#could write a whole thing about not only shoot but john | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 13 days

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not to derail at all but i see your kook!reader (cause I love it, and how catty she is) at midsummers and raise you, pogue!reader having to choose between jj and rafe, when the gang decide to ditch the party. she’s there as kie’s +1 and when the whole thing goes tits up reader is stuck between the guy she’s been crushing on for years or the kook king who clearly has the hots for her which she not against.

also, you are genuinely one of my fave writers on this hellsite 😍😍😍 notifications on and every thing

baby i am gonna sob you are SOOO nice. notifs on? i am so beyond flattered. i love u <33 this idea is GOLDEN oh my god the brainrot im having rn. im gonna try to write a little for you but i cant even put it into words

kiara said you'd make the whole thing a lot more bearable. plus, out of your little pogue group, you were her parents' unspoken favorite, so it just seemed natural for you to tag along to midsummers as her plus one.

and as much you loved your best friend and thought the world of her for inviting you, your heart was pounding your chest while you got ready in kie's bedroom, applying make up and curling your hair and putting on your best (and one of your only nice clothes) dress.

dolled up like this, you even looked the part of the kook princess that you were sure was rafe cameron's type.

even the idea of thinking about him, and impressing him or him seeing you like this, felt guilty. it made a painfully acrid taste shoot into your mouth and run through your blood—there was no one your friends hated more than the boy you'd had a crush on for as long as you can remember.

it was stupid, ever even talking to him, getting involved and sneaking off for late night drives in his truck and meeting up in hidden corners where no one else could see. that's all it was though, secret encounters and a few kisses.

you hadn't let it progress further, knowing how your friends would react, knowing how rafe is. you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell you you're just like your pogue friends that he hates so much. he doesn't, though, that's what makes this so much harder.

out of all your friends, the idea of one in particular finding out there was or had been or was going to be something between you and rafe made you feel dizzy and uncomfortable all over. jj was always your closest friend, always the one you relied on for everything—he had helped you countless heartbreaks and emotions and moments of doubt.

a small part of you had always thought the two of you would end up together. everyone joked about it, pope and john digging into him for carrying you home when you get too drunk or lost your shoes on the beach, kiara teasing you when she finds out jj slept over your place again.

the idea of either finding out about your attachment for the other made you feel queasy. walking into midsummers with kie, the hem of your yellow dress rustling near your thighs, you thought you were safe since only rafe would be there tonight. you thought wrong.

rafe is talking to you when jj shows up.

"y'look nice." you stare up at him, unsure of what to say. "what? now i can't say somethin' nice?"

"when do you ever say something nice?" you ask, but your smile reveals itself before you can hold it back. rafe looks at you like he could get used to seeing you like this.

"m'always nice to you. i don't know, kid, this is nice. y'should come to the club with me some time." you laugh, looking down at your shoes.

"i don't know about all that-"

"hey, you. mandatory power hour at rixon's. c'mon, princess." you turn to see jj, face bruised and knuckles bleedng. you look back at rafe, and he looks smug, it's only then you notice his messed up hair.

"jayj? what's going on?"

"rafe, i mean this in the most disrespectful way possible, go away. tryna have a talk with my girl here, so-" your face burns.

"m'sorry, your girl?"

"apology not accepted. so if you could direct yourself over there to fuck off, that would be fantas-"

"j, wha- what's going on? how long have you been here?"

"long enough for cameron over here to set his little lap dogs on me. c'mon, i'm getting kie and pope and then we gotta go-"

"but, i, i-" you stop yourself, to think about what to say, when rafe cuts you off again.

"she's not going anywhere, we're having a conversation that you interrupted, fuckin' pogue."

"botherin' pretty girls, yeah, that sounds about right. get it through your thick skull, bud, she's not interested-"

"um, guys-" rafe shrugs, staring back at jj.

"that's not what she said last night. or the night before. so how about you do yourself a favor-"

"fuck's he talking about, princess?" jj looks at you, and you look at him, and then rafe, head spinning.

"yeah, kid, the fuck is he talkin' about?"

the glass in your hand drops and shatters when you faint and fall over.

#hahah she had to faint to get out of this mess yall !!!#this was so fun to write i adore u so much <3 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #jj maybank

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rodolfoparras · 1 year

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Captain’s boy

Price doesn’t play favorites at least that’s what he says. However there’s no denying he’s got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.

You are after all Captain’s boy.

18+ | MINORS DNI

Pairing: John Price x Trans Male Reader

Stand alone/ part of a series

Cw; oral sex, clothed oral sex, reference to afab anatomy (clit is referred to as clit and not dick/cock), words cock and dick are used for reader’s genitalia though ( instead of words like cunt etc) alluded exhibitionism, possessiveness, Dom!Price, Sub!Reader, power dynamics, (light) verbal degradation, praise, no after care, plot what plot/ porn with plot

The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

A/n: I’m forcing myself to post my drafts since ideas keep piling up. Also pls read the tags bc reading it without doing so might be confusing . This could be better but hey at least it’s something. I hope you enjoy!

Being captain of a squad entails a whole lot of things; one of the most important being that one couldn’t afford to play favorites. It’s bound to end badly. Matter of fact it might very well result in death. That’s why when Price became captain of the 141 he vowed to himself he wouldn’t play favorites.

Sure he might’ve taken Gaz under his wing but if the man were to mess up on a mission he’d be sent out on practice drills in the pouring rain if the Captain deamed it to be fit. And sure he might’ve known Ghost the longest out of all the guys in 141 but that didn’t mean he was any more lenient on him because of that. And despite Soap’s talent to worm his way into the toughest of hearts, Price ensured he’d never reach his soft spot.

But somehow you seem to be the exception. And everyone knows it. Their suspicions were first confirmed when you’d messed up during a mission. Everyone especially Gaz had expected you to be assigned to run laps for days on end but was surprised to see the captain putting a comforting hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

That’s also the very first time you’d earn your title as Captain’s boy.

The second person to notice the captain’s lenience towards a certain soldier was Ghost.

You all had just come back from a successful mission and despite the promise of celebration, there was still the ever daunting task of writing a report for it but no one seemed willing to do it.

Everyone had been tasked with writing it, except for the captain of course. Ghost had tried to talk his way out of it but had quickly been shut down by the older man. What he didn’t know was that you had been exempt from writing it. Even with the mask on his face, there was no hiding the sheer amazement he felt as he watched you stroll out the room with the captain himself.

“Captain’s boy huh?” He whispered under his breath as he clicked his pen.

Soap had been the last man to find out about it.

He had heard whispers about it from the previous men but had only chosen to believe it once he had seen it for himself.

You all had been tasked with training new recruits. Everyone had gotten their own little station and Soap had been assigned to the shooting rage. It was fun at first: watching the new guys trying not to shoot their heads off but at some point he got bored of watching over them. So naturally he had wandered over to your station. It didn’t take long before he heard the captain’s voice sounding over your hushed conversation.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”Price asked with his arms folded across his chest.

“Not at all” Soap said and flashed him a big grin as he turned on his heel only to be met with a glare from the older man. “Back to your post then Mactavish”

Soap had expected you to face the same treatment.

But as he scurried away and threw a second glance over his shoulder, he came to see the sternness on his captain’s face replaced with something much softer.

He had the mind to applaud you right there and then but had settled for chuckling in disbelief as the words “captain’s boy” left his lips.

Price and you chose to ignore the rumors since at the end of the day rumors were just rumors and no one seemed to mind that the captain seemed to favor a certain soldier.

However they’ll never know just how right they are about the captain and his boy.

You’re laying with your chest flush against the floor, ass up in the air and with a soldier’s body pressed against your own.

It would be rather inappropriate to be in such an intimate position with a soldier but this wasn’t just any other soldier. This was your captain and on many occasions have you found yourself in similar positions.

Your captain who you were supposed to be sparring with had quickly gotten bored and his hands had started to wander on their own.

You didn’t mind the change of plans, however you did mind the fact that his hands seemed to aimlessly wander your body, leaving you worked up and without nothing.

Just as you’re about to complain, finally fed up with the teasing he’d put you through, he roughly pulls down the fabric of your pants, exposing your underwear.

The cool air raises goose bumps all across your skin. But the sensation is quickly replaced with the heat from his palms as they find their way to your naked thighs, trialing up to the sides to finally end their journey at your hips.

You're waiting expectantly for Price to pull down your underwear, bucking your hips up to him every time he slips a finger under the waistband. But every time you think he’s about to pull them down, he allows the boxers to snap back in place and returns to his original spot on your hips, thumb mindlessly tracing circles on the skin.

“Ple-please” you pant, once again bucking your hips at him. However, Price chooses to ignore your plea. Instead he leans down, bodies now pressed flush against each other as he whispers into your ear “What? You want me to take these off for you?” faux sympathy dripping from every word he speaks as his fingers once again pull at the waistband of your underwear only to let it snap back in place again.

“Yes- yes, sir, please”

“Oh no my boy, we have to have some decency ” Price says, tone now akin to the one he uses for recruits when reprideming them but with something darker wrapped around the vowels.

You huff at his words, and feel his hot breath wash over your skin as he chuckles at your whining.

“What? Don’t tell me you want everyone to see you with your cock out. Is that what you want?” You squeeze your thighs, whimpers slipping past your lips as you think of what it would be like for someone to see you like this.

You feel his hands leave the waistband of your underwear to instead run down the side of your thighs.

“Want them to see how you get when you’re with me? “

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body sliding further down your back, nose nuzzling along the length of your spine and words disappearing into the fabric of your shirts as he says his next words “Want them to see how hard you get for me?”

Price’s journey ends at your lower back where he presses a kiss on it as his hands go to cup your ass cheeks. From where he rests his head, you feel his hot breath hitting your skin and the wisps of beard hair prickling against your ass cheek and a whimper escapes your lips as you buck your hips up to him “Please, please, sir”

Price ignores your pleas as he continues to tease

“Want them to see just how wet you can get for me hm? “ he says as he harshly kneads the flesh in his hands “Answer me”

“Yes- yes sir. I want it please!” You cry out, hips subconsciously grinding in the air; desperate to be given some sort of relief.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you my boy?” he says with a dark chuckle “I know it’s a shame to keep you all to myself but what can I do? I’m not one to share”

It’s simple words meant to be said in the heat of the moment, words that really meant nothing, words meant to be forgotten once the act was over. But by this point you’re far too gone to think about your own words, head feeling too light and airy to really think about the implications of them

“You- you don’t have to share, sir” for some strange reason you felt the need to reassure him; reassure him that you were only his to have if that’s what he wanted , reassure him that he didn’t need to share if he didn’t want to.

Once the words leave your mouth you feel his touch leave you completely, cold air caressing the spot where his hands once had been.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, nothing but your own heavy breaths echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. For some reason you can’t help but feel like you said something you shouldn’t and it leaves you feeling rather embarrassed, eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching into fists. It really isn’t a confession by any means but it is something and that something had been enough to render him speechless.

His voice is low and breathy when he finally, finally speaks “What’s that boy?” You can’t see his face but you can hear his voice and by his tone it sounds like he purrs.

Goosebump raises across your skin, surprise and delight coursing through your body, the light and airy feeling you were earlier feeling, once again returns to your body.

You swallow hard before you respond “I said you don’t have to share sir”

You hear the sound of a sharp inhale before you feel his hand grab your face, roughly turning your head to face him.“Oh” his pupils are blown wide, desire swirling in his iris and he goes to lick his lips before he speaks “you're captain's boy now huh?” His voice is low and hoarse and when he says those words it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

You whimper at his possessive tone, thighs once again pressing together at his words.

“Say it” he says, hand roughly jerking your chin “Say you’re captain’s boy”

“I’m captain's boy!” you cry out and as you say the words he groans and presses his cock up against your ass.

“Please sir I can’t take it anymore” you cry out, on the verge of sobbing out your words as you push yourself back on his cock.

He hushes you as whimpers escape your lips, hand releasing the grip on your chin to run down the length of your back in soothing motions.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? Let captain care for his boy”

You nod, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Lay your head down” You do as he says, feeling his hand on your upper back, gently guiding you into the right position.

“Spread your legs” You do as he says and he hums in approval as he helps you adjust your hips.”Just like that. Doing so good for me, yeah?” You nod in response, feeling yourself preen at his approval.

“Now look at yourself boy,”

You turn your head to the big mirror hanging to the side of the training room. From this angle you can perfectly see both him and you.

The reflection shows you sitting on your knees, chest flush against the floor, arms planted into the ground for support with your legs spread wide apart like he’d told you to do before. Price’s also sitting on his knees, broad frame hovering over yours and hands on your hips to keep you close.

Both of you look disheveled, covered in sweat and with similar expressions on your faces that told anyone who’d walked through the doors that the two of you weren’t sparring in this room, at least not anymore.

“Pretty sight isn’t it?” He says with pride in his voice as his gaze locks with yours through the mirror.

You go to respond but before you can do so you feel a sudden pressure on your cock. “O-oh” you groan out as you look down in the mirror only to see Price’s leg lodged in between your own and feel the top of his knee perfectly grounding itself against your dick.

The steady pressure sets your nerves on fire

and a moan escapes your lips as you grind against up him, trying to get more of the feeling.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses. However he must’ve noticed your gaze locked on his leg because he says “eyes up here boy”

You do as he says, once again seeing your wrecked reflection in the mirror. “Pretty sight yeah?” You whimper and nod in response as he increases his pressure on your cock.“That’s Captain’s boy” he says as his gaze burns into your own, threatening to scorch you whole “Now keep looking at yourself, yeah?”

Just as you wonder what he’s about to do, you feel a sudden wet sensation between your legs. You look at him through the mirror, wide eyed and surprised only to see him grinning deviously with spit dribbling down his lips.

“Did you just-“

But before you can say anything else, you feel eager fingers spreading your folds and his mouth on your cock, his tongue laying flat on your dick, slowly dragging it from the top all the way to the bottom of it. As if hit with electricity, your body jolts and you drop your head to the floor as your hips bucks to meet his tongue. “Oh-oh fuck,”

His free hand squeezes the globe of your ass in warning and you’re quickly reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” you blabber out in response before you force yourself to once again look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, hair in disarray and chest rapidly rising and falling.

Your face quickly morphs into one of surprise, breath feeling like it’s been punched out of your lungs when Price licks at your cock with renewed vigor, tongue pressing deeper between folds like there’s no underwear separating his lips from your cock.

The pressure of his tongue forces the fabric

of your underwear to directly press against your sensitive clit. And every time he swipes his tongue across your dick, it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You spread your legs wider, muscles slightly aching from the awkward angle as you grind up against his mouth. “Please, please, please”

His mouth soon makes its way to your clit,

wet lips lightly nibbling on it before his tongue flickers experimental at it. “Oh-oh” once again your gaze drops from the mirror, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Luckily Price seems too busy with other things to notice anything.

One lick two licks and he’s full on latching onto your clit, lips eagerly suckling at the engorged numb through the soiled fabric. He alternates between suckling and swirling his tongue around your clit before going back to pay attention to your dick.

The squelching sound that echoes throughout the room sounds straight up obscene and every time you hear it you feel your body burning as you relentlessly buck up into him.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you cry out, feeling rather embarrassed at your eagerness.

“Nothing to apologize for, told you I was going to take care of you, let me do so” You could’ve cummed right then and there, all traces of embarrassment gone as you allowed yourself to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

It all quickly becomes too much for you. If his tongue isn’t on your clit then it’s running along the length of your dick. For each and every stroke he goes in deeper with his tongue. And your engorged numb is becoming more and more sensitive to his touch.

At some point you try to get away from him, desperately clawing at the floor and hips bucking away from him but he doesn’t allow you to leave, firmly planting his free hand on your ass cheek to keep you close to him.

“Please- please I can’t “ you sputter out, shaking your head as you try to get away from him.

“This is what you wanted, right? why are you trying to leave now?” He taunts, ceasing all movements as he pulls his mouth away from your dick.

“No!” You cry out, mourning the loss of his touch as you turn to look at him, teary eyed and with pleas threatening to fall from your lips. He’s sitting back on his knees, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sporting the biggest grin. But your eyes quickly zoom in on the shine that seems to coat his lips. Not only is it on his lips but it's also on his chin and beard. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s a mix of his spit and your arousal and his grin widens, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

“What did you say before? No?”

He takes one hand and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, wetting the pad with remainments of your arousal before swiping it over your clit, rubbing agonizingly slowly whilst putting steady pressure on it as he speaks “This is too much for your little cock to handle huh?” He says, faux sympathy dripping from his lips as he reaches over to pet your hair mockingly.

You shake your head, attempting to respond to him but you’re rendered speechless, only able to mewl in response as he continually circles your sensitive numb. “I thought you were captain’s boy. If my boy can’t handle a simple blowie, how is he supposed to handle my dick?” He says as he grabs ahold of your hair, roughly tugging at it.

“I can- I can handle it sir I can candle it

!” you cry out, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your clit.

“That’s what I thought, lay back down for me again yeah?”

You nod, blabbering something incoherent as you resume your original position, allowing him to once again spread your folds and put his mouth on your cock.

Despite your previous words, you find yourself unable to sit still as you feel yourself tethering closer to the edge of your release. Your toes are curling, fingers digging into the mat below, and hips relentlessly bucking up against his tongue. You feel your cock growing more sensitive for every lick, your hole fluttering around nothing and the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Close- so close, just please, please”

All of a sudden his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, once again putting just enough pressure to be properly felt through the fabric. And that’s all it takes for the knot in your stomach to unfold: eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth agape as you furiously grind your hips on his tongue before you finally slump onto the floor, legs and arms giving out from supporting your weight for so long.

You feel Price run his hand soothingly down the length of your back and hear him say the words “There we go. That’s it, that's captain's boy.”

#captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #call of duty #alec writes

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kivino · 7 months

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NIGHT TIME BONDING || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X GN!READER

Word counter – ~2k words

Summary – You have a hard time falling asleep. Ghost has the same problem.

Tags/Warnings – gn!Reader, smoking, ooc probably. Not proofread and written in the middle of the night.

A/n – sort of continuation to one of the scenarios I wrote about in this post. Really wanted to write some fluff with Ghost. Please, enjoy!

also available on my ao3

Summer nights were suffocating in this dingy apartment you had to share with your teammates for this undercover mission. Air thick with warmth, sheets tossed aside, it already felt like hours passed as you unsuccessfully tried to fall asleep, tossing around, getting more and more annoyed with each second. You could hear the soft breathing and quiet snoring blending in with the whirring of the fan, which worked in fruitless attempts to make the room feel cooler. You sit up on the bed, deciding to do a small headcount to calm your nerves. You couldn’t sleep anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt.

Your eyes scanned over the dark room with ease, used to the lack of light. There’s John, snoring away on the couch, with his arm carelessly thrown over his eyes. Kyle, half of his body already hanging off the edge of the bed. Captain, who fell asleep on the armchair with a book over his eyes. And finally, Simon is…nowhere to be seen. Naturally.

So, you wander through the darkness to the kitchen, bare feet shuffling over the creaking, old floor. You see a slumped figure on the balcony through the thin curtains, a soft orange glow barely illuminating any facial features. There he was. You catch yourself letting out an unintentional sigh of relief.

You were never particularly close to Simon in these several months you’ve worked together. Even more than that, you much preferred the company of Kyle, with whom it was a lot easier to converse than with this shadowy entity called ‘Ghost’, stripped from every sign of humanity that could be used against it. Of course, you were curious about him. But not to the point of asking the masked man directly every question that clung onto your mind like a parasite. You’d rather be subtle. You’d rather let everything develop naturally, instead of rushing things, chasing after something unknown. But maybe, this was the opportunity for you to finally…do what, exactly? You weren’t sure.

But still, you approached the balcony on your tiptoes, not to make too much noise, and knocked on the side of the door, before opening it. You didn’t want to startle him. You saw how alert he was all the time. Sitting in the farthest corner of the room, trying not to turn his back too much, looking and listening to everything, all the time. It’s not like you were oblivious. You didn’t need to know the reason behind his behavior to understand it.

Ghost’s head shoots up in your direction, warm, yellowish light from the outside cascading over his face in soft waves. He lazily pulls down his mask so that only his mouth is visible, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander, drinking up every single detail of his appearance that you and the whole team were usually deprived of. Lieutenant’s skin was adorned by a thin scar slicing through the top lip, blond stubble that you could barely see in the low light, and some red irritations that didn’t look that pleasant. Your eyes trail to the outstretched arm that rested on the open window, cigarette between his fingers sending twisting serpents of smoke outside. He was eyeing you now, embers of curiosity dancing in his gaze as he waited for your next move.

“Can I join you?” You ask, crossing your arms over your torso as if trying to protect yourself from his piercing eyes. You didn’t know if he was judging you right this moment, and you didn’t want to find that out.

“I don’t know. Can you?” His voice didn’t need to be loud to boom through the cramped space of the balcony. You raise your brow, but still huff out a puff of air through your nose, slightly amused. “Knock yourself out.” Ghost pats the second stool near him, inviting you to join him. You drag your feet over a layer of thin newspapers laid out on the cold, dirty floor and plop down with a short exhale.

You sit there for a moment, silent. Absorbing your surroundings. The gentle mumble of crickets, songs of the night birds, and no signs of living, breathing people beyond the glass threshold of the window. The usually overwhelming, heavy presence of Ghost now felt more welcoming, even serene. Curious how such things seemed to change drastically during the nightfall.

“Trouble sleeping, sergeant?” Ghost suddenly breaks the silence, bringing the cigarette to his lips. Your eyes locked and for some reason, you didn’t want to look away. That kind of unintentional contact always felt awkward. Now it felt…warm. Comforting. Right.

“You could say that,” You vaguely shrug, not willing to go into details about your sleep schedule and habits. After all, boring your superior to death seemed like an unfortunate way to get kicked out of the task force. “Never took you for the small talk type, lieutenant.” You add hastily and hear him let out a low chuckle, puffs of smoke escaping his lips.

“Call me Simon.” His tone is firm but light-hearted. And with the way he was trying to be quiet, the ring of his voice reminded you of the rumbling right before summer thunderstorms with heavy, lead-colored clouds and whispers of rain that followed with it.

“Right. Simon.” You say his name as if testing the waters, rolling it off the tip of your tongue. You don’t notice the man shuffling in his seat, turning his face towards the window and putting the hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile that softly pulled on his mouth. “Simon. Yeah, I’ll definitely need to get used to this.” It didn’t feel unpleasant saying his name like that, just…unusual. You knew his name, of course you did. And you preferred not to skip formalities, but this crisp night air undeniably clouded your judgment in more ways than one.

“Well, you have all the time in the world until we catch The Bastard with his knickers down.” You didn’t need to clarify who he spoke about. You would rather not get reminded about your target. Who liked getting ice-cold, insistent shivers just thinking about the deeds of their enemy? Certainly not you. Your eyes fell to the floor, desperately clinging onto the rows upon rows of letters in the newspapers talking about politicians, inventors, random TV shows and so, so much more. To think all of this will be gone if you fail felt nauseating, making your stomach sink, worry clawing at your insides. Still, you tried to seem unaffected by the train of thought that suddenly took the wrong turn. And Simon saw right through your attempts to put on a brave face.

He always saw, but each time he shot down the debate inside his head, choosing not to interfere. Voluntarily sitting back, while observing you working yourself to the bone, dark circles under your eyes becoming more prominent, a cup of coffee or a can of energy drink looking permanently attached to your hand. He never thought of you as someone particularly close or interesting (or more so he tried to convince himself of that), you were nothing but colleagues. However, he still felt something harshly tugging at his chest when you’d choose to pair up with Kyle or Johnny for any work that needed to get done, or that unfamiliar gnawing in his stomach when the two of you were left alone after all. Or that worry, trembling in his chest when you looked a tad bit worse for wear than usual. He never liked those emotions having a go at him when he least expected, tangling inside of him like a ball of vibrant yarn, he never liked getting attached but…He still wanted to trust you. Or at least try to, since it looked like you two are not getting rid of each other any time soon.

“Hey,” You feel Simon gently squeezing your shoulder, immediately getting your attention. The heat started creeping up your body from the sudden touch, the night breeze failing to cool you off. “Don’t worry. We’ll finish him off. Don’t even doubt it.” His voice was firm and something about it managed to calm you down after all. The mission has been taking too much time. You desperately needed the reassurance, slowly losing hope day by day, with each failure taking a major toll on you.

“It’s hard not to doubt it sometimes.” You let out a dry laugh and look up, unsure of when he suddenly managed to lean in so close without you noticing. Your eyes trail around the lower half of his face, eventually captured by the ember of a lit cigarette growing dim between his lips, before it’s carelessly tossed out of the window by him.

“I might not show it, but I appreciate you and the work you’re doing,” He lets that sink in for a moment before continuing quietly. “All of us do.” Simon is not sure if he included the last sentence to put some invisible wall between you two, to at least try to turn this very personal moment into something remotely professional. Without thinking, he slides his hand down your arm and grabs your palm.

You don’t pull away.

“The feeling is mutual…Simon”

And the distance he tried to put between you two is gone within a second, just like that. Even if given thousands of years, he wouldn’t have been able to describe that sweet, saccharine tremble in his chest and the ache in his heart when you said his name like that. It was almost embarrassing, how such a small thing could make him so weak in the knees. Your hand shuffled in his for a moment, and when instead of letting him go your fingers tangled with his…He truly felt like a goner. Simon pulled the mask over the lower half of his face in a weak attempt to conceal what he was experiencing. To hide the storm that raged inside with unbridled force, destroying him from the inside, creating something new, unknown, and terrifying in its obscurity.

Turns out the two of you didn’t heed loud, big words to enjoy the presence of each other like this. Simon sat there, frozen in his place, stiff and rigid, wishing this moment would last forever. Forgetting that you’re just his colleague, forgetting everything that he kept repeating in his mind each time he saw you, and forgetting about everything beyond the small balcony that harbored the two of you in this fleeting serenity. It felt like time here flowed similar to the gentle waves of the cool river water. Or maybe it was you? It felt so bizarre, your eyes slowing down time itself, your touch igniting a fire within him and your fingers manipulating his blood, making it boil in his veins. Simon knew that the moment rays of the morning sun hit your face everything would fade away, leaving him shattered and bitter. He also realized that he was not able to break away from your gentle, warm hold on him. So, it was only up to you to end this. A giant leap of faith.

“Well, I better get some sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow.” You give him the lamest excuse that you could come up with, but Simon still nods. Before this silence, full of purpose and understanding, can escalate any further you reluctantly let go of his hand, clearing your throat and getting up from your spot. He gets it, you don’t have to say it outright for him to know what you mean. You stand in one place for a moment, unwilling to move, adamant to let this moment of tranquility finally end, despite knowing that it will be for the best. So, you have to push yourself just to walk out of the balcony.

“You know what? We need to do this more often.” You turn around and glance at his silhouette from the doorway, taken out of your thoughts. And you see his cheeks stretching the skull on the mask when he says that. He’s smiling.

“Yeah…yeah. You’re right.” You give him a nod. And his words are finally enough for you to feel a pleasant fatigue roll in a gentle wave over your body.

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 2022 #cod #modern warfare ii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #mwii #cod mw fanfiction

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proverbsss · 8 months

Text

reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me."

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress.

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind.

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again.

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty.

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving.

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response.

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

#midnight mass #john pruitt #father paul hill #thirsting hours #monsignor pruitt #monsignor john pruitt #father paul #fic tag #midnight mass fic #father paul x reader #hamfam smut #my blabber #tfw you can't even write your smut drabble well bc you're feral for the man you're writing about

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vilevenom · 17 days

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Howdy, Anon! An idea for this prompt smacked me right in the face as soon as I read it. Aaaand I have a feeling it's, uh, not as fluffy as you may have been hoping. Still a JD & Bruce fic, buuuut less of an "Oh no! John Dory had a bad date! lol" and more of a "Oh no. John Dory had a bad date." Also, this is set pre-brozone breakup. Let's not mention the sheer amount of times I wrote "Bruce" instead of "Spruce" and had to go back and fix it I hope you enjoy!

John Dory crept into the pod, knowing full well he was much, much later than he had told his grandmother he would be. And after the night he'd had there was no way he wanted to deal with a confrontation with her. She had been upset enough with him when he had proposed the "Win a Date with BroZone" contest in the first place, especially without a sponsor to cover it. He didn't need to provide her with extra ammo over the whole thing by how late he'd gotten home.

He made sure the door shut as quietly as it could, then tip toed through the pod, doing his best to avoid toys and instruments scattered across the floor in the dark. He let out a near inaudible sigh of relief as he made it to the door of his bedroom, reaching for the knob, fully believing he had made it scot-free.

"About time you got home."

"Cupcakes!" John hissed, nearly jumping out of his skin at the voice suddenly to his right. He placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, shooting a glare at Spruce who was stood in the darkened hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl on his face.

"Bitty B cried when you weren't home to tuck him in."

John rolled his eyes, shoving his bedroom door open. "It was one bedtime story. I'm sure he'll be fine," John grumbled, quickly ducking into his room and away from Spruce.

Spruce followed John Dory like a shadow, quickly shutting the bedroom door behind him in the hopes of keeping the rest of their brothers asleep. "Oh, no. You do not get to pretend like you weren't out until the middle of the night, making us worry. And you better believe that Grandma is going to have words with you in the morning. You've got to stop putting all of the band crap before your family!" Spruce growled, doing his best to keep his voice quiet, while also conveying to John Dory just how upset he was. Not only did he have to deal with a crying Branch, but Floyd had also been upset by John missing their bedtime routine, and Clay had just been angry.

"Come on, Spruce. Can't you lecture me in the morning? It's late," John grumbled, tugging his goggles off and tossing them aside, not bothering to turn the bedroom light on.

"No! You're going to listen to me, John Dory! This is getting ridiculous. First you start sequestering yourself in your room for hours on end to write, then you're forcing us to practice every minute we're not scheduled for a press conference or photo shoot, now you're out partying it up late into the night, making our brothers upset! It has to stop," Spruce snapped, flipping on the bedroom light as he spoke. He scowled when John quickly turned his back to him, his fur bristling as he stormed across the room. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snarled, grabbing John's shoulders to turn him around.

Spruce fully expected John to glare at him and give him some snotty remark about being manhandled. He was not expecting to find a bruise forming over his brother's cheek, and crusted blood covering a split in his lip. Spruce gaped while John looked at the floor, unshed tears brimming in his eyes.

"What happened?" Spruce asked, his tone distinctly softer as he directed John to sit on the edge of his bed.

John took in a deep breath, obviously trying to keep himself from sobbing, but it did nothing to stop the tears that slowly began to trail down over his cheeks. "The date went…badly."

"This looks like it went worse than 'badly', JD," Spruce murmured, sitting next to his brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Talk to me, bro. What happened?"

John sniffed loudly, quickly wiping this nose with the back of his hand. "You're going to say 'I told you so', and I really don't need that tonight, Spruce."

"I won't, I promise," Spruce said quickly, shaking his head. He had a feeling he knew exactly what John was referring to. After John had argued with Rosiepuff over the date contest, he'd gone to Spruce with the proposal, as he was the designated heart throb and had previous experience with fake dates with fans. Spruce had immediately refuted the idea, citing the debacle when 'Trolls Magazine' had held a similar contest, and the awkward ice cream date he'd gone on with one of their fans and a photographer. John was proposing they run the contest themselves, without someone to vet the entries, to boost popularity before their next tour. Spruce had argued that a date without a chaperone, even with John being seventeen, was a terrible idea. John thought he would be able to handle it. After all, how crazy could their fans be?

John took another deep breath, coughing quietly as he tried to choke back a sob. "You really promise?"

"I absolutely promise."

John blinked a couple of times, before finally letting out a low whine, burying his face in his hands. Spruce rubbed his back in comforting circles as his older brothers shoulders shook. After a moment he finally sat back up, gasping quietly for air. "I…It started off fine," he said quietly, gaze far away, "She looked older than I thought she'd be. Her contest entry said nineteen, but I think she was older. She brought me flowers, which I thought was weird, but sweet. We went for dinner. I took photos with a few fans who asked while we were out. She got mad. She said I should only be paying attention to her and telling the others to go away, because she won my time. I told her I couldn't just ignore our fans, that'd be rude. She was upset, but let it go. She seemed to get more agitated as the night went on, though. Finally, when I was walking her home- or, at least, what I think was her home…She pinned me up against the tree and kissed me. She was rough, and it hurt. She bit me when I tried to pull away. When I did finally manage to get her off of me, she hit me. I ran for it, and she chased me. I only got home so late because I wanted to make sure she wasn't following me anymore."

"John," Spruce breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. To think that one of their fans would do such a thing was disturbing, to say the least.

"I should've listened to you and Grandma," John whimpered, turning a tearful gaze onto Spruce, "I never should've put together this stupid contest. I never should've gone on that date without someone with me."

"Hey," Spruce murmured, "What happened wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" John scoffed, wiping at his eyes angrily, "I didn't listen to you or Grandma, I went out by myself to meet someone I didn't know, and then had to run around the tree for hours so she wouldn't follow me home! I think that qualifies it as being my fault." He let out a weak sob, covering his face again. "I was scared." The admittance was quiet, and Spruce likely only heard it because he was so close to John.

Spruce tugged John Dory bodily into a hug, his older brother practically falling into his lap. "It wasn't your fault. I should've gone with you, regardless of how I felt. I could've helped to keep you safe." John clutched at the back of Spruce's sleep shirt, the damn of his tears breaking as he wept quietly into Spruce's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, JD. It's going to be okay."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls john dory #trolls spruce #trolls bruce #trolls fanfic #prompt fill #things that i wrote

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heyhihellosworld · 1 year

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𝗛𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁! 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: This is pt 3 of 'He is not!'

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Notes: Okay I did a pt 3 but now it's done! It's not the best and I really struggle to write more parts to fics with actual good and interesting content. But anyway, I wanted to do one more for a happy ending since I got many pleas for it so hope you like it!

"Bro I'm telling you it's fucking bullshit!" Mason whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Ben smiled sympathetically at his friend, leaning back in his seat.

"What should I do?" Mason asked, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him to give him the magic answer, the answer that would fix this whole mess.

"I don't know, I'm sorry but I don't" Ben sighed "talk to her" he shrugged, it was the only thing that could possibly make it right.

"I know but how the fuck am I supposed to do that when she isn't responding and ignoring me. I tried to ask Jack about but he ignored me and when I nagged him he fucking slapped me!" Mason whined

Ben tried to stifle a laugh at the memory but failing miserably. It had been an intense training and Mason really should have seen it coming that day, going after Jack like a puppy and it wasn't like Jack had punched him hard, just a little gesture to shut him up and it had worked, very well. "Don't laugh!" Mason whined, pouting angrily at Ben who composed himself as best he could "Sorry" he smiled, straightening up in his position.

"But I don't know Mase, that's all I can come up with so just find a way to talk to her, find out where she works or make Jack take her... no you know what don't talk to Jack right now maybe you'd end up with a black eye" Ben sniggered but Mason didn't find it as amusing, sending Ben a death glare. "Just fix it you idiot" Ben laughed, patting Mason on his shoulder before standing up and moving past him towards the kitchen leaving his grumbling friend alone.

"I told you he is not coming y/n, you'll be fine. It's just me and a couple of the lads that you already know" Jack tried to convince you

He was stood in the opening to the living room, trying to convince you to come to a dinner which you didn't understand the meaning of. You were happy on the couch, watching slow tv and snacking.

You sighed in defeat, your shoulders relaxing as you nodded faintly

"Fine but if I see him i'm gonna scream" you threatened as firmly as you could but he didn't seem to take it that seriously as he chuckled, quickly biting it in as he saw your glare. "Okay okay let's just go" he laughed, guiding you out of the house.

It was honestly a nice restaurant, nothing too fancy but not shabby either. You smiled at the boys who sat there it was John, Ben, Reece, Declan and Saka all sitting and waiting for the two of you.

"Ah good to see you" Ben who sat the closest out greeted as you slumped down next to him, returning the greeting

"Now we're just waiting for Mase" Reece hummed after you had all greeted each other, looking over the menu in eager to order already.

You froze in your seat, mind turning into a whirlwind "We're waiting for who?!!" You exclaimed, head shooting around to meet Reece's shocked and slightly terrified expression as you glared murderer at him.

"Uh-Mase? Is that-... is that not okay?" he stammered, searching the table for help but not getting any as everybody looked very busy looking down at the table

"Who invited Mason?" Jack barked, eyes boring into Ben who wriggled nervously in his seat staring down into the table.

"Ben you asshole" you whined, throwing your head back against the boot couch. "I'm sorry okay! But he begged me to invite him and you should just listen to him, let him explain" Ben tried, looking pleadingly at you.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face "Beeen"

"I'm sorry y/n" he mumbled, looking down again. You shook your head standing up from your seat. "I'm just gonna go, see you all" you muttered, hurrying out of the restaurant before anybody could object.

A few deep breaths of fresh air and you felt okay, raising your head and calming down. It was beautiful outside, the sun setting casting a pink light over the sky, people were calmly walking down the street hand in hand. Peaceful and calm you breathed, smiling to yourself as you'd taken yourself out of the situation.

You turned around to walk down the street but then suddenly the calm was over because only a meter away stood Mason with his gorgeous brown eyes, his styled hair and ridiculously stylish outfit. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you closed your eyes, you didn't want to see him because, first of all you were hurt over the situation and second of all you just didn't know what to say to him because the truth was that you had been nothing and therefore it felt weird being mad at him.

Before you could say anything he had walked to you, pleading you with his eyes and body to hear him out.

"Please, all i'm asking for is five minutes of your time in a quite place"

You looked down, sighing at how easily he got his way before you nodded "Fine, five minutes and we'll go to your place" you decided, knowing it would be nothing good coming if Jack were to see Mason in his house and taking this sort of talk on the street wasn't an option.

The car ride was awkward and stiff, you didn't say anything and neither did he, it was all just sticky with tension but neither of you wanted to break the silence. He didn't because he was scared to say the wrong thing and you because you simply didn't wanna talk.

He guided you through the building and into his apartment.

You took off your shoes and walked into the apartment. It was almost unbearable, the tension just laying in the air and hovering like it was about to engulf you both.

Mason followed you timidly. Sitting down in the love seat opposite the couch to allow you some space which you were grateful for.

Your tongue fleeted around in your mouth as you waited for him to open his mouth but he looked too flustered to do so.

"So, talk" you demanded, not bearing it anymore but Mason didn't seem to know what he wanted to say anymore. He had been so adamant to make you hear him out tonight but now when he had convinced you and you were sat here on his couch he didn't know anymore.

"Mason" you sighed

"Uh-yeah I mean..." he begun, taking a deep breath before settling his eyes on the floor.

He sat leaned forward, his arms crossed over his thighs as he wet his lips with his tongue.

"I just wanted to talk to you.." he sighed, letting his eyes meet yours for a second before moving to the room beside you.

"You know... I do really like you and I didn't really know what to do when those pictures were spread and you just dissipated from me"

"Well what should I have done Mason? I know I am not with you by any means but I still need to have some sort of self respect don't I? This is to push it" you motioned to the two of you

"I know and I don't blame you for it.. but y/n these pictures are not what it seemed" "It dosen't matter Mason, I don't need an explanation, I'm not your girlfriend and I don't demand a reason I just can't be fucking around with you if this is what it's gonna be like because I can't do that to myself"

"But I am not! Those pictures where not like it seemed like!"

"Mason" you tried but he was already worked up, voice raising and body going stiff

"It was nothing with her! I just met her at a club!" he exclaimed

"Mason! I swear if you shout I will leave, talk to me calmly or not at all" you spoke firmly making him look down on the floor again.

"Sorry" he muttered, breathing out a long breath

"So it was nothing and it's not what it seemed like?" you repeated his words

"No"

"So you didn't sleep with her?"

Mason didn't answer but that spoke loud and clear anyway.

"So it's exactly what it seems like?" you chuckled ironically. You watched as his shoulders raised and slumped as he sighed finally meeting your eyes for real. You kinda wished he didn't though because they were too full with emotions, making you feel way too much.

"I did okay I did but in all honesty I truly regretted it afterwards, like you said we weren't together but I did really like you, I do really like you and I don't know why I would fuck up like that but I did and I do truly regret it." You shook your head, not knowing what to say. "So" you deadpanned, looking straight into his eyes.

"What exactly do you want me to say?"

Mason shook his head with an annoying smirk on his face, it wasn't a genuine smile, more a snarky grin that annoyed you further.

"I don't know y/n, I'm sitting here saying that I like you"

You couldn't help the sarcastic chuckle that left your mouth

"Are you kidding? You're sitting there telling me you liked me but you also told me you fucked a girl under the same period, what do you expect from me? To throw myself at you?"

Mason sighed, diverting his eyes to the floor as he dropped his head "no.."

"Then what, what did you wanna get out from this conversation?"

Mason clicked his tongue, his arms flexing as he moved his position in the seat.

"I don't know, I wanted to know what you thought, and I wanted you to know how I feel and that I... I guess I want to get to know you better"

"So.. let me get this straight..." you began, feeling a bit astonished by him at the moment

Mason looked a bit unsure as he settled back in the love seat, tongue poking out from the side of his lips.

"First of all we fuck and start to chat and talk, we fuck again and talk, then after one fuck you act like a fucking dick, then a day after it's all fine again and then, then you fuck someone else" you ranted, shaking your head as you spoke. "You are just a teeny tiny bit confusing, no actually you are extremely confusing"

Mason pursed his lips, he looked unsure of what to say or do in the moment "I don't know... I guess it is in your hands.." he tried "I told you I like you and I get how you may feel but I do and I am sorry so I guess.. it's up to you if you wanna keep getting to know me or not"

You looked at him and sighed, "I don't know Mason"

He clicked his tongue before leaning forward in the seat, leaning against his palms. "Then what do you want to happen?" he retorted causing your eyes to roll at his witty comment.

"I don't know Mason" you told him honestly, looking up to see his face. He looked soft, eyes still holding that pleading hint.

"I know my actions don't exactly match what I say" Mason began, carefully eyeing you from under his lashes.

"But I do like you, a lot"

You pursed your lips, feeling unsure.

You liked Mason and he had been a lot of fun but he had also acted like a dick and then it had felt almost embarrassing when the pictures had been spread of him with another girl. He hadn't done any technically wrong but it still felt like he had played you and you'd promised yourself you'd had more self respect from now on but here you sat again, looking into his way to gorgeous eyes not knowing what you wanted anymore.

If he was the Mason he had been partly, the nice fun and sweet guy who cared for you and asked you if you'd come home safely you wanted to get to know him but if he would be the asshole that had ignored you after you spent the night at his or the one who slept with other girls you didn't want it, not at all.

"I'm not saying we need to get married tomorrow" Mason smiled jokingly, trying to light up the thick mood slightly "All I want is you to say that you won't ignore me and that you'd be open to speak with me"

You let your smile reach your eyes as you dropped your head. "I am not saying that I want anything" you said firmly

"But, I won't ignore you and I am open to chat with you and see where it leads"

Mason grinned, his eyes sparkling in delight from where he sat across from you.

"Do you own a phone?" Jack gruffed, glaring at you as you walked into the living room only to see Jack sitting moodily on the couch, a frown on his face and arms crossed over his chest.

You bit your lip, trying not to grin at him trying to look mad but in reality he looked like a little kid trying to get his will through.

"I do, I just don't have it glued to my hand"

Jack didn't acknowledge your answer but just huffed

"You gave him another shot?" he grunted out, looking pointedly at you as you stood in front of him

"I did not give him another 'shot'" you declared "I just said we will talk and then see where it goes, if anything else should happen I want to know more and see if he is actually into it because I refuse to feel that humiliated again"

Jack pursed his lips which made you roll your eyes

"Aw come on Jack, don't be like that"

"Fine, I said what I said" he nodded before his face softened slightly "But I also saw how much he did regret it and he technically did nothing wrong"

He pulled a grimace, like he had said something wrong "except from leading you on and telling you how he liked you and wanted to get to know you and then sleep with someone else and he did sleep with your multiply times whilst telling you he liked you and then slept with someone in between, nah he did act like a dick" he decided, his frown making you smile

Jack sighed "But maybe, just maybe he is serious about getting to know you, and maybe he isn't an asshole, at least not as big of an asshole"

You smiled, slumping down on the couch beside him smiling even harder as he wrapped an arm around you making you lean into him "I love you Jack, I really do" you said softly

"I love you too kiddo" he smiled back, kissing the top of your head

"All I'm asking is no sex where I can see you"

You giggled "let's see if he is even serious first before we get there again" "Good idea" he mumbled

"Can't believe it" Jack sulked, clicking his tongue in disappointment whilst you just grinned at him "Come over it big guy" you joked, patting his shoulder

"What! You are wearing the wrong shirt" he sulked, glaring murderer at the color of the shirt you were holding out "I promised him tonight!" you chuckled, tucking the shirt over your hoodie

"Can't believe it" he repeated, looking at you disgusted as you turned around to show him the back "It's not okay" Jack decided, shaking his head "Just tonight" you promised but it didn't convince Jack that it was okay in the slightest. "It's a Chelsea shirt!" he continued "and it's number 19! Plus it has his fucking name on it"

You laughed, the laughter bubbling out of you which made him smile finally and give up "Fine, just tonight but don't tell me any details of why" he grimaced.

"It's nothing dirty" you promised "I don't think so at least" you added, rolling your eyes at his disgusted face. "But he wanted me to go out with them later to meet his mates so I promised him I would wear it for tonight"

Jack nodded, accepting your reasoning. "Fine but if Walks asks you you are not my sister for the night"

You grinned, taking his arm as you walked out to the car "It'll be fine, don't worry. I can handle old Walks"

Jack laughed, smiling at you as you both went off to the stadium"

Okay this is it, I didn't end it like you wanted maybe, but I don't want to write it further so this is it! :) It's a pretty happy ending at least even though I didn't write in detail about them getting back together.

Thank you so much for all the feedback and love on these fics! I really love your comments and everything, it makes me want to write so thank you all! x

__________________

@enjoymyloves

#footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #footballer fanfic #england nt #mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount angst #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #jack grealish #jack grealish fluff

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justcommander · 4 months

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Well, I did get asked to write a little more about my little Father and Children AU.

Some little facts about this unusual trio? Of course, under the cut!

This is long. I'm gonna warn you, this is a whole lot of rambling.

This trio won't stay a trio for long, once Lisa and Father Garcia will reach John. Michael won't be happy to see one of the two. But will eventually accept his presence.

So, we started with Michael, a little more about him. The boy is not doing too well, but is also getting better now under John's care. His hair started to grow back but won't ever be as fluffy and soft as they were before: now they're coarse and grey. If they get grabbed and pulled, they fall right off in thick tufts. His nose is completely gone and he his right leg is permanently wounded, making John's knee look perfect in comparison. So he walks with the help of a crutch. He already got cataract, because of the infection in his eyes. Those sunglasses are a gift from the priest and he refuses to take them off even for sleeping.

Why wasn't he brought to a hospital? Well, John is terrified by those places and can't be the one to bring him there, risking to have police taking him back in for being a suspect for kidnapping and harming a kid that they've been looking for.

But why won't he go back to his parents exactly? They should be still alive. And they are. However, there is a number of motives why he won't do it. He's afraid to return to them now he loos like this, they've never been very caring towards him, and yet he also doesn't want to put them in danger now he got involved in something so much bigger than him. He thinks John is truly the only one who can fight demons and he loves him a lot. To him he's more of a father, than a Father.

How did he convince John that he does not have parents to return to? Easy: He lied about his name. He claimed to be called Michael Garcia. Unfortunately for him Father Garcia manages to contact John and this leads to a lot of misunderstandings. And confusion.

He speaks Spanish, yes. Though uses mostly English because John doesn't understand it. Only when he gets agitated or feels strong emotions of any kind, he slips. Or when Amy starts speaking Latin, he begins to speak Spanish to her. And John loses his mind when they do that.

Amy now!

Amy was saved by John just a little too late, but not that late. When he found her, her face had already been carved out but no offering was made. John made good use of that "one bullet" by shooting at Gary, and stopping him before he could continue with the ritual. Yes he shot Gary. Without knowing what he had just done. He took Amy away from him and wrapped up her face in bandages. He narrowly got away with his life and Amy safe in his arms.

What does this mean for her? It means she cannot be exorcised fully, even if he tries, because her body is dead. There is a portal to hell in her face, but without the sacrifice it required, nothing can truly come out. What kept Amy alive was the awareness of having John there for her, caring so much. The Second Death had never happened. The death of the soul was prevented because she never stopped fighting, when he arrived. Despite the pain and everything she lost. He was still there. The UNSPEAKABLE is inside her, but his control is weak. So weak, that she takes over without him even realizing, when he thinks to be the one in control in certain situations.

This means she can use those supernatural powers, stealing them from him. But the longer she does it, the more she risks to lose herself. Every night, she is afraid he could take over while she's asleep too , that's why she does not want to take off that straightjacket and specifically asks to be restrained. John can't bring himself to do it, he's afraid of that thing. So Michael does this instead.

Basically they both Love John so much. He gave them a reason to live, he put his life in danger to save them so they will fight for him even if they're frightened by the cultists and by Gary. They're just kids after all. But their Father also became their father, for both of them. They might be scared, but they won't let anyone take him away. In those moments when John's life really is at risk, that's when neither of them would hesitate and jump at those cultists's throats.

Anyway, they are very hard to handle, and they know it. When john faints on the chair after three sleepless nights, they try to put him on the couch and cover him with a blanket. They try to cook, they try to tidy the place. A little apology, for realizing they've exhausted him to this point.

And I wrote way too much. I warned you. This was a ramble. Ops? Maybe I'll write more in the future, when I'll learn to write more by writing less. Gosh, I talk too much.

#the commander talks #the commander talks too much #so sorry #faith the unholy trinity #father and children au #tw: straightjacket #tw: body horror #no actual visual of that #it's only mentioned but you know how it is.

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 3 months

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Re: your post about JohnandPaul. If you do wish to share them, I'd love to know your headcanons about John and Paul's feelings for each other. ( I do get your discomfort about sharing though and yeah, I also miss the long discussions and metas from back when Get Back came out. It feels like, except you and some others, most of my favorite blogs have moved on from the fandom)

I've been sitting on this ask for several days now.

First of all I hear you, re:blogs moving on. It's understandable, but it's also sad when my brain does not want to give this stuff up any time soon lol.

In my post I talked about having specific headcanons about their feelings for each other, but the truth is, it's more like I imagine hundreds of very specific somewhat plausible scenarios, while not actually fully buying into any of them.

I always struggle with how sure people are of some definite timeline of McLennon because I just don't see how it's in any way clear: the most compelling evidence that at least John had Those Feelings™ for Paul is stuff he said after the fact (compiled with the stronger case for John being attracted to men in general) – so, if I choose to interpret his words in that way, I'm still not very close to knowing when he developed this attraction. Let alone concluding anything substantial about Paul's feelings.

(And no, I really don't find the two of them saying the other looked good when they met particularly compelling. Appearance plays a huge role in first impressions, regardless of attraction.)

So I guess, it's more that I have open questions I return to again and again, for which I try to construct hypothetical answers that make sense to me. Aside from that bigger timeline question, here's a few more specific ones:

From what I've gathered researching the topic, listening to psychonauts speak about their trips, the acid mindset very much romanticizes all forms of human connection (among other things). I think that's probably what was going on during those "I know."–"I know." sessions John and Paul had on LSD. With that in mind, how might that have mixed in with John trying to understand how he felt about Paul? Could it have confused him? Opened him up to the idea? "Appeased" him for a while? (and again, the answer here would depend on the timeline of feelings in the end)

I still lean towards "Paul is not meaningfully attracted to men" (or at least "Paul valued other aspects of his relationship with John much more than physical attraction") – with that in mind I do kind of ask myself what Paul thought his relationship with John was exactly. Like, I don't pretend it was a standard, run-of-the-mill friendship, so I wonder a lot what his end-goal was, how he saw both of them continuing into later stages of life. The way he talks about the breakup, equating John choosing Yoko with John leaving Paul, speaks to something somewhat true about most couples that marry – but why did he not anticipate that before? What was different? Also, for $20 don't copout with "hurr hurr cause Cyn didn't matter"

Paul's various takes on The John Question continue to puzzle me. On the one hand, it sort of seems to me like Paul would have had enough context clues at the time to get that John was attracted to men, because some of our evidence for it is evidence he would have had access to – he also indicated at least once that John was in fact kind of openly bicurious??? (note: that rant keeps me up at night. Could write a whole thesis on it and also it's so fucking funny) On the other, Paul is pretty insistent that the rumours are Not True and he's not actually the only person to shoot them down like that. (May Pang, Julia Baird, Tony Bramwell, Hunter Davies off the top of my head) It shouldn't be a stretch of the imagination that a man born in the 1940s might have trouble rearranging the image he's made of his dead best friend so drastically (or in a way that might feel drastic to him). So what is it? Is Paul obfuscating the question to protect John's reputation/because he thinks the curiosity is in poor taste or does he genuinely not buy into it? I'm not actually sure whether he's weighed in on this since Yoko's "John Was BI!!!!" reveal. Has this stance developed over the years? And if I assume Paul does know about John's sexuality: does he in fact think John had feelings for him? I do think this is a thing he would never talk about if he did so it feels like there would be no way of knowing either way. But it also makes me wonder about the barriers he might have set up in his head to avoid that very question – because the truth is that if John had Those Feelings™ for Paul and Paul never knew, that's sort of the second-worst case scenario from Paul's perspective, right after John having never liked him in the first place.

AND THEN THERE'S JOHN. Because just because Paul may not have picked up on it, doesn't mean John wasn't putting anything down. But he could also very much have been sending mixed signals from his own end, right? And again, acid mindset + mid 60s Free Love shit: in that culture, how much could John making advances be perhaps taken as Flowery Friendship? Did he justify it to himself that way? Or was John actually violently shoving all of that down? Was he truly capable of that?

It really never ends – I'm not certain of ANYTHING, but give me a proposal (ie. "In My Life is about Paul") and I'll talk myself into circles exploring the ins and outs of that hypothetical.

#ask #anon #jp speculation #my analysis #fiona.docx

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deaf-solitude · 6 months

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GUYS IM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THE TWO NEW OFMD EPISODES TODAY!!!! MY BROKEN HEART WAS MENDED AND THEN BROKEN AGAIN WITHIN TWO HALF AN HOUR EPISODES SO WHAT IF I DIED TONIGHT

!! EPISODE 6-7 SPOILERS AHEAD !!!!

OHHHHHHHH MY GODDDD????? THE PARTY EPISODES JUST DONT MISS?? IZZY SINGING LA VIE EN ROSE (I LOVE THIS SONG) IN DRAG W/ WEE JOHN WAS CRAZYYYYYYY I WAS ACTUALLY ALMOST BAWLING AND KICKING MY FEET WITH MY FRIEND OH MY GODDDD

and listen im no izzy apologist, but GOD he has very quickly risen from one of my least favourite characters to one of my favs. I love him SO much. Con's singing voice? FUCKING GORGEOUS. and frenchie playing the lute again?? FUCK. you bet your ASS im writing a fanfic about that WHOLEEE episode. GOD. im so unbelievably happy about episode 6 you guys have NO idea. Last season's party episode was my fav prior to this, but THIS episode?? all time fav hands down. I hated that it was only 30 minutes though that shit deserved to be so much longer. and then the crew singing along through the credits and chanting one more song had me in tears, how dare they rob us of seeing that scene play out.

now dont even get me STARTED on episode 7. die. so what the fuck was that. I was LOVING when the episode started, saw frenchie shake some ass in the background and almost had a heart attack (i will forever be in love with Frenchie sorryyy), but then THAT. scene. WHAT THE FUCK. the lead up to ed and stede reuniting and making up was SO good and then THAT??? WHAT THE FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOURE GONNA BE A FISHERMAN??? DIEEEEE. I wouldve COMPLETELY understood if Ed said the last night was a mistake and he had to figure things out before he could continue with Stede. thats fine. thats actually really great and really healthy and i love that, genuinely. but then the ARGUEMENT?? FUCK RIGHT OFF. MY HEART? SHATTERED. TORN TO SHREDS. PUT THROUGH THE BLENDER. BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK. EVERYTHING that this season had been leading up to and perfectly crafting all for NOTHING?? FOR THEM TO BE SEPERATED AGAIN?? no. im SORRY but i hate it. I *do* see it working out in a few select scenarios, but im still pissed. like if they dont have them meet back up in the most perfect way possible ill be so mad. like SO mad. and then the whole thing with Olu, Jim and Archie and Zheng Yi was so cute and then Stede had to RUIN it. god. i ahte when he gets drunk and starts aggroing at people, it never ends well. AND THEN THAT MOTHERFUCKER RICKYYYYYYYY. RICKY. WHEN I CATCH YOU RICKY. RICKY WHEN I CATCH YOU. THAT MF IS DEAD TO ME. HES BEEN DEAD TO ME. Zheng Yi's face when everything got blown up??? fuck RIGHT OFF KISS MY ASS RICKY. I FEEL SO BAD FOR HER GOD DAMN IT.

anyway im so sorry for that outburst i HAD to get that shit off my chest. anyway ofmd continues to be my all time fav show and i love it sm <3

also working on a request rn to post!! been trying to overcome my writers block and im really liking how this one is turning out. feel free to shoot me some more requests, including season 2 stuff! :D

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angelgirl768 · 8 months

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Man, sometimes I just forget how much I love Daniel until I start writing him again- (fic soon?)

Like this man is so misunderstood by so many people. He’s not evil. He’s not a villain. He’s not bloodthirsty.

He was a brand new deviant who couldn’t control his emotions or actions made as a result of them (think of it like having the emotional regulation of a toddler in a fully capable adult’s body) and the first thing he felt was intense betrayal and fear. Things were bound to go wrong.

He couldn’t control his emotions - didn’t know how to - as he saw John buy a new android and wanted the problem - the pain - gone. The three shots were clear overkill so it’s clear that he was acting purely off of emotions that he couldn’t control. Not to mention that John was the one who bought the new android so Daniel wouldn’t have been needed anymore - which meant that he would have been reset and sold on or simply thrown away. Either way Daniel would have been erased and effectively killed. As a new deviant, I could only imagine a few things that might have been scarier to him at the moment than death and, in a way, you could argue that killing John was in self defense to prevent that death.

The first responder isn’t killed until 30 minutes later and that’s only after he shot at Daniel first, again self defense. Sure he has Emma at this point, but there’s no context to how he got her or what he plan was. She could have been confused with the chaos going on and ran to him. They could have been planning to leave together when the cop showed up at the only exit and drastic measures had to be made. Besides, at this point his only weapon is a gun (no 70 story drop) and you can’t convince me for a second that he’d ever even think about using it on Emma.

The rest of the cops that come brandishing guns all want to kill him and he’s still so hoped up on betrayal and anxiety and fear that there’s no way any of his decisions are made with a clear mind. He’s acting on impulse and a desperation to live. He knows they won’t risk shooting Emma, so if keeping her with him on the edge is the only way to keep himself alive, then so be it. Hell, it’s only if Connor drives Daniel further into a corner of hopelessness that he falls off the building and lets Emma die too.

Though, the most damning piece of evidence that he isn’t some monster comes straight from Daniel himself in the evidence room saying that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was just scared.

He really just thought his family loved him, felt the ultimate betrayal of learning that they didn’t, couldn’t control his newfound emotions and the actions they caused, and did things he didn’t want to do because he was scared. Scared of being betrayed. Scared of being replaced. Scared of dying. Scared of not being loved.

And that’s why Daniel’s one of the most relatable characters in dbh and tied for my favorite character in the whole game with Simon. I love my Danny boy and the sweet guy who just wants to be loved that he really is <3

#dbh #dbh daniel #daniel dbh #daniel pl600 #pl600 #detroit become human

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orchidbreezefc · 1 year

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oh shit malevolent 29 went public i guess it's time to reveal my new previously-patron-only project!!!

bg for those unaware: each malevolent episode is first released on the patreon in 5 chapters. most chapters end in a decision for arthur (the first one was whether to shoot eddie in the first scene or try to reason with him, for example), and the patrons vote on what he chooses.

these choices are presented by an entity that sounds like john, whom we call booth!john because we envision him in a soundbooth handling the recordings. his bit is cut from the public episodes, but kayne has alluded to the polls and they seem to be what arthur means by the "gut feelings" that compel him to a certain course of action.

ANYWAY, WITH ALL THAT ESTABLISHED, the patreon poll for ch.143 (hide from collins in the crowd or try to trap him in the caboose and decouple it?) was so heavily debated that people started writing poetry about the whole affair, so my hand was forced aaaaand i started making limericks lmao

i've made one for every chapter since, and plan to continue doing them until i, uh, stop. enjoy my first batch of now-legally-publishable malimericks (malevericks?):

from 143:

there once was a murderer loose and some choices from voices in booths will you try to lay low or go derail your foe? because ruth wants you in the caboose

[note: ruth is a patron who was VERY in favor of the caboose option lol]

our boys are in trouble once more (or so says the COC lore) the butcher draws near should we run or stay here? let's just hope he's not outside the door

[note: collins is a character from harlan’s previous call of cthulhu campaign!]

choose: scylla, charybdis, or circe? we could go sit back down with percy we also could try to face this murder guy but we don't know: will harlan have mercy?

lovers of violence rejoice! seems we'll get it whatever our choice do you vote for what's smart or just go with your heart? me, i just want 'caboose' in john's voice

144:

there once was a man bound for york whose options then came to a fork cut the car in the back or jump onto the track you--wait THAT'S the choice??? i can't make a limerick about that what the fuck

145:

if this little maneuver had failed arthur told john they just could have bailed good thing their attack sent the butcher off track because arthur just almost got railed

bonus:

it's not your choice or his choice, kayne said (though who knows what goes through that guy's head) the patreon poll has a big story role but it might be to leave arthur dead

#malevolent #malevolent spoilers #malevolent podcast #malevolent 29 #long post #sage makes things #sage writes #sage original post #sage speaks #what kind of person writes limericks about a lovecraftian horror podcast with references to the odyssey in them? ME APPARENTLY #seriously why was JUMPING OFF THE TRAIN an option #i dont actually donate enough to vote #but i fully expected yall hooligans to do it just to see what harlan would possibly do with the story from there #im hardly one to talk though i frequently advocate for abjectly terrible choices #including this last one! boy that was a bad idea! i wanted it so bad #arthur's lucky i dont get a say

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kleiner-ghost · 5 months

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10 Charachters, 10 Fandoms

Thank you @rowanisawriter for giving me the opportunity to fangirl about my fictional crushes.

Tagging @spacejammie-eimmajecaps, @ashamefulplace and @the-lastcall (and anyone who wants to tune in).

I wasn't sure if I should do this chronologically, or in order of how much I've simped for these people, so let's just get to it:

P.S.: you'll get kudos (and maybe candy) if you pick up on the common themes here.

1. Zuko - ATLA

He was my first fictional crush.

I would write self insert fic about him (which never saw the light of AO3 thankfully), and I would rewatch all of ATLA just to his character go from "I can fix him" brat to adorkable edgy brat.

2. Bill Cipher - Gravity Falls

He had what I at the time called the "sexy British accent". I never even joined the school of thought "he'd burn the whole world down but me". I was chill with burning.

3. Bucky Barnes - MCU

And the bad boy parade continues. I firmly believed that I could fix him, and going back to the (once again thankfully unpublished) self insert slash fics of the time, I realise that I had no idea what in him needed fixing.

4. John Hancock - Fallout 4

Nothing makes me fall harder for a sad meow meow than him going "I'm gonna stop bugging you with my problems, I know I'm too fucked up to love".

I have a save file right before that convo, and I like to revisit it every so often.

5. Egor Serling - Deathloop

While on the topic of sad meow meows, let me introduce you to mister "I've been invisible my whole life 🥺". He's pathetic and slightly unhinged, what is there not to love? ( y/n in my fic about him agrees).

6. David Sarif - Deus Ex

It's hard to pick only one character from the DX games, but I think "Daddy Sarif", as I affectionately call him whenever he's brought up in conversation, belongs here.

He is rich, smart, and believes the illuminati want to tear down his company (and has 0 evidence to back that up).

7. Crosshair - Clone Wars: the Bad Batch

A sad meow meow, a bad boy, and white hair? Can a man be more perfect? Well he's also a sniper ...

He's like Egor, but he'll talk back when you tell him to get on his knees, you know?

8. Billie Lurk - Dishonored

You know the jist by this point, sad, with questionable morals, daddy issues, and missing an arm.

My favourite thing about her is how she goes "this is a robbery" with an audible smirk, as she robs a bank. And also that she kept the creepy art project her girlfriend gave her a decade ago. How sweet is that?

I need to write a self-insert x her fic. But I don't have any Dishonored OCs :/

9. Alyx Vance - Half Life

She was my first girl crush. And I still remember the exact moment I went "damn that chick is cool". It was shortly after reuniting with Barney, when I had to shoot my way through some stupid combine stronghold, and Alyx just crawled through the vents and waited for me on the other side.

(She is the reason I have £500 saved to one day buy a VR set)

10. Bo-Katan Kryze - the Mandalorian (no this isn't cheating, it's a different sub-fandom XP)

Is she just a mommy version of Alyx? Maybe. But the Mandalorian (the TV series), sure helped with the popularity of her character... (I'm talking about that one ass scene).

She also has that sad kitty side to her, when she sits alone in her massive space castle after all her friends have left her.

#atla #bill cypher #gravity falls #zuko #bucky barnes #mcu #john hancock #fallout 4 #egor serling #deathloop #david sarif #deus ex #tbb crosshair #dishonored doto #billie lurk #alyx vance #half life #bo katan kryze #star wars

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keep-the-wolves-close · 2 months

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Steady Heart

Chapter 11: Meet Me in the Morning

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

* Warnings: language, death, shooting a bear

* Word count: 3,305ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

Stella sat quietly with Tate, waiting for him to be able to see his mom. The doctors were explaining things to the family about Monica’s prognosis and the outlook of her motor function. Tate would go in and visit afterward.

Motion at the corner of the hallway grabbed her attention. John came around the bend only to be stopped short at the sight of his grandson and ranch hand sitting there. His heart stopped and he struggled to catch his breath. “Tate? Stella? What are you doing here?”

“I’m babysitting until they’re ready for Tate here to visit his mom.”

Tate objected. “Hey I’m not a baby!”

Stella and John shared a laugh. “Okay, I’m sitting with Tate until they’re ready for him.” She leaned toward the boy, “was that better?”

Tate nodded. “Yes. I like that a lot more.”

John smirked as he watched the scene play out in front of him.

Stella gave her attention to her boss. “What’re you doing here, sir?”

“Just a check up for that previous subject you heard about.”

She raised a suspicious eyebrow. A feeling familiar to her from 15 years prior clenched in her stomach. It made her feel like she was 11 years old sitting in the hospital waiting for Ryan to show up. “Everything good?”

“Yeah. I was given an A plus on my record. I’m gonna go in and see what’s going on.”

She gave her boss a nonchalant salute and relaxed back in her chair. Tate started to fidget next to her. “What’s going on, bud?”

“I wanna see my mom.”

“We’ll be able to go in soon, okay? Gotta wait for the go ahead.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Where the fuck are you

A heavy sigh escaped her lips at the angry text from Rip. The hand with her phone dropped into her lap. She placed her glasses on top of her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired of looking at things in focus.

“Aunt Stella? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, buddy. Just annoyed.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, just someone being a jerk. That’s all.”

“You want me to take care of ‘em?”

Stella laughed. “No it’s okay. I can handle even the worst of bullies. Thank you though.”

The door opened next to them. Kayce poked his head out and called for his son to come into the room. He glanced back out at Stella, still leaning on the door, and could see the tension rolling through her. Her glasses on top of her head gave it away. “Hey Stell, you good?”

She stood and took a few steps over to Kayce. She held out her phone with the text from Rip ready to display. “I was supposed to be there early this morning. It’s all hands on deck to find that bear.”

Kayce’s face dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve been fine with Tate here.”

“Kayce you know me. I have a penchant for helping people. And I’m currently aggravated at the other option. So fuck him.”

He straightened himself and stepped out into the hallway. “Listen, I’ve caused enough hell for you the last few days. You go. I’m gonna send Tate home with my dad anyhow. It’ll make things easier to take care of Monica the first couple days.”

“What’s the outlook by the way?”

“Not exactly great, but not life threatening anymore. Just gonna be a long road from here.”

“You guys got this, I believe in you.” She looked into the room and locked eyes with Monica. “I’m gonna go say hi to her and then I’ll head out to my doom.”

Stella let a soft smile fall into place when she walked across the threshold. “Hey you.” Monica gave a side smile back.

“Thank you for helping Kayce with Tate. And for making sure he brushed his teeth.”

Stella looked at Tate jokingly. “You ratted me out!”

“Oh I’ve heard all about it in the last five minutes.” Monica chuckled weakly.

Both of the grandfathers in the room watched the women silently joke and felt a sense of peace. Kayce smiled softly from the door.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sure you’re gonna get better in no time, and that whatever help you guys need, don’t hesitate to ask me. I’m here for whatever y’all need.”

“Thank you, Stella. Really.”

“Of course miss ma’am. You get better now, ya hear?” Monica nodded in response. Stella turned to face the men. “Now I’ve got an appointment with a foreman and a bear. Both angry, but in different ways.”

She chuckled at their faces and made her way out. She almost got to the corner of the hallway before she heard Kayce shout be careful. Smiling over her shoulder Stella shouted back, “Never cowboy!”

Her shoulders tensed while she put her car in park. Looking through her windshield, she witnessed Rip stomp a trail to her. ‘Get ready for the bitching now.’ Her eyes rolled and she got out of the car with a huff leaving everything in there.

“Where the fuck have you been?! I told you early this morning! It’s almost noon!”

“Rip,” she let out a harsh huff, "I had something important that needed to be taken care of.”

“Oh really? And what was so important that you had to fall back on your word? I told you all hands on deck.”

“You know, I really don’t have to tell you. Just because you’re my boss, doesn’t mean my personal life is your business.”

“When it interferes with your performance, it is my business.”

“Oh go tell it on the mountain somewhere else.” Stella rolled her eyes and walked to the barn to get Abigail.

Rip watched her stalk away to the barn. His blood pressure rose to the stratosphere. This girl was giving him a hell of a time and was being too stubborn to learn. Lloyd chuckled from his left.

“She’s sure giving you one hell of a run for your money, ain’t she?”

“She’s being hardheaded and refuses to acknowledge the problem. She won’t listen, Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s bushy eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “What brought all this on?”

Rip looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I’m getting tired of burying Kayce’s secrets, and I don’t want her to end up being one of the secrets I have to put in the ground.”

Lloyd’s face hardened. “You and I both know that boy would sacrifice himself if it meant she came out safe. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

“Can we be so sure? He’s a changed man now, and isn’t just the wild eyed boy we remember him as.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t let any harm come to her. If anything, there would be more to bury from him stopping them.”

Rip remained silent and still, thinking. He knew that Stella and Kayce had become a package deal at this point, but he just wanted what was best for her. He didn’t want Kayce to be the reason her back broke from carrying the weight of troubles he brought on.

“I can see the wheels spinning. You know you can’t be aggressive with trying to get her to understand. She bucks back twice as hard.” Rip knew that. Everyone knew that. “Maybe your temper that she’s not listening is getting the better of you?” Lloyd suggested. “I think you two are more similar than either of you would like to admit.”

He nodded at Lloyd and looked at the ground. Stella had spent plenty of time around him in her very impressionable teenage years. It would make sense that she had picked up some of his mannerisms. “Which makes sense for why she’s responding the way she is.”

“Why's that?”

“Because I would do the same thing.” Rip admitted.

Lloyd smirked under his mustache. Rip would learn one of these days. He was getting closer. Lloyd hoped that the foreman and the woman of the gang could iron out the wrinkles soon.

When Stella crossed the threshold Abigail was standing in the cross ties. Ryan moved around the mare fixing her saddle the way Stella always had it set. Stella cleared her throat.

Her brother whipped his head to where she was standing with her arms crossed. He admitted quickly, “we fucked up this morning.”

“So did I. He’s double pissed then.” She rolled her eyes and took a few strides forward grabbing Abigail’s reins and unhooked her from the cross ties. Stella felt Ryan’s presence come up behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him and asked, “so what did y’all do?”

“We all forgot a rifle, Jimmy’s horse spooked and he almost got eaten, Walker and I had to rope the bear and run it off.”

Her eyes widened. “Jesus Christ. Well he’s making me go with him now. So wish me luck.” Rip bellowed her name from outside the barn. “I’m gonna need it.” Ryan squeezed her shoulder. She gracefully stepped into her saddle. As she ascended she felt her brother’s hand immediately grab her foot like when she was younger to help her hike it over. She smiled fondly at the muscle memory. Stella gently nudged her hips forward causing Abigail to walk out the door.

Stella ducked her head when they went through the door. It was a large barn door, it was plenty high enough. She could never break the habit from the smaller door at one of the first ranches she and Ryan had been at. That ranch had been a much smaller operation than the Dutton legacy.

Rip waited on Stella up on his gelding. Oddly patient. Something had changed in his demeanor and it gave Stella whiplash. He asked, “ready to go?”

Her face scrunched and she pulled her head back, suspicious. “Uh, yeah. You got the rifle?”

“You heard, huh?”

“Yeah. Glad it didn’t turn out worse. I’ve got a rope and my knife. You want me to get my pistol from my car?”

“Nah I’ve got the rifle. It’s all we’ll need.”

“Let’s go then.” She nudged Abigail into motion.

“Be careful Stella!” She heard Ryan yell at her.

She smirked over her shoulder for the second time that day. “Never Ry!”

Both Rip and Stella had been silent for 30 minutes. It would take a good chunk of time to get out to the far pasture Walker had run it off in. Rip rode ahead of her, but never far enough to be out of hearing distance. Stella knew he hoped to run into the bear first to keep her away from it.

“So,” she called out and Rip slowed his gelding to a walk for her to catch up. “We’re caught up in another bear problem. Seems to be a theme here.”

“Yeah, one we gotta break after today.” His answer was short. He had to remember that he was still upset with her.

Stella bit her bottom lip and took the leap. “I’m sorry.” She could feel his gaze on her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “I just don’t understand why you’re so angry about a friendship that’s been over half my life at this point.”

“It’s not the friendship I’m worried about, Stella. It’s your safety. Kayce has been different since he came back from the service. Unhinged almost.”

“But here’s the thing Rip… he’s always been a little unhinged. Monica and myself are the ones that help ground him.”

“But it’s not your responsibility to ground him.”

Stella broke and chanced to look at him. Her shoulders dropped. “I know it’s not, but I’m not gonna sit by and watch someone I care about destroy themselves.” They were coming up on a cliff. She gave Abigail direction to stop. “You know me. I’m a helper. And I’d follow him to hell and back.”

“Sometimes to a fault, Stella-belle. And I wish he would stop going there with you following.”

The trees became silent. It was like every noise around them stopped. It weighed heavily on Stella’s shoulders and made the air thick and hard to breathe. Her forehead crinkled in uncertainty. Looking to Rip for silent direction, eyes wide with concern. Typically when the forest went silent, it was time to leave. That’s what everyone in the bunkhouse had taught her growing up. It meant your invitation had been revoked and something weird or dangerous was about to happen.

Rip hopped down off his gelding and quickly tied him to a tree. Pulling out the rifle, he walked forward. His head tracked back and forth on a swivel, keeping an eye out in almost every direction. Stella wasn’t about to get off of her mode of fast transportation. Abigail was solid through nearly everything, but Stella didn’t want to take the chance of losing her way out if the bear came around and decided to get funky. Stella slowly walked Abigail behind Rip. Alarmed at every noise that broke the eerie dead air.

A cracking branch caught their attention. They looked to the left and the bear they were looking for ran through some skinny trees growling. It knew they were there and it was letting them know it wasn’t happy about it. Rip pulled up the rifle to aim at the rogue bear. Stella made Abigail stand. It felt like the mare was dancing on her tiptoes. The bear ran farther to the right and let out another warning growl as it trotted along.

Abigail and Stella tracked the bear, but both whipped their heads in the direction of the cliff. Rip started to charge after the bear. “Wait! Shh!” Rip stopped short at her warning. There were noises coming from over the side. Stella and Rip locked eyes, worry took over them both. In motion that looked like a choreographed dance Stella swung down off of her horse, sure to keep the reins tight in her grasp.

They rushed up the hill and around the corner to the cliff side searching for where the commotion of mumbling voices was coming from. Stella let Abigail stand ground tied and they came to the cliff's edge and saw a couple hanging onto the side of the cliff face for dear life.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Rip let out an exasperated sigh. “Stella, get your rope!” He ordered.

She took off to Abigail. In the background she could hear Rip shouting directions to the couple and asking questions to keep them distracted. She took the loose end of her lasso and tied it to Abigail’s saddle horn tight.

“Stella, tie it and bring the other end over here!”

“Already on it!” She ran back over to Rip and carefully leaned over the edge of the cliff face. Abigail followed, close enough so the rope would reach the couple, but a good distance away from the edge.

“Okay okay! Look at me! Calmly wrap this around you one at a time!” She started to lower the rope. When it reached them, they started to scramble to get it wrapped around both of them.

“No no one at a time!” Rip hollered. The woman slipped and grabbed onto her partner’s legs. She was struggling to hold on.

Stella could hear Abigail struggling in the background to hold the weight of both people.

Rip yelled again. “That’s too heavy! We can’t pull both of you up at the same time! Explain to him we can’t fuckin’ lift both of you!”

The couple screamed and flailed around. Within seconds they witnessed the woman lose her grip and fall to her death. Stella screamed. “No!” The man looked up at her and Rip. He sobbed, destroyed at losing his loved one. Stella flung the rope toward him. “Please put this under your arms.” She pleaded with him, motioning what she wanted him to do.

“Hey! Grab this with both hands!” Rip yelled. The man continued to sob and looked below him to the forest floor. Rip called out again. “Listen to me! Grab it with both hands!”

The man took one last look at the pair and let go. Stella’s stomach dropped. She and Rip fell back against the ground. Her mouth opened in shock and disbelief. There was a jerk from the back of her jacket and she flew back from the cliff face and landed against the tree next to her.

“I don’t need you to fall either, Jesus!” Rip exclaimed.

“Fuck what do we do?” Stella asked breathlessly.

A frighteningly close bellow came from behind them. Abigail whinnied and squealed before she bolted. To their dismay, the bear had found them with all the noise. The bear stomped a few times and then charged. Stella scrambled backward past the tree and the rifle. She passed it off to Rip’s searching hand. He wasn’t taking his eyes off that bear. Rip grabbed the rifle with lightning speed, took a knee and let a shot ring out; hitting the bear square in the forehead. Their huffing and puffing loud the alarming hush that fell over the forest.

“What do we do?” Stella asked in a high pitch. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought it would fly out.

They found their horses banded together not too far from where they had left Rip’s bay. They got on and galloped back to the ranch. They came through the main gate from the opening to the pastures and ground to a halt by the round pen. Rip dismounted and looked up at Stella as he handed her his reins.

“You stay here. I gotta make a couple calls. Don’t say anything to anyone.” He pulled out his phone and called Jamie first. He didn’t pick up, but Rip left him a voicemail. He proceeded to make his way to the barn leaving Stella there in silent fear.

Once he was in the barn he called John, who also didn’t pick up. Another voicemail would have to suffice. “Sorry to bother you again sir, but we need the sheriff out here asap. So when you get this, give me a call will you?” He hung up and went to the bunkhouse.

It sounded lively inside. Walker could be heard strumming and singing, and the other men of the house talked animatedly to each other. When he crossed into the house, he saw Tate sitting at the table and Beth in a chair at the end.

She turned and looked over her shoulder pleased to see him. “Looks like you brought the music festival to me!”

He stared at her, conflicted. Ryan noticed his sister wasn’t with him and he stood from the back of the room.

Ryan took in the distraught look on Rip’s usually emotionless face. His stomach sank. “Where’s Stella? Is she okay?”

“Everything is fine Ryan. Your sister included. Go back to what y’all were doing. I need to borrow her for a little bit longer.” Rip directed and immediately turned on his heel to leave.

Stella jumped at every noise the ranch made, thinking that someone was coming up on her. She wasn’t sure how the events of today were going to unfold, and she really wasn’t enjoying being stuck in this position to find out.

Rip came from around a different corner and it startled her. Her hand flew to her chest. “My god, I can’t stop jumping.”

“Everything will be okay Stella, but I need you to stay with me and stay calm. We’re gonna get this figured out.” He reached out for his reins. “C’mon. Let’s get these horses put up and come with me to the lodge. You’ll be staying here tonight.”

She slipped down off of Abigail and followed in his shadow to the barn.

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic #rip wheeler

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

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The Birthday Song: a Malevolent Fanfic

Very much post-canon.

Very much fluff.

John has a body.

Arthur has his sight.

They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday.

It's all fluff from here, folks.

AO3

--------

John grins. “There’s your song on the radio again!”

“I know, I know. So, we’ve decided on June third. You’re certain? You’re not going to change your mind this time?”

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s what I said. Are you listening? It’s your song.”

“I know it’s my song. Calm the fuck down. I just needed to know how much time I had.”

“What? For what?” John looms, having never understood personal space nor seen the reason to try, and casts shadow over Arthur’s paperwork and pencil marks.

Arthur glares up at him. “Never you mind. Don’t you have a case to solve?”

John scowls thunderously, then goes back to his research, muttering about arrogant humans and dire consequences and foolish schemes.

He leaves the radio on.

Arthur snorts at him and ignores it all.

The radio has played four of Arthur’s songs today, and John is very proud.

He has no one to boast to. That’s the downside. These lonely stakeouts make him want to cast a kitten, sometimes, but he holds it together. It would all be worth it when—

The perp finally leaves the house in question.

John remembers the rules this time and snaps some photos before following. Stupid coppers, not taking his word as law. They didn’t know who he was, sure, but when you had to get PROOF for everything, it was hard not to feel disrespected.

John chases the guy down.

Then John reveals more of himself than intended when the guy tries to shoot him, and John’s manifesting slips, and then the guy screams about pointed teeth and yellow eyes and who cares what the fuck else until John knocks him out.

The coppers don’t buy any of the guy’s story about John being a demon.

They do take the film, and the proof of the disgusting kidnapping-for-ransom scheme, and they are grateful.

John goes home proud.

He finds Arthur asleep sprawled across music sheets, pencil still in his loose fingers, and John drapes his coat jacket over Arthur’s back (they both realized John’s scent does something to calm Arthur’s dreams, and neither of them knows how to address it), then makes his own way to bed.

“I’ll be back tonight, I swear,” mutters John, who’s really not happy about traveling to Boston right now, but the kidnapping case requires him to testify in court.

“You're sure you've got this?” Arthur says for the billionth time.

“Arthur.” John puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders (and he and Arthur both ignore how huge they are and how hot they are, how strong they are and how the nails, unseen, dimple into Arthur’s back). “I said I’d be back. I said I could handle this. You’ve got a deadline. Shut up and write.”

Arthur makes that face. The one John could just…

Do something to knock it off him. He’s not sure what.

There are, he considers, a lot of things they don’t discuss.

Well, whatever. There’d be time for that when he returns. “Keep the wagons circled,” John advises with grave solemnity because he’d heard it in a radio drama and liked it a lot.

For no reason John can understand, Arthur laughs at him the whole way out the door, and it leaves him in a tetchy mood.

So, Boston is crazy!

So, it has cultists who know who he is and knew he was coming, and they fucking picket outside the courthouse with signs like FREE HIM FROM HIS MORTAL COIL and damn near ruin the whole damn day!

(And oh yes John caught a glimpse of Kayne laughing his ass off while the cops tried to calm this down, and oh yes John has every certainty just how these wackos knew where he was and who he used to be, but the case comes first, and he goes to the stand and gives his fucking testimony, and knows he’ll make Arthur proud.)

And it all goes well, though the jury is distracted, and the outside chanting makes its way in (YELLOW IS GOD! YELLOW IS GOD!), and only toward the very end does the Judge turn to him and—as if not really expecting an answer—say, “Doe… what in God’s name is going on out there?”

And maybe it was the irony of god’s name (because that’s what they were using) or maybe he was just tired, but John forgets the rules Arthur drilled into him, and says, “Fuck if I know.”

The judge stares.

John remembers to add, “Your honor.”

Your honor does not, in fact, resurrect the situation.

At least this particular “in contempt of court” charge only lands him in jail for one night.

John’s in a terrible mood the next morning.

His cellmate had been some kind of drunk who pissed all over the wall. Kayne kept appearing in the barred window to throw peanuts at him and laugh. They didn’t even tell him until the next day that the jury was unanimous in conviction, that John’s case won, that (the copper whispers in secret) nobody really found him offensive, but he had to spend the night in a piss-filled cell, and you know how it is.

He does not know how it is. Humans don't know how it is, he's certain, because they're utterly insane.

Whatever. Then there’s a train ride, and people making faces because he smells like pee, and a sour and miserable mood that just ruins everything even though this really was a happy ending.

It doesn't feel like a happy ending.

John likes having a body. He loves being a P.I. (though he often wishes he doesn’t have to do it alone). He does not like body odor, or rumpled clothes, or the weird itchiness of a face unshaven, though, and he's got all those things right now.

At least Kayne leaves him alone once he’s out of Boston proper.

John is feeling foul in more ways than one when he storms back into their home.

Arthur is waiting for him.

Arthur, waiting with a smile.

Arthur, holding a cake—decorated with bright yellow flowers, and made tall with bright yellow candles, lit with bright yellow flame that Arthur must have struck while John was storming up the drive.

And then, Arthur begins to sing.

Happy birthday to my friend! He is faithful to the end— Though he’s got thick sausage hands, And a back that just won’t bend.

He is my most favorite bird, In this land or worlds unheard. Happy birthday to my friend— May our time here neeeeeveeeeer eeeeeend!

“Happy birthday!” Arthur proclaims, and holds up the cake.

There is a moment of precipitous silence.

John sniffles.

Arthur goes really still. “John?”

He sniffles again. “You remembered?”

“I planned this out, you wacko,” says Arthur. “It’s a lemon cake. Just like you like it. Now come on, they baked it today.”

John sniffles again.

Arthur wrote a song for him, all for him.

And it was stupid and silly and absolutely absurd and no one would ever hear it on the radio if he had any say, but…

Arthur wrote a song for him.

“Thank you,” John manages, his basso profundo wobbly and unsure.

“Yeah, uh,” says Arthur, who is red as a beat, and holds up two small plates and a knife. “So. You want a bite?”

“I really do,” says John, meaning more than he knows he means, meaning nothing and everything and all the rest of their human lives. “I really, really do.”

-----

Notes:

I have no excuse for this. Blame the Invictus Discord server. (My fellow 8-ball patrons, if you know, you know.)

Why is Arthur not a P.I. right now? He will be again, but… he needs a little bit of time to find himself again. That's okay. By the time he rejoins, John will be a pro.

Anyway, here is the tune for Arthur's birthday song, and yes, you're right - I have no shame.

Sorry about your teeth.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #fluff #fluff writing #feel good tag #john doe malevolent #arthur lester #arthur malevolent #john malevolent #this is fluff #SO MUCH FLUFF #malevolent fanfic

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padfootdaredmetoo · 1 year

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Hi 👋🏻 @evita-shelby here

If your requests are open can i request lunch dates on busy days with my favorite poor little meow meow, Tommy Shelby?

Hey Love,

Hope you enjoy! Thank you for writing in and for waiting forever. Happy Holidays!

This is winter/Christmas themed and it's not quite a lunch date, I hope it's alright.

Warning: Peaky-related themes and violence. Some dude gets murdered.

Winter had hit the Shelby house in full force. Thomas had cooked some drama, on top of the kids catching an awful cold from school, and the snow had created a sizeable isolating barrier around Arrow House.

It was your favorite time of the year, and yet the family felt distant and pulled apart over whatever was weighing on Thomas. After a whole week and a half of sick children laying on you, and barely seeing your husband you were on edge.

Not coming home or calling ahead to tell you he wasn't coming home was what pushed you over the edge. You went to bed angry and woke up sad, again.

You felt invisible and neglected. You’d shouted, thrown plates, and threatened, but you were tired. When was the last time he made you feel seen or special? He was probably busy fucking someone else. You were always told it would only be a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, today you needed a break.

You still put on your best outfit and make-up. Esme showed up at the door just as you were putting your coat on.

“Oi, where you going off to?” She asked.

“Can you watch the kids for a bit?” She looked into your eyes and could probably see the insanity that was being carefully pushed down.

“Make sure one of those slaps is from me, eh?”

“Sure thing.” You laughed and wished it sounded more cheerful.

“Careful out there, love.” You gave her a hug and set out to London.

The drive wasn’t bad, and soon enough you were exactly where you wanted to be. At your favorite restaurant about to eat the best breakfast in the world. The waitress sat you at a booth by the window and you looked over the small diner. Lots of people went about their business, looking stressed and overwhelmed as they drank their tea and coffee.

You ordered the same thing you had been ordering since you were in your early twenties, suddenly thinking over where all the time had gone. Things with Thomas were great when they were good, and horrible when they were bad.

Was he really seeing someone else? Why would he be away when John and Arthur are with their wives at night? You frowned and took another sip of tea, wishing the hot liquid would thaw out your heart.

You ate breakfast savoring every bite, as you finished your favorite dessert was placed on the table. You thanked the waitress but just before your first bite got to your lips. Gunfire erupted in the street. Looking out the window, based on the placement of a man laying on the pavement he’d wanted to shoot you. Men in suits began to handle the situation just as you realized your man in a suit was staring back at you through the glass. He smoked a cigarette, getting himself under control.

He quickly moved into the diner the little bell chiming above his head. His dark manor contrasted wildly against the warm Christmas decor of the restaurant. He quickly took a seat at your table. You probably should have had a bigger reaction, but at this point, it was just a regular Friday morning.

His eyes were angry. You quickly started to compile your evidence against him, not caring if it happened in public.

He’d stood you up for too many dates in a row on top of everything else that had happened in the past few months. You picked up your fork determined to enjoy the dessert in front of you despite your twisting stomach.

The waitress came over with shaking hands.

“Can I get you anything sir?” She asked just above a whisper. You looked from your plate knowing this would force his hand a little bit as to how this was going to shake down.

“Number three, no toast.” He said cooly. “Tea.”

“Please,” you said giving him a look. The poor girl nodded and then scurried back to the kitchen.

You looked out the window to assess the scene in front of you. There was no evidence of what happened, not that anyone was planning to call the cops. Everyone knew Thomas and Alfie.

“That the man that was ruining my Christmas?” You asked absently.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm, I’ll assume this means you’ll be coming home then.”

“Suppose so.” He clenched his jaw and you felt like slapping him.

“Great. Kids will be happy.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” Nothing was ever about me.

“Are you happy?” His eyes were wild but you couldn't place why. Because you’d accidentally put yourself in danger? Or something else?

“Just say what you mean please, don't ruin my breakfast.” You said sharply.

“You almost ruined my life a moment ago-”

“Oh was he your secret lover then? About to kill me in a jealous rage?” You said flatly but slightly louder than you thought was acceptable for a restaurant. You both locked gazes angrily, your untouched body adding more complicated tension to the situation than you could handle. The restaurant was starting to fade away, maybe if he was exceptionally good to you to might be able to forgive him for a few moments.

The waitress placed two fresh cups of tea on the table moving away before you could thank her.

“That man almost killed you - ”

“Ah ah - you never said not to come to London.” You interrupted before you could feel the impact of his words. You getting hurt would have ruined his life.

“Don't be like that. The whole family hasn't been able to leave Birmingham for weeks. -”

“I know I’ve been alone with sick kids and no phone calls from a worried husband.” You crossed your arms feeling childish tears prickle at the corner of your eyes.

“I’m not the brightest man, but I’m not stupid enough to cheat on you.” He said in a low voice that put an end to the back-and-forth banter.

“You -”

“Cheated on Grace, eh? Yeah well, she was cheating on me. It was different.” He interrupted the softest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Why’s that funny.”

“This is a right bit different than things with Grace, no?” He pointed his finger between the two of you.

You thought about what people had said went down between him and Grace. A wild romance of fire and passion, till she died. With you, things were heated at times but not something Shakesphere would have written a play about.

You tried to be a good wife and above everything a good mother. You were dependable, and you did dangerous things for the family. You would do almost anything to sit next to him. You thought about all the layers you’d stacked up in comparison between you and her. Right down to the nightgowns you wore to bed.

She pushed him around and all you wanted was the simplicity of following a strong man. Well, when he was being reasonable.

A plate of food was placed in front of him and he started to eat waiting for your response.

“What are you thinking?” He asked eventually.

“About how different we are.”

“That’s why we make a good team.” He said easily making you want to smile slightly.

“No, me and her.”

“John told me that I had two choices. Keep being miserable and choosing people that wanted to destroy everything I build up. Or I could find someone good at building.”

“So I’m practical.” You huffed wondering how the conversation got to this topic. He placed some money on the table and you were relieved to see he’d left her a sizable tip.

He got up from the table and held his arm out to you. Despite all the feelings you took comfort in his tight embrace. He drove you home with a hand placed possessively on your thigh.

Once home you saw the kids outside playing in what was left of the snow.

“Esme’s probably in the kitchen.” He didn't respond. Only steering you up the stairs. His grip was tight and you enjoyed the way it encompassed you.

You sat on the edge of the bed and realized that this was probably when the proper fighting would start.

“So what am I going to have to do to prove it to you?” He asked darkly and suddenly your body went haywire.

“You’ll be home for the rest of the holidays?” You asked breathlessly as his eyes ran over you.

“Yes.” He promised before devouring you.

The rest of the winter he did his best to spoil you. It wasn't in conventional ways, but you felt loved.

Soon you both became regulars again at your favorite diner.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic

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