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xpao-bearx · 1 year

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"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

SUMMARY: Steven Grant has come to the devastating conclusion that he was fated to be single forever. Marc didn't care for romance, Jake was only interested in one-night stands, and Steven was--well...Steven.

But when you started working alongside him at the museum's gift shop--a pretty girl younger than him with a bright smile and a cloying kindness he hasn't been the recipient of in a long time--he begins to think that maybe romance is in the cards for him.

Especially when you are just as awkward as him and sinfully lovely.

AKA "the man without love" falls for "the virgin".

RATING: 18+ minors please do NOT interact!!! This fic will contain romance, smut, and generally mature content (though not ALL parts will have explicit smut).

NOTES: I recently rewatched Moon Knight and have been in the mood to write my own fic after reading countless of amazing ones on here, then outta the blue Madonna's song Like A Virgin got stuck in my head and it got me thinking "Huh... This song is cute for Steven if he gets a girlfriend. ACTUALLY WAIT A DAMN MINUTE IT COULD FIT ALL THE MOON KNIGHT BOYS"

And so... Tada! Here's le result~ Although I'm still working out the details, this fic will have ✨️6 PARTS✨️ This fic will PROBABLY be quite self-indulgent, and at times the way the reader is written could be a bit similar to an OC. I'm so sorry if that is the case, but please understand that I'm writing this for fun and I'm just going with the flow!

Some things will also be different from the show. For example, all the boys are actually aware of each other in this fic. I try to stick as close as possible to the source material, but hey this is my fic and like I said I just wanna have fun 😂

Thank you sooo much and I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged and appreciated so please don't be a silent reader!

Now... Join me as I hopelessly thirst over this RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous man both in fiction AND reality \(^o^)/

Part 1: Didn't know how lost I was until I found you

Steven willed his legs to go faster, pushing through London's usual busy morning crowd and into the museum he was cursed to work at. Clutching his bag in one hand, and the other holding his small thermos of coffee as he prayed to any Egyptian god listening that Donna wouldn't catch him this time.

But, of course, the only Egyptian god within Steven's vicinity was Khonshu. And the old bird only cared about how his Moon Knight was upholding his duties as his "Fist of Vengeance", not of his Avatar's petty human responsibilities such as "keeping a job".

"Late again, eh, Stevie?" Donna's annoying voice mocked Steven, pausing in his tracks as he sighed deeply and begrudgingly turned towards his boss.

"Sorry, Donna." He shot the blonde a forced smile, his grip on his thermos tightening. "Got stuck in traffic. You know how it is, yeah?"

"I wouldn't because unlike you, Stevie, I'm never late." Donna returned his fake smile along with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, enough chatter. You've got someone working with you at the gift shop from now on. Maybe this way you won't be late, yeah? Teach her how to actually sell some bloody candy."

Steven opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly cut off when his new co-worker--you--stepped out from behind Donna. You were younger than him, around your twenties, and you were such a shy little thing with your head slightly ducked down. Your E/C eyes peeked out from behind the glasses framing your delicate features, long lashes fluttering as you flashed him a sweet smile. Your fingers fiddled nervously with the pink midi skirt you wore, matching the dainty pink ribbons that tied your H/C hair in two low pigtails.

Your smile faltered as your gaze met Steven's dark brown ones. He remained silent, mouth hanging agape as he stared at you as if you grew two heads. Your eyes lowered, heart threatening to burst right out of your poor chest.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should've ditched the ribbons, you looked ridiculous, right? Why was he staring at you? Oh, god, why was such a HOT guy staring at you?!

"Hello, uh, I'm Steven Grant." Your head snapped up, witnessing the twist of Steven's lips into a kind albeit awkward smile that accompanied a friendly little wave. "Steven..." He seemed to be rethinking his words before, ultimately, the dorky side of him won. "...with a V."

A smile once again bloomed across your face, feeling more at ease this time. "Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. With anxiety!" You chirped the latter a little too cheerfully, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you inwardly slapped yourself. No, punched yourself. "O-Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean that! I-I mean, no, it was just a joke--but a really BAD one, oh god--"

As you rambled nonsensically, Donna arched a judgmental brow at you before noticing the utterly smitten expression on Steven's face as he watched you with a huge goofy grin. Now both of Donna's eyebrows were raised to her hairline before she slowly backed away, leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

At least this time, though, Steven wouldn't be late anymore.

'She's so...'

'Weird.' Marc piped up in Steven's head.

'Amusing.' Jake snickered.

'...lovely.' Steven finished, eyes gleaming the same way it does for Egyptology as he continued to look at you as if you hung the moon in the sky.

He adored you instantly.

♡•••🌙•••♡

It's been two months since you started working at the museum's gift shop. During that time, you and Steven got closer. He discovered that you were a college dropout, reaching a stressful breaking point one day and deciding to just work for the meantime before figuring the rest of your life out. And as it turns out, you weren't so shy after all; once you were out your shell, you were just as big of a dork as Steven was and whenever you two were together, your shift passed by quickly--too quickly.

From the very first moment, you and Steven got along splendidly. He was a complete sweetheart and it always shattered your heart whenever Donna harassed him with any snarky and insensitive remarks.

Steven was used to it so he didn't mind it too much. What he wasn't used to, though, was you. You who was always so kind, lending a listening ear whenever he went on a passionate tangent regarding Egypt and even encouraging him on his dream of becoming the museum's tour guide. You who always graced him with a genuine smile that reached your ears, eyes sparkling whenever you see him as if he was your favourite art piece in the entire museum.

You who always made his heart race, palms sweaty, mind swirling without fail.

You had an intense crush on Steven--a longing, really--but what you didn't know was that he felt the same about you. But perhaps it was more than that. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and it certainly didn't miss Donna's unexpectedly sharp eyes. She'd tease him whenever you left earlier than him, looking like a kicked little puppy as his gaze trailed after you.

Today was no different as he stared helplessly at you, and it was a wonder you didn't feel the invisible daggers boring into you. There were only ten minutes left before you were done for the day and you both were stuck in inventory, but for once in his life he loved doing inventory and he desperately wished that this incredible moment with you, alone, would last forever.

'You're so fucking pathetic, ese.' Jake echoed in Steven's mind.

Nowadays Jake was becoming more vocal, at least when you're around. Marc, on the other hand, remained tight-lipped. The mercenary would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with you at all costs.

'Shut up, mate.' Steven silently argued, brows furrowing as his eyes finally broke away from you and focused on organizing some Taweret plushies.

'Only saying the truth, ese. You've got her all to yourself and the only thing you can think of is that you wish this time would last forever?' Jake scoffed. 'Be a man and step the fuck up. You know you want to, especially with the way she looks today.'

Steven's burning gaze was right back on you, eyes darkening slightly. He hated to admit it, but Jake was right. You were always so pretty, but something about today made you look that much more.

You always dressed modestly, but with the weather warming up lately you opted for a black pleated skirt that fell just above your knees and a tucked in short sleeved yellow blouse with the top few buttons undone exposing the tiniest bit of your cleavage. You also wore matching yellow heels that perfectly accentuated your legs and it made him feral.

"Steven? Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours and a smile instantly curled up his lips, nodding his head as if he wasn't just ogling you like a total perv. "Yes, I just zoned out. Sorry, love." Ugh, the way he called you 'love' so casually had you swooning.

If only he actually meant it.

You nodded back, shoving your thoughts away and returning his smile before glancing towards a portrait. "A shame what they did to this, huh?"

Steven curiously followed your line of sight, seeing a portrait of the Ennead.

"Whoever did this made a major blunder. Isn't the Ennead supposed to have nine gods, not seven?"

"YES!" You flinched slightly at Steven's exclamation, whipping your head towards him only to see him with the cutest blush ever.

"Erm, s-sorry, uh..." Steven cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his unruly locks. "I just got excited. I'm surprised you knew that. Not a lot of people do--or care."

"Well, I happen to know a fantastic teacher always talking about Egyptology." You giggled, grinning at him. "And thanks to him, he's caused me to become interested in it myself and do my own research."

"Really?!" The way his eyes lit up felt as if an arrow was shot straight to your heart, and if you didn't have any self-control you would've dropped to your knees and asked--begged--this gorgeous man to marry you right then and there. "Any particular god or goddess that you're most interested in?"

"Hmm..." You pursed your lips thoughtfully, and Steven had half a mind to kiss them senseless. "I'd have to say Khonshu."

'GOOD ANSWER. KEEP HER, WORM.' Khonshu's thundering voice suddenly boomed in Steven's head.

"She's not a dog, you stupid pigeon." Steven grumbled, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Steven answered quickly, forcing out a laugh. "Err, why Khonshu?"

"Well, I really like Astronomy!" You beamed. "And I find the moon to be one of the most beautiful things in our universe, so it feels fitting for my favourite Egyptian god to be Khonshu."

Despite Steven's distaste (to put it nicely) for the old bird, he could never find your response as such. Not when you looked so happy and comfortable sharing your interests with him, even though he did disagree with just one thing you said.

The moon doesn't even come close to being one of the most beautiful things this universe boasts. No, not when you existed.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm on your wristwatch cruelly popped the blissful little bubble you both were in, you turning it off as you saw that it was the end of your shift.

A regular person would be over the moon that they were finally free from their corporate prison, but not you. Not when you wished you could spend more time with Steven.

"Well..." Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, a pout forming on your lips. "Guess it's time for me to go home."

"It appears so..." Steven mumbled, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched you put away the remaining items you were in charge of.

'It's now or never, Steven. Do something.' Jake urged.

'Do WHAT?'

'Fucking Christ, you're hopeless.' Jake sighed frustratedly, Steven's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he straightened up once more and approached you.

You were faced away from Steven, and you were having difficulty setting the final box of souvenirs you had on a shelf when Steven's hands reached from behind you and easily lifted them.

Your breath hitched, feeling his broad chest pressed against your back. He was so close you could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of your neck, making you gulp.

"T-Thank you, Steven..." You murmured meekly, feeling so small as he had you completely caged. You tried to turn, but his hands suddenly dropped to your hips; keeping you in place with a gentle but firm grip.

"You look so pretty today, Y/N." He leaned down, voice deliciously low as his lips ghosted just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. "But I think you can look even prettier. How 'bout tomorrow you dress all nice, and we can meet up around seven p.m. and have the best steak in town?"

Your thoughts were all jumbled up. Was this really happening or just another one of your silly fantasies? Where the hell did Steven get this sudden confidence from?

And, perhaps you were just imagining it, but he sounded...different. Not quite like the Steven you knew. He had an accent, but not the one you've gotten so familiar with and loved.

But the ache in your heart--and another part of you--was much too strong to bear. You've waited so long for this, dreamt of this, and it was finally coming true.

You definitely made the right decision to dress the way you did today and you sure as hell weren't going to let go of such a grand opportunity.

"I-I'd love to, but..." You placed your hands on top of his own still on your hips, and you wondered if he can tell just how embarrassingly sweaty your palms have gotten. "I...I know you're a vegan, Steven, so let's go somewhere else. There's a new restaurant that just opened and they've got vegan options. Um, y'know, if it's okay with you..."

The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile and he couldn't stop himself as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and revelling in your addicting scent.

"Perfect." He then spun you both around so that his back was against the shelf, but you still couldn't see him. His fingers slowly, teasingly trailed upwards along your stomach before reaching your blouse's breast pocket, slipping off your name tag and putting it in one of your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa." He chuckled huskily, giving you a light push.

You were utterly dazed, cheeks flushed and stumbling in your steps slightly as you exited the room.

'What the bloody hell was THAT?!' Steven panicked.

"What do you think, ese?" Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I just scored you a date."

'Well, I hope you're happy! Y/N looked so shocked!'

"I feel like a million dollars and Y/N looked like she liked it." Jake snickered. "Quit whining like a bitch and just be grateful, Steven. And hey, she even chose some hippie vegan place for you. Doesn't that prove she's into you?"

That immediately shushed Steven, and Jake can feel that despite Steven's complaining Steven was very much overjoyed and was already overthinking the date for tomorrow.

Jake looked down his hands, still remembering the soft curve of your hips even through your clothes and smirked.

You won't be wearing any for long now.

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abouttofillhisshoes · 2 months

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What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

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

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

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

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.

It's Mattys' turn on the music.

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

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

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.

“Fancy a spliff?”

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

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

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

#look at me trying to write #cringe #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #slow burn #eventual smut #friends to lovers #fallingforyou #dlid #matty healy x you

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zmediaoutlet · 4 months

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happy wincest wednesday!! what's an example of an episode or storyline that you think would play out differently with sam/deanna? and is there a trope you think would suit the hetcest dynamic better?

hello, my femme deanna-truth bud, happy wincest wednesday to you. and perhaps it's proof of how fantastically well Deanna cleaves to the actual characterization and canon of the show that every storyline that's popping to mind is just enhanced by the sex/gender change. Like -- soulless!Sam letting Dean get turned into a vampire and how that vampire sire was absolutely a creepy rapist? That but with Deanna? Identical, just more... obvious. Sam having a relationship with Amelia, while Dean has a "relationship" with Benny, and how that's written as a dual affair where they have to dump their mistresses? If Deanna's in Purgatory with Benny, there is absolutely zero question that they were fucking, and it's just actually explicit instead of heavily implicated in subtext.

I think one thing that would maybe genuinely feel different would be the time when Mary came back. You can play it a lot of ways, but it doesn't seem unreasonable that Deanna might have a much more complicated relationship with the absent sainted mother than Dean did. For one thing, Mary doesn't get the safe madonna-distance due to gender difference -- and while Dean's mother-and-wife replacement status for John is subtextual in canon, Deanna gets it with both barrels. When she sees what happens when Mary makes that deal to bring John back -- when she sees that Mary wants to have a 'normal' life -- when she knows that Mary's choices have doomed not just the family in general but Sam in the specific (and setting aside that destiny and literal God have conspired to bring Mary to the place where she would do those things) -- Dean clearly has some resentment but manages to set that aside for the beloved mother on a pedestal. I think Deanna might be significantly more pissed off, and overtly. Rather than simpering big-eyed at the lovely mommy in the white nightgown, I think she'd go quite frosty and resentful and thinking, yeah? You weren't the one who had to deal with what your choices actually meant.

How interesting it'd be to have Sam in the middle of that particular weirdness. Imagine Mary coming out with those little nitpicky 'mom comments' about how Deanna wears her hair or how she dresses or wondering why she cleans her shotgun that way and Deanna getting ready to fucking explode, lol. I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I didn't think you'd take care of it but times a hundred, a thousand. Imagine Mary making that deal with the Letters and Deanna not just icing her out but fucking decking her in the jaw.

...This actually isn't all that different to canon either, is it, lol. Deanna just always makes whatever textually happens to Dean more intense, more overt, more there, in a way that isn't the lovely interpretability of canon but just IN YOUR FACE. Our little object without agency, parentified and wifed, battered on all sides.

Oh, and for the trope: legit D/s. More obvious on the face of it, but actually more subversive and alarming if you think longer.

#for my sanity i am ignoring the timestamp on this ask #it's embarrassing #happy wincest wednesday #idk if people want to do asks or whatever anymore #what is participation lol #but let me know if you want a thing #answers

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callsign-joyride · 2 years

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Mayhem | Bob Floyd

Summary: In which Mayhem and Bob go on their first date

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Mitchell f!reader (callsign: Mayhem)

Content warnings: Just fluff and sweetness <3

Spotify playlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

A/N: Funny story (not really) - I lost half of this because I forgot to hit save. That was an emotional journey but I got everything back. I'm also kind of thinking about writing a spin-off with Hangman... Basically just everything that happened between them in Spain though.

Everyone had half a day of training. It was because Maverick had to go talk to Ice, but he wanted everyone to use the morning to fly and fill out paperwork. You decided to eat lunch with Rooster and Fanboy.

"Where are you going?" Rooster asked, as you put the containers back in your lunchbox.

"I'm leaving. I have a date that I have to get ready for."

"A date? With whom?"

"You're so dramatic. I'll text you later."

Bob told you that he would pick you up from your place at two, and it was almost 12:30 when you got home. You were happy that you decided to shower on base, because that definitely would've taken up too much of your time otherwise. It didn't take long for you to do your makeup and change your outfit. When Bob texted you that he was outside, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your bag before heading out.

"You look cute," he said. You couldn't help the blush that crept onto your cheeks.

"Thanks. So what did you have planned for us?"

"Well, I was thinking that we go to Barnes and Noble first. I really want to get you a copy of my favorite book. And then maybe we could dinner and watch a movie after?"

"I like how that sounds."

"Oh, and you can pick the music. I'll listen to anything."

You smiled and texted him a link to one of your playlists. The first song that came on was Heaven is A Place On Earth by Belinda Carlisle and the two of you looked at each other and laughed. You got your phone out and recorded Bob singing Material Girl by Madonna. The two of you were laughing it up when he parked in front of the bookstore.

He took your hand when you walked through the parking lot, and the gesture made you smile.

"I hope you like sci-fi fantasy," he said as you walked through the store. You were stopped in front of the sci-fi books and it didn't take long for Bob to pick up the one that he was looking for.

"This is your favorite book?" You asked.

"At the moment, yeah. Why? Have you read it?"

"No, but I've had my eye on it for a while. Come on, I'm getting you my favorite book now."

He bought you a copy of An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green, and you bought him a copy of The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.

"It's like you knew that I've been wanting that book. So what did you like about it?" You asked Bob when you got back to the car.

"The plot is super intriguing and it's really well written."

You told him about why picked The Song of Achilles for him, and you went to Olive Garden for dinner. While you were eating, your phone went off with a text. Ice sent you a picture of him and Maverick, which you found a little weird, but you saved the picture and let it slide.

"I know you said that you wanted to watch a movie, but have you ever seen Stranger Things?" You asked as you unlocked the front door to your house.

"Only the first episode but we can watch it together if you want," Bob said. You kicked your shoes off before heading to the kitchen to grab plates for the cheesecake.

The two of you made it about halfway through the first season before you realized how late it was getting. You put the plates in the sink before grabbing a container and splitting the rest of the cheesecake.

"I'll text you when I get back. Maybe we can finish the rest of the season sometime? I think I liked watching it more because I was with you."

You smiled and leaned up to kiss Bob. He was about to set his things down before you stopped him.

"Okay, you should really get going. Wouldn't want you to be late to training tomorrow."

Bob chuckled before kissing you once more. You started to get ready for bed when you saw his car pull out of your driveway, and you fell asleep texting Rooster and Mav. The goodnight texts between you and Bob were brief, but you were both pretty tired.

Taglist:

@peaches-1999 @tallrock35 @paintballkid711

#robert bob floyd #top gun maverick #x reader #bob floyd x reader #fluff #tgm fluff #rooster #bradley bradshaw

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pulpitude · 1 month

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meet my mc ✦ ilw edition 2/4

yes i know i mentioned 5 mcs in ame's introduction post but i got rid of the fifth one lmao. rip milena wilder you and your slutty antics will be missed. also got rid of aoya and replaced him with mia since there's just something about ao that didn't leave me satisfied enough with their character to keep her as a mc 😭

also a little fun fact about mc's sister: since all my mcs are so different and have different ethnicities i headcanon their sister's full name to be something else every time i play. in mia's case her full name is annalise labelle, in ame's case it's joanna grimes, for my korean mc it's shin an-hee and for my egyptian mc it's anipe el-sayed

(cw/tw for mention of sa and lesbophobia under the cut)

full name: euphemia "mia" labelle

age: 22

birthday: march 20th, 2000

gender: questioning if cis female or non-binary

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: greysexual lesbian (apologies for forgetting to put the grey flag above 😭)

personality type: genuine 99% of the time, aggressive once in a blue moon

love interest: amalia de león

occupation: unemployed, thinking of becoming a writer/poet

fate: merged with her human half, successfully defeated matty and cured the horrors

fates of friends: everyone survived and stayed

♡ she has two mothers, esmé and miranda labelle, who only legally married when mia turned 12. she calls esmé "mom" and miranda "mama" or even "mamita". her name came to be because esmé wanted something that shortened to mia but didn't want to use just mia itself (she felt it's too basic), to which miranda suggested euphemia.

♡ however, what she doesn't know (and what neither of them wanted to reveal to her, for obvious reasons) is that her biological father is matthias. he used to cheat on silvia with esmé, who tried to leave him after finding out that he's married and that she's into women, but he manipulated her into repressing her attraction to women so she'd stay with him and coerced her into having sex with him.

♡ she's fairly loud about her shipping of abel and lincoln (but obviously not in front of them) and has gotten up to many shenanigans together with amalia trying to set them up, starting from the very first moment they saw the two interacting without arguing.

♡ she is 100% a girl written in pink, glittery gel pen. she frequently listens to female pop artists like britney spears, madonna, sabrina carpenter, (as of recently) chappell roan, girls generation and tomoko kawase. she's also a sanrio girlie and likes dressing in kawaii fashion with a bit of coquette inspiration. (yes all of my mcs are fashion icons don't blame me)

♡ mia does not sleep in that grey hoodie, most of the time she sleeps in bloomers or night gowns/baby dolls but those last ones are usually saved for when she wants to impress amalia. she does wear hoodies (rarely, but she does) but they're in her usual pastel color palette.

ps: if any matty stans follow my blog i'm sorry for making him into an even worse piece of crap than he is in canon

♡ she's very into writing and has been since she was a kid. she writes a bit of everything from poetry to fanfic to original stories and wants to have her works published in the future. ever since amalia got into fanfic as well, mia has beta read for her as well as given her writing tips.

♡ despite neither of them seeing matty as a father, mia still has a healthy sibling relationship with lincoln and considers him to be one of her best friends (and her one closest platonic friend ever since her relationship with amalia turned romantic). the fact they're related has yet to fully sink in for her, but the more time they spend together, the more things in common they realize they have. mlm wlw solidarity fr

#playchoices #play choices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #choices game #pixelberry #pb #pb choices #choices it lives #it lives anthology #it lives series #it lives within #ils #ilw #ilw mc #calico's mcs #meet my mc #mc: euphemia labelle

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weclassybouquetfun · 1 year

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Thank goodness for Taron Egerton (and John) because how else would ever know what's going on with Edward Holcroft. This long absence - has he fallen into the sea? Got lost in the forest? We'd never know if it weren't for these random IG stories of Taron (and John) of Ed.

Where is Edward now? Who knows. What is known is that he won't be seen in FX's adaptation of NEVER LET ME GO because the project has been scrapped. So yes, another Holcroft Hiatus is in the offing.

I must admit I didn't really belive that Ed Holcroft account was legit but I was wrong.

Another missing KINGSMAN star is Colin Firth. Colin has been busy in the past couple of years with back-to-back projects (MOTHERING SUNDAY, EMPIRE OF LIGHT, THE STAIRCASE) and he even pops up in the romantic-comedy RYE LANE (currently in theaters in the UK, streaming on Hulu in the U.S). But he has nothing currently lined up according to IMDB - even the action-comedy NEW YORK WILL EAT YOU that he was attached to in 2020 is not listed.

-Now someone who will not stop working is Taron Egerton and I, for one, am happy for that.

He can currently be seen in the excellent AppleTV+'s film TETRIS produced by Matthew Vaughn's MARV Films.

Taron and costar Nikita Efremov are so great.

Taron has CARRY ON in post-production and is doing a three-peater with AppleTV+ by reteaming with the streamer and his BLACK BIRD creator Dennis Lehane for FIREBUG (which Egerton will also serve as executive producer).

What is it about?: "Written by Lehane and inspired by true events, Firebug will follow a troubled detective and an enigmatic arson investigator (played by Rocketman star Egerton) as they pursue the trails of two serial arsonists."

Taron has donned his producer hat by acquiring the screen rights to Josh Silver's debut novel, the LGBTQ+ psychological thriller, "HappyHead". So far he has no plans to act in the project.

When Taron isn't working he's gassing people up, like his ROCKETMAN costar Kit Connor .

KINGSMAN ROLL CALL

-Mark Strong is another one who doesn't rest on his laurels. He can be currently seen on Netflix's MURDER MYSTERY 2 starring Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston.

He also has 8 projects in various stages of production including the upcoming HBO Max series DUNE: THE SISTHERHOOD. But with the constant changes at WB/Disco(very) and the series director and one of the leads, Shirley Henderson, exiting the project, who Is to say that the series will ever happen.

Taron and Mark at a BAFTA party.

-Another KINGSMAN alum with 8 projects in various stages of production is Samuel L. Jackson. One of them being the upcoming DISNEY+ series SECRET INVASION.

He also has the Matthew Vaughn directed ARGYLLE starring Henry Cavill, Bryce Dallas Howard and Sam Rockwell and DAMAGED starring the always intriguing Vincent Cassel

-Not a BAFTA party but Vanity Fair Oscar party, Sofia Boutella bumped into her former boss Madonna and her fellow former back-up dancers to Madge.

Boutella can be currently seen in Steven Knight's ROGUE HEROES and she will be in Zack Snyder's upcoming REBEL MOON.

-Sophia Cookson was recently seen in ITV's mini- THE CONFESSIONS of FRANNIE LANGTON and will be seen soon in Lee Tamahori's (ONCE WERE WARRIORS), EMPEROR in the lead role. The film also stars Adrien Brody and Bill Skarsgård. She also has STOCKHOLM BLOODBATH coming up.

Set pictures of Sophie and her little one.

Sophie's partner Stephen Campbell-Moore shares a daughter with ex-wife Claire Foy.

#kingsman #taron egerton #mark strong #edward holcroft #colin firth #sophie cookson #sofia boutella #samuel l jackson #vincent cassel #kit connor #tetris #secret invasion #ed holcroft

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whatsaninterestingplacethisis · 30 minutes

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summer love

Imagine

Adam Fantilli x Latina!Reader

synop: Adam and y/n meet during dinner in Italy, spending what seems an endless summer together.

song-spo: mystery of love by sufjan stevens + crazy for you by madonna (this song captures the final scene so perfectly like 13 going on 30 lmao)

genre: slowburn rom-com, heavy on the comedy bc i think i'm hilarious, but def has cute scenes. 7.1K words! (longest i've written??)

Prompts: building tension prompt

an: call me by your name vibezz + one day trip to greece vibez. shy adam with no rizz hehe. too many bad jokes/mentions of his italian ancestry lmao, witty & snarky friendship 😆 i literally forget what team adam favored for his draft my bad. also i know zip of italian culture so hopefully i didn't butcher anything nor have i visited italy lmao

cw: drinking, cussing, skinny dipping, innuendo with spoons?

It was a spontaneous trip which only it made it all the better.

Saving up the money, booking the flight, and the stay. With no itinerary, you spent the past two days on the beach and sleeping in from the jet lag.

You figured you would put your new wardrobe to use by wearing it out to dinner. It was a warm night, the sky turning into a dark blue, eventually turning black with stars sprinkled above.

You wore a loose summer dress to try an Italian cuisine. It was daunting to eat alone in a foreign country but then again you made it across the pond into a foreign country all alone. It didn't come this far to starve. So you ate and drank a bit of wine.

In between sips and chewing, you people watched. Noticing the large touristy family trying to eat dinner in peace. A native Italian couple staring at each other lovingly. And then there was you, all alone with no one across from you but it was okay. You were content. No one there knew you or even acknowledged your presence. With a light breeze in the air and the muffled sounds of people it put you at ease.

You took another and final sip from your glass, as your eyes hooked with a stranger's eyes. They stayed there until the stranger bashfully looked away, failing to hold back a smile.

You noticed this stranger sitting with what seems like his family. Him being the only one on the restaurant patio acknowledging your existence put you on edge.

You avoided looking at his direction as you waved the waiter for the bill. You fidgeted nervously with the table cloth as you waited. When he returned, he not only came back with the bill but a small bowl of pink, you assumed, what was strawberry gelato.

"Oh I didn't order this," you looked at the waiter with confusion,

"No, he did." he pointed across the outdoor patio to said stranger. He had a slight blush to his cheeks, nodding his head to the both of you.

"I see, thank you." you bid goodbye the his service after paying for your meal. You looked back down at the cold dessert and right up the stranger. You took a big sigh as you signaled him to come over to your table. You noticed how his eyes widened and him talking to his presumed family. He made his way to your single table as his family's eyes followed his path.

By the time he sat across from you, his family's eyes were on you, but you ignored them for now,

"Bold move with the soft serve." you finally took a bite of the gelato, waiting for him to make another move.

"Is it? I was just trying to be nice I guess."

"Just nice? What if I didn't call you over? Would you send another dessert?" you teased him, curious of his thinking.

He laughed, "Maybe I would have ordered one for me after the rejection," he took a clean spoon from the table and dove into your dessert, "but you did call me over, so thanks." the spoon made a pop sound when he licked it clean.

"I'm Adam."

"Well Adam, you just took a bite of my gelato."

"Well technically I paid for it." He said as he took another spoonful from your bowl.

"Wow, so thats how you treat a lady?" you dramatically say as you eat more of you and Adam's dessert.

"I'm y/n." you lean back into your chair, staring this man down. You caught what seems like his brother and mother peeking behind his shoulder from their table.

"Is that your family?" you nodded towards their direction. He turned around and saw them snap their heads in any other direction.

He chortled, running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, don't pay attention to them. They'll just embarrass me."

"What, you don't pick up girls often? Especially with dessert?" you joked and he laughed too,

He shook his head as he laughed but stared at you intently with a soft smile, "No, no I don't."

You didn't think his sweet gesture would lead anywhere, but you were starting to like him.

"So, Adam, have you been in Italy before?" It was a silly question to ask but you didn't know anything about him. He went on to tell you how he had family here and he had visited often. He even mentioned his last name and that definitely proved his rich culture to your amusement,

"Fantilli?! Wow, I don't think I've ever heard such an Italian name before!"

"It's not that Italian..." he basked in his shyness as he rambled off on his culture,

"Oh you're kidding, you got the double i and everything." you enjoyed teasing him because you both knew it was light hearted.

"So where are you from?" The shared gelato had been long gone yet the conversation flowed smoothly.

"Nobleton, it's near Toronto, but I live in Columbus for work."

"Columbus as in Ohio?!" you squinted at his answer, forcing him to hold back a laugh.

"Well it wasn't really my choice, LA would have been my first choice."

"Somehow LA is worse than Ohio." you blatantly say making him laugh. Before you could ask him more about which lesser of the cities were his choice, a tall figure appeared at your table.

"Hey bro, mom and dad are ready to head back." The standing figure smiled to you and smirked to Adam making him scoff at him.

"I'll be there in a few." Adam replied

"For sure," he said with another grin as he loudly slapped Adam's shoulder as he walked off.

"Was that your brother?" you asked the obvious,

"Unfortunately," he tried to not reach for his shoulder but his face grimaced in pain.

"Well." you said waiting to see how Adam was going to end this night,

"Well...what?" he chuckled ignorantly

"It was nice talking with you." you said honestly,

"Oh yeah, it was" he stands and gets ready to leave "have a goodnight y/n"

"Adam!" you raise your voice before he turns all the way, "Are you really not gonna ask for my number?"

"I didn't know you still wanted to talk with me." he rubbed the back of his neck,

"You know you have to be more bold than ordering dessert across a restaurant to know if a girl is in interested." you stood up to sort of reach his level, "So?"

He pulled out his phone and handed it to you,

"There, now we can talk more if you want to." you gave back his phone,

"Oh, I want to."

"Then I expect a text whenever possible." Both of you were aware that you would have less than a week together in Italy but it would be enough.

"Your family is waiting," you whispered,

"I'll see you soon y/n," he whispered back,

"I hope so." you watched him walk back to his family and left before they could catch another glimpse of you.

--- Day One ---

The next morning you got dressed for whatever the day presented with. You walked to a near cafe for a freshly brewed cappuccino and buttered pastry.

You were in the middle of journaling your trip so far, about to detail the discourse of the night before, when said discourse sat across from you.

"Morning stranger, I was just going to text you," he said with sunglasses on.

You nonchalantly closed your journal, "Were you? before or after ordering breakfast?"

"Well it looks like you just finished yours," he reached to the small and last portion of your croissant,

"You know what Fantilli, you are making a habit of eating my food."

"I'll make it up to you, c'mon," he softly grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the incoming tourist traffic,

"And where are we going?" you struggled to put your journal back into your bag.

"It's a surprise."

"Let me guess, the beach?"

"Somewhere where only the locals know about," he teased his idea. He noticed his hand was now intertwined with yours and hesitated to remove his hand. Before you even noticed his hand placement, he slyly moved his away to fix his hair under his hat.

After complaining of walking for at least 15 minutes, you finally went off trail, into nature, walking on sand to a huge cove opening of a secluded beach. The both of you stood in the cove's shade, watching the small waves crashing onto shore.

"I'll give you props of your local knowledge," you yelled over the ocean's noise that echoed in the cove with your hands on your hips.

"Does it make up for the croissant?"

"It does. But you still ate my gelato last night,"

"Yeah I knew you wouldn't forget about that so I have another surprise location after this one,"

"Woah, you came prepared Fantilli," you jokingly pushed him away, noticing his newfound confidence in comparison of last night.

"Do you have swim shorts on?" you asked him, inching closer towards the shore,

"Like you said, I came prepared."

"Then, last one to the water owes the other a gelato!" you bolted running halfway through your sentence, tossing your bag to the side, leaving Adam shocked but he was right after you.

Adam was far behind to see you swiftly take off your sundress and dive into the cool clear waters. Coming up for air, you saw him struggle to take off his regular shorts on the shore, leaving him embarrassed by your gaze.

"C'mon Fantilli, do you need my help?!" you yelled across the distance with a smirk. Soon he came into the water too, his shoulders shaking from the cold.

"You owe me a gelato." you said with a grin.

"Fine. But I'll just eat some of it, again." he said with a dumb smirk,

"I won't let you," you splashed a bit of water at him which ensued in a way too serious water fight. After both of you surrendering for the nth time and coughing up water, you dried out in the sun. You started a new journal entry, describing the cove and its scenery.

Adam on the other hand, noticed your small camera in an open pocket of your bag, and took it to himself to capture the late morning with photographs. He caught a single candid of you journaling, the immediate next shot was you noticing him taking pictures.

"What are doing?"

"Capturing memories." he turned the camera over the take a selfie of the two of you, "smile!"

You snatched your camera back to look at the photos and they were actually pretty good.

"So where is this second secret location, hm?"

"It's a secret for a reason."

“I don’t like secrets.” you admitted

“Yeah I can tell.”

“Don’t be rude.” you nudged his shoulder again

“I’m not, I’m just making an observation.” he laughed at your faked offense,

“Just promise me we won’t have to walk as far.”

“I promise we won’t have to walk at all.”

“Now I’m starting to like the sound of this.”

After drying in the sun completely you made it back to the city to call a taxi to take you said secret location.

The taxi dropped you off in the outskirts of the city, off the road there was a large shed of racks on racks of bicycles.

“Okay what exactly is this secret location?�� you asked perplexed,

“This is only halfway to our destination, we bike the rest way in.”

Adam rented two bikes for the both of you and although you were caught off guard, you enjoyed biking, catching a breeze rather than walking in uncomfortable shoes.

You wanted to bug Adam again of where you were going on the ride to there, but you soon figured it out. In the distance there were rows of what you assumed were grape vines.

You were so preoccupied of where you were going that you didn’t appreciate the view of the countryside. It was beautiful to say the least, the skies were clear expect with big silky white clouds, the fields were bright green with patches of yellow, and the winding hills in the distance were mesmerizing.

When you reached the vineyard there was again racks on racks of bikes and once stocked away, Adam guided you to join a tour of wine tasting the freshest grapes of Italy, at least that’s what he said.

You weren’t a big drinker, nor a fan of wine but it felt appropriate to wine taste when in Italy. You didn’t want to drink too much because you did have to bike back. Which left you curious on how many people crashed into bushes on the way back.

Luckily the vineyard also had a restaurant so you could finally get something proper to eat along with the alcohol.

“Cheers,” you clinked your glass with Adam’s as the crumbs of lunch sat on your plates.

"I'll give you credit Fantilli, your locations are superb for a tourist like me. I've been graced with your existence to be my personal guide." You had a trait for theatrics.

"Thank you, but to be regarded as only a personal tourist guide hurts a little." Adam put his hand over his heart. He reached your level of theatrics very well.

"Okay in addition to a phenomenal guide, you are becoming a friendly friend."

"Friendly friend." he repeated robotically, mocking you.

"That is what I said." you took another sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment on how to describe what the two of you have. Luckily the waiter had returned with none other than strawberry gelato.

"Here you go, friendly friend, your promised gelato." He pushed the bowl towards you, "And I promise this time I won't eat it," you could tell he meant it as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"How nice of you," you took the first bite of the cold dessert which was much needed for the hot and fun day you two had. Which only made you feel bad for him.

"Do you want some?" you asked as licked your spoon clean,

He stumbled onto his words as he stared at you, "Nope I'm good."

If he really wanted some he would order one for himself, you thought. But hell, he can have a spoonful or two of your gelato. He's made a habit of paying for them so might as well.

You slightly sighed as you pushed the bowl towards him, "Go ahead have some."

"I'm fine really. Plus I bought it for you since you won fair and square." He tried to be humble but you could read him like a book in the moment.

"I can practically hear your salivating all the way from here." You dipped a new spoon into the bowl and gestured to him, "So have some."

"Are you sure?" he finally broke as he uncrossed his arms,

"Yes I'm sure. I don't want you passing out from not eating a cold soft serve on a hot day."

He didn't hesitate on your yes and dove in but was able to mumble with a mouth full, "gelato isn't a soft serve, actually."

"I should have let you passed out."

He smiled as he wiped gelato off his lips. You smiled at how stupidly cute he was. The first day spent together was short as he had plans with his family the later half of the day but promised to have a fun itinerary to spend with you.

--- Day Two ---

Your afternoon was shared with Adam this day. And he went all out this time. He told you to meet him by a near ship dock, which already had you stressed of where this was going.

He texted you the night before to wear active clothes but have a swimsuit on. When he mentioned the first you tried not to complain so early.

So you found yourself dressed in appropriate clothing waiting for him.

"Yo!" you turned to see who was calling and you saw Adam standing in a small size boat with his arms stretched out all proud.

"Hi," you walked forward, "So what's the plan for today?"

"Well do you see that island not that far away?" he pointed towards a small but very clear island across the water, "There is one my best local locations, but we have to get there on boat, obviously." he stretched out his hand to help you step inside.

"And whose boat is this?" you asked out of concern how costly these expenses were,

"My family's." he said with a soft smile. You couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

You placed your bag on the many of available seats, "Okay, so whose steering the boat?" you turned to him with your hands on your hips, looking for any other sign of the driver.

Your eyes followed Adam as he got behind the wheel, staring the engine, turning back to you; "I'm your captain this evening." he said with a big grin as he steered away from the dock, making you lose your balance,

"Oh! Of course you are!" you sarcastically yell over the loud engine. We are so dead, you thought, as you sat down in the passenger seat.

You held onto your hat as the strong winds were begging to pull it off your head. Adam noticed your uneasiness and tried to calm you with his stories of driving since a young age. After the short ride to the island and docking safely you felt slightly confident into his skills.

As soon as you two docked, you didn't notice much of the Island besides a small beach and the mountain itself.

"We're not hiking this Island, are we?" you asked as you both walked towards a base of a trail,

"Fortunately, yes." he answered as he fidgeted with his sunglasses on his nose,

"You do remember me complaining of walking yesterday right?"

"Yep" he said ever so nonchalantly

"So you thought hiking would be the next best thing to do?" you tried to reciprocate his calm demeanor but you could already imagine how sore your legs would be in the morning.

"Listen, the hike is not that bad and the view on top is rewarding!"

Ten minutes into climbing elevation, he lied. You were trying your best to control your breathing as he looked like he was barely breathing.

He was kind enough to stay with your pace though, "Just a little more," he said to inspire motivation,

"Out of curiosity, why are you not heaving like me?" He tried to laugh it off until you came to a stop. You were glad his answer was long enough for you to probe with more questions to give you a break. Nevertheless his answer left you surprised and impressed.

"Now you know why Ohio wasn't my first choice." He grabbed you hand and pulled you to keep on walking.

Now, you didn't hike the whole Island but just high enough to make matters worse, cliff jump. Still holding your hand, Adam slowly guided you towards an opening of trees and bushes to look over a cliff at dark blue water, which only made you feel sick.

"This view is not rewarding. My stomach is churning." you admitted as you pulled back from the scary view, removing your hand from his.

"Oh c'mon we are barely that high up,"

"We are high enough! Even if I were to jump, how do we get our clothes back?" you stared at him intently waiting for an answer,

He just stood there grimacing knowing you wouldn't like the answer, "We hike back...?"

"You're joking." you say exasperatedly. You didn't say it aloud, but these plans were a huge downgrade the day before.

He stepped forward and grabbed your hands, "We already made it up here and technically there is only one fun way down, so why not?"

You stood there staring at him blankly. "I'll hike back alone to get our stuff. Would you do it then?" he tried to negotiate but you were not budging,

"You would have to throw me off this cliff before I jump." your statement led him to raise an eyebrow and smirk,

"You are not throwing me off this damn cliff!" you lightly pushed his arms away,

"I would never. But think about it, if you jump you don't have to walk or hike at all!"

"If I jump, I'll probably never walk again!"

He tried to hold back a laugh, "Literally we are not that high up and if you land right you'll be fine. We'll jump together and I'll make sure."

You looked at him like he was crazy. You slowly walked over to peek over the cliff again and you guessed it wasn't that high. You shut your eyes tight and cursed him out in your head.

"Fuck it if this dive doesn't kill me you better hope it does." You started to take off your shoes and clothes revealing your swimsuit.

Adam stood there watching you and how quickly your mood changed, "You better start stripping because this adrenaline is temporary." He quickly followed suit and was ready to jump.

Your body shook in nerves and excitement, "Ready?" he asked as he held your again for the nth time,

All you could sound out was a scared mhm as you squeezed his hand. Then he started counting, "One...Two...Three!" You felt your body go numb as you ran off that cliff, involuntarily screaming before holding your breath for the cold impact. You opened your eyes underwater as you quickly tried to swim back up for air.

As soon as you broke the surface you looked for Adam. When you found him he broke the surface too and flipped his soaked hair behind him. When he saw you, he smiled making you break out into a huge grin, "You did it!" he yelled in pride,

"That was insane!" you bursted out laughing, almost turning hysterical but Adam started laughing too.

As the ocean's movement was nudging you, you admired at the island and it's size. You took in nature's colors from the dark blue water to the grey and browns rock formation to the bright green foliage of the trees. The sun was heading west on the opposite side, leaving you and Adam to float in the Island's shade.

As your adrenaline started to wear off, you started to feel how cold the water really was and decided to swim back to shore.

As you walked back to the dock, Adam asked, "So do you still want to kill me?"

"Not at the moment, no. Just don't try that scenario ever again."

You patiently waited, wrapped in a towel, for Adam to bring back your stuff, and you didn't feel any bit guilty for it.

He made it back less than 20 minutes, as you saw a glimpse of him jogging down the hill with your bag around him.

"Here you go, my lady" he passed you your bag, out of breath.

"Thank you, kind sir." you slipped on a sun dress you packed away.

After a few minutes of readjusting, you were on your way back to the mainland. Just in time as golden hour was setting in. The cool breeze felt calming after that rush. The breeze slowed down as the boat came to a slow stop.

"What's wrong?" you asked Adam, assuming the worst, if you two were now stranded right between two land markings.

"Just wanted to stop for a bit to enjoy the sunset on the water," He made his way over the rear of the boat with the cushioned seats. You followed his actions, taking a seat next to him; your torsos turned to the vast water. It was nature's silence filled with the calm waves splashing against the boat. Both of you sat there in shared existence, wishing the moment could last longer than it would end.

Adam turned his head to look at you, he noticed how the sun lit up your warm skin tone perfectly. How the golden hour made your hair shine. He couldn't describe it more awkwardly by saying, "You look shiny."

You furrowed your brows with a smirk on your face, "shiny?" you questioned as you looked at him,

"I mean you're glowing." he stumbled over his vocabulary as he wanted to smack himself,

"Glowing?" you poked fun at him crumbling right before your eyes.

"Ugh the sun is hitting your face perfectly. You look good." he said tired of his attempts to simply compliment a girl.

You reiterated plainly as possible, "I look good." ensuing him to groan in embarrassment, covering his face with his hands.

You nudge his shoulder laughing at his embarrassment, "You're adorable," you whisper.

You sat there, hugging your knees, laying your head on them as you admired the boy who has made this trip more special than you could have possibly imagined.

He turned to look at you only to be met with your intimidating gaze, but he held it as he realized for the past 48 hours, his mind has been flooded of you and only you.

As he held your shared gaze, you lifted your head, straightening your posture expecting him to lean forward. Although he considers it, he turns away and clears his throat, "We should head back before it gets dark."

He leaves you sitting at the back of the boat to start the engine. You could have sworn something was happening but didn't think twice of it. You pulled out your journal and began to start a new entry for the unexpectedly thrilling day.

Adam, now seated behind the helm, peered back at you as he started to drive off. He put his sunglasses back on as he shook his head at himself, stupid, he whispered to himself.

--- Day Three ---

The evening of the boat was two days ago. And in the habit of texting, sending voice messages, and calling whenever possible Adam had said his family were insistent on the plans they made beforehand so he couldn't meet you often as he wanted. With unfortunate timing, today was your last full day in Italy, tomorrow morning you will be on a flight back home.

You spent half the day to yourself checking things off your bucket list and trying all the cafes social media influencers suggested. When Adam texted you he was finally available, you told him you wanted to shop at a local market to buy some souvenirs. In less than half an hour he was able to meet you there, props to his running skills.

He found you admiring the gold necklaces at one stand, chatting with the vendor. He admired how bright your face lit up as you laughed, even with blacked-out shades on that made you look so, in the nicest way possible, unapproachable.

He stayed away for a bit to catch his breath. He found himself always running for you, but he would never complain. As he slowed his breath he found a site that he never thought would bother him as much as it did.

He felt his body freeze and go numb as he saw that famous smile of yours show because of a young man. He had dark, almost black hair and was slightly taller than Adam. He saw how he took the necklace you were looking at from your hands and positioned it around your neck. There was a small mirror hanged up and the man guided you to turn towards it to get a better look.

He saw your reflection as you nodded to whatever he was saying. Adam felt his jaw clenching as he saw the man move your hair off your shoulder to help you better.

As the vendor's son was trying to convince you the necklace was perfect for you, your eyes caught Adam in the reflection behind you. You turned to the overly kind man and thanked him but declined his offer for now.

You lightly jogged towards Adam and noticed his stoic expression, "Hey stranger, haven't seen you in a while," It was like he didn't even noticed you ran up to him, his gaze was still stuck on the tall dark haired man.

You placed your shades on your head, "Hello?" you grabbed his left hand to sway it side to side. Your touch is what finally made him acknowledge your presence.

"I don’t see you for two days and you’re already trying to replace me with another Italian?" he sounded so literal but he was joking, kind of.

You noticed how he looked down at you with an ever so slight pout. So you couldn't help to tease him, "Don't kid yourself Fantilli, you're from Nobleton, not Tuscany." you kept fidgeting with his hand,

His jaw dropped just a bit before he pulled his hand away after that comment, "So I'm not Italian enough for you?" he scoffed.

"No I guess not" you say in a sad voice with a pouty lip before grinning,

He crossed his arms across his chest, "I could easily use my Italian skills to get you half the price of whatever jewelry you want."

"Wait you're Italian? You haven't said so at all!?" you replied sarcastically to how many times you've heard the word Italian in a conversation.

He rolled his eyes, making you giggle, as he took two steps to walk away. You stopped him with your hand on his chest to bring him back in front of you,

"I'm just messing with you Adam, I mean your last name speaks for itself does it not?" you smiled up at him hoping you didn't actually hurt his feelings.

"You're a bully." he muttered as he looked at the general view of the market, avoiding your eyes.

"Hmm, I don't think so. But if you say so!" You interlocked your hand with his, "C'mon I really want that necklace and like you said I could use your useful Italian skills." you enunciated the overused word,

"You can get a similar necklace from another vendor." Adam stated as he led the way to another jewelry vendor, "They all sale the same products anyway." he muttered in annoyance at how he couldn't stay mad at you long.

With his help, Adam suggested and was kind enough to buy another a piece of jewelry you were eyeing. And of course he helped you to wear it as soon as you bought it. After more window shopping, you headed to have your final dinner in Italy. It was also the final shared dinner with Adam, but it was fulfilling. As you took advantage of consuming alcohol in a foreign country, conversation flowed with curiosity as you and Adam learned more about each other and life back home. Even if both of your homes were far away from each other.

“I’m gonna miss authentic strawberry gelato,” you licked your lips as you and Adam walked to the outskirts of the nearest beach. You suggested to stargaze on the beach after dinner.

“You have me to thank for that.” He bolstered himself as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you finally met sand.

As you walked a bit further to find the perfect spot to lay down, you plopped yourself to the ground, pulling on Adam’s arm with you. As you laid back you saw the twinkling stars spinning, most likely from the wine.

Adam laid down right next to you and admired the same stars, his stars not spinning as much.

“This is nice,” he whispered over the soft waves,

“This is perfect.” you whispered back,

Your left hand hesitantly searched for Adam’s and once you found it, he instantly interlocked his fingers with yours. He fidgeted with one of the rings he bought you a few hours earlier.

After the shared moment with the ocean as ambient noise, Adam sat up, making you copy him.

“Should we take a final swim?” He asked as he looked ahead at the moon reflected water,

“I don’t have a swimsuit under my dress,” you practically replied,

“So?” he said confidently,

“What are you insinuating, Fantilli?” you started to giggle, some fault at the alcohol.

“C’mon,” he stood up and he helped you up to stand. He walked closer to the water and started to take off his shirt.

“Are serious?” you sobered up quick as you fixated on his back muscles, “the water is going to be freezing!” He continued to take off his shorts, “you might want to turn around,” he offered and he stripped completely naked.

You quickly covered your eyes and shrieked at him for his boldness, “Adam what the hell are you doing!?” You heard him laugh and heard the calm water being disturbed before he shouted from the cold.

Assuming it was safe to look, you saw him floating upright in the dark water,

“Is it cold?” You whispered-yelled, afraid of someone seeing you two but it was late at night and the streets were practically empty.

“It’s alright.” He said through chattering teeth.

“Your turn.” He yelled back from the water,

“You’re insane! I’m not stripping naked!” you crossed your arms as the chilly breeze gave you goosebumps.

“Oh c’mon it’s your last night here, you have to do something insane like skinny dipping!”

You stood there contemplating. If you were going to be honest, you really did want to. You were just afraid of someone catching you two.

“You’ll regret if you don’t.” he broke your silence,

“Turn around!” You caught a glimpse of him smiling before turning around and covering his eyes. You did a final scope of the area and swiftly took of your dress and underwear. You slowly stepped into the freezing water, which felt like torture.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you nudged Adam’s shoulder as he finally turned around.

He smiled very mischievously, “What?” you nervously chuckled

“We’re both entirely naked, yet we can’t see each other because it’s so dark out.” His smile turned into a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and splashed him, not too hard because you were still afraid of being too loud. But that was hopeless as Adam splashed you back harder, ensuing part two of the water fight from the first day.

“Adam stop!” you tried to grab his hands from making any more noise. He finally put his hands down stifling his laughter at your nerves.

“We’re definitely gonna get caught with your loud ass,” you flicked water at him for the final time.

“No we’re not.” he whispered back as he flicked water at you for the final time too.

You stared at him wondering how he’s not at all worried as you are. He stared at you finding how adorable your concern was. The more you stared into his eyes and examining his face, you realized he was doing the exact same thing.

“Why are you staring at me?” you scoffed at his gaze,

“You were staring at me first.” he said matter of factly

“No I wasn’t.” you scoffed again.

Besides the water slightly rippling from trying to stay afloat, something change. You were no longer cold, as you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You noticed how shallow your breathing and how it matched to Adam’s.

Adam felt the change too. He felt his heart racing, he could hear his blood pumping through his ears. His eyes wandered over your face and looked down at your lips.

He slightly cocked his head as he leaned forward, almost immediately you reciprocated as you two slowly kissed in the ocean. Before your lips could savor his touch, your mind pulled you away from him.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized as soon as he felt your lips disconnected from his.

“No it’s okay. I just wasn’t prepared.” you tried to cool your warm cheeks with the saltwater but it didn’t help. “I didn’t think I was going to kiss you tonight.” you admitted.

“Really? Because I’ve been thinking about it non stop since we were on the boat.” He confessed as he tried to cool the back of his neck with the surrounding water, it didn’t work either.

“Yeah- I mean- I thought about that moment on the boat too. I guess I wasn’t sure if you were going to kiss me or not.”

“I wanted too. I really did, I was just second guessing myself, so I didn’t.” he trailed off his sentence as honesty poured out from the both of you.

Both of you floated there in silence which made you giggle. Before Adam could question you, you pulled him closer for another, longer and sensual, kiss. Neither of you pulling away but each others lips melting into one another’s.

You felt his lips smile making you reciprocate but your paranoia was getting to you again as things were escalating in the water. So when you pulled away to see if anyone was nearby, Adam’s forehead bumped into your nose as he followed your lips for another kiss.

“Ow” you said simultaneously. Both of you laughed it off, Adam cutting off your laughter with multiple swift kisses.

You put a hand on his chest to stop him, “Okay lover boy, let’s get out of here before I wrinkle like a raisin.”

You got out first to dress and Adam followed second. As soon as you both got dressed, he pulled you into another kiss on the beach, making smile into the kiss, again.

He walked you back to your hotel, holding hands of course. Both of you, but Adam especially, were acting delirious. A teenage summer romance in Italy, it couldn’t be anymore perfect.

You dreadfully reached the outside of your building, signaling the end of this night and trip. You turned to Adam for the final time that night, “I’m leaving tomorrow.” You whispered as you wrapped your arms around him as you gazed up at him.

“I’m aware.” He snaked his arms around you.

“It just had to be the last hour we have together for you to kiss me.” You placed the blame on him for not speeding up the process.

“Trust me I’ve been beating myself up since our boating day.” He titled his head back in frustration.

Although the moment was bitter sweet you were elated to get to know Adam, spend your trip with him, and to fall for him.

“Adam, it’s late. I should head in, I still have to pack.” you picked at his chain around his neck.

“Right.” he hoarsely whispered. For a second he had forgotten that the sun would rise again and you would leave to go back home.

“Adam?” you softly held the side of his face to make him to look at you,

“Hm?” he softly responded,

“Will you see me out tomorrow morning? A taxi will be picking me up right here. Can we say goodbye then?”

He fondly smiles as he nods into your hand. You move your hand to the back of his neck. Steadying yourself onto your tip toes to pull him into a kiss. You pulled away first, like always. You whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning.” you took one more look at him for the night and walked inside.

Adam’s long walk back to his bed felt short as he relived the night. The smell your perfume on him. The feel your touch on his lips. He didn’t think of the goodbye. He only thought that he would see you again tomorrow.

--- Final Minutes ---

You regretted booking such an early flight. Too early to have a final Italian breakfast. You would have something at the airport, you thought as you heard your stomach growl.

You messaged Adam last night right after you headed inside what time to meet you, wincing at how early the time would be.

Now you were waiting, in the lobby with your bags, for the taxi to pull up. You checked your phone noticing Adam hadn’t texted you since last night’s meeting time confirmation.

You started to feel a knot in your stomach. Even after what happened last night, hell the whole trip: you second guessed Adam’s intentions. What if he slept in? Or worse, he didn’t show up at all? You were hoping neither.

You saw a taxi pull up front the glass windows of the lobby and stood up with shaky knees because Adam still hadn’t arrived.

As you walked outside, looking around to find him running like you always found him, you didn’t see him. You sighed as you confirmed the taxi was indeed for you. You popped the trunk as you struggled to place your luggage inside. You took one more panoramic glance and opened the back seat door.

“Wait!” you heard someone faintly yell and you knew it was him.

You saw him run up the hilly street, the same road you two walked up last night from the beach. You shook your head as he struggled to sprint up the road. As he neared, you told the driver to wait a few a minutes.

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the cars rear, visibly judging Adam’s tardiness.

“I’m so sorry. I kind of slept in, I got home late last night, but that’s no excuse. Sorry. But you’re still here and now I’m here!” He rambled on showing clear remorse, which only made you grin.

“For a second Fantilli, I thought I imagined everything that happened last night.” you softly laughed off your worries now that his presence proved otherwise.

“Everything that happened last night was very real to me.” He stated its importance of the previous late night.

“And now it’s all coming to an end.” You stood up straight, never losing his eye contact.

“Maybe it’s the end of us in Italy, but it could be more back in the states?” he ended his sentence with hope making you smile, yet again.

“If you wanna say something Fantilli, now’s your chance.” you softly chuckled at his still timid self.

“Will I see you again?” He tucked both of his hands into his pockets, nervous for your response.

“Maybe, who knows?” you shrugged your shoulders sarcastically, “Maybe I’ll see you in Ohio.” you smiled fondly at him,

“Or LA.” he replies as he remembers your first ever conversation.

“Or LA.” you repeated softly.

There was a melancholy silence shared between you two that was quickly interrupted with the taxi drivers loud horn, making both of you jump.

As you admired Adam’s laugh and smile for the last time, you pulled him in for a goodbye kiss. He quickly melted into you, his hands finding your hip and face. This kiss lasting the longest, it was Adam who pulled away first, only inches from your face as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll see you whenever and wherever, Fantilli.” you whispered to him. You titled your head back to give him a soft kiss.

“Goodbye Adam.”

“Goodbye y/n.”

Adam stood there body warm and sweaty from his run but also how naturally you made him felt. He stared at your taxi driving off. As he went to turn around he saw your head pop out the window, dramatically sending him an air kiss. He laughs at your behavior, indulging your antics by dramatically catching it.

As he saw your head pop back into the car he felt his phone buzz. A text message from no one other than you, reading:

Save that kiss, it’ll be a while before I can kiss you again.

#adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #nhl imagine #jells🪼imagines #latina!reader

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the-cryptographer · 4 days

Text

finished A Game of Thrones today. rambling post that covers stuff over the last couple weeks.

Incredibly embarrassing to me that both Renly and Littlefinger lay out terms for their support of Ned, he refuses them both, but then still goes on believing he can rely on their help on his terms. Like him expecting Renly to stick around and support him and being so shocked pikachu face that Renly up and left overnight. Of course Petyr betraying Ned was really a matter of 'when' more than 'if', and I'm only tentatively willing to believe that Renly was better in that regard, but any support better than no support in those circumstances, Ned, omg.

Ned and Cersei really do have chemistry hate to say it. Did very much enjoy him telling her to take her children and flee, something something Robert's wrath. And Cersei's line, 'And what of my wrath?' Extremely good and sexy.

Was kinda dreading the story of Tyrion's first love/wife being brought up, and I was right to be. I don't remember having this strong a reaction to his character first time around, but the madonna-whore dichotomy between [vaguely-described first wife who I think tbh would be entirely justified wanting to marry this dude for his money first and his personality second because we certainly have very little info about why she fell for him] and Shae is a-ha *grimace*. I'm a fan of the books over the show in most regards, but I do think the show deciding to just focus more on Shae is one of those choices I think was unequivocally for the best. and knowing where all this is going (femicide) the thing I am most excited to see is how intentionally evil the whole thing comes off to me in this rereading. I think there's a lot to be said about Tyrion being the child that most resembles Tywin - for better and for worse - but it will be nice to see how much the worse part gets textual acknowledgement.

For some reason I thought Maester Aemon being a Targaryen was something they didn't reveal until later books. Tho tbh with a name like Aemon it was hardly a secret so idk why I thought that.

Hoster Tully appearance! I am liking the juxtaposition between Brynden Blackfish and Lysa Tully Arryn. Two people who Hoster Tully drove away by trying to get them to marry people they did not want to marry. But Brynden, by virtue of age and sex, esd successfully able to refuse, where Lysa wasn't. And in the end Brynden and Hoster are able to reconcile, where Hoster and Lysa are not.

I have like... zero interest in involving myself with the discourse about whether Sansa or Dany is the worse expression of white feminism. (You just have to accept these books were written by a straight white dude at some point, lol) But I will say I found the whole section with Mirri Maz Duur pretty fascinating for touching on some of the discourse topics. Like- Dany alienates the khalasar by disrespecting their culture and interpretation of the maegi, after building up her influence in contrast with her brother by embracing the khalasar's culture. Dany is told that her attempts to 'save' Mirri Maz Duur were fumbling and naive and far little too late, and she wasted time patting herself on the back for being nice without considering what Mirri lost to the khalasar. And I don't know how much it was intentional, but Mirri's challenge 'you see how much life is worth, when everything else is gone' is kind of interesting in the context of Dany making the decision to free the remaining slaves of the khalasar in the aftermath. Like... in a weird way it's almost an answer to the questions Mirri ended up posing. 'What gives a life value?' And Dany perhaps deciding life by itself doesn't mean much, but freedom is one of the things that gives it meaning, and therefore investing in that? Idk, I don't expect this whole arc to be handled with the utmost tact, but I will say I think early on the story gets in on questioning how much Dany understands the cultures she is imposing herself upon and building her legacy off and how much she can meaningfully answer many of the questions being posed to her by woc.

In general I'm surprised at how much this book feels incomplete and more like a setup for later developments than a standalone work. A lot of these characters' storylines are ending on rising action rather than falling, and I think it's not until Storm of Swords that many of them end in a more natural (if temporary) resolution.

Am thinking I will take a break before I get into A Clash of Kings. I am currently one chapter into Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel, so I'm planning to finish that before moving forward with more asoiaf. But-!

What I'm Most Looking Forward To!

THEON CHAPTERS! I believe the Theon Greyjoy chapters start next book and I am super hyped for them, partially because he's such a horrible bitch from everyone's perspective in the first book! There's not a single POV character who likes him in book one. Every section with him is there to point out that he's a sadistic little shit that's always mocking everyone. I'm so hyped to see him take the spotlight and show us how horrible or not he is from his own perspective.

More Sansa! And the Sansa who's no longer blindly in love with Joff! Excited to see her endure her time at King's Landing now that she is solidly cut off from any meaningful support.

Unexpectedly excited for the Cat chapters as well! I'm really enjoying the drama with the Tullys and the Freys. And I believe she is the most direct perspective we get on Renly next book - and I'm excited to see how much I believe he always intended to claim the throne himself, or whether he was sincere in suggesting he and Ned use Joff as their puppet ruler instead.

#delurk reads asoiaf

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honeysuckleharringtons · 2 years

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Dance + Is it weird that I've daydreamed about our wedding? For the soft blurbs 🥹 with Steve Harrington

as i've said with the last few of these posts, thank you all so much for your patience. some of these take me a little longer to write and edit than others and i appreciate your patience throughout that ❤️

"Heaven" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: When Y/N and Steve attend Joyce and Hopper's wedding together, it gets the two of them thinking about their own wedding—something comparable to heaven.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 882

Content Warning: light mentions of alcohol and food consumption, light mentions of Vecna, light mentions of the Mind Flayer, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: tooth-rotting Fluffy Fluff

Extra Notes: tears were absolutely shed, i hope you guys enjoy

Based On the Prompts: "dance — our muses slow dance together" and "Is it weird that I've daydreamed about our wedding?"

Originally Written: 09/22/2022

honeysuckleharringtons masterlist can be found here!

ship prompts can be found here!

honeysuckleharringtons ask box can be found here!

Steve's large hands were settled delicately on my waist, the two of us swinging back and forth as Heaven by Bryan Adams played over the speakers.

"I never thought I'd see Mom happy again after what happened to Bob," I said, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve looked over his shoulder, watching Mom and Hopper as they themselves swayed happily to the music. I giggled as I watched along with him, letting out a snicker when Hopper lightly stepped on the end of Mom's dress.

"I love seeing them together," he commented. "Lets me know that true love does still exist."

My eyebrows furrowed as I once again made eye contact with him. "Whatcha mean?"

"Well, up until I met you of course, I didn't exactly have the best example of love in my life," he explained. "It's nice to see them making each other happy, which is no small feat for Joyce. I don't think I've ever seen Hopper smile before today."

I threw my head back, letting out an amused laugh. "To be fair, I've never seen Mom laugh the way she laughs around Hopper. You'd think they were the teenagers the way they act around each other."

Steve let out a light huff, a smile tugging at his lips. His right hand departed from my hip, grasping my left one. His fingers tangled lightly with mine, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand.

I rested my head lightly against his chest, taking in the scent of his new cologne. I felt a smile appear on my face as I recalled the memory of helping him pick out the new scent.

"Alright, this is the Ralph Lauren one," he told me, holding the bottle up to my nose.

I giggled lightly at his behavior. "You act like you're the one getting married," I snickered, taking in a whiff of the cologne.

"Look, I've never been to a wedding," he admitted, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I don't think my Old Spice is gonna cut it though."

I let out a light huff, moving my hand up to his hair. "It's just Mom and Hopper. It's not like we're going to Madonna and Sean Penn's wedding."

"But it's my first wedding. And it's my first wedding with you," he pouted, taking my hands in his.

"First?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He let go of one hand, moving a strand of hair from my face. "First of many, I hope."

"Baby, you're all that I want, when you're lying here in my arms," Steve sang softly, his lips lingering close to my ear.

I swiveled my head to look up at him, taking in the softness of those brown eyes I loved so much. "I'm finding it hard to believe, we're in heaven," I sang back, a smile making its way to my lips as I finished the lyric.

"I'm not," he said, "I'd say this is exactly what I'd imagine heaven is like."

My hands found their way to his chest as I leaned up, my lips landing on his for a long and tender kiss. I took in the taste of the champagne and wedding cake he'd been consuming a few minutes earlier, a sweetness I hadn't expected but welcomed nonetheless.

"Is it weird that I've daydreamed about our wedding?" he asked as our mouths parted. "Thought about what I'd say in my vows, what you'd look like in a white dress, that kind of stuff."

My lips turned upward as I gave him another peck. "I think about it a lot too," I admitted.

"You wanna marry me?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing together.

I let out a light giggle, my hand moving to rest on his cheek. "Of course I wanna marry you. I've thought about it pretty much every day since you gave me that dandelion in the second grade."

He chuckled deeply, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. "Why do you think I gave you the dandelion in the first place?"

A strong laugh made its way from my chest as I reminisced. "Jonathan was furious," I told him, "Not because his big sister had a 'boyfriend' but because he'd tried the same thing with Denise Whitley a week earlier and she looked at him like he was certifiably insane."

His hands wandered back down to my waist, pulling me ever so close. "Jonathan was always jealous of my good looks," he smirked, a laugh threatening to roll off his tongue.

"No, I really wasn't," Jonathan commented as he and Nancy danced past us, twirling her straight to the middle of the dance floor.

I rested my head against his chest again, a content sigh tumbling through my lips. We stayed like that for a while—happy and content. After everything that happened, what with Vecna and the Mind Flayer and all, it finally felt as though all was as it should've been.

"The thought of marrying you someday, Y/N Byers, sounds like heaven to me," Steve said, looking down at me with loving eyes.

I leaned up once more, my lips colliding with his for one, two, three feathery kisses. "Well, Steve Harrington," I said as I broke away, "It kinda sounds like heaven to me too."

-> Taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-is-dead-inside

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cadaverkeys · 2 years

Note

Are the visual connections between the Crown of Stars Angel and Judge Beloved/Dearly Beloved intentional? :0

It actually was not :') I knew that the crown of stars appears frequently on statues of mother mary

But I actually really never knew the reason why. The halo of stars and its relation to the Madonna might be a bit more of a recent consensus because most of my books about halos are pretty old...none of them actually talked about this halo.

I knew I hadn't seen it used on any other biblical character at this point in my studies but I still didn't know what the significance could be. In my original draft of the post I had just written that it was significant to depictions of Mary. But I looked into it specifically for that post only to find like!!! WOW the origins of this specific one is so interesting...

I used this halo very explicitly in this art piece. At the time it was only intentional because of the parallel to Judge Beloved and Mother Mary. But I do like the extra layer of symbolism that is suggested now...

#ram asks #anon #ocs #oc #judge beloved #dearly beloved

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crown-ov-horns · 2 months

Text

Reasons why I motivate myself to work on my Good Omens fanfictions:

So I can take a certain hyper popular ship everyone loves, but I despise, and tear it apart, smash it with a hammer, and set it on fire for my own entertainment. 😊 It's not like someone will do it for me.

I would say because Lady!Crowley deserves more love, but horrific things happen to her, so, I'd be a hypocrite (spoiler alert, she's fine in the end).

Anathema and Newt's family keep a raccoon named Shovels, that they dye black, and pretend is a cat.

I have four ideas put down, so far. One's an actual detective story. Two of them are crossovers with... Legion, of all things (one came to me in a dream). All involve my Antichrist OC, who wasn't supposed to have anything to do with the GO universe, until I had that damn dream.

Another motivatior - so I can work with Maxine (the Antichrist OC) more. After a long consideration, I decided to pair her up with War (in non-crossovers, in those she's with Michael), which is problematic because they're cousins (War's mother is Satan's sister)... You know, whatever. Nobody from Earth knows. It isn't anything uncommon for royalty, either. 🤣 Besides, they're both women (offspring from donors, so no biological threats), and they didn't grow up together. I just... I adore my Antichrists. They're everything to me. Max, forgive me for getting you involved in this madness of an universe, the fanfiction gods compelled me.

Honestly, my other OCs, too. Max's best friend, Cthylla (daughter of Dagon, and... You can guess. He has a habit of oversleeping), her cat Squid, Madonna Maria (a literal jackal with vile temper and a fondness for whiskey, Maxine's biological mother;), Titan the Hellhound, Agnes Device-Pulsifer, Francisco Rossi (the Second Beast, who loathes Aziraphale even more than I do, for absollutely no reason)...

Off with Pollution, Pestilence is being reinstated to his rightful place.

I'm eager to work with canon characters like War, Michael (Legion and GO version), and Hastur - all of who, I adore

I am kind of a hater in this fandom. In the end, I've realized, fanfiction must be written for oneself, not the fandom. I will not apologize for doing what I want, with characters (and their genders) in a fic. Nor for heavily focusing on my OCs (even making them the main focus - it's something that I love doing).

The only thing I do feel some guilt for? I remember Neil Gaiman saying he likes stories where women saves themselves, which I completely agree with, yet Lady Crowley gets saved by others, most of the times... I guess, she's just in situations nobody could save themselves from. Now, her healing is another can of worms maybe that could be counted as her saving herself).

Oh... I hope no one who reads this took it as me attacking them, or mocking them, for liking what I don't. I kind of sounded like someone's evil grandma, threatening to throw their favorite toys in the trash can. 🤣 I'm just writing down my thoughts in an edgy manner. Think of this as a literal angsty, but hopeful diary page.

When I said I'm a "hater", I meant I personally have a very odd, unconventional relationship with Good Omens and it's characters. It's a... "I don't like how you're portraying biblical mythology, but I will always love you". I love Neil Gaiman. I don't know anyone im the fandom anymore, but I all the hearts to them, too. I'm just the designated class contrarian. My stories, like all fanfiction, are seperate universes from canon (and I mean no disrespect to it; the fanfiction wouldn't be here if canon wasn't).

Why do I keep hurting Crowley? I don't know, my relationship with the character is very complicated also. I find him annoying, but I named my stuffed snake after him. 🐍

Why did I write this down and post it? Because I've noticed I'm more likely to get something done after I get on a barrel, and anounce I will. These stories are so fun to write... Fine, that was kind of a lie. I'm picking at Ch. 1 of the dream storyline, and it makes me want to cry.

P.S. - I didn't see season 2, and I have no intention to (though my mom is badgering me to watch it; she's also scolding me for hurting Crowley).

#diary pages #story ideas #good omens #legion #good omens fanfiction #good omens fandom #maxine frost #female!crowley #lady crowley #war #archangel michael #hastur #i don't hate the ahip because it's popular i hate it becauss...I hate it. it being popular just causes the christmas music effect #self motivation #seriously no hate to anyone I'm just making myself entertainment in my own egdy way #it all started from a dream and I took that as a sign #but I'm hesistant to work on it because it's so heavy #it deals with dv implied sa and other topics that affect me very badly #but it's one of the stories where crowley saves herself in the end #aziraphale i don't portray in a good light because I don't like him (i couldn't tell you why)#gabriel though he is fucking DESPICABLE (he's the one who hurts Crowley btw)#archangel michael x the antichrist #crowley ends up with hastur most of the time... he never intends on falling for her but ends up at the wrong place at the wrong time #i'm giving satan a different faceclaim than benedic cu-... I'll refrain from attempting to spell it #in the crossovers adam doesn't exists in the non-crossovers he and maxine are biologically half-siblings #he doesn't partake in divine nonsense anymore because he's disowned by Satan but he and Maxine have a relationship - he makes an appearannce #max doesn't want the apocalypse either but goes about it differently - i guess playing the family mediator made her a perfct diplomat #maxine x michael #maxine x war #max is a rrising star politician and cthylla revoliutionized hell with demomic magic run technology

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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 2 years

Text

Singed Daffodils (Chapter 4)

Pairing: King Bucky Barnes x Queen Female Reader

Summary: Ever since you had been young, you knew that you were in love with James Barnes. When you were arranged to marry him, you had been over the moon.

Then throughout your short-lived, doomed marriage, you realized he didn't love you. The divorce papers had been written up and just like that, the two of you weren't married anymore.

Thirteen years later, to avoid scrutiny and even more possible scandal, you're marrying him. Again.

But you've learned your lesson now. Falling in love with James will just spell trouble for you.

James however, is determined to undermine your plan. Every step of the way.

Chapter Warnings: Child abandonment, abusive parents, scandal, war, orphaned children, treason, invasion of privacy, angst

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! Welcome to update 2 of 2. I finished this chapter quicker than chapter 3, but considering that this is a double update, I already proofread this and allowed Grammarly to do its magic and stuff before I finished writing up chapter 3.

Hopefully, this chapter isn't too lacking in the interactions with Bucky and the Reader! I wanted them to just relax in this chapter. The chapters going forward will have more interaction between our two leads, but this chapter is kinda filler-ish. But expect more interactions coming up!

As always, if you'd like to read this chapter on my AO3, you can do so here.

Word Count: 4846

Pamela was sitting in on one of her many lessons.

You and James had told her that her education as Crown Princess was going to start while both of you would be gone for your honeymoon.

So, for the past month or so, she had been at lesson after lesson after lesson, furthering her education.

Life at the palace had been relatively quiet. Her Auntie Becca, for the most part— did not unleash giraffes, monkeys, or llamas onto the streets to terrorize the good people of this nation.

The streets, (and people), were safe for the time being.

Her parents had kept her up to date with their honeymoon, mostly through pictures in the group chat. So she had seen the pictures of you and her father at the museum, the pictures of you and her father in the hotel room together (family-friendly, of course), and the pictures of you and her father at the beach. Just enjoying your time together.

Even though she was still just a teenager, she knew that your relationship was far from perfect. It wasn’t every day that two royals remarried for the sake of their child. She had heard the whispers and snide remarks that had followed her after the wedding. Some of the people that hadn’t approved of the union, had sent her sneering looks and gossiped about you behind her back as if they thought she didn’t have ears.

Because even though it had been a long way from medieval times, it seemed that the Madonna Whore Complex was still alive in this country and her home country.

The scandal involving you, James, and Dot still seemed to be alive and thriving in this country. Because yeah, her father’s reputation had tanked considerably. It had.

But your reputation? Dot’s reputation?

James’s ruined, tainted reputation had nothing on how badly both of your reputations had suffered.

From you having to fly under the radar because your father, her grandfather shaming you for the reason being that your first marriage had fallen apart, to Dot being ridiculed and fleeing away with a foreign prince two years later.

Pamela had seen the sly remarks from women, and the vulgar comments from men on the internet when the news had come out that her parents were remarrying again. Very unsavory things. Things that no teenager should find out, or know about their parents.

She wouldn’t be lying if she could admit to herself and only herself that the words didn’t affect her.

They did.

Jesus fucking Christ, this shitshow was like the shitshow that was Princess Diana and Prince Charles all over again!

… did that make Dot Princess Camilla? It did, right?

Yes. Yes, it did.

Oh, for fucks sake!

“Your Highness, are you feeling alright?”

Ajak, the teacher that you and James had hired for Pamela’s lessons gazed at her, concern on her face.

“I’m sorry Miss Ajak,” Pamela apologized quickly. Profusely. “I just… have many things on my mind right now.”

“That’s quite alright,” The Mexican-American woman said kindly. Pamela watched as she closed the textbook that she needed to study through for the lesson today.

“Why don’t you talk to me about it? If you wish to, Your Highness.” Ajak asked.

The older woman saw the young teen sigh a little.

“I…”

She was struggling to find the right words.

The few weeks and months had flown by without her noticing. Perhaps Pamela had been too wrapped up in the happiness that she would be with both of her parents, despite the scandal that hung over the little family’s heads.

“I’m so sorry that you had to be involved in this,” you had whispered to her once you had told her that you had accepted her father’s marriage proposal, and had started with the wedding preparations. Picking out the venue, picking out the decorations, shopping for a wedding dress. Picking out the food menu for the wedding reception and emailing people about their food allergies, which you just seemed to not understand at all.

But other than that… the realization slapped her hard across the face.

Because that was just it, wasn’t it?

In a way, there was a part of her that hated the fact that her father hadn’t been in love with her mother when her mother had. How could her father not love her mother as she had when they were younger? What could there not be that her father couldn’t love about her mother? How could he have been so selfish, being in love with someone else?

That was what she told Ajak. She saw the woman raise an eyebrow of surprise at her bluntness.

“Your Highness,” Ajak began, but Pamela butted in.

“Pamela,” she corrected her.

“Pamela,” Ajak made sure to emphasize her name. “His Highness… you can’t choose who you fall in love with. Your father falling in love with Dot was something that could not be controlled or chosen. Yes, it is very unfortunate that your mother had been in love with your father as children, and he did not reciprocate her feelings.”

“However,” she continued, putting a hand up so that Pamela wouldn’t interrupt her. “It did not mean that your father had the jurisdiction to divorce your mother and replace her with Dot so quickly. That was a mistake on his part. From what I know and understand, your mother’s reputation never recovered.”

“Grandfather would tell my grandmother that she was a mistake,” Pamela answered her hollowly as if her voice was simply nothing but an echo in a long, never-ending tunnel. “That… the marriage was a disgrace, a sham— and having me just made it worse. A broken marriage, and a child that she was keeping a secret from my father. He even suggested sending us back to father’s kingdom because we didn’t ‘belong here anymore.’ It was one of the reasons why he didn’t let us live in the palace anymore. I thought coming here and seeing my father for the first time… maybe it would be good for me. I’ve only seen him in pictures and videos. All I wanted was to see him at least once.”

She could feel her eyes becoming watery as she went on.

“Mother never spoke about him in great detail. She told me what he looked like. What his name was. That he was also royalty, just like her. She showed me pictures. But she never talked about him. Like, the nice things. She avoided talking about him in detail whenever I would ask her.”

That haunted look in your eyes.

Pamela would always see this haunted look in your eyes when she would ask about King James in detail. Simple things like “How was he when you were married?” or “Was he a good father?”

You never answered her.

Now, now she knew why.

The scandal had ripped you apart.

Not literally, obviously.

Figuratively, even metaphorically, yes.

Her mother had been married to one of her oldest childhood friends whom she had been in love with since forever, only to turn out that he never really loved her at all.

But that haunted look in your eyes… she had seen that when people would make leery comments or taunts of her mother’s failed marriage. Like everything had been her fault that everything went to shit. And not at all towards the dude who had fucked all of it up in the first place.

“It’s all my fault!” she wailed, unable to control her tears any longer. Her face scrunched up in despair as she continued to cry, Ajak wrapping her in her arms so that the Crown Princess could let it all out.

“My Princess,” Ajak soothed her, rubbing circles into her back. Comforting her. Giving her the motherly love that she had given all of the children that had escaped together who had found her.

Ajak’s husband had been long gone by the time war had broken out in the Rogers country. Given that Steven came from many a line of Rogers who had ruled with an authoritarian, iron fist. Just like how his father had. Ajak had just come to James’s country, looking for a new job after the unfortunate passing of her husband.

And when the war had broken out, people had fled. Ajak had found a bunch of dirty, saddened-looking, but most of all, scared teenagers who had come to her door.

Sersi. Ikaris. Phastos. Kingo. Gilgamesh. Thena. Driug. Makkari. Sprite.

All of them had been young to adult teenagers, and then there had been the young child Sprite.

Being that Ajak couldn’t have biological children of her own and that after trying for so long that she and her husband had given up, she found it easy to be a mother of nine. A big family, but she would make do.

Now that she was older, and her children had grown up and gone their separate ways, Ajak went back to the job she had before she moved to this new country.

Teaching.

Not only that, but her son Druig, who was married to Makkari, had told his king that his mother was a great teacher. She was very qualified, the man had added cheerfully.

“… it is not your fault. Your father not being in love with your mother was not your fault. Nor was their divorce. You being here is no one’s fault. Life is difficult, Your Highness. You are not the reason why your mother’s father treated her like he did. It isn’t your fault, Your Highness.”

Still, Pamela couldn’t help but feel like the scandal had been somewhat her fault.

“If only I wasn’t so curious,” she sniffed. As a retaliation to Ajak’s statement, almost.

“There is nothing wrong with being curious,” Ajak assured her gently.

Pamela just sniffed.

“I think this will conclude our lessons for today.” she heard Ajak say gently.

She couldn’t be in more agreement.

Much later that evening…

James noticed how tired you were.

Because as soon as the private jet had taken off to go back home, you had fallen asleep.

He had been distracted the entire flight. It would bite him later in the ass because then he was pretty certain that he would be exhausted later. But that was for him tomorrow to figure out and deal with. Not him right now.

Your words echoed in his mind.

I married you for duty.

I married you for comfort.

I married you for our daughter.

I married you for the sake of our daughter.

We should just be separate from now on.

Separate.

As in, not together.

As in, the both of you weren’t going to be sharing a room together.

There was another room next to his in the private apartments for the royal family that was used as a sort of a guest room. At the very most, there was a bed, a little bedside table next to it, and a drawer. And they were all inter-connected. So it wouldn’t be too bad. It wasn’t the end of the world.

But James couldn’t help but continue to think about it.

Even as the jet landed and he gently woke you up.

A sleepy, almost irritated moan just came from you in response.

“We’re home, bubble,” his voice rumbled.

That made you slowly wake up. Your eyes slowly opened, and your voice was groggy when you uttered your next words.

“What time is it?” Your voice was still thick with sleep.

“Two AM,” James even checked his phone which had been charging the entire time.

You just groaned.

“If it’ll make you feel better,” he spoke, “… I could carry you?” he suggested.

You let out a soft little hum.

You even nodded your head.

Scooping you up in his arms after taking off your seat belt, your husband carried you bridal style down the stairs.

In his arms, you stirred and murmured some words that James couldn’t pick up. Heeding it no mind though, he continued to carry you inside of the palace, not even caring if any of the servants who were still on duty or passing by gawked at the sight.

Which, there were a few. A few stragglers who were still at their posts, getting ready to go into their rooms for the night that was sneaking a late-night peek of their King and Queen. As James continued his trek towards the private apartments, he saw at least one or two servants peeking at the sight of their king carrying their queen.

“There’s another room next to mine. You’ll be staying in the middle room between Pamela and me,” James told you. Since you were only half-awake by now, you only sorta caught what he was saying. Slow nods were the only response he got from you.

And that was fine. When he eventually did reach the wing of private apartments that were being used by the little family of three, James pulled out the key that he used for his own apartment locks, considering this apartment also had the same door bolt. The sounds of the door opening caught your attention. Blinking a little, you decided to address the situation.

“What…”

“I’ll have Pietro and Vision help move your things into your new room,” were the only words that James spoke.

Pietro Maximoff, the twin of Wanda Maximoff and one of the King’s attendees, and Vision, who was Wanda’s husband and who worked in the city at a tech store. All three of them lived with Wanda and Vis’s twin boys, where Pietro was known as “Uncle Pietro.” James knew that Pietro liked to spoil his nephews, even when Wanda told him it was unnecessary. After a while, James just deduced that it was just to get under his little sister’s skin. Always a jokester, he was.

A rush of air slapped you in the face as cool air nipped at your skin. It made you blink your eyes and groan a little in irritation.

Feeling your back being placed on something that felt like a soft mattress, you wanted to say something.

Anything.

However, when you willed to speak the words, James had already turned away from you, walked to the door, and gently closed it behind him.

Leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Sometime later that day, in some other wing of the palace...

“Look… I’m not saying it’s a bad idea—”

“… but what you’re saying is, it’s a bad idea.”

“Precisely.”

The sounds of a woman groaning as she thunked her head into her arms were heard, echoing around in the empty room.

Sharon Carter, one of the members of the Barnes Royal Family’s Secret Force and its Leader just stared at the blond-haired man who was sitting across the table from her.

Clint Francis Barton just gave her a considering look as he continued to eat his grapes. He had put lemon juice and sprinkled some sugar on them to mimic the taste of Sour Patch Kids. Something to do with either a cooking hack he saw on Instagram or TikTok.

But he was pretty sure it had been on Instagram.

“I think a nice walk in the park would be a great way to… y’know,” said Sharon, albeit a little awkwardly, even as she fiddled with her thumbs in anxiousness, something Clint never had seen her do. Like ever, in his life. As long as he had known her, really. She never really acted that way around him.

So this was a first.

“To pop the question,” Clint signed back to her, even though his hearing aids were turned on.

“Yeah…” Sharon was nodding her head in kinda a solemn way now.

The blonde woman and the blue-haired woman had quite the history together. See, Sharon was a family friend of the Rogers Royal Family, because of Steve and Peggy’s failed engagement when it had come to light that Peggy had been secretly working with the enemy line during the war in their country. Peggy and Steve’s engagement had been severed, and her older sister had been branded as a traitor and exiled.

The Carter’s were a rich, influential family in the Rogers country, but ever since the scandal, had been made a mockery. Really, the two Heads of the family had been extremely lucky their monarchs hadn’t stripped them of their titles, or worse— taken their money and riches away from them. Harrison and Amanda had pleaded to the Queen Mother Sarah Rogers for mercy and decency, while Sharon had stewed on the scandal.

In truth, she always knew that her sister wished to be more. To be looked at as more than just a ditsy socialite. Peggy Carter always wanted more. More. Her sister was ambitious. Perhaps it had been from the confines their parents had forced her into, and how badly she wanted to be free of them.

But to commit treason against the Crown? Against the Royal Family? Against their own people?

And while yes, Peggy had been a Captain in the Royal Army and was known as Captain Carter to her soldiers and her superiors, Sharon had always heard from her sister through gossip or her own mouth that she had been sick and tired of having to see men all the time. Having to see and answer to men, while she was just a woman.

During the war, Sharon had still been living here, in this country. Because yes, she held dual citizenship with James’s country and her own. For a few years now.

When the scandal and news broke out, Sharon had told Steve that well, she hadn’t really been surprised.

“She’s… always wanted more. More power. More influence. She felt trapped, like me. But this country… it was home. She always told me. And to me, this’ll forever be home in my heart, but…”

Steve saw Sharon take in a sigh. “Maybe… I guess we were sick and tired of pretending all the time. She had to pretend to abide by the rules. Even though seeing men every day made her want to lose her mind. I mean, it’s what I guess went through her head. I don’t claim to be a psychic, Steve.”

With a shrug, Sharon looked at Steve. She didn’t really care if he responded to her or not, but she did want to shed some light on the situation. Even though Peggy had committed treason and was a conspirator against the monarchy, Sharon still found some tiny piece inside of her that felt sympathy for her older sister.

Not empathy. Certainly not. But sympathy, yes.

“She committed treason.” was Steve’s soft tone.

“I know. I’m not disagreeing with you, Steve.” Sharon sighed again, for what seemed like the millionth time that day. She was sitting in the chair that looked across from King Steven in his office that looked like it belonged in some Regency period drama. Books lined the bookcase behind him, and his laptop was open.

“… I’m just trying to provide another perspective. That’s all. She committed treason and went against the laws of this land and she was rightfully punished for it. If I did what she did, I would have wanted to be punished just as she did.”

This, Steve took into consideration.

If he was going to be frank, he always liked Sharon more than Peggy. While he and Peggy were both headstrong and always wanting to be better than they could ever be for themselves, Sharon was mellower. While she always stood up for what she believed in, she wasn’t as hot-headed as he was, or even her older sister sometimes.

Sharon balanced the two Carter sisters out. A Ying and Yang sorta thing. And that was what Steve admired about the blonde woman. Always willing to hear things out instead of bulldozing into situations. A planner. It was why she worked so well within the Barnes Royal Secret Force. Sharon had steadily worked up the ranks, just as how Peggy had done in the army.

Two peas in a pod.

Eventually, his hand came to rest on top of hers.

“I’ve always treasured our friendship, Sharon.”

“I know,” Sharon gave him a soft smile, one that she only reserved for friends and family. “You’re a good friend and a great king, Steve. I know you’ll go on to do good things. Just… don’t fight bullies in alleyways. Cause I really won’t be there to beat their asses anymore.”

Steve just laughed.

From then on, it had just been radio silence from her parents. Sharon suspected that since she hadn’t leaped for Peggy’s defense back when she had been on trial, that she didn’t love the family anymore or some shit like that.

Sharon loved her family. She did. Her parents had been loving and supportive all throughout her childhood and even were supportive of her decision to move to this country to pursue the job that she was now the leader of. Hell, they were even supportive of her relationship with Nebula. The only other person who she felt could understand her like no one else could.

But Peggy…

She always oddly felt as if sometimes, or in moments her parents thought she couldn’t comprehend or see that between the two of them, Peggy was the one who was favored just the slightest bit more.

And when Sharon told her parents that no, she wouldn’t be defending Peggy in trial and that what Peggy did had well deserved her to be put where she was; in front of the entire nation, stripped of all her titles, especially as Captain of the Roger Royal Army, and to be banished, branded, commended as a traitor and exiled from their great country— her parent’s true colors shone into the light. Like the soft colors of the rainbow on a glass-stained window in the church cathedral.

Her parents had called her a disgrace to the family name and announced that they were disowning her and that if she were to ever marry Nebula, that no, her father would not be walking her down the aisle, and no, they would not be attending the wedding either. And no, if she and Nebula were to ever adopt, that no, they would not be acknowledging the baby as their grandchild.

So basically after all that drama and jazz, Sharon had blocked her parents on everything and everywhere, and went no contact.

Life was better if she was gonna be totally honest. She had made a new home here, with friends and loved ones alike. She and Natasha Romanov-Barton were as thick as thieves and she was for certain that she and Nebula would be very concerned if Natasha or Gamora would fit the bill for their Matron of Honor.

But that would have to do for later. That would be discussed later.

Right now however, Sharon pulled some papers and pictures from her workbag so she could show them to Clint.

“I did some digging last night on the person who might be the person who took pictures of Her Majesty and the Crown Princess.”

Up Clint sat. A more serious expression overtook his face as he popped another grape in his mouth.

Munch. Munch. Munch. Munch.

“What kinda pictures have you found?” Was what he said once he swallowed his fruit.

“You’d be better looking at them at the meeting,” Sharon told him. “Aw man!” complained Clint as he threw his hands up in surrender. “That’s so anticlimactic!”

All Sharon did was just laugh at him.

At the meeting…

“Clint! Put away your grapes!”

“What? Why? These are my grapes! I took a lot of time to clean them and put lemon juice on them and put sugar on them!”

A collective groan echoed through the conference room.

There probably was someone who even banged their head onto the table too.

But a certain raven-haired man cheerfully spoke up.

“Yeah. And I heard they’re supposed to taste like Sour Patch Kids. Do they actually taste like Sour Patch Kids?”

Clint could almost drop to his knees and kiss the man’s feet.

Turning his head, he announced to the entire room. “See! Druig gets it! I always knew I could count on you understanding me.”

“That’s because you both have the same brand of crazy,” was what Druig’s wife Makkari signed to him.

Scowling at her, Clint signed back to the deaf woman. “No. It just means we’re kindred spirits.”

All she could offer him was an eye roll in response.

Druig meanwhile, just popped a grape into his mouth and chewed.

“Dude!” he exclaimed happily, slapping Clint’s back. “It does taste like Sour Patch Kids!”

“I know right!” Clint happily replied back.

Everyone in the room sans Clint just sighed.

Any more mentions of Clint’s DYIed grapes were silenced because just then, the door opened.

Revealing His Majesty, Her Majesty, and the Crown Princess on the other side.

Everyone stood at attention at once. Kinda like if they were in the military and their superior just walked in.

“Your Majesties,” was the heard chorus that flowed around the room.

They even curtsied or bowed to the three monarchs in respect.

“Can I have some of your grapes?” Was the only thing Pamela asked Clint shyly.

The blond man beamed at her while everyone else, (excluding Druig), groaned.

“You’re officially my favorite royal.” The deaf man announced as Pamela giggled and ate a grape once she sat herself down.

Natasha noticed that Yasha and his wife, while they smiled, didn’t look at each other. She watched with a critical eye that the two royals instead made their way to their seats, and sat down.

“Has there been any news?” His Majesty asked politely.

Sharon Carter cleared her throat. Everyone’s eyes turned to her. “I found some pictures last night of the person who might be the one who took the photos of Her Majesty and the Crown Princess, Your Majesties. Although… this is still a working theory.” The head and leader of the secret guard regarded quickly.

Pulling the pictures out of her workbag, she arranged the photos she managed to print in color and in HD. Spreading them all out in the middle of the huge conference table, allowing everyone to take a look at them.

A collective rush of whispers filled the room.

“Oh my…” that had come from Phil Coulson. His husband Nick Fury on the other hand, well, the Black man just scowled at them.

“This seems very concerning and odd,” was what Makkari signed to her king, who gave her a nod. His jaw was tight as he observed them himself, and poor Pamela was in her seat, eating another grape in hopes that it would calm her growing anxiety.

This unknown person, a man by the looks of it from the photos had taken pictures of her and her mother without their permission.

Sure, paparazzi was a thing. But Pamela had always been aware that the paparazzi would’ve loved to know her existence.

But taking unsolicited, private photos and leaking them onto the internet was a whole other thing within itself.

Paparazzi, she could live with.

But this?

This?

No.

Absolutely the hell not.

“He seems to be a young man in his thirties. Dark-haired and brown-eyed. Looks to be of a broad build. I haven’t done digging on what company he works for, but I’ll get onto it as soon as this meeting is over. We’ll find them Your Majesties.” Sharon promised the trio.

“Thank you,” You kindly thanked her, a gentle smile on your face.

“Right… so what I was thinking about this was…”

After the meeting concluded, everyone shuffled out, excluding James and Natasha. Clint had kissed his wife’s forehead, telling her excitedly that he would see her at home, and that they would be indulging in dinner tonight.

Needless to say, Natasha was excited. Out of the both of them, Clint was the better cook. Natasha’s only skill was making rice in a rice cooker because of Daisy’s interference, and mac and cheese from her younger sister Yelena’s obsession with Kraft mac and cheese.

Because seriously, how much hot sauce could one put in mac and cheese, for fucks sake!

And that was all Natasha was good at. Cooking wise. Drinks wise, she was a real wiz. She knew how to make chai, the authentic way. Along with boozy drinks or nonalcoholic drinks.

But cooking and she would never be friends. Baking, either. Forget it.

What she was good at though, was being a spy for the royal family. She had served loyally to the monarchy and believed in her king. Y’know, scandals aside. She didn’t really like to think about that. She had her own personal feelings that she wouldn’t allow to interfere with her work.

So when she lightly touched James’s hand in reassurance, as a gesture of goodwill, she saw James’s shoulder lightly sag as he exhaled.

“It’s okay, Yasha,” the redhead assured the reigning monarch gently.

“We’ll find him, Yasha. Everything’s going to be alright.”

James didn’t answer her.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting, @greeneyedblondie44, @hawsx3, @sunflowerfive

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