step, she froze. Her eyes connected with Cassian’s, and her lips fell open. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t do a thing.

“Tomas, I think you should head home,” she said, voice so quiet that Cassian was surprised he could hear it.

He turned around, staring at her. “Are you kidding me?”

“Please,” she said. “Go.”

Without another word, he walked towards the back of the house. Nesta was staring at her feet, still not looking at him, but gods, he was staring at her. She was so beautiful, as beautiful the day he’d kissed her goodbye.

He had no idea it would be the last time he’d ever feel her lips on his.

Tomas emerged again, a black backpack slung over his shoulder, keys in his hand. He didn’t look at Nesta, just brushed past Cassian as he left, shoving him with his shoulder.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassian cleared his throat, but Nesta spoke first. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Didn’t try to call though,” Cassian said, the words not as hard as he intended them to be. He stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him.

Nesta sighed and said, “I’ve been busy. Would you like some coffee?”

So formal. So polite. So unlike the firey girl he’d loved.

“You know, why I’m here, Nes,” he breathed, the familiar nickname falling from his lips. Before she could respond, he added, “Where is he?”

Her eyes fell closed and she rubbed at the spot between her eyes, just like she’d always done when he did something to infuriate her. “At school. It’s noon on a Tuesday.”

Of course he would be at school. Cassian hadn’t even thought about that on his way over. For a moment, he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he waited, waited for her to say something, anything, and when she didn’t, he was shaking his head.

Before he could speak, before he could blow up, Nesta asked, again, “Coffee?”

“I don’t want coffee,” Cassian said, quietly.

“You used to love coffee,” she pressed.

“I still do, I don’t want any right now.”

“Let me get you some coffee.” She was walking away before he could protest, yet again.

He wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed her down the hall, into the kitchen.

She was fixing a pot of coffee, refusing to meet his eyes still. 

“Nesta-.”

“How have you been?” she asked, the question rushing out of her as she pressed start on the coffee maker. 

“How have I been?” he repeated, exasperated.

“Yes, Cassian,” she said, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet and proceeding to dump two very healthy spoons of sugar into one of them and a normal amount into the other. “I haven’t talked to you in five years, I’d like to know how you’ve been.”

He blinked, not only at the fact that she still remembered exactly how to make his coffee, but as the genuine sincerity in her words. “What is this?” He asked, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what’s happening here?”

The pot gurgled as it finished brewing and Nesta pulled the carafe from its base and poured the coffee into the mugs. She picked them up and carefully carried them to the island where Cassian was leaning on his palms. “It’s two old friends catching up.”

The cold laugh left him before he could even think to stop it. “Old friends? Old friends? At least have the decency to call me your ex, Nes.”

She was so calm, as if she’d been expecting this reaction. As if she’d been preparing for this for nearly five years.

“Were we not friends?” she asked, sliding a mug across the island to him.

Cassian stared at her. He opened his mouth, but it soon fell shut, yet again. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t let you in to fight, Cass,” she said, quietly.

Cass.

His old nickname. She used to say it longing, lovingly. Now, it just seemed like an annoyance. 

“I’m not here to fight,” Cassian said, quietly, putting his hand around the mug. “I’m here for answers.” 

“I want to know how you’ve been,” Nesta continued, sipping from her steaming mug.

Cassian knew Nesta. He knew her better than most people. He knew that he would not win this argument. “I’ve been good. Living the fucking dream. Played football, got a degree, decided to come back home. And you? How have you been?”

His words were kind enough, but his tone was clipped, rushed, annoyed. He had no interest in small talk.

“Busy,” she admitted. “Got my degree, too, online though. And I started my own business. Interior design.”

Cassian couldn’t stop himself from looking around. The house was decorated impeccably. “Dating Tomas Mandray, I see,” he scoffed.

She almost spewed coffee across the counter, but she pulled herself together just in time. “Absolutely not,” she said, reaching for a paper towel to dab off her mouth. “He works for me, he balances my books.”

Blinking, his mug halfway to his own mouth, Cassian stared at her. And then he started laughing hysterically.

Nesta was staring at him. At first, she seemed concerned, then she was amused. “Does that please you?”

“I just…” he began, his laughter dying down. “I can’t believe I thought he was with you to begin with.” 

Nesta stared at him for a moment, until his laughter became obsolete. “Why did you come here, Cass?”

Cassian’s smile faded before he said, “You know why I’m here, Nesta.” 

She slowly set her mug down on the counter and looked up at him and sighed quietly.

He asked, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Of course not,” she breathed, her eyes sad. “I knew you would eventually, but you were living your dream. I wasn’t going to be the one to take that from you.”

He stared at her, unblinking and absolutely silent. When he spoke, he didn’t recognize his own voice. “Did you really think that I would care about football more than I would care about my own son? More than I cared about you?”

Nesta’s eyes fell closed and she let out a quiet, shuddering breath. “It didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to let you throw away your life-.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” He said, surprised by the elevation of his words, how genuinely hurt he was that she took that precious time from him. Time he couldn’t get back.

“Cassian-.” “No,” he said, before she could say anymore. “You should’ve told me.”

Nesta’s lips thinned out. “If I did, you would’ve dropped everything to come back here, and I just couldn’t…”

Cassian waited, and when she didn’t finish, Cassian shook his head. “Of course I would’ve come home. Would that have been so bad?” 

“Yes!” Nesta yelled, eyes wide. “You were living your dream, Cass!” 

“But you were here, having my kid!” he yelled, the words echoing throughout the empty kitchen.

He turned away, beginning to pace. “Is this why you ended it?” He asked, looking over at her. “So you wouldn’t have to visit, so I wouldn’t find out? Or did you dump me and it was just a happy accident?”

“Stop,” Nesta breathed.  

“I don’t wanna fucking stop!” Cassian yelled. “You had my kid, you were pregnant when I left, and you didn’t tell me!”

Nesta closed her eyes.

“I have been gone for five years, and I had no idea that I had a kid here!” Cassian continued, trying to contain himself, but being unable to.

The front door opened and little feet were hurrying down the hardwood floor towards them. “Mama, there’s a huuuuge truck outside! You have to come-.”

A little boy with blue-grey eyes and dark, curly hair froze as he came barreling into the kitchen, a Power Rangers backpack strapped to his back. Nesta glanced over at the clock, not realizing it was time for the bus to already be here. He slowly made his way to the middle of the kitchen, where she still stood, clutching her quickly cooling cup of coffee. “Are you still working, mama?” He quietly asked, looking at Cassian out of the corner of his eye.

It was a wonder Cassian hadn’t fallen to his knees the second he saw him. His eyes may have been the color of Nesta’s, but the shape was familiar in a way Cassian never thought he’d see. His lips were fuller than his own, so much like his mother’s. But the tan skin, the curly hair that was much longer than he was sure Nesta wanted it to be…

It was like looking into the most precious mirror, seeing a different version of himself, that he never knew existed, never knew he needed.  

“Hi, baby,” Nesta said, at last, meeting her son in the middle of the kitchen and wrapping him up in her arms. After giving him a kiss on his forehead, she asked, “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah!” He replied. “I had art, and gym, and I learned about the letter Q.”

“Q?” Nesta asked, like it was the coolest thing she had ever heard. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

He looked back at Cassian. “Who are you?”

Cassian hadn’t realized he had been staring, hadn’t realized he had been analyzing every inch of the little man, his spitting image before him.

He was frozen, unable to think of his own name.

“Mommy has been doing some work for him for a while. He’s here to see it.”

His eyes flicked to Nesta, at the save she’d made for him, but at the truth of her words.

He cleared his throat and rounded the island, crouching down in front of him. “My name is Cassian.”

Those little eyes scrutinized him, with a look he’d seen from Nesta a thousand times, and he tilted his head to the side. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. His words were clipped. “Rhett.”

Nesta warned, “Everett Gideon.” His eyes turned up to look at his mother and he found her looking back at him, an eyebrow raised. “Manners.”

He stood up a little straighter and when he looked back at Cassian, he could see a familiar spark of mischief in those eyes. “My name is Rhett. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Cassian said. “I like your name.”

“Thank you,” Rhett said, and turned around to storm out of the room.

Cassian watched him go.

“Hang your backpack up!” Nesta called after him. “And take off your shoes!”

Cassian hardly heard her. His son, Rhett. Five years old and probably full of attitude, considering who he was a biproduct of. He wasn’t sure what to think, wasn’t sure what thought to form.

Cassian looked at the doorway he had hurried out of for a long while. Nesta didn’t press. She simply waited, quietly.

After a moment, he breathed, “He… I…” 

He looked away and cleared his throat and Nesta pretended not to see the shimmering in his hazel eyes.

“I don’t know him… He doesn’t know me…” The words were quiet when he finally spoke. All at once, Nesta realized the anger was gone. What was left was a broken man. A father who wanted to know his son. “He’s five and he doesn’t know me.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, just calmly watched him, listening.

His words were soft, sad, when he said, “Did you not want me to know him?”

“Cassian,” Nesta began, but nothing else came out. She sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear. 

“Did you not want me to know him?” Cassian repeated, his voice catching on the words. 

“You had a dream,” Nesta said, simply. “I wasn’t about to ask you to stay.”

There it was. She’d said it before but it hust clicked in his head what she was saying.

Cassian was taken back. “What?”

She wasn’t even pretending to drink her coffee anymore, standing with her arms crossed, a hip pressed against the counter. She was gazing out the window, a faint smile on her lips. She cleared her throat, but when she finally spoke, Nesta’s voice still sounded tight. “You had the chance to do what you’d always wanted, Cass. You were getting to live out your dreams.” She turned to look at him and her eyes were soft. “I couldn’t take that from you.”

Cassian hesitated, unable to sort out his thoughts. “You… I…” He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “You knew you were pregnant before I left? With- With my child? You knew you were pregnant with my child and you let me move across the fucking country?”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” she snapped. 

“Of course, I did,” he breathed. “But I’m having a little bit of trouble understanding.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she let loose a breath. “Do you know how long I’ve known you, Cass?”

Yes. Years. Nearly their entire lives.

“You always wanted to play football. You love it, and you always have,” she went on. “If I told you I was pregnant, you would’ve stayed, or you would’ve come back.”

“Of course, I would have!” Cassian yelled, meeting her eyes.

Her voice cracked as she said, “I wasn’t going to let you throw your entire life away for me!”

The silence settled in the kitchen and Cassian’s heavy breathing as he calmed himself was the only sound.

“I didn’t keep him from you to hurt you,” she said, at last. “I did it so you could do what you loved. I didn’t want you to resent me one day for losing that chance…”

Nesta didn’t have to say what else she was thinking. Cassian already knew.

Or Rhett.

None of this was his fault, yet his parents were screaming at each other in the kitchen, and there was no way he hadn’t heard.

Cassian let his elbows land on the hard countertop and his face fell into his hands.

“Five years,” he whispered, his voice muffled by his hands. “Five years and I’ve been… Damn it, Nesta.” 

There was no anger in his voice, hardly anything at all in his voice. 

“I already told you-.”

“You should’ve told me,” he interrupted, quietly. “You should’ve told me you were pregnant, should’ve told me he was born. You should’ve told me that he existed, Nesta, I have a son. What does he think of his father? That I don’t care? That I abandoned him? That I was just never around?”  

“No, I-.”

“Has he ever even asked?” Cassian breathed. “I mean… I’ve known about him for less than twenty-four hours, and he’s all I thought about, Nes. And, ultimately… I feel like shit. Five years… For five years, I had a kid out there and I missed it. I missed all of it, missed five years of my kid growing up.”

“But you got to do what you loved,” she said, quietly, looking away from him. “You got to play football. We watched you on TV,” she said, a soft laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob falling from her lips. “He loves football, too.”

He’d had it, something in him snapped. He rounded the island and took her face into his hands. “I loved you,” he said, “and you making that decision for me, without telling me, I lost precious years with him. Precious years I could have had with you.”

Nesta’s eyes fell shut. No lie had ever hurt as badly as telling Cassian she didn’t want to be with him anymore. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Of course, there were times she wished he was there. But knowing he was happy and living the life he’d always dreamed of, especially after his hard life… It had been worth the struggle.

“You couldn’t miss out on it,” Nesta said, quietly, her eyes shut. “I don’t regret it.” 

“I do,” he replied, without any hesitation. “I would’ve come back in a heartbeat, would have been a part of his life, a part of both of your lives, and I would have had no regrets, Nes.”

“Maybe not yet.” She shook her head, her eyes still shut. “But you would have regretted it, eventually.”

Cassian knew Nesta, and he knew that she was adamant, that her mind had been made up long ago. There was nothing he could say that would make her believe that she had made the wrong decision, and he knew when to stop trying.

He didn’t take his hands off her face.

“Why did you tell me you didn’t want to be with me anymore?” He breathed.

She didn’t hesitate. “Because I knew it was the only way you’d let me go.”

He was shaking his head. “Damn it, Nesta, I didn’t want to let you go. I wanted to spend forever with you. I wanted to have a family with you.” He let his forehead fall against hers as his eyes fell shut. “I just... I didn’t know I already had one coming.”

Nesta didn’t say she was sorry.

Cassian knew she wouldn’t, knew she would have stuck by what she had done, whether she was truly sorry or not. 

The hesitation in her eyes told Cassian that she may have thought she was sorry, after all.

“I could live without football, Nes.” Cassian whispered. “I could have done without it. It’s a game-.”

“We were young,” Nesta fought, quietly.

“It’s a fucking game,” he repeated, a little more bite in his voice. “Just a game.”

“That game was your life,” Nesta snapped.

“You were my fucking life,” he hissed.

“I won’t ever apologize for letting you live your dream.”

He asked, “And will you apologize for lying?”

Nesta blinked. “About what?”

His words were hard. “For telling me you didn’t love me.”

Shame flashed in Nesta’s eyes. “Of course I am.”

“And what about now?” He breathed.

“Now?” She asked.

“Are you sorry about it now?” He asked. “Do you still love me?”

The words hung in the air between them.

Nesta’s voice was barely audible when she said, “That’s not a fair question.”

Cassian fought the urge to laugh. What the hell did she know about fair? “Answer the question.” 

“I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking as she shook her head. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” he asked, growing frustrated, and he hated being frustrated, because when he was frustrated he didn’t know how to handle it, not well. “Just answer the question, Nesta. Do you still love me?” 

“I’m not answering that,” she repeated, as a tear slid down her cheek.

“Because I still love you,” Cassian continued, pretending she hadn’t spoken, knowing she was still lying to his face. “I still love you, I have never stopped loving you, Nesta.”

“Cassian, we-.”

“Every year apart, every month, every day, I have always loved you. I’ve tried to get over you, I really have, but I can’t,” he breathed. “It’s always been you, it will always be you.”

She shook her head again, closing her eyes in a pointless attempt to stop the tears that ran down her face.

“If you don’t love me, just tell me.” The words hurt, even as he said them. “I’ll keep my feelings to myself, but I want to be in Rhett’s life. Please.”

The fact that he was putting her feelings before his own, putting Rhett above them… “I love you just as much today as I did the day I sent those damn text messages. I didn’t just break your heart that day,” Nesta breathed, looking up into his hazel eyes. “I broke my own, too.”

Cassian leaned down and pressed his forehead gently against hers. “I have waited years to hear you tell me that you love me,” he whispered. “Years.” 

Nesta let out a slow breath.

Cassian’s lips met hers. 

He wasted no time, didn’t even bother with a warning before he was sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. Nesta melted into him, finding just as much comfort as she always had in his arms.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and Cassian lifted her up, setting her on the counter and standing between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs and let one of his hands thread through her hair, and-.

“Mommy?”

Cassian was jumping back and Nesta was pushing her hair back off of her face and dropping off the counter. “Hey, baby. I thought you were upstairs?”

But Rhett’s little gaze wasn’t on Nesta, it was on Cassian. “Why were you kissing my mommy?”

Even Cassian’s quick wit didn’t have an answer for that. Nesta was beet red so he knew she wasn’t going to be any help. He opened his mouth spew some some bullshit to hopefully chill the anger he could see growing in those little eyes, but he was surging across the kitchen and began battering his tiny fists against his stomach. “You can’t kiss my mommy, she’s waiting for my daddy!”

Cassian hesitated, but didn’t move, nor did he bother to ask the child to stop hitting him in the stomach. In fact, he simply put his hands in his pockets and let Rhett punch him again and again and again.

It reminded Cassian of himself at that age.

“Rhett,” Nesta demanded, now that she had regained her composure. “Stop. Now.” 

He was frowning, but he did just as his mother asked. 

“We do not hit,” Nesta chastised. “Now, apologize.”

Rhett crossed his little arms. “No.”

“It’s okay, he thinks he’s protecting you,” Cassian whispered. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Nesta said, not looking away from her son. “He knows better. Apologize, now.”

“But if you’re kissing him, what about my daddy?” He said, and his little lip was wobbling, but Nesta could tell he was trying his hardest not to cry.

Cassian’s heart broke watching the scene in front of him, watching his son. He wished he could say something, do something. But this wasn’t his call. He hadn’t been here for five years. Rhett had no idea who he was. He looked up at Nesta, seeing the battle she was having within herself.

She’s waiting for my daddy.

He realized what Rhett had said and he blinked once. He was unable to stop the words as he breathed, “You waited for me?”

“Not for you!” Rhett cried again. “For my daddy!”

But for once Nesta didn’t chastise her rambunctious son for screaming in the house. She was too busy looking at Cassian.

“It’s always been you,” she whispered, repeating his earlier words back to him.

Cassian longed to kiss her then, wanted to press his lips urgently against hers, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked down to Rhett. 

“He looks like me,” he whispered, then looked over at Nesta. “Sounds like me.”

“When he’s throwing a fit? Yeah, he does,” Nesta said, quietly, and the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips.

Rhett was still looking at Cassian when he scooted closer to Nesta and wrapped his little arms around her.

Nesta picked her son up, setting him down on the counter where she’d been sitting just a few seconds before. “Mommy’s always told you daddy would come home one day, right?”

He was looking between the two of them, suspiciously. He nodded.

“But that he was busy making sure we’d all have the best lives that we could?”

Another nod.

“Your daddy is finally here, buddy,” she said, softly. She ran a thumb over his cheek. “I didn’t know he was coming-.” A look at Cassian, who at least had the audacity to blush at intruding on her peaceful day and throwing the most amazing wrench into their lives. “But he’s here.”

#nessian #snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian

[nothere-notthere-nowhere]

Studying

Word count: 1704

Pairing: Natasha x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: panic attack, let me know if I missed any

Summary: Studying for an exam is overwhelming. Nat helps.

A/N: Hi! So, this is very much just me projecting my own thoughts and feelings onto the reader lol. There’s no real romance here, just Nat being a good friend. I also did not edit this, so I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes. 

It was late, you realized as you closed your textbook. You’d been studying for some stupid math final the next day and time had clearly gotten away from you.

Balancing avenger work with being a full-time student was difficult but you enjoyed it, for the most part. Thankfully, it was online schooling so you were able to complete work on your own time, but it was still difficult. Deciding to go back to school in your mid twenties had been a big step for you. 

You’d always hated school. It never came easy, despite being a science genius. You were what most people called brilliant. You thought it was just being creative. You thought in a different way than most people. Tony Stark had sought you out when you were fresh out of high school right before the invasion of New York. 

But, despite having a secure job working for the avengers in the compound, you had decided it wouldn’t be a bad thing to go back to school. Just because you were good at making supersuits and other technological advancement-esque stuff didn’t mean you were that smart.

For example, calc two was kicking your ass right now. Making new impact resistant polymer suits for the gang was a hell of a lot easier for you than whatever the fuck this textbook was trying to explain. 

“Stupid math,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face as you looked back down at the problem you’d already tried to solve four times. There was no way in hell you were going to pass this class. 

Fighting back tears of frustration as you crumpled up the paper, you stood from your desk. It was near three in the morning and you were exhausted. But you would not let yourself fail this exam. Your grade in the class was already less than acceptable and failing your final would definitely leave you with an F.

You walked to the kitchen quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. Coffee would surely settle you down and give you enough energy to make it until the morning. You had to figure this out.

“I told you to ask Tony or Bruce for help,” Natasha’s voice startled you.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, drying your eyes before you turned to her.

“No, don’t worry.” She had an amused look on her face. “You’re still on calc, right?”

“Yeah,” your shoulders slumped. “But I have to be able to do this on my own. I shouldn’t have to annoy them with questions about basic math all the time.”

“Calculus is not basic math.” Natasha snorts at you.

“To them it is.”

“Well, make sure you go to sleep at some point, okay?” The concern in her eyes was evident and you just nodded, grabbing the cup of coffee you’d just brewed.

You took a sip before making your way back to your room. The textbook sat right where you’d left it and the sight of it bright a fresh wave of tears. 

You were a scientist for the avengers, damn it. Why were you crying over math? But your parents words flashed through your brain, reminding you that you were just a stupid kid. 

The relationship between you and your parents had always been rocky. They had held you to unachievable standards and no matter how much effort you put into school, they were never satisfied. And they always made sure you knew that.

“You think you’ll get anywhere in life with grades like these?” your father had shouted at you many times. “You’re just lazy. Do you know how much money we pay for you to go to this school? And this is how you repay us? You’re embarrassing.”

Your hand shook as you picked up your pencil once again, trying to figure out that stupid problem. There were so many rules and steps and none of them made sense to you! 

When the answer you got still didn’t match the one in the textbook, you slammed your pencil down with a scoff.

“You’re so stupid!” You said to yourself, tears leaking from your eyes. You started to erase your own writing again, when you glanced at the time, half past three. You were never going to figure this out.

It was becoming hard to read the problems through your watery eyes as you fought back the tears. You had to figure this out! But it was no use, you dropped your head onto the desk, holding in sobs. 

Your thoughts began to run with your father’s words. Embarrassing, lazy, stupid. You felt that familiar sense of self-loathing begin to rise within you and you were helpless. This wasn’t even the last unit you had to learn before your final. 

You were overwhelmed and you didn’t realize that your chest was tightening or your breath was becoming short. But when you lost feeling in your hands, and your face was tense and tingling, it was obvious.

You were having a panic attack. 

You were no stranger to these, of course. But, that didn’t make it any easier. It had been quite some time since you’d had a panic attack this severe, too, which made it that much scarier. 

You slid off your chair, pressing your back against the wall and pulling your knees up to your chest. You screwed your eyes shut, the heels of your shaking hands pressing into your eyes. If you had more control over the situation, you’d have tried to quiet your hyperventilation.

A soft touch to your hand brought you somewhat back to reality.

“Y/N,” a soft voice called. Your fingers instinctively clutched at the hand that pulled yours away from your face. 

“Y/N, you’re okay. I’m right here.” Nat’s voice was softer than you may have ever heard it before. 

“Nat, I-I,” you choked out, trying to say anything.

“No, don’t talk. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Her free hand rested on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Can you breathe with me?”

You tried to follow her soft ‘In’ and ‘out’ over and over. Your breaths were forced, almost painful as the panic refused to let up.

“Good job, dorogoy,” You felt the redhead scoot next to you, her arm wrapping around your shaking frame. “You’re doing amazing, I’ve got you.”

She pulled you into her gently. You were starting to gain the feeling back into your hands, and your facial muscles seemed to loosen just slightly. But, you were still shaking violently as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing.

“You’re okay,” Nat soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here.”

You leaned into her, balling your fist up in her shirt. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked after you had nearly stopped crying. 

“I’m gonna fail,” you whimpered. You felt pathetic.

“You know,” Nat sighed, “who cares?”

“What?” Her words confuse you.

“You are smart, Y/N. You already have a job, and after working for Stark, you could get in anywhere if you decided to leave. This is one class and regardless of how you do on the final, no one will think any less of you.”

“But-”

“No,” Nat cut you off. “Your grades in some stupid college class don’t matter. I promise, even if you do fail, we’ve all seen how hard you’ve worked in each of your classes. That’s what matters. Your work ethic and your commitment to your studies is worth so much more than sacrificing your wellbeing to secure a passing grade.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn't. It’s a tough class. You should be proud of yourself for trying, even if you don’t get the results you wanted.”

“I just wanted to prove them wrong. Even if they wouldn’t know. I wanted to prove to them I was smart.  But they were right, I’m just stupid.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment. Natasha knows you’re talking about your parents. They’d all heard about the verbal abuse you’d suffered through at the hands of the people who’d raised you.

“You are not stupid.” She tells you firmly. “You are brilliant. You’ve created a new polymer that is even better at stopping bullets than vibranium while also working as a material for clothing. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Yeah, but…”

“This is just one subject. I sure as hell can’t do calculus! You’re good at what you’re good at. I’m good at kicking ass, Clint’s good with a bow, Wanda’s good at… well magic. You’re good at science shit.”

You were silent. You knew she had a point.

“I know that won’t make you feel better about this.” Natasha explains. “But you can’t beat yourself up for this. You need to take care of yourself. Let’s go to bed, now, and we can ask Tony or Bruce for help in the morning.”

“I need to study,” you start.

“No, you need sleep.” Natasha’s voice is firm again. “You can’t sacrifice your health or your sanity for a test. You are more important than a test.”

“Okay.” You weren’t entirely convinced but, for now, your parent’s words were fading away.

Natasha helps you up before wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. You savor the comfort of her embrace, before realizing just how exhausted you are.

“Get in bed,” Natasha nudges you towards the bed. You lay down, eyes closing as soon as your head hits the pillow. 

Nat pulls the blanket up before turning towards the door.

“Wait,” you call, hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “Please?”

“Of course, dorogoy,” Natasha smiles at you as she slides into bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you mutter, laying your head on her chest as her arms wrap around you tightly. She presses a gentle kiss to your head.

You know you’ll freak in the morning when you have to think about the final again. But Natasha was here now, and Bruce and Tony would be there in the morning. It would be okay. One failed exam, one failed class-- hell, even every class failed-- was no indication of your worth. And Nat would be there to remind you if you ever forgot. 

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

[snowgoldwaylon]

You Call That Sneaky?? - Dimitri Belikov X Reader

Not all goes as planned when Y/N and Belikov fly the bird.

TW: Strong language, use of gunship/death.

"Belikov, we need covering fire!" is what you heard come through his comms attached to his collar. It was Adler, they were in a pretty tight place. You quickly pulled the missiles online and hit "launch sequence" on the AC-31 Gunship.

Belikov flipped some switches, pulled back on the yoke and held it steady. He looked back at you and gave the nod. You quickly got on the radios to let them know the danger.

"Y/N to Adler, danger close. I repeat danger close. AC-31 out!" You warned them.

You set off the first round of just bullets, and quickly switched to bursts of incendiary rounds.

"Shot out!" You called, hitting a direct target.

The place was practically crawling with enemies, and you needed to clear extraction to bring the team up. They originally came here to collect some potential information regarding Robert Aldrich.

You needed to take him out because he was leaking sensitive information to Perseus, and his trail went cold after Bell was able to crack his spy ring.

So, of course hotshot Adler loaded himself, Woods, and Mason up and hauled their cookies all the way to the Border of Colorado.

They snuck around, maintaining stealth. You and Belikov controlled the bird, and flew around for sweep and cover protection. But, as they snuck up on a meeting, it was all revealed.

Turns out, it was a set up. And it really pissed off Frank. It pissed him off so much, he ended up losing his temper, and reached for a conveniently well place grenade launcher.

To sum it up, Frank fucked up. Because now the three man dream team went up against well over 200 enemies. So, here you were. You layed multiple rounds out until slowly but surely all the white in the thermal sights faded.

"We are clear Belikov! We are heading to the Southeast ridge, hooking up there!" Mason said into the radio.

"We got you guys, don't even worry. Y/N here will keep you safe!" Belikov said, looking over at you and winking.

You felt yourself blush, and quickly turned back to the controls.

"Well, looks like Woods owes all of us a drink after this shit show. You are sleeping on the couch tonight!" Adler yelled.

"Hey fuck you, I'll sleep there with your mom!" Frank retorted.

Man, the conversations between them never got old. You loved the time spent with the team.

You and Belikov pulled the helicopter over the ridge, where the team was going to hook up. You got up from the cockpit, and readied three a long, safety rope with three hookup points for the boys.

You dropped it over and it fell. You watched as they all attached, and you hit the botton for the rope to start slowly retracting.

You made sure they got in one by one, for the safety of everyone. You went back up to the co pilot seat and strapped in.

"Belikov, we are clear! Boys, headphones on!" You shouted.

They all put the headphones on, and started to relax a little.

"Good job as my helper today, Y/N. Soon, you'll be able to fly by yourself. And when that day comes, you'll feel so full and accomplished you'll burst! And that'll be the day I take you out for party." Belikov said, flashing you a dazzling smile.

"Well thank you, Dimitri. And you better! We've talked about this since I first started flying!" You said, Watching the skys.

"Of course, anything for you. You are amazing in everyway possible." He winked at you.

You felt like you were in a daze, until you heard a familiar, yet worrying ding. You immediately sighed, knowing exactly what that ding met.

"Fuck, of course! Dimitri I thought you said you filled up before we left!" You said.

Belikov shot you a "oh shit I completely forgot face" and shrugged.

"The beauty of Adler's face had me distracted. I must have forgotten." He said.

"Finally, someone that appreciates this handsome face." Adler mumbled to himself.

"Well, what now? We'll never make it past the summit if we don't fuel up!" Mason cried.

You turned, looking back at them.

"What happens now, is either Dimitri or I have to go outside and hang off the ledge. While doing that, one of us will have to quickly connect the emergency fuel so it can atleast get us back to a drop zone." You spoke calmly, turning to him.

"But, since Belikov did it last time, it's my turn. I will go do this real quick, prepare for a stop at a fueling station. It looks like I'm reading one about 20 clicks North." You said, slipping on gear.

"Y/N, are you sure about this? I can do it while you fly, come now. Don't be stupid, nyet!" Belikov said.

You looked back, and gave him a thumbs up.

"No, I can do it. It's only fair, don't worry I got this. It'll be quick and easy!" You said, slipping an emergency parachute on just in case.

Adler, Woods, and Mason all watched as you geared up, stepping towards the opening of the heli.

"Y/N, your fuckin' nuts. Do you need any help?" Woods questioned.

You looked back at him, and nodded yes. He got up and came over to you.

"I need you to hold onto my feet until I tell you to let go. I need to start off with a good grip, or else I'll go splat." You said.

He nodded, and you went prone. You hung halfway out, and grabbed onto the support handles. Woods grabbed your feet and secured you.

You clipped your belt to the safety clamp and gave Woods a 'hold steady' hand signal. But, to him it apparently looked like a thumbs up. So, out of routine, he carefully let your feet go.

Immediately, the strong winds pulled your body out of the side, and left you hanging by your harness. The wind whipped and slashed at your skin like tiny, ice cold daggers as you desperately tried to reach for the handles.

Everyone on board started freaking out. Belikov went to make an emergency landing, but there were too many trees. He looked and looked for the best spot possible, and finally spotted a clearing.

You were screaming, yelling and crying. You felt the harness behind to tick and tear. It was going to bust at the seams at any moment, and you were still in the air.

You hung from the clip in the middle of your chest, trying to use your feet to kick back to the side.

Adler was trying to reach you with his arm, but it wasn't happening. You were just out of reach by a few feet. You were out of options.

"Y/N!!! Hang on, we almost have you!!" Mason shouted, quickly throwing together a rope to secure you with.

"What the hell did you do idyot?? I can't land, we are right over Soviet territory!" Belikov wretched out.

He dropped lower to land, but not fast enough. By time he dropped almost enough, is when your harness finally tore straight in half. The clip broke from the force, and you dropped straight down, backwards.

You screamed as you felt the force of the fall practically crush you. You were able to turn to your stomach, and quickly reach for the string used for the parachute.

You fumbled to find out, but when you did you yanked. Relief swept over you when it deployed, and slowly descended down to a platform.

"Her chute deployed, but it's heading straight to the middle of that warehouse it looks like!" Mason yelled.

Belikov channeled your radio, worry racing through him.

"Y/N? Y/N can you hear this? If so, I landed just a few clicks West of you. This is heavily guarded compound!" Belikov spoke into it.

You landed with a thud, and you quickly switched it on, ripping off the vest. You quickly took cover behind a fallen log, looking all around at your surroundings.

"I can see, and that little stunt just sent out a whole fucking search party. They have dogs, please tell me you have a plan." You said, finally throwing the vest to the ground.

Adler came on the radio next.

"Y/N, the best thing for you to do is to try and sneak around to the West side of the compound. We are going to push to you so you'll be safe. Do NOT draw any attention to you. Meet me at the blue warehouse." Was what he said.

"Blue warehouse, got it." Was all you said, clicking it off. You reached for a sharp looking rock you found on the ground, and got up to slowly look around.

You determined the best path to the warehouse, and set off. You were hurt, scared, and shaking. You could feel the adrenaline move through your body, and you almost couldn't think.

You weren't mad at Woods, you knew it was an accident. But right now.....All you wanted was to be in the arms of Dimitri Belikov. You decided now, after you got back to the heli you were going to say how you felt.

You were ready, and nearly dying really helped you decide. You just hoped he felt the same way.

Meanwhile, back with Belikov he was ready to kill. He assembled his trusty AK-47 and was ready to full send it to you. His heart was in a panic, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

"Belikov, Y/N is going to be just find. Adler will go get her, and then you'll get us home. Everything will work out, I promise." Mason said, trying to get Belikov to calm down.

Belikov looked to Mason with tears in his eyes. He couldn't stand the though of you out there, alone with no weapon. But knowing you, he knew you found something. That's what he loved about you, and many other things.

"I know, but she is worth a lot to me. I love her." Belikov sobbed.

Mason picked up on his distress, and he opened his arms for Belikov.

Belikov accepted the hug, and Mason patted his back.

"This will be over in a few minutes. Adler and Y/N will be back in no time, I promise." Was what Mason said.

Meanwhile, Frank fueled up the heli. The plan was to pick you up, and book it back home. Nobody wanted to be here more than they had to be.

Back with you, you approached a small fire. Around the fire was a few enemies, asleep. One was in a chair, the other on the ground, and the last against a barrell, hat pulled over his eyes.

You went to step around the group and take a right, but you smacked right into the frame of an old truck. This ended up setting off the panic alarm. You dove behind another old car and held still, as you heard them all shoot up from slumber.

You heard guns cock, and your heart sank. You swallowed hard, and leaned your head back against a car, looking up. They all started looking around, you heard the footsteps.

You fully accepted that you were doing to die. How the hell were you supposed to fight four people off with a sharp rock, while they had full automatic weapons.

You felt no hope, until you saw familiar sunglasses. Adler sat up on the ridge above you, waving you to follow him. Your eyes went wide, but you moved when he signaled.

That was, until you ran right into a person. You looked up at him, and he began to yell in Russian. He pulled his gun on you, but you tackled him quickly. You subdued him somehow, and grabbed his AK.

But you and Adler both spotted a flare in the distance. The screaming of the base alarm system filled your ears.

"Y/N, let's go! Just run, we are right up here!" Adler yelled, taking your hand.

You both sprinted full speed up the ridge side, with the entire army base on your heels. Adler radioed in, and finally you saw the heli in the distance.

"Be ready to go! We have the entire base on our ass, we're about 100 feet from you!" Is what Adler shouted.

You heard the blades begin to spin, it was ready to go. You both gave it all you had ad bullets zipped and flew past your head at incredible speed.

You came to the last few steps, and booked it. You both dove into the side, and Mason slammed it closed. The helicopter took off at full speeds, while bullets hit the side, making a panging sound.

You huffed and puffed on the ground, completely spread out. You suddenly felt arms around you, and a head in your neck.

It was Belikov, you recognized his smell from anywhere. You looked at him, lifting his face. You gave him a big smile and wiped his tears away.

"Hey its alright, I'm here. I'm safe, thanks to Doc." You chuckled.

Belikov took your face in his hands, and tucked your stray hair away.

"I thought I lost you. Y/N, I love you. I realized that tonight, after thinking you were dead. I always have, and will." He said, a tear falling from his eye.

You choked up, and rested your forehead against his. Your hand stroked his face, as you leaned in.

"And the same as I, Dimitri. Now, kissing me you fool." You said with a laugh.

You locked lips. It felt like fireworks and sparklers went off in your brain. It was everything you ever wanted.

After pulling away from the kiss, Belikov pulled you to his chest, and held you there all the way back. He looked down at you, and lost it laughing.

"What's so funny huh?" You questioned.

"No offense Y/N but, you call that sneaky? Tripping right into an enemy?"

#black ops cold war #cold war #dimitri belikov #cod belikov #belikov x reader #frank woods #russell adler #alex mason #one shot

[eideticmemory]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS... | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: Impromptu trip to Vegas with your very gorgeous boyfriend!

Word Count: 2,948.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Oral sex, 19 year age gap between adults.

“[y/n]? [y/n]? C’mon, Jellybean, wake up,” Matthew whispered, gently nudging your sleeping frame. He knelt beside the bed, pushed your hair from your face, kissed your nose. The soft touches alerted you to his presence, and your eyes fluttered open. “There she is,” he smiled. “Good morning.”

“Matthew, what are you doing, baby?” You mumbled, your voice raspy and small.

“Need you to get up, we gotta go.”

“Go? Go where?” 

“Do you trust me?”

“Right now?”

“[y/n],” he giggled.

You sighed, “I trust you.”

When you crawled out of bed, looking like a corpse, Matthew already had a couple of bags packed. His car keys sat on the nightstand, ready to go and be gone. Matthew was dressed in a set of matching pajamas, covered in a pattern of stripes. He held your hand, guiding you down the stairs of his house and out the door. 

“Oh, God, don’t tell me the old man’s lost his mind already!” You joked, rolling your eyes at him as you stepped in his car. “Where are we going, babe?” 

Matthew sighed, anxiously pawing at the steering wheel. You pushed his hair out of his face, gently grazing your fingers against his cheek, “Talk to me.” You whispered. 

“I—“ he stuttered. “I saw what people have been saying about you online. About us.”

Matthew made the very hesitant decision to bring you to the Horse Girl premiere. Nervous as you both were to go public, you distracted your love by making jokes the whole time, holding him close, whispering in his ear. Plenty of photographers captured candid photos of the two of you on the red carpet, smiling at each other, Matthew kissing your cheek. It was a wonderful night, filled with wonderful people, celebrating a wonderful movie starring the most wonderful actor. 

It was so successful, in fact, that you two felt comfortable enough to go out on a very impromptu, very public beach date. Matthew knew he’d be an idiot to say no — being that you agreed to wear an itty bitty bikini. And you wanted nothing more than a stroll down the shore with your man. Fingers interlocked, a smile on both yours face, you took small steps in the sand, the water wetting your feet with each wave. Matthew had never felt so safe, so secure, in front of so many people. He twirled you around and had you laughing so hard, you snorted. You gave each other quick and messy kisses, held each other. And it was all caught on camera, in photos taken by strangers, meant for social media. 

When those pictures got out, all hell broke loose. 

For you, specifically. Fans found your instagram, and very rapidly began to follow you. Found out anything and everything they could. When they saw a recent birthday post confirming your young age, the comments weren’t so nice. In your eyes you were Matthew’s girlfriend. So, to see comments strictly referring to you as a gold digger, sugar baby, and Matthew as a predator, it broke your heart. 

You thought you’d kept it hidden, kept Matthew guarded from it. But not well enough, apparently.

You let out a heavy breath, your eyes falling closed in sadness, heartbreak at Matthew’s confession. “Oh, Matthew...”

“And you’ve been so down lately, and it hurts me. It physically hurts me, I just—like to see you happy. I thought a trip might cheer you up.”

You gave him a small smile, “Drive.” 

His eyes flickers up to you, “Yeah?”

You nodded, “Yeah.” 

Matthew let you blast your favorite music for three hours straight. He liked to see you smile, dancing and sing along. He nearly crashed several times because he was so focused on you. 

You stopped to get food, and you had to feed him to allow him to drive properly. He would make happy noises everytime you lifted your hand to his mouth, and he would kiss your knuckles before taking a bite of food. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” you cooed, tapping his nose lovingly with your finger. Your hand found it’s way to his hair, and you played with it as you started to kiss his neck. 

“Fuck, you really want me to crash this car, huh?” He giggled. 

You undid your seatbelt, and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “You have no idea.” You fixed your posture, kneeling in your seat so you could hover your face over his lap. You slyly began to undo his pants.

“Holy shit, [y/n],” he gasped. 

You bit down on your lip, freeing his cock from his boxers. You kissed the tip of it, before allowing his length to glide down your throat. He sucked in a sharp breath, “Oh, fuck.” He gripped onto the steering wheel, his teeth grinding together. He used all his strength to focus on the road, keep control of the car. 

You bobbed your head up and down, breath coming in through your nose, Matthew hitting the back of your throat with each movement. It took every ounce of him to not buck his hips up, push your head down. When you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick and jerked him at the same time, he couldn’t contain his moans and his body started to tremble. 

“Oh, fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “Keep going.”

You happily complied, speeding up your movement until he was whimpering into his mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, and allowed yourself to gag on him, saliva dripping onto his skin. 

“Hm, you gonna let me come down your throat?” He whispered, one of his hands moving down to grip onto your hair. 

“M-mhm,” you replied. 

His moans increased in volume and frequency, until he was letting out loud and guttural swear words, and releasing himself into your mouth. “Fuck,” he muttered, glancing down at you. You slid him out of your mouth, puckering your lips as you swallowed everything. You looked up at him and fluttered your eyelashes innocently. 

He chuckled, “That was wonderful, thank you.”

You sat back in your seat, giggling, “You’re welcome.” 

“Now, will you please put your seatbelt back on? You’re making me nervous, babe.” 

“Oh,” you pretended to pout, fixing your seatbelt. “You’re no fun.” 

The two of you pulled into Vegas twenty minutes later. Matthew parked his car in his mother’s driveway. When she stepped out of her house, she instantly recognized the car and began to jump up and down in excitement. “Matthew!” She exclaimed.

But when you stepped out of the car, her attention very rapidly shifted gears. “[y/n]!” She screamed. She ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “Oh, my goodness, what a surprise!” 

Matthew followed you two into the house, carrying your bags at his side. Apparently he was the only one who knew about this little visit. However, you were very happy to be there and his mom was happy to have you. She helped you two get settled in Matthew’s old bedroom. 

“Vegas, huh?” You said to Matthew after she left the room. “Are we here to gamble?”

“Gamble, drink, whatever you want, beautiful,” he smiled. 

“Okay,” you giggled. “Let me take a quick shower and change. Ooh, I should brush my teeth, too. Get the taste of dick out of my mouth.” 

Matthew and you got impeccably dressed just to spend most of the day in the house. You helped his mother cook lunch, and she filled you in on everything she’d been up to since seeing you last. The three of you played board games, ate, had some wine, and carried a conversation for a long time. When you and Matthew would sit with one another, she’d consistently point out how perfect you two looked together. It made your heart swell. 

Later in the afternoon, Matthew and you went out to a bar. You sat on adjacent stools and ordered margaritas. 

“Can I see some ID?” The bartender asked you.

Matthew stifled his laughter, and you cut your eyes at him. “Oh, shut up,” you whispered to him, pulling your license out of your pocket. The bartender verified your age, seeing that you were newly 21, and went on his way. 

Within an hour or so, you two had consumed nearly 6 drinks each, and it was painfully clear. You laughed, often and loudly at every joke the other made. Matthew fell off his stool. Twice. You were eating peanuts hand over fist. You two were a mess. 

Matthew left for three seconds to use the bathroom, and some asshole felt it appropriate to approach you. He was slightly more sober, and thought you were there alone. He struck up a painful conversation, being sure to comment on how beautiful you were every two seconds. You rolled your eyes when he wasn’t looking. He got closer to you, thinking you wouldn’t notice. But you did. So did Matthew. 

“Hey, baby,” Matthew announced his presence, putting his hand on your back. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and gave the flirt a kind smile. “Nice meeting you,” you lied. 

As you exited the bar together, Matthew was quiet, and from his stern face, you could tell he was sobering up. Something was weighing on his mind. “Babe?” You called. “Babe, what’s wrong?” He attempted to keep walking down the strip, but you stopped him with your body. “Hey! Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He let out a long sigh, “I’m...I’m never gonna be okay with that.”

“What? Guys flirting with me?”

“Young...guys flirting with you,” he couldn’t hold eye contact with you out of embarrassment.

“Oh, Matthew,” you frowned. “We’ve talked about this, baby. What do I always tell you? Hm?”

He licked his lips, “That...that I’m your old man, and you only want me.”

“That’s right, grandpa,” you smiled, pulling his body into yours. “You are my greatest love, and I’m lucky to have you, and if you think some young guy could ever steal me away, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

He sighed, “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s get back home.” 

“Wait, wait, Matthew,” you pleaded, stopping him once again. You sighed, “How can I convince you? What do you need?” 

“Nothing,” he said sadly. “I’m fine, babe.”

He was a big, fat liar. And you may have been a little drunk - or, a lot drunk - but it still hurt to see him upset. You suddenly got a bright idea, and in the middle of a dimly lit, sketchy, Las Vegas strip, you got down on one knee. 

“[y/n], what are you doing?”

“Matthew Gray Gubler,” you gulped. “Will you marry me?” 

He scoffed, “Okay, time to get you to bed.”

“I’m serious!” You squeaked. “I want to marry you! Right now!”

“[y/n]...”

You rose to your feet, “No. Listen to me. I love you. I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of the planet. And I want to marry you. I want to go to that court house right now, get a marriage license, and marry you!”

His jaw was dropped in shock, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a slight smile. “You’re insane.”

You stepped over to him, wrapped your arms around his waist, “So, are you saying yes?”

He slowly cupped your face in his hands, every inch of his body filling with pure love. “It’s not a yes, babygirl. It’s a hell yes.” 

You two were so excited that you drunkenly ran to the courthouse. You got there just before they closed, and the lady at the desk reluctantly allowed you two to obtain a marriage license. She could smell the booze on your breath, but also see the love in your eyes. She watched the two of you rush out of the building, hand in hand. 

“A ring!” Matthew exclaimed, screeching to a halt. 

“Huh?”

“I didn’t get you a ring! Fuck!”

You rubbed his shoulders to soothe him, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a store, the sign above it lit up and colorful. You gasped, “Matthew!” You exclaimed. “A pawn shop!”

“A what?”

“A pawn shop!” You repeated.

“I am not getting you a ring from a pawn shop!” He insisted, but you were already running towards the shop, happy and giddy.

“Come on!” You shouted. “Come on!”

You burst into the store and began to cruise the jewelry. The door jingled, indicating Matthew’s arrival. “Gosh, you run fast,” he huffed. 

“Nah, you’re just old,” you told him. “Excuse me, sir?” You called out to the shop owner. “Do you have any wedding rings?” 

“Yeah, over here,” the man replied, motioning for the two of you to join him. 

“[y/n], I don’t know if we’ll find what we’re looking for here,” Matthew whispered to you. 

But you drowned him out, approaching the salesman and eyeing the jewelry in front of you. “What are you looking for?” The man asked. “A matching set?”

“No—“

“Yes,” you interrupted Matthew. “One for me, another for my man here.” 

“Well, these is our selection,” he motioned to the case below you. “We have white gold, traditional gold...”

“Wait,” Matthew interjected. He stepped up to the case of jewelry and kneeled down in front of it, his eyes squinted. “These ones, right here,” he pointed. “Can we see those?” 

You stared at Matthew, confused as to why he so adamantly wanted to see these rings. The jeweler pulled them out of the case, carefully setting them down in front of you.

You gasped at first sight. He presented the two of you with two bands — one of which was white gold, covered in small diamonds and a large blue sapphire, and the second of which was a plain silver band. Matthew stood beside you, reading the expression on your face. 

“This one screams [y/n], don’t you think?” Matthew whispered to you. “Can she try it on?” He directed at the salesman.

“Of course,” he nodded.

Matthew picked up the ring carefully, and held his palm out for your hand. You shakily placed your hand in his gentle grasp and watched in bliss as he slid the ring onto your finger. Tears clouded your vision as you stared at the ring, feeling the way it fit your hand like a glove. Your eyes switched from the ring to Matthew’s face — his eyes, his soft smile. 

“Does it fit?” Matthew asked you.

You gulped, “Yes,” your voice broke. “Yes, it fits.” 

Before you left, Matthew insisted that you take the ring off for the ceremony and you told him that would happen over your dead body. You were attached to this ring and it was attached to you. There was no separating you two now. 

You walked into the first Vegas chapel you found. It was within walking distance, and was painted pink on the inside and outside. It was decorated with hearts and clouds and little cupids. It was awful.

So it was perfect. 

You presented the staff with your marriage license, and they ordered you two to wait patiently until the last couple was done. It was only for a few minutes, but boy, did you both have a lot of thoughts in such a short time. You thought about regrets, and sadness, and impulsivity. Then you looked at each other. And every thought faded away. 

You two stood in front of an ordained minister dressed as Madonna, hand in hand, facing each other. She read her words out loud to you both, and the two of you could barely contain your laughter. 

“This is crazy,” you whispered to Matthew, sliding the band onto his ring finger.

“Insane,” he said back. But looking at the ring, and looking at you, he knew. He knew nothing in his life had made this much sense. Had made him this happy. This safe, this fulfilled.

“Do you, Matthew Gubler,” the minister said. “Take [y/n] [y/l/n] to—“

“I do,” Matthew answered abruptly.

The minister and you both laughed. “And do you, [y/n]—“

“Yes, hell yes!” You exclaimed. 

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she announced. “You may kiss—“

Matthew pulled you in by your waist and kissed you passionately, before the minister could finish her speech. You kissed him back, your legs kicking up behind you, just like in the movies. You held him by his shoulders, both of your eyes squeezed shut as you had your first kiss as a married couple. When you pulled away, you stared into each other’s eyes. Both of you were on the brink of tears, and a single drop ran down Matthew’s cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb, and kissed his nose. 

“Well,” you said. “I think this is the best drunk idea I’ve ever had.” 

You got back to his mother’s house at one in the morning. You had gentle, passionate sex in his bed and cuddled until the sun came up. He spooned you, watching you over your shoulder. You were in a daze, fucked out, staring at your hand — your ring. You twirled it around your finger, sighing happily. 

Matthew kissed your shoulder and tucked his chin into the crook of your neck. His arms were wrapped around your waist. “Any regrets?” He whispered.

You grinned to yourself and slowly turned to face him. You placed your hand against his cheek and leaned in, kissing him softly. You put your forehead against his, “No regrets,” you shook your head. “From now until death do us part.”

#mine #cougar!matthew #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg #mgg smut #mgg imagine

[harrygroves]

a simple favor -- chapter four

to chapter three

Billy’s been doing a damn fine job of avoiding all thoughts concerning Steve Harrington. It’s been a blissful, quiet week.

And now that week is up and hell is about to begin.

They’re in Billy’s Camaro, Steve insisted they take his car, and he’s been driving for almost three hours. Steve is fussing with the radio and fidgeting as they get closer and closer to his parents' summer home.

“Dude, you really need to chill out. You want some Xanax?” Billy offers.

“What? No, I don't want any -- why do you have Xanax?” Steve wrinkles his nose, arms crossed.

“I think you of all people would agree that life requires a little anesthesia every now and then.” Billy gives him a knowing look.

Steve looks like he wants to say something snotty so Billy turns up the radio as a way to deter him. Instead, Steve moodily stares out the window.

Billy lets him for a little while before reaching over and taking Steve’s hand, threading their fingers together. When Steve tenses up, Billy gives it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay babe.” Billy says soothingly but his snarky grin gives him away.

“God, I hate you so much.” Steve grumbles, but he doesn’t try to pull his hand away.

*

The summer house is actually a mansion. There’s a sprawling lawn in front of it, with trimmed hedges and a goddamn fountain. Billy wants to make so many jokes about silver spoons but he holds back because Steve looks like he’s having a panic attack.

“Hey, hey!” Billy says once they’re parked, reaching over and shaking Steve’s shoulder.

Steve looks back at him, like he forgot Billy was there. He’s pale and wide-eyed.

“Oh fuck.” Steve whispers. “Oh my god, oh my god, this is such a stupid idea. What the fuck am I doing, they’re going to see right through this -- ”

Look, Billy doesn’t want to kiss Steve.

Well, actually, that’s bullshit. He does want to kiss Steve but he doesn’t want to want to kiss Steve. It’s very distracting and he’s just in this for the money. The ten grand.

He’s been telling himself this for a week, like a daily affirmation.

However, Steve is freaking out, which is usually good for a laugh or two but Billy needs him to get his shit together so he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Steve is still trying to talk but the words get lost between them while Billy hums against his mouth, trying to be soothing and soft in hopes that it brings Steve out of his head. It works for a few seconds before Steve reaches up and puts one of his hands over Billy’s, which would almost be tender if Steve wasn’t trying to pull them off his face.

Billy lets him go and leans back. Steve is flushed and looks sad.

“Don't just...do that.” He mumbles.

Billy shrugs. “Kind of have to.” He grunts back, getting annoyed that Steve refuses to wrap his head around the thing he planned.

“Yeah, well…” Steve trails off. “Let’s go.”

They get out of the car and Billy grabs his bag from the backseat.

A girl their age with reddish-brown hair is running to them from the front door.

“Steve!” She yells and launches herself at him, wrapping him in a hug.

She babbles and laughs and smiles like Steve’s a goddamn prince.

“Should I be jealous?” Billy calls out to the pair.

Steve and Red Head look over at him.

“Oh, sorry, lost my head for a second. This is my sister, Robin.”

Sister, right. Steve had an older sister. Billy forgot about her, if he was being honest.

“Is this him?” Robin mumbles, but Billy can hear her just fine.

“Yes, uh. This is my...boyfriend, Billy Hargrove.” Steve says, smiling at Billy.

It’s too wide and his eyes are too bright. It’s the most human Billy has seen Steve look in weeks. It’s freaking him out.

Robin marches towards him and stretches out a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Billy. Steve has told me absolutely nothing about you.” She says it with a bright smiles and zero hostility.

Billy shakes her hand and tries to give her a pleasant smile in return. “Yeah, Steve just wants me all to himself, ya know how he is.”

He doesn’t, he’s totally winging it but Robin laughs and Steve clears his throat.

“You guys must be tired and hungry, I’ll let you get settled. Mom and Dad will be on your asses enough at dinner, so why don't you guys go hide out for a while. I’ll keep them occupied once they’re back from the court.”

“Thanks Robin.” Steve says and gives her another hug. “See you later.”

Robin leaves them and Billy leans towards Steve.

“The court?” He asks.

“Tennis.” Steve replies.

*

Steve leads Billy through the house, past floor-to-ceiling windows and paintings that have to be original prints. A few people pass them, all wearing uniforms. Steve says hello to everyone pleasantly and Billy gives them tight smiles. They have fucking housekeepers. Servants. It’s so...rich. There’s a grand piano at the base of a giant staircase and Steve leads him up to the second floor, down halls littered with vases of flowers and tapestries.

“This is insane.” Billy hisses.

Steve shrugs. “It’s home.” He says it hollowly, like it is very much not a home.

They end up in a bedroom the size of Billy’s apartment. It’s got bookshelves built into the walls, armchairs in front of a fireplace, a walk-in closet where Billy drops his bag of clothes, it’s own bathroom and a giant LED television mounted on the wall.

There’s silver-framed pictures on the fireplace and nightstands beside the bed. Family photos, solo shots of Steve as a kid, in bowties with a bowl cut. Billy examines them all.

“Robin’s nice.” Billy says casually.

Steve’s sitting on his bed, which is huge, by the way and absently scrolling through his facebook feed.

“She’s great.” He agrees flatly.

Billy wonders if she is great.

“Facebook.” Steve mumbles.

“What?” Billy asks, looking at Steve.

“We...fuck, we don't have anything on facebook, about us.” Steve says, almost in horror.

Billy shrugs, walks over to join him. “So what? Not everything needs to be online. We can just say we’re one of those couples who don't showboat our love on the internet.”

Steve winces at Billy’s words and nervously chews on his lip. Billy grabs Steve’s phone.

“Hey!” Steve shouts at him, reaching for it.

“Knock it off, c’mon, Steve -- stop it.” Billy says, smacking his hand away. “This is going to work. But only if you calm down. Right now the only thing in our way is you. You’re getting too caught up in the details. Just chill out, hold my fucking hand, and give me a gross pet name and we’ll get through this.”

He says all this, direct eye-contact, no blinking. Steve is quiet for a second before taking a deep, belly-full breath and closing his eyes, making an O with his mouth and exhaling slowly. Once he opens his eyes, Billy gives him a nod. Steve nods back.

*

Meeting the parents at dinner is a stifling affair. Steve’s mom isn’t going out of her way in the slightest to hide how much she does not like Billy. She turns up her nose at his clothes, eyes his hair like Steve’s isn’t an unkempt mess and politely insults him wherever she can fit in a jab.

“Oh, beer. How perfectly simple. A simple man is good.”

“I like that car, Billy. Very rustic.”

“There’s something to be said about plain fabric. Some can be too cumbersome to care for, it’s nice for some things to be easy.”

Billy grins, toothy and fire-eyed, sneaking glances at Steve who is very interested in his salad.

Steve’s dad isn’t much better. He keeps going back and forth between glaring at Billy and scrunching his face together, like he’s scrutinizing.

“And where did you say you’re going to go to school?”

“How exactly did you meet my son?”

“What do your parents do for a living?”

Robin keeps trying to steer the conversation away from them but the parents aren’t having that.

“How long have you two been dating?” Mrs. Harrington asks during the fish course.

“Six months.” Steve says.

“Two years.” Billy says, at the exact same time.

There’s an awkward pause and Billy can practically hear Steve’s heart rate triple. Billy laughs and takes Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“He was courting me for a lot longer than we’ve actually been together. All those fond memories, right, bunny?” Billy looks at Steve fondly.

Robin starts choking on something and has to thump at her chest to clear it up. “Bunny?” She croaks out.

Steve is bright red and staring at Billy with glassy eyes, probably seething but that just makes it more fun.

“Yes.” Steve blurts out, voice a bit high. “We, uh, I...really wanted...to be his boyfriend.”

Billy barrels onward. “He did that thing, with the boombox, stood outside my place till I let him in. It was so sweet.”

Robin is silent-laughing, and her eyes are starting to water. “I’m dying.” She says. “No seriously, I am fucking losing it over here.”

“They don't need all the details, sweetie.” Steve says in a syrupy voice.

“But the letter, I have to tell them about the letter.”

“No, no, I don't think so. That letter was just for you.” Steve says nervously.

“I would like to frame the letter.” Robin pipes in, struggling to drink water as her shoulders quake from laughter.

“So anyways,” Billy continues. “I finally just said, hey, let’s toss the guy a bone here,”

Robin is howling at this point.

“And he did, and we’ve been in love ever since.” Steve supplies quickly. “Now where is that next course, I am starving.”

He makes dagger-eyes at Billy who just takes his hand again and kisses Steve’s knuckles.

Once dessert and coffee have been consumed Steve gets to his feet.

“Well, we’re exhausted. Right, Billy?” He chirps.

“Sweetie, c’mon, how often am I going to get this kinda face-time with your parents? Shouldn’t we stay?”

He is hamming it up and Mrs. Harrington purses her mouth like the very thought is making her nauseous.

“Now, now. We’ll see them tomorrow morning.” Steve smiles back. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mr. Harrington coughs heartily into his napkin.

They bolt and hole-up in Steve’s room.

After changing into pajamas -- Steve changes in the closet -- they sit on the bed watching television and Billy waits for the inevitable.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Steve finally snaps during their second episode of Golden Girls.

“I never gave you any indication otherwise.” Billy shrugs.

“That was so embarrassing, making it seem like I pined for you.”

“Well we had to say something, Harrington, and you were doing that Bambi-in-the-headlights thing, so I just rolled with it.”

“You rolled with it alright, I can’t believe you said all that shit.”

Billy snaps. “Fine, Steve, then you come up with stuff. Stop acting like a kid who doesn't want to get in trouble otherwise we’re going to get caught. Be a fucking man.”

That shuts Steve up for a long time. When Golden Girls ends and The Nanny starts up, Steve gets up from the bed and goes into the closet.

He’s only gone for a few moments before emerging with beer, little bottles of alcohol, and a bag of individually-wrapped chocolates.

“What the -- ”

“There’s a mini-fridge in there.” Steve mumbles.

He gives Billy a beer, deposits the bottles in between them and starts unwrapping a chocolate.

Finally, Steve says, “I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Billy replies, cracking open a beer.

“I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re really not.”

“...I’ll try harder.”

“Good.” Billy replies, eyes never leaving the television.

There’s this weird tension between them and it lasts for a little bit until Billy is so uncomfortable he has to say something.

“Dinner was...something.”

“Told you.” Steve grunts.

“Man, I don't know which one hated me more.”

“Mom, for sure. She loathes people who don't own at least three boats.”

“Damn, and I just have the one.” Billy deadpans.

Steve grins, actually grins, before he catches himself and pops another chocolate.

“This is like a fucking hotel.” Billy says, grabbing for a bottle.

“I learned very quickly growing up that the less time I have to spend outside this room, the better.” Steve says.

“I want to make so many ‘princess locked in an ivy tower’ jokes right now.” Billy says seriously.

“Shut up.” Steve snaps. “And it’s ivory, dumbass.”

Billy chuckles and drains one of the mini-bottles. “So, we’re essentially trapped in here, is that what you’re saying?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, we can go do whatever you want. There’s a couple libraries, an indoor pool, I actually convinced them to make a bowling alley in the basement.”

“You have a fucking bowling alley?” Billy asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, it was a birthday gift when I was, like, twelve.”

“Jesus christ, Steve.”

“Yeah, but we run the risk of dealing with them,” Steve’s parents, “So, ya know, wage your bets.”

Billy whistles. “Wow, you really don't like them.”

“No, I really do not.” Steve mumbles, eating another chocolate.

“So I gotta ask. Why me?” Billy opens another mini-bottle of vodka.

Steve looks away from the television, eyes Billy, then resumes watching. “You already asked that.” He points out.

“Yeah, but like, you could’ve found someone on Craigslist, like a lot of lonely losers do.”

“Wow, when you put it like that?” Steve rolls his eyes. “Like I said, it was a matter of convenience.”

Billy puts a hand over his heart and pretends to swoon. “I love it when men say that to me.”

Steve throws a handful of chocolate wrappers at him.

Billy grins. “Okay, so really though, what are we going to do tomorrow?”

Steve contemplates this for a moment.

“Ever been horse-back riding?”

part five

#harringrove #my fic #alright lets meet the parents! #fake dating