#when i heard about it a few years ago i was like ??? and then learnt elton john was doing the fucking music like???
Note
Hatter have you heard there's gonna be a Devil Wears Prada musical???? So now I'm like, band au???
oh yes I'm v aware about the musical, I have been clawing the walls begging for more than a snippet of a song to be released but apparently it might be coming to the west end next year!!! (with a minor very unconfirmed and very unlikely to be nothing more than wishful thinking rumour that Hannah waddingham could play Miranda, brb while I combust at the thought) so I might even get the chance to see it rather than wallow in self pity at it being all the way on the other side of the pond.
#when i heard about it a few years ago i was like ??? and then learnt elton john was doing the fucking music like???#okay go off i guess#looking forward to have at least one decent song based on dwp i can shuffle into my stream playlist lol#if they dont play on the homoerotic tension of miranda and andy i will be obviously gutted#gonna need a song about it
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home (frank castle)
warnings: a little bit of frank being depressed but that's about it. probably language too? i don't even notice anymore.
this is the first thing i've written in so long and it's very short buuuut i hope you like it
--jazz xx
You could always tell when Frank had had a bad night.
The signs were clear as soon as he got home. Boots thrown to the side with a loud thunk (he would apologise for the noise in the morning); body haphazardly hitting the mattress beside you as he let out a huff of exhaustion. Normally, his hands would be on you before he even in bed. He had to sleep with his chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you, any signs of breaking free met with intense refusal until the morning. You felt safe but he felt safer.
Tonight was different. You heard the crash of shoes, and the thump, thump, thump towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you but instead of his hands, you were met with Frank's back to you. It was tense, littered with pink scars and red ones, and fresh cuts and bruises. You could have reached out, but you didn't want to push it. A few years ago, before you, before this, before he'd learnt love again, he probably wouldn't have come home at all. He would have stayed out til the crack of dawn, fighting, fighting, fighting; fists beaten to a pulp and every part of him rigid and exhausted to his very core. Frank had learnt now: when he got really bad, he had to come home. When the going got too tough even for him, it normally meant it was the end of night. You were just grateful he had come at all.
You said nothing; just a small sigh. For him, for you, for whatever the morning would bring.
10AM came quickly. It was a Sunday, so Manhattan was nice enough to wake a few minutes later than usual. The silence in your bedroom was quickly filled with the sound of horns and brakes and the yells of the outside world. You didn't have work that day, thank god. That meant there was no rush. Frank could rise whenever he wanted.
Except - fuck - you had forgotten to turn off your alarm. It came blaring out your phone as soon as the clock struck on the hour, vibrating across your bedside table and onto the floor with a loud thud. Frank, being the world's lightest and potentially most dangerous sleeper, quickly rose. His hair was getting longer now, so it was tuftier in the mornings. You would have laughed if your chest wasn't so heavy.
You quickly hopped out of bed, sheepishly picking up the phone.
"Shit," you muttered. "Frankie, I'm sorry."
He let out a grumble, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay. I had to wake up at some point."
"Are you okay?" you quietly asked. "I know you're not but...I gotta ask."
Frank didn't say anything - instead he just sighed. Then, he opened his arms and ushered for you to come back to bed. You did so without hesitation, dropping into the sheets beside him. Strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you to his chest, one hand cupping the back of your head. You'd always found irony in the fact that he had to be the one to hold you when he was upset. No matter how shit he was feeling, Frank was always the big spoon. His ability to protect you was the one thing he could control. It was the one thing that made him feel a little okay again.
"It was a really rough night," he quietly admitted. "I'll be okay, sweetheart. I just wanna take it easy today."
Frank said nothing else. What he had said was beyond anyone else's wildest dreams; this was coming from the man who made a point of closing himself off, from refusing himself love and anything good. You were the only person he would ever say anything too. It was safe to assume at any given moment that he wasn't okay, but he was a little closer to it when he was with you.
The rest of the morning went like a ghost.
You moved around each other with ease; his small touches lingered - a hand on your back here, another on your hip there - and you could tell he was coming back around. Sure, he burnt the first three pancakes and didn't realise the milk was out of date til after he'd poured it into your coffee, but he was being Frank. You would have been more worried if he'd cooked properly or made good coffee.
You'd moved to the sofa by midday, dirty plates piled up in the sink and Max snoring on the rug in the middle of your living room. Die Hard was playing quietly in the background (Frank argued it was an all year round movie). You were sat between his legs on the sofa, large thighs either side of yours and arms wrapped around your front. He had his head resting on top of yours, giving you the occasional squeeze with his legs and arms.
"I love you," Frank quietly murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.
You turned your head to look at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I love you too."
"I'm sorry for being quiet last night. I didn't mean to ignore you."
"You don't have to apologise," you hummed. "I'm just grateful you came home."
"I'll always come home."
#frank castle#the punisher#frank castle x reader#frank castle imagine#frank castle fluff#frank castle angst#frank castle imagines#the punisher x reader#the punisher imagine#marvel imagines#marvel fluff#marvel angst#frank castle x you#frank castle reader insert#frank castle x y/n
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Broad Day Light
Min Yoongi/Reader
Im so sorry if this is bad. i haven't had time to properly edit this. I've been sick again recently, but I wanted to get at least something out for you guys!
Warnings: Injury, crowds, anxiety, established relationship, idol!au
Word Count: 1203 M.list
Walking down a busy street in the middle of the day shouldn’t have been an anxiety inducing task, but here you are. That’s all it’s felt like these days.
You and Yoongi went public a few years ago and paparazzi and sasaeng’s had mostly started to leave you alone after a few months, just the odd personal space invader here and there, but you learnt to live with the new found attention.
Fast forwards to 2023 and Yoongi’s solo tour was well under way. With a world tour came massive media attention, and with media attention, came paparazzi.
You weren’t famous, so having people run up to you with cameras was a surreal experience.
You tried your best to shield your face, but it was to no avail as the group of photographers bolted towards you from across the road.
‘Y/N! Over here!’
‘Are you going to any of the shows!?’
The group of men had effectively blocked your path, not allowing you to leave.
‘Please let me through. I have somewhere to be...’ You mumbled and wrapped your arms round yourself as you kept your head down and away from the cameras. You started forcing your way forwards.
‘Y/N! Yoongi and Halsey have been acting close! Did something happen between them!? Is that why you aren’t on tour with him?’ You know you shouldn’t dignify these people with a response, but the gall of implying that Yoongi would cheat on you with someone that had become a good friend to the both of you... It was enough to make you rage.
‘Of course not! They are good friends, now let me through- Ah!’ As you forcefully pushed your way through the crowd, you didn’t realise how close you were to the curb. Your ankle rolled, causing you to topple over into the road.
Your hands, arms and knees were all scratched up, along with a twisted ankle. At least no cars were coming so you wouldn’t get run over. Though that seemed like a more preferable situation than the one you were currently in.
‘AH!’ You shakily sat up and grabbed your ankle, causing you to hiss out in pain.
‘Please just leave me alone!’ You screamed out and swiped out at the paparazzi circling round you.
‘Hey that’s assault! She just tried to hit me!’ One of the men shouted out, trying to garner sympathy with his fellow low lives.
You were all but breaking down into a full blown panic attack, when all of a sudden you felt a wave of hope flow through you when you heard the shouts of police officers approaching the scene.
‘Hey! What’s going on here? Out of the way!’ They pushed through the crowd and one knelt next to you, whilst the other two pushed back the group, ultimately threatening arrests if they didn’t dispurse.
‘Miss? Are you ok? Are you hurt?’
‘My ankle- I think it’s twisted!’ You whimpered, trying to hold back your tears.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital.’
Hours later and you were finally able to go home. With a lot of help from your best friend, you were now sat in your living room, feeling sorry for yourself with your poor ankle all wrapped up.
The scraped that littered your limbs weren’t too bad, just a little sore. Stories had hit the web pretty much immediately, along with plenty of videos of the incident, filmed by multiple people.
With any luck, Yoongi would be too busy to even think about going online...
-Incoming video call from Yoongles-
Ah well. There goes that idea.
After a slight hesitation, you pushed the green answer button.
Yoongi suddenly appeared on screen. He’d clearly changed out of his concert gear and was now clad in comfy sweat pants and a jumper.
And he looked pissed.
‘Hey Yoongi...’ You trailed off, trying to sound normal.
‘Seriously? You going to pretend nothing happened?’ He stared at you in disbelief.
‘You should have called me when it happened!’ He continued on, raising his voice ever slightly.
You looked away from the screen, feeling guilty that you tried to keep it from him. Of course he would see the articles, so it was pointless to even try.
‘I’m sorry...’
Yoongi took in your defeated appearance and groaned internally for adding more upset to your already stressful day.
‘No, I’m sorry for shouting. When I saw what happened, I just got so angry.’ He paused for a moment before shaking his head. ‘You got hurt because of me...’
‘Yoongi no!’ You sat up straighter, trying to reassure him. ‘This isn’t your fault. At all!’
He nodded slowly, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe you.
‘I’m going to send you the number for one of our bodyguards. If you need to go somewhere, get him to drive you.
Yoongi suddenly moved the phone in his hands. He was clearly texting you.
You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend.
‘Yoongi! I’m sure they have better things to do than look after me!’ His message however, had already pinged on your phone.
‘You got attacked in broad daylight Y/N. Seems pretty serious to me.’ Yoongi deadpanned as he stared you right in the eyes.
The smile fell from your face. You couldn’t argue with the fact that you would feel a lot safer with someone escorting you...
‘I won’t be going anywhere for a while. My ankle is all screwed up.’ You joked, trying to lighten the mood a little.
You didn’t get to see Yoongi often these days, given how in demand he was. The last thing you wanted to do with your precious time together was be miserable.
Yoongi smirked mischievously.
‘Maybe you’ll stay out of trouble then.’ You drew back in mock offense.
‘Excuse me!?’ Where has the compassion gone to?’
‘I’m sure you’ll survive.’ He said, trying to hold back his smirk.
You couldn’t hold back and began to laugh for the first time that day.
‘I wish I could be there for you’ Yoongi suddenly spoke over your laughter. You immediately went quiet, knowing that Yoongi was still upset by the days events.
‘It’s ok. This is enough, for now.’ You smiled gently and gestured towards the phone screen separating the two of you.
‘Remind me again why you couldn’t come with me?’ Yoongi groaned and slumped back in his chair.
‘You know why. I couldn’t get off work.’ You giggled as you also snuggled down into your chair.
He frowned before once again beginning to type on his phone.
‘What’s wrong?’ You enquired curiously.
‘I’m not there, but Tae will be close by tomorrow. I’m sending him to check on you.’
‘Oh my god!’ You exclaimed with a laugh. ‘I can’t convince you I’m fine can I?’
‘Definitely not.’
You and Yoongi spent a long time on call together that night, making the most of every moment.
It was only after ending the call for the night, did you notice Taehyung had sent you a message.
Hey noona! Hope you are ready for a home spa day tomorrow!
P.S, Please tell Yoongi-hyung I made you happy... He’ll kill me if I fail!
#bts#bts x reader#imagine#one shot#scenario#reaction#fluff#angst#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#kim namjoon#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#idol!au
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Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts
Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa.
-
I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine we could imagine.
Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Green Planet is about to be cut off.
One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether a trial is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only.
The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our, the Good, side' will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them Here.
And Here is a vast, empty place, well lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone.
So, we meet demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale.
Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives, following orders he receives as best as he can and when he runs into his archenemy the demon, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker.
They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)
When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end.
How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter...
He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he's angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns.
So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing.
And, now. Here's the funny bit. Angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home.
You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy.
He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that once this bit is over, an even better one will come along. What that bit is was never quite explained but then, asking questions was always frowned upon and rather vehemently so. He's noticed this from the get go... unlike a red headed angel he once knew...
What is my point?
That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not.
Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.
Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell is real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.
You can't call Aziraphale stupid for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them so they kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett..
Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, has hope, wants to believe after thousands, millions of years.
And this is not stupid. Aziraphale does and is brave, courageous things. And he's slowly learning to trust himself more too. To know the difference. It started with the sword and his overthinking on the giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses. Not because Heaven is WRONG. Yes, they are. But the thing is they don't care. And Aziraphale does. He cares about humanity. And he cares about Crowley.
Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share.
The smiles and the glances, the small flowers of hope that things can change one day.
And they did change. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it.
They both learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust again. The angel how to question things.
So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.
In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss.
Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after I suppose. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.
Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and his help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.
And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death.
Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.
This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.
Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can.
This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc.
Please be kind.
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#aziracrow#neil gaiman#season 2#ineffable husbands#ineffable divorce#armageddon#shower thoughts#kaypost
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Hello ! Can I request a Lewis x reader who's a famous singer and he attend her concert please ? Him reacting to the songs she wrote for him and how it end up a bit smutty with they finf each other backstage ?
Fantasize | Lewis Hamilton
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader
Word Count: 1.1K
Warnings: Slight smut
A/N: Hello my loves ! The song inspo for this oneshot is Fantasize by Ariana Grande. Thank you anon for requesting. Hope you babes enjoy. Requests are open .xx
From long nights in the studio a few weeks ago to now going on tour felt like a breath of fresh air. The tour was starting off at home, in London. Excited, though my nerves took over me - even though I’ve been doing this for so many years now, I should be used to it, but not when I have a special guest attending…my situationship, Lewis.
Our situationship goes back about 3 months ago, when my PR manager thought it would be a good idea for me to date Lewis. I haven’t been in the dating light for quite a hot minute and apparently I needed to get back to it so people had something to talk about, especially since everyone nowadays is a fan of F1. Surprisingly his PR manager had agreed on it and apparently we would make a good looking couple.
It started when I attended the race in Miami, no one questioned it or got ‘suspicious’ because almost every A list celebrity attended. 3 weeks later I attended the Monaco GP, yet again I was a guest for Mercedes so people started to slowly talk about it. Didn’t go to any other race for a whole month since I had song writing and recording to do in studio. People really started to talk when I went to the British GP, not a coincidence to anyone that I’m from England but because my rumoured ‘boyfriend’ is British.
I grew to love the sport and let’s say my feelings also grew for Lewis. It felt a bit forced at first since we were patched by our PR team, but the more time we spent together alone, the more we learnt about each other’s true self. From sweet and shy to daring and flirty.
Lewis’ rizz is unmatched to any man that I’ve met or been with. He can start off as such a gentleman but can so smoothly move onto flirting with me and making me feel weak at my knees. Speaking of weak, we’re back to feeling that way now since Lewis was on a break in between races and decided that he wanted to attend to support me. For some reason he just makes me feel nervous, in a good way of course, I don’t even feel nervous to perform around friends or family or even my fans for crying out loud…wait, am I in love ? I’m pretty sure this is what it feels like to be in love and here I am being in denial about my feelings.
I was backstage warming up my vocals whilst getting my hair and makeup touched up, when we all heard a knock at the door. My manager walked over to the door and stepped aside as she held it wide open without a word, I looked through the mirror to see it was Lewis. “Aww Lew ! So glad you could make it” I smiled as I watched him walk towards me. “I’m so glad to be here. Very excited to see you perform tonight. Nervous ?” He asked as he rubbed my shoulders. My PR manager then escorted everyone out from the room so we were left alone.
“Very nervous but excited for the most part” I smiled as I then stood up to face him. “Don’t be, you got this. I’ll be cheering you on from the side. Just look to your left and you’ll see me” he smiled. “You’re so cute. Thanks for that, I’ll be looking out for you.” Just then my PR manager yells through the door, “(Y/N) you need to get dressed !”
I shut my eyes for a second, “Okay give me 5” I yelled. “Can I stay to watch ?” He smirked. “No, Sir. See you after the show” I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. I then turned him around by his shoulders and guided him to the door. “Just a peak” he pleaded as he bit his bottom lip. “Stop or I might just cave in. Bye” I blushed as I held on the door handle. “I’ll try my luck later. Break a leg” he said softly, he then caught me by surprise by giving me a sweet kiss and a wink before rushing out.
I finally got dressed, had another round of touch ups and put on my ear piece before heading out back stage for my entrance. I still felt flustered and I couldn’t stop thinking about Lewis. I really need to get my feelings off my chest after the show.
Out of the thousands of people screaming and looking at me I could feel a particular pair of eyes burning into me, when I took a quick glance to my left, he was right there as he said. His phone in hand, recording me looking his way. I shook my head and looked back towards the fans.
On the last verse, the energy in the stadium was ecstatic.
Mentally, physically weak
Boys blowin’ up my phone
They just ain’t you, ooh, baby
…
Tryin’ to behave, but I’m feelin’
Some type of way
That just ain’t me
The band and I took a bow before I gave a vote of thanks to the fans for coming, and for all the love they’ve shown on the album. After rushing off stage to my dressing room, my mind was running with thoughts of Lewis. Speaking of the man himself, he was already seated in my dressing room. “Hey gorgeous. You did amazing out there. I’m so so proud of you” he rushed over to me as he pulled me in for a hug. “Yet again, thanks for coming. It really means a lot” he then broke away from our hug with a serious look. “I was supposed to tell you this before you left and I can’t hold it in any longer”
“Okay well same and it’s eating me up inside to hold it back” I said as I took a deep breath. “I love you” we said simultaneously. “Oh my gosh” I lowly said. “Are you joking ?” He asked with the biggest smile on his face. “Lew this isn’t something to joke about” I said seriously. “Then please be mine, officially” he said as he then wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “I thought you’d never ask” I grinned as I leaned in and closed the gap between us.
“As sexy as this dress looks on you, it needs to come off” he said in between kisses. The kiss got heated by the second as his hands trailed from squeezing my bum to the straps of my dress, pulling them off my shoulders. Just then there was a knock at the door. Shit. “Babe your car is here !” my PR manager shouted. “Damn it” I said frustrated and heated. “Well I guess we’ll have to continue this in the car” he said as he helped me adjust the straps of my dress - he grabbed a hold of my hand and pulled me along with him, eagerly waiting to continue this in the car.
#f1#formula one#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton oneshot#lewis hamilton x reader#f1 fluff#lh#lh44#ricciardoaf oneshots
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Better For You
Spencer White x Reader
Summary: You knew Spencer outside of his ‘Spider’ persona. You knew the boy he was outside of the school crowd. But when the two worlds collide, will you see him for who he actually is?
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of spiking, cursing
———
“Spencer White?” You glance up from the diary in front of you, “Starting today?”
The tall boy in front of you clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Spider.”
You scrunch your nose at his request, “Yeah I’m not gonna do that.”
He scoffs, “Alright, and what do I call you?”
“(Y/n),” You respond, “It’s just us two today so I can show you the ropes.”
“Can’t be that hard right? Sell people tickets, serve popcorn, pour a few drinks?”
You stare at him with a black expression, evidently unimpressed.
He looks down at his feet and then back up to you, “Okay, where do I start?”
Spencer was about the same age as you, you assumed. Your boss had said he came across as ‘confident and enthusiastic’ in his interview but both of those things seemed a little uncertain now.
You’d been working at the movie theater for nearly a year now, your uncle knew the manager so you’d been a shoo in from the moment you were old enough to work. It was long hours, late days, annoying customers, but it earned you money and that was all it needed to do.
“Let’s start with popcorn.”
———
That was two months ago now. You now spent nearly every shift with Spencer. He made the long nights feel like they ended earlier. He snuck you free food, dealt with the annoying customers for you, sped around the screens quicker than you so you didn’t have to do as much cleaning. He took extra hours so he could work when you worked.
You’d learnt in that two months that he was working here after an argument with his mum where she told him he’d never worked a day in his life. He’d taken this job to prove her wrong. That was on one of your late night shifts after a midnight screening. It was just the two of you and he was evidently down, evidently in need of someone to talk to. He’d opened up to you. You’d told him that you were sorry, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d laughed and told you that if his Mum saw him like this she’d tell him this wasn’t work.
He drove you home that night, same as every night. And he thanked you before you got out of the car. He didn’t tell you what for, just said ‘thank you”. He needed it more than you did.
Now, he had your number and you had his. And you texted when you weren’t at work together. He sent you songs he thought you’d like, mainly from rock bands he’d heard at a concert that weekend. You sent him films he should watch and he forced himself to watch them, giving you a running commentary with text updates every few minutes.
You spoke to him more than you spoke to your other friends. You told him things before you told them nowadays too. But you two never saw each other outside of work. Separate schools, separate lives.
“Here,” You hand him over a stack of medium cups to add to the supplies at the counter.
Spencer takes them from you, loading them up onto the pyramid of cups you’d been making. It was a quiet day.
“You know if these fall you’re picking them up,” You comment, handing him another two cups.
Spencer adds them too and steps back with his hands raised as if he’s going to catch it, “Yeah, yeah, I figured.”
You grin, both of you admiring your handiwork.
“So,” He steps back to lean against the machine behind him, “I had a question.”
“A question,” You repeat, “Mysterious.”
“I know we’re not working on Saturday. My mates are having a party at the weekend, it’s stupid really, like this graveyard thing,” He shakes his head, “I was just… would you… would you want to come?”
You frown a little, as if taken aback but not wanting to admit it, “Are you…”
“You don’t have to, it’s a stupid idea really, I don’t know why we-“
“Yeah, I’ll come,” You nod, “I’m not here, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”
He smiles, “Alright, well then it’s a date.”
“Is it?” You cock a brow, folding your arms over your chest.
“I-“ His cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, “Shut up.”
Spencer rolls his eyes and steps forward, collapsing down the pyramid of cups into stacks in front of him.
———
Spencer texts you the location and you walk there as the sun’s going down - a little later than he’d suggested so you didn’t look awkward and eager.
It’s eerie when you think of it - a clearing in a graveyard converted into a party location. There’s already a crowd building, a mismatched stack of alcohol at one side and a littering of people you didn’t recognise mingling around.
Why had you agreed to come? You didn’t know a single soul here beyond Spencer. And surely he had other friends he’d want to see? The thoughts of turning around and pretending to have never arrived start coursing through your head. Your feet come to a stop, as if you’re preparing to disappear back into the surroundings.
“There you are!”
And there he is.
Through the crowd, you spot the familiar sight of that blonde floppy hair. The way his face curls up into that signature smile. He’s holding a red solo cup in each of his hands, extending them wide as if hugging you through the air.
“Was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
“Yeah, I’m still not sure about the whole… graveyard thing.”
Spencer laughs, “Yeah you just need to drink enough so you don’t think about it.”
He hands one of the cups to you and you take a sip.
“Careful, they’re probably spiked,” A girl walks past the two of you, eying Spencer with evident disgust.
She’s got dark short hair and a brightly coloured jacket with a black dress and she looks at you as if shes worried about you.
“Fuck off Amerie,” Spencer snaps, rolling his eyes at her.
You glance up at him and back to her and she offers you a small smile like she’s trying to warn you of something. She walks off over to another group of people and Spencer turns back to you.
“What was tha-“
“Come on, I want to introduce you to some people,” He places a hand gently on the middle of your back as if guiding you through the crowd.
There’s a group of boys over the other side, shouting loudly at each other and making vulgar gestures to go alongside whatever conversation they were having.
“Oi dickheads,” Spencer calls over, “Be normal for a minute, ay?”
The boys stop and turn around, both of them looking at you and then back to their friend.
“This is (Y/n),” He looks down at you and then back to them.
“(Y/n)!” One of the boys grins widely, “We’ve heard a lot about you. You moved in by Spider right?”
“Wh-“
“This is Ant, and that’s Dusty,” Spencer gestures between the two of them before you can say anything else.
“Nice to meet you,” You smile softly, “You know Spencer from school?”
“Yeah, basically since we could walk,” Dusty smiles at you, “We can tell you all the gory details.”
“Alright, alright, I’m right here,” Spencer shakes his head, standing close enough to you that his side is against yours, his arm still placed on your back.
He’s got that way about him. The feeling that you could just melt into his connection. You couldn’t explain it, but in a crowd of people you didn’t know, you were glad he was still beside you.
———
“So how does the dunny situation work here?”
Spencer turns to you and laughs, the two of you now at the edge of the party as people had started dancing in the middle. It was dark now, and you were stood just inches closer to Spencer to make the most of his radiating warmth.
“You find a spot where nobody can see you, and you put in some squat training,” He smiles, the kind of smile that creases his eyes.
“Oh how glamorous,” You wiggle your brows, placing your cup into his hand, “I’ll be right back.”
His fingertips linger on yours as your hand pulls away from his, his eyes lingering on you for even longer as you walk away.
You trail out away from the crowd and down a small path away from any prying eyes until you bump into the sound of giggling girls just ahead of you.
“Oh shit, sorry, I was just looking for somewhere to piss,” You clear your throat.
“Hey, wait, wait, wait,” One of the girls looks over to you, “You’re the girl that Spider was with right?”
It was the girl from earlier. The one Spencer had told to fuck off.
“Yeah, I’m (Y/n),” You offer a smile.
The girl’s friend stands up and zips up her trousers, both of them walking closer to you.
“I don’t want to sound like a cunt, but just be careful with him,” The girl, Amerie says.
“Am,” The other girl hits her arm, “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”
You look at her and fold your arms around you as if shrinking away from them, evidently uncomfortable.
“He’s just…” The other girl begins, “Very outspoken. He’s not exactly the nicest guy at Hartley.”
“He’s a grade A cunt,” Amerie adds, “And you seem like way too good for him.”
“Alright, we’re gonna go before Amerie says anything worse,” The other girl confirms, “Have a good night yeah?”
They both walk past you and you stand stuck in your spot, repeating over everything they had said. Spencer had been the nicest boy ever since you’d known him. He was thoughtful and funny and he was who you looked forward to seeing every shift. But everyone here seemed to be talking about a different boy when it came to him. To the girls, he was like the worst guy they’d known. And why had he lied to the boys about how he knew you?
“(Y/n)?”
You turn in your spot to see him stood behind you, far enough away that you can only make out his silhouette in the dark.
“You’d been a while, I was just making sure you were okay,” He speaks so softly you feel your heart skip a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” You clear your throat, walking towards him.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer offers, “I reckon the coppers will be here soon.”
“Yeah,” You smile at him lightly, “I’ll probably book an Uber-“
He holds his cup out towards you, “I’m not drinking. I’ll drive you home.”
Spencer tugs his jacket off from his shoulder and places it around yours his hand slipping down beside your arm until his hand is hovering beside yours. You interlock your hand with his and he smiles once more, like he’s relieved at the contact.
———
The drive back isn’t far, and the empty roads make it even quicker. Spencer still indicates every time he needs to, drives the limit rather than anything over, glances at you every so often to make sure you were okay in the passenger seat.
He pulls up in front of your house and shuts off the engine.
“So, will you be rushing back to a graveyard party any time soon?” He leans his head back against the headrest and turns it towards you.
“I think I’ll stick to the beach or a house party for now,” You nod, running your hands over the cold skin of your thighs.
Spencer laughs, “Yeah I-“
“Can I ask you something?” You interject, the thought practically spilling from your mind.
He frowns, nodding slightly.
“Why did the boys think I was your neighbour? Did you not tell them we worked together?”
Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t tell them about the job.”
You furrow your brows, “Is working at a movie theater really that bad?”
He lets out a deep breath, “It’s not that.”
There’s a stillness in the air between you. That sort of tension that he always managed to dissipate. He’s calm and yet the air seems to be full of all the nerves he could muster in your presence.
“I don’t really talk to them about anything with my Mum, or home, or anything. And I guess I figured if they knew about the job they’d start asking questions and it’s just… not something I tell people.”
“You told me.”
Spencer chuckles a little, “You’re easier to talk to.”
You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders seems to relax a little, “I guess I can pretend to be your neighbour next time.”
“Next time?” He raises his brows, “So you did like the graveyard.”
You laugh, your gaze averting to the darkness looming over your house, not a single light on.
“So, my parents are away,” You say quietly, like you’re now the one holding all of the nervous energy, “Do you want to… I mean you could…”
“Yeah.”
You laugh, unsure at what point in your time knowing him had it become so easy for Spencer to make you nervous.
———
He sits at the end of the bed whilst you get ready in the bathroom. You take off your makeup, wash your face, tie back your hair and change into your pyjamas. They were one of the cuter sets you owned - different to the normal baggy t-shirt you’d wear. But if there was ever a time to wear a nicer set, it was whilst Spencer would be the one you were sharing a bed with.
When you walk back in, he looks up from the book he had in his hands - one he’d taken from your nightstand.
“Didn’t think that would be your kind of thing,” You nod towards it, walking over to your side of the bed.
“Too many big words,” He smiles, setting it back down and shuffling backwards on the bed.
He was wearing only his t-shirt and boxers now - his other clothes folded in a pile on the chair in front of your vanity.
“Okay we’ve got a problem here,” You comment, looking down at him.
“What’s that?” He asks, swinging his legs around so that he’s sat at the side of the bed facing you, his knees bumping against your legs.
“This is my side of the bed,” You mention.
“Oh is it?” Spencer cocks a brow at you and you hum in response.
His hands reach out and gently brush the skin of your thigh, trailing upwards towards your waist as if drawing you towards him. You let him guide you, shifting until you are straddling his lap. Neither of you speak, Spencer’s hand moving around to hold your back, one remaining on your waist. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes focused on his like you’re seeking that comfort.
“Can I kiss you?” Spencer whispers, the words seeming to tumble from his lips.
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “Yes.”
The corners of his mouth upturn just slightly, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips. And then, he closes the gap just enough. His lips press against yours, soft and cautious but somehow so certain of themselves. His hand moves to cup your jaw, drawing more of you to him as his fingertips tangle into your hair. When he pulls away, his lips curl into a smile, forehead pressing against yours.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” He whispers, as if not wanting anything else to ruin the moment.
You laugh, leaning into him, “This is still my side.”
Spencer chuckles, holding one arm tightly around his waist to shuffle you both back across the mattress. He shifts to lay you down on one side of the bed before settling down on the side beside you, his arm outstretched to pull you into his chest. You can feel his heart beating against your ear and you’re relieved for a second he is sharing in the same adrenaline that you are.
His fingertips trail up and down your arm, the most delicate touch he could muster.
“I’m sorry I lied to the boys about you,” He speaks the words quietly into the air of the room.
You tilt your head upwards just enough that you can see his face, “We already spoke about this, you don’t have to-“
“Yeah but I didn’t apologise properly and I should do,” He nods, “It shouldn’t be your problem to have to lie to them too.”
“Would it really be so bad if they knew you had a job?”
Spencer shakes his head, tucking his other arm beneath his head on the pillow, “No, it wouldn’t. I just don’t like the thought of them knowing everything that goes on at home. It’s easier to go into school and act like none of that exists.”
You lean up onto your elbows and turn to face him, reaching up a hand to run through the hair falling at the side of his forehead, “Would it not be easier if you could talk to them about it?”
He wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes flitting between each of yours, “I don’t think I’d even know what to say.”
Spencer leans up just enough to kiss you again, gentle and fleeting.
He pulls you back down to his chest and tugs the blanket up over both of you. The pair of you stay there, like that in each other’s arms, until his breath starts to even out and he falls asleep - though, even then, his arms don’t loosen from around you.
———
Spider is back at school on Monday morning. He’d spent all of Sunday with you - waking up at your house, driving you both to work, and then taking you to dinner afterwards. It was the first time he’d ever woken up and instantly wanted to text someone, sending you a quick ‘good morning’ along with his complaints for not wanting to go to school today. He felt like a child with his first crush. Though, when he thought about it, maybe this was the first proper crush he’d had. No other girl had made him feel like this. And he’d savour it for as long as he could.
“Oi dickhead, are you listening?” Dusty interrupts his thoughts, the two of them walking towards the locker room to get changed.
“No,” Spider shrugs, “Do I need to be?”
“You missed a killer end to the party man,” Dusty points out, pushing the door open to where the rest of the boys already were, “I can’t believe you left early.”
“Oh come on I think Spider had other things on his mind,” Ant points out as soon as he overhears the conversation.
“Yeah who the fuck was that chick?”
“Does it matter? Either way Spider was going to fu-“
“Cut it out,” Spider snaps, to nobody in particular, just hoping for anything that would stop the topic of conversation.
“Aww is Spider precious about his latest conquest?” Ant frowns, “You’ll be onto the next one by this weekend.”
“Have you ever just thought of shutting up Ant?” Spider questions, reaching down to tie the laces of his trainers, “I mean, seriously, is it so hard to think (Y/n) might just be a good person? Someone I actually like hanging out with?”
“I don’t think that’s what they’re doubting,” It’s Malakai that speaks this time.
Spider looks at him, uncertain.
“If she’s a decent person, the last guy she should be around is you.”
For a moment, he feels the silence around him. The same tightness in his chest that he got at every dinner with his Mum. The same voice in his head telling him it was impossible for him to be good.
“Well,” He clears his throat, standing up from the bench, “Good thing I don’t need to listen to you cunts.”
When he walks out onto the field, the girls are already crowded around in conversations with each other. Spider walks over, crossing towards the opposite side of the field.
“Oi Spider!”
It’s Amerie that yells after him. He turns around to see her and Harper making their way over.
“You know we told that girl from the party to stay away from you,” Amerie states strongly, offering him her most judgemental look.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You might be able to put on an act for her but she deserves to know how shitty you are.”
“Are you kidding?” Spider scoffs, “You don’t even know her, why’s it your place to say anything?”
“We don’t know her,” Amerie shrugs, “But we know you. And no girl deserves that.”
He glances around at the rest of the people on the field, across to where the boys have just started filtering outside too. Not a single person here thought well of him. Even the boys, his friends, they saw him as the boy that said what they wouldn’t say. He was funny to them before he was good. He was someone to laugh at before he’d ever be someone to talk to. He’d become a show piece at this school. The controversial one that said what nobody else would.
“Ever thought that I might want to be a decent guy? That if I actually liked someone it’s genuine?” Spider shrugs, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Oh fuck off Spider, are you even capable of that?”
“Maybe.”
———
You’d been on Spider’s mind for the whole day. And, as soon as the final bell rang, all he could think of was getting to you.
It’s not a far drive, just the other side of town. But he speeds as if it’s some sort of last ditch attempt to get to you. He hadn’t thought to text, or ask where you were, or ask if you were free. He just knew he needed to get to you. And when he pulls up in front of your house, he realises this is as far as his thoughts had taken him, he wasn’t sure what that meant now.
He knocks on the door, harshly as if he’s channeling his nerves into the sound.
It’s not you on the other side. Instead, an older woman, bearing some resemblance to you in the brightness of her eyes.
“Hi, can I help you?” Her brows furrow but she smiles at him welcomingly, warmly.
“Um-“ He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “I just-“
“Are you (Y/n)’s friend?”
Before he can respond, you come up behind the woman and grasp her shoulders, “I’ve got this one Mum.”
You glance to Spencer and smile, instantly relaxing the tension in his shoulders.
“It was nice to meet you,” Your Mum nods to him, turning to you and giving you some sort of knowing smile as if exchanging silent words.
You step out of the front door and pull it almost-closed behind you;
“What are you doing here Spencer?”
“You didn’t tell me what the girls said to you at the party.”
“I-“ You wrap your arms over your chest as a breeze courses past both of you, “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Didn’t matter?” He half laughs, his shoulders dropping, “They practically told you to get as far away from me as you could.”
“Yeah. And that doesn’t mean I believed them.”
Spencer smiles at you just a little, but it falters quickly.
“Why do they hate you so much Spencer?”
He pauses, taking a deep breath as he looks at you like even the sight of you is enough to calm down all of the worry coursing through him.
“My whole life it’s just been me and my Mum. I didn’t have siblings, my Dad was never in the picture. And so I had this one person left that was meant to love me. You know? That was her job, right? She’s my Mum, she just needs to love me and we’d figure the rest out. My Mum treats me every day like I’m the worst guy on the planet. I’m a guy and she thinks that’s enough for me to be someone she should hate. To her, I’m destructive and thoughtless and I have all this potential do a world of wrong. She reminds me of that every day, with everything I do. She’s reminded me of it so much that I started to believe it. That’s the guy I am to them at school. That’s the guy they know. And I’d hate me too if I was them.”
You feel a lump forming in your throat, wanting to reach out for him and tell him everything he needed to hear. To heal all those years of hurt that sat on those young shoulders.
“I don’t want to be that guy when I’m with you.”
You feel it then. The way your heart skips a beat once more.
“I want to be better.”
Your face breaks into a small smile, an instinctive response.
“I believe you,” You practically whisper the words, “Everyone else might have a lot to say about you but I know the person that you are with me.”
You step forward towards him.
“And I don’t think that guys so bad.”
You watch as he visibly relaxes, grasping out for you as soon as you are within reach, his hands snaking around to your waist. Your hands move up to his chest, linking around the back of his neck.
“You deserve a chance to be better Spider,” You smile, reaching up onto the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips.
He hums against the contact, pulling away to say, “I prefer Spencer.”
You chuckle and he wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes in the scent of you in his arms, feeling his heart slow in your hold. He’s sure he could stay there forever. And you’re sure that you would let him.
#heartbreak high#spencer white#heartbreak high spencer#spider white#heartbreak high spider#spider x reader#spider x you#spider x y/n#spencer x reader#spencer x you#spencer x y/n#heartbreak high fic#heartbreak high imagine#heartbreak high one shot#heartbreak high drabble#heartbreak high x reader#heartbreak high x you#heartbreak high x y/n#heartbreak high netflix#bryn chapman parish#heartbreak#high
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whiskey sour;
pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader
word count: 1577
warnings: meet..cute(?)
note: my heart said angst but my brain said fluff, and i cant write without a brain so… (also on ao3)
summary: the man at the bar never talks. not to women hitting on him, not to the men squaring him up for fights.
You see him every weekend for 3 months straight, sitting at the same place, wearing some rotation of dark hoodies, and sporting some manly drink that seem like they taste as angry as he looks. You notice the only one he talks to is the bartender. And now you, apparently.
You trudged into the bar with a sour face and a sour mood and sat next to him, which you wouldn’t do if there was legitimately any other seat. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” You pointed at his drink after getting the barkeep’s attention.
It surprised you when the drink came less than a third of the glass it came in. Did the bartender think you’re a pussy and gave you less? Whatever.
So you downed it in one go.
Horrible idea. It burned from your tongue down to your esophagus, and you coughed your lungs out for a solid minute while tears streamed down your face before the fire dissipates.
“You’re supposed to sip.” You heard someone mutter after your body stopped being dramatic over the drink.
Who the fuc—
“You savour it.” He chided. Oh, it’s the quiet man. So the reason no one talked to him is because he’s some kind of obnoxious fuck?
“No ‘you allright’ or ‘you okay’? Straight to the lecture?” You bit back. Fuck, you feel like purposefully bumping into him as you slid off your seat, but he’s built like a tank and you’re not going to test whether you’re wet noodle or wet tissue against him right now. You trudged out of the bar you entered not fifteen minutes ago, and out of anger you promise to never go back.
And by never you mean like two years. You’ve changed jobs, moved closer to work, and now you literally live above said bar you never wanna go back to.
Fuck.
A few weeks went by before seeing him again. Still sitting in the same place, still wearing dark hoodies, still staring daggers at everyone. You changed your mind on drinking that day, not when he’s around.
But the next day you weren’t so lucky. Thinking he wouldn’t be there—since it was a weekday—you plopped right in front of the barkeep and asked him about rumours and gossips of the week.
“Well, that hot widow I kinda fancy got a date yesterday, seemed like it went well.”
You rolled your eyes, “If only you asked her out first.”
He laughed as he slides you a glass of water. “Did that at a previous place, people think they get free drinks when they date a bartender.”
“Wait, you don’t?”
“Nah. I mean, I’ll give them some but lots take it too far and think they can order for a group.”
You scrunched you nose, “I think you just dated shit people, Sam.”
He scoffed, “Shut the fuck up.”
His attention was away from your a second and you decided to take a glance at who ordered. It’s him. You didn’t even notice when he came, to think someone his size would make a lot of noise when they walk. But you were too caught up in conversation, you guess.
When he got back he grabbed two glasses and filled it with a big ball of ice and poured very little of what you think was bourbon into the glasses. You had learnt a little here and there, since you do live above and spend some time with Sam on slow days. To your surprise he handed one to you.
You immediately looked towards the man’s direction and he waved his glass at you.
Oh no.
Taking a deep breath, you grab the glass and place yourself next to him.
“Allright?”
You sighed, “Yeah, don’t worry, I remember this is a sippy drink and not a gulpy drink.”
“Good.”
“Thanks, by the way.” You raised your glass and started sipping. You can’t hide your wince. This would definitely be a good if you were depressed or sad or trying to forget a horrible incident or getting over a breakup, but things are way too nice in your life for you to enjoy it properly. “Would you be offended if I asked the barkeep to make this into a whiskey sour?”
He answered by waving Sam down.
As your drinks slowly diminish, you learn exactly two things about him. His name is Simon and he likes dogs. The man dodged so many questions like Neo and those fucking bullets, and if Sam didn’t somehow made the previously godawful whiskey taste so goddamn tasty you would’ve probably gone upstairs and to bed by now.
But Simon is a good listener, so whenever you feel like having a drink, you sit next to him. It’s definitely a biased opinion, but you think it’s highly unfair that he is as funny as he is attractive. He’s cracking jokes as if his life depended on it, like an ugly kid that had to make his way through school being funny to avoid getting bullied. You also learnt one new thing about him, he has a friend called Soap. Of course you didn’t ask about him, because you know he doesn’t divulge any information, but it’s really funny that the other man calls him quite often lately and then hearing them bantering back and forth for a couple minutes before you can hear the scot on the other end of the phone yell something so scottish you couldn’t understand a word. For a little while you fall into this fun routine, until he stopped coming one day. You think nothing of it at first, like he is a grown man and he could have those seasonal jobs, but weeks turned to months and you miss your drinking buddy.
~
It was a rainy afternoon, and you opted to wait at the office an extra two hours for the rain to lighten up at least a little. Regret settled deep in your bones for rejecting so many ride home offers, as you wrung what you could of your wet clothes. Some fucker in a pickup truck thought it would be funny to drive at sixty by some puddles and splash everyone at the sidewalk. Everyone huddled under the same awning to try and clean themselves up and share their plight. After feeling dry enough, you started to head back when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, and then a hand on your shoulder.
“You look like a wet rat.”
Fighting words. Those are fighting words. You did the one thing you know is appropriate for such a greeting.
You hugged him. Wet clothes and all.
He was tense for the duration of the hug, and ended it quickly with pats to your upper back. A wide smirk graced your face as you looked up at him, and you can immediately tell—albeit covered by a face mask—that he’s unhappy of the outcome.
“Hi.” You greeted, the smirk getting wider at his apparent annoyance.
“There’s a kebab place nearby. Let’s go.”
It was a seven minute walk, and you were glad the place he led you to was rather dirty, cramped, and two girls were doing their homework on a table at the back. The food will definitely be good. You looked around for a place to sit after telling him what you wanted. Scouting for a table with no food left, you stood near a family of four and waited for them to leave.
Simon came back with the food you ordered and some drinks you definitely didn’t tell him to get. But it was apparently some foreign soda that you’ve never seen, and you were happy to get to try it. Halfway through your meal someone clapped his shoulders and you swear he was about to stand up and do something until he saw the other man’s face.
The man with a mohawk started, “Who’s this, LT?”
Simon skipped too many beats to answer, and looking at his face, you swear he was legitimately about to throw down, so you did what you think would be natural at a time like this.
“Oh, uhh… I don’t know him, I just sat here because the place was full.”
He then introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Johnny. This here is my mate, Simon.”
“Piss off, Johnny.”
Johnny laughed, and when he went to the cashier you were afraid he would join you, but he said goodbye as soon as he got his order.
Both of you ate in silence for a bit. “So you don’t know me, huh?” He finally cracked, smiling at you.
Oh thank god, you thought he was mad, “Sorry, you looked really uncomfortable.”
“That bad?”
You slowly nodded, “Honestly, yeah. Scared you were gonna beat him up on the spot.”
“Nah.” He sipped on his soda, contemplating something. “Do that at work though, not here.”
You blinked. “You’re gonna beat him up.. At work?”
He raised his eyebrows as a confirmation, and you can see he’s not gonna elaborate.
Leaving the place, he walked you back to your place, under the guise of needing a drink after having such a ‘rough night’.
“Why?” You teased him as you two walked in, “Is it rough because now your friend thinks you like people that looks like a wet rat?”
“Nah. He already knows I do.”
“What?”
He doesn’t say anything else, but he did tell Sam to make two whiskey sours.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#call of duty imagines#call of duty#scuffed writing#ngl there was supposed to be a line saying#‘yeah well you look like youd rather be circumcised for a 2nd time’#but someone (>:3) said brits dont get circumcisions so#that went out the window
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With the last breath
Word count: 1577
Warnings: depression, suicide attempt
Part II
At first, I'm sorry for my English. It isn't my native language, so there are mistakes and maybe it wouldn't give sense. Writing this was a real challenge and it showed me my (language) limits😅
For the first actual fanfiction I post here I'd say it's quite dark. I wrote it after fight with husband as kind of distraction. Well, it served its purpose.
Declaration: I write just for fun✌️
One day you were on a way to deliver some documents to Rhysand. He sent a request to the library to look for certain information he urgently needed and when everything he asked for was collected, Clotho asked you to deliver it to him. As the only person who from time to time didn't mind to go out, you had a good relationship him and knew all of the members of the inner circle. You often worked with them and helped them as you knew the library so well as the back of your hand.
Entering the River House you headed to his office. Clotho had sent him a notice of your visit early in the morning, so you knew where to look for him. As you approached the office door you could hear his voice and the voices of two other males. He was there together with his brothers standing around the table with maps and papers on it and discussing something important. You didn't want to disturb them, so you silently walked through the open door and set the documents on a small table right next to the door. Spymaster's eyes met yours for a second as he was the only one facing the door and he noticed the movement. Finding out it's you, as usually, he lost interest and returned to whatever they were looking at together. Rhys noticed his eyes went up and he also turned to you with a big, kind smile.
„Is that the information I asked for?“
„Yeah, it should be all. I checked it several times to make sure,“ you whispered silently, but he heard you.
„Would you mind to stay for lunch since you've come this far? It would be just three of us, Feyre and Elain,“ Rhys invited you.
Your eyes hastily darted to Azriel. His jaw slightly tightened, but you didn't miss that small move. „I'm afraid I need to return back..“ you tried to smile little.
„Are you already going back? Don't you need escort?“ Cassian turned to you too, offering help.
He and Rhys were kind to you and seemed to be happy to see you whenever you met them. Rhys always asked you to join a meal with his family and sometimes you'd accept it. On the other hand, Spymaster has never bothered to treat you with more than a short look or few casual phrases at the best. Even though he didn't seem to be really fond of you, he tended to sit next to you on a sofa or hold a seat for you next to him at the table. But it was a long time ago. Maybe he noticed you eyeing him with interest and that was the reason his behaviour changed over the years from 'I can tolerate you' to 'such a nuisance'. He personally didn't do nor say anything bad to you. But you could feel it from him somehow. You hadn't much of magic in your blood, but you was able to read any subtle signs and understand how people around you feel. That's the reason you stopped accepting invitations and tried to cross his path as little as possible. In the moments like this it was impossible to avoid meeting him and he seemed to be fine with it, paying you minimum attention. But as soon as somebody asked you to join them for a meal or evening, you could feel a slight discomfort from him. You tried to brush it away, but still it hurt.
When you met him for the first time you were afraid of him. As you got to know inner circle better, you learnt there's actually nothing scary about him and that deep down he is a very kind person. His silent, calm and caring nature appealed to you and before you noticed you fell in love with him. You couldn't help it even though you knew you don't have any chance. Masking it as best as you could, you decided to suffer in silence. You knew about his feeling toward Mor and when Archeron sisters entered your lives you noticed his shift of interest to Elain too. You weren't ugly, but there was no way you could compete with such beauties as the two of them. And you were well aware of that. That's why you've never tried to approach him and talk to him properly and after feeling a kind of discomfort from him in your presence, you tried to keep your distance and avoid him.
You excused yourself as fast as you could and turned around to leave. When you were sure that Rhys and Cass turned back to the table, you allowed yourself a single glance to him over your shoulder. His features were relaxed. He was so painfully beautiful that tears welled up in your eyes and the painful hole in your chest got little bigger.
After meeting him you needed some time to calm down and bury those feelings back so deep that nobody could notice them. You were walking around the city till you were sure you regained your peace. And just then you decided to head back to the library.
When you were climbing up the stairs you heard some muffled voices. You've never spied on other people, but this time you couldn't resist it and peaked to the hall to see who could it be. And there you saw them. Azriel stood with his back against the wall, Elain standing on her tiptoes with arms around his neck leaning into him. They started to kiss, slowly at first, but soon enough their passion took over. You couldn't stand it. Tears stinging your eyes once again, you left as silently as possible. When you were far from them and they couldn't hear you anymore, you run to your room as fast as you could. Closing the door you slid down to the ground unable to stifle your sobs. Knowing he has a thing for somebody else wasn't as painful as to actually see them together. It utterly broke your heart leaving you unable to breathe properly. Your life was pretty simple, you didn't have much. Your love for that male and a little faith you held were basically all you had left and the scene you witnessed totally crushed it all.
It took you hours until you calmed down enough to be able to stand up. You opened the door. You didn't know where to go, but you couldn't stand to be here anymore. Your legs took over the control, marching on their own. Suddenly you found yourself on one of the balconies heavily leaning on the railing. You slightly leaned over the edge looking down. The balcony was so high it made you nauseous. You pulled back to the safety. Spending most of the time in the library you've never gave much thoughts to heights at which you lived. You just occasionally had chance to stop and look out the window. Carefully you sat up on the railing back facing outwards. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, to get through the pain and the shock. You tilted your head back watching floating clouds. As child you spent hours lying in the grass and watching clouds. It used to be so relaxing, but now you felt nothing, except emptiness. There was a bird flying high above you. You sighed. How beautiful it would be if you could fly. You'd took off flying far from this place, far from these people, far from him. What it must be like to feel so free and weightless. If you lean back little more, you could find out. It would be so nice to fly down, to never have to feel anything anymore. You knew you should be scared to even think about such things, but instead you felt numb.
The bird was getting bigger as it flew closer. You closed eyes and leaned back more and more. Suddenly you felt so light, flying like that bird. Small smile formed on your lips and you stretched out arms like wings.
Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind when he noticed somebody leaning dangerously on the edge of railing on one of the highest balconies. It was strange, but he was tired so at first he didn't pay much attention to it. He looked away just for a moment and the person disappeared. His throat tightened. He immediately plunged headlong down, but he wasn't fast enough. The person was only few meters away from a certain death. He had to winnow. Stepping into shadows he reappeared few foots bellow the person stretching out arms to catch... HER! There was no doubt. It was Y/N. What happened? Why would she do something so horrible? What if he tries to catch her, but she slips through his hands and dies? He'd never been so scared in his entire life. If something were to happen to her, he'd never forgive himself. All sounds of the world disappeared, he could hear only own heart racing in his chest. It took just mere seconds, but it seemed to take forever. The moment her body collided with his, the time had stopped. He squeezed his eyes, muscles tensing, wings spreading to stop their fall.
When he finally dared to open his eyes, there she was safe in his arms, pressed to his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.
#acotar fanfiction#azriel acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel x you#azriel
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What are your favorite headcanons you have? I notice you always have asks about specific characters, but I think a post dedicated to miscellaneous headcanons you especially love would be a nice break!
Like out of the ones I've already done? I'd say these ones are my favourites
Yuzuha offered to get a bike and drive Hakkai around (not to mention learn to drive) when she realised he was constantly riding with Mitsuya. Hakkai quickly said no though.
Kazutora likes his hair being played with but is too nervous to ask anyone to do it (luckily baji noticed this a while ago and occasionally when they're just hanging out and lying around Baji will play with it).
Izana anonymously donated to orphans in the bad toman timeline
Ran and Rindou both using Koko as their middle man when they're arguing. "Koko, please tell Ran to get his job done" "Koko, please tell Rindou his outfit sucks today" "YOU TWO ARE STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER"
Baji gets extremely excited for zoo visits, as a kid he actually used to frequently get lost at zoo trips since he'd run off to look at all the animals faster then his mum/ class.
Kakucho used to make Izana crayon birthday cards each year as a kid
If Akane had known Koko had manged to save Inupi then she would've been happy that her little brother got out.
Hanma's the type of person who can fall asleep anywhere, chair, bed, floor, laundry pile. He can sleep on any of them.
South kept accidentally mixing up the Haitani brother's names when he first met them.
The first time Mikey's toman friends heard him say "please" is when he was desperately asking them for some of their food. (After they said no the first time, he sighed then suddenly got serious and just said "please"
Sometimes when it rains, Chifuyu will glance around for anyone without an umbrella. Wondering if he'll get to have a manga moment with them.
While Sanzu was in tenjiku he kept his hands in his pockets a lot. This was to hide the way he'd clench his fists whenever they mentioned taking Mikey down.
One time, after the Kawata twins learnt about the classic trope of twins switching places for a day they decided to try it. Despite their obvious differences they were so sure it was going to work too (it did not work).
Inui once called Shinichiro big brother by accident, Shinichiro was thrilled.
Shion couldn't read the room when it came to South, he thought they were good friends.
Rindou had a teddy bear as a kid that he was super attached to, so attached that he still has it (it's hidden in his room). Ran still teases him about it.
When Benkei's training people in the gym he can seem a bit loud and aggressive but he's actually very supportive, cheering people on and practising them to help with their motivation (he's just very enthusiastic).
In the good timeline Ran thinks signing a few pieces of paper for a few minutes count as a full days work.
Kazutora despises any kind of violence against women, it actually reminds him of the situation with his mother. So because of this he always steps in to beat the guys up stop the situation. (In the good timeline this actually causes problems between him and Senju since he frequently steps into her fights).
Yuzuha can hold her alcohol very well, Hakkai thinks this is unfair (he's more of a lightweight)
Kazutora secretly talks to the animals at the pet shop, telling them about his day.
Baji went to visit Sanzu in the hospital after the incident, he brought him magazines to try and cheer him up.
South doesn't understand the concept of a water fight, will start punching
Kakucho wasn't sure of his birthday so Izana assigned him one
Taiju hates hospitals, they just remind him of his mother and her death.
Hanma has stolen Kisaki's glasses to try on before (and did a Kisaki impression while wearing them)
During the good timeline Sanzu hinted he wanted a pet once. He was thinking like a dog or maybe a cat but Senju got him a hamster. He still ended up loving the little guy
Chifuyu was kicked out of a library once for having such a loud reaction to a twist in a book.
It actually took a long time for Wakasa's friends to figure out what he's scared of. They tried testing him with lots of different things and actually gave up before a house centipede just so happened to crawl by, scaring Wakasa.
Kisaki has yelled at Hanma for eating and leaving crumbs on his bed many times.
Sometimes while sleeping at school, Mikey will talk in his sleep (Draken always glares at the other students and teachers if they dare turn around to look at Mikey)
When Mochi's grocery shopping he normally gets asked by people to reach things on the higher shelves, he always gets them what they need.
Mitsuya has a few burn scars on his hands from where he learnt to cook at a young age and made a few mistakes
The first few times Rindou decided to drive his bike, Ran forced him to wear a helmet. (Ran said he didn't need one though, only Rindou)
Mucho didn't actually give Sanzu his jacket, he just let him borrow it. But then didn't have the heart to ask for it back when he saw how much Sanzu loved it.
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correspondence and revelations shortly after Dagor Bragollach for @silmarillionepistolary
To, Caranthir Morifinwë Fëanorian
Lord of the East
Dear cousin, it is with great sorrow which I greet you. The attacks of the Enemy took us all by surprise and I mourn the blow the loss of Thargelion will surely have on us all. Though I had never the chance to visit I had heard many great things of the eastern mountains, they were fair to behold, I am told, and I know that you loved it there. Still it gladdens me to hear that you and yours escaped for the most part unscathed. Know whatever aid and support we can spare is already on its way to you as you receive this letter.
I'm sure you know already that Celegorm and Curufin have taken up refuge among my people. You should know you they are well and whole. They, along with I, have sent letters detailing their arrival and stay. I have also sent some papers detailing preliminary adjustments to traderoutes and logistics for delivering aid among our people and allies. I am sure you have more than enough plans of your own and as always i defer to you judgement on such matters.
But all this aside I had another matter I wished to inform you of concerning one of the people of Haleth in Brethil. I have kept it to myself for some time but if anything has come from these last days is that none of us knows when doom will rear its head.
The Lady Haleth herself I met only a few times, when negotiating the terms of her people’s dwelling, and found her to be a woman of brusque and bright countenance. Indeed, when I learnt of her dealings with you I thought that the pair of you must have gotten on like a house on fire, else hated each other entirely. But I digress.
It was upon one of those meetings when I saw a child, I reckoned at the time, perhaps five by the count of Men often about her dwelling. No husband she ever spoke of nor did I ask. The child had her likeness and hearing of the tradgey that claimed the rest of her family, I thought perhaps his father had perished with her kin.
In truth, I thought little of it at all until some years ago, on a visit to the city of Menegroth, when I found a youth milling about the edges of the Girdle. It must have been two hundred years since I’d last seen him, the Haladin had since had two chieftains but the boy looked no older than twenty. He named himself a changeling in his own tongue and told me his father was one of the Eldar.
Erestor he called himself in Sindarin for though he’d lived among his people, at on the request of his mother had not taken her title. Instead he stayed as a counseler for his cousin and later his children and grandchildren. (The translation is a bit off I deem but he having learned more seems loath to correct it and resistant to advice) Either way, wishing to learn more of his father’s people and had come to Doriath to see if he may by his blood be permitted. I spoke with him a while and finding him genuine in his desire, brought him with me and vouched for him before Elu Thingol, the King.
Since then he visits the city every few summers and then returns to his people before the snows set in. He has had little trouble of it, for his mother’s features hide much of his fathers heritage and he is wont to pass through, drawing as little attention to himself as he can. But I found him curious and upon further investigation and despite his protests to the contrary, I am certain his father is Noldorin. In fact, on those rare occasions he does smiles without restrain cousin - were it not for his quiet temperament I know he did not inherit from his mother - I would have wondered if he was your own.
At any rate, considering the time and circumstances I first found him, it's likely it is that his father is among your people. I can think of any number of reasons such a thing would have been hidden from offical records but I truly doubt it could have happened without your knowledge. To the point, I thought, especially in the chaos of these days, you might pass on some news of the boy’s well being. I have had news from Brethil, written in the the his hand, they are well, if overwhelmed with refugees from Dor Lomin. But he is safe. Perhaps that might comfort his kin in Amon Ereb. And perhaps you could tell him that his child is a scholar in training. That he is happy, as much as any of us can be, and untouched by doom or darkness. May he remain so.
I hope I have not overstepped in my assumptions. Always I have hesitated in speaking on this subject. I just have with the loss of don't want to leave anything unsaid that ought to be.
That is all.
As I detailed before, i have sent ahead letters pertaining to more practical means. I have no doubt in your prompt reply. I wish you well, cousin. May Tilion watch your steps before the Dawn breaks.
Finrod Felagund
King of Nargothrond
#this has been sitting in my drafts#waiting for the right moment#so here you go:)#silmarillion epistolary#my writing#silmarillion#tolkien#finrod felagund#caranthir x haleth#caranthir#erestor#erestor son of canarthir
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Harmonies
Dream of the Endless / Hob Gadling | Human AU | Writer Dream - Voice Actor Hob | Explicit | 2.2k
Porn with some Plot | Masturbation | Literal voice porn | Dream doesn't quite know what to do with himself honestly
@hardly-an-escape recently had this FABULOUS idea of acclaimed writer Morpheus who secretly publishes popular romance novels under a pen name, who shamefully gets off while listening to voice actor Hob Gadling acting out an explicit scene from one of his romance stories. I would say my hand slipped but this was 100% planned and thought through.
Morpheus refreshed his inbox. Early afternoon, Lucienne had told him. He gave a quick glance at the clock. 5:42PM. Early afternoon was fading into late afternoon one second at a time, with nothing to show for it.
Morpheus refreshed his inbox. Again.
This is stupid, he thought, frustration seeping in. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Surely, they had not finished editing or formatting the whole thing yet, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Perhaps they had forgotten. Morpheus didn't usually request to be sent the beta recordings. He was more than happy to let them do their job unencumbered, trusting Lucienne to green light everything once it was done. Truth be told, he was barely involved in the whole audiobook side of things, except for, well, writing the damn thing in the first place and having his pen name slapped on the cover. Lucienne had arched an eyebrow at him when he'd asked for the latest recordings out of the blue, but had not been overly curious. A good thing, really. Morpheus carefully avoided any occasion that required him to lie through his teeth. This, no doubt, would have been one of them.
His phone buzzed, startling him.
[6PM 09/05/2023 – The Kindly Ones – Edit Zoom Meeting]
Morpheus turned off the reminder. Too many fires at once. That was his problem, his sister had told him once. Stretching yourself thin until you're see-through, she had said. She was not wrong, of course, although Morpheus would not admit it to her face. She would be far too smug about it.
He refreshed his inbox.
Inbox (1)
Morpheus froze and stared at the screen. There it was. Finally. His pulse racing, he reached for his headphones, struggling to plug it in in his haste. The file was slow to download, the recordings accounting for more than half of the book. Morpheus' fingers tapped impatiently against his desk as he watched the bar crawl to the finish line.
5:51PM.
Surely he could allow himself a quick browse through the file. The meeting with his editor―his other editor―wouldn't start for five more minutes, if not more, should they run a little late on their side. Morpheus found himself wishing they would. Unprofessional, a little voice admonished him.
He opened the file. It had been divided into sections, each corresponding to a chapter. Skip. Skip. Skip. He knew what he was looking for. The book had come out a year ago or so. He still remembered the outline well enough. For a while, he heard nothing but the initial breath of the voice actor, one for each chapter, before he would skip ahead. When he finally let the recording play, the voice engulfed him in its warmth.
Although Morpheus had been the one initially weaving the words and sentences together, they found another dimension and depth in that voice. He was rediscovering his work on someone else's tongue, and the effect left him... intrigued. A few voice actors had given life to the words on the page over the years but this one... This one breathed a soul into the story like none had ever managed to before.
When Morpheus had learnt Robert Gadling would narrate another one of his books, he could not resist.
The beta recordings were rough, lacking the polish of the final product, leaving intakes of breath in and other little imperfections editors would cut out. Morpheus could hear every huff, every chuckle when Gadling would stumble over a word and correct himself, going back to the beginning of the sentence. He could picture the smile on his lips then, the playfully apologetic look at the tech team. He had looked up pictures of him online, once. His face matched his voice: warm, inviting, with a hint of mischief. Suave, even. Morpheus had then closed the tab, embarrassed at his own thoughts.
The scene he had skipped to was professionally relevant, or, at least, he tried to convince himself it was. He had always understood sex scenes to be a tricky thing, for actors. At least, when it came to traditional acting, it was a shared awkwardness, a simulacrum of pleasure played by multiple people who could find solace in the fact that they were all on the same vulnerable boat, camera crew included. Now, voice actors... Acting choices could either make or break a sex scene. It required a subtle mix of smoothness and confidence few could manage. The last thing he wanted was for his words to sound clumsy and awkward, when the goal was quite the opposite. It was Morpheus' authorial prerogative to check every aspect of the audiobook fit his vision, after all.
As the chapter began and Robert Gadling's voice filled his ears, Morpheus imagined him in his recording booth, alone. Some audiobooks had multiple actors playing different characters, but this one only had him credited. There were slight fluctuations of tones, accents and speech patterns, as he switched characters. Morpheus listened intently.
"Gabriel gave a fleeting look downward. Nathan's shirt was soaked, revealing hints of the skin underneath. He tried not to stare, but only managed to do so through conscious and continuous effort. 'You should change your shirt before you catch something,' he told Nathan, his tone as casual as he could manage. 'You could borrow one of mine.' "
The acting was good. There was tension in the words, in the tone. The characters sounded like different people, even though they were played by the same man. Morpheus continued. In the book, things heated up quickly after a long, tentative courtship. He braced himself for the following scene, replaying the words in his head from memory.
" 'It smells like you.' Gabriel stared at him, stunned, unable to look away as Nathan stood in front of him, his own t-shirt and boxers for only garments. 'What?' he managed, his throat dry. 'It smells like you,' Nathan repeated, lifting the fabric to his nose with a smile. 'I like it.' Gabriel's gaze trailed down Nathan's body, only now noticing the growing outline of his cock aga―"
Morpheus paused. He had written those words. He knew those words, from having read and reread them a few dozen times during the writing and editing process. Yet he had never heard them. Especially not in that voice. Even the narration was sensual, almost cheeky, dripping with lust like honey. Clumsy and awkward it was not. It was.... something else entirely. Shaking off the feeling, Morpheus hit the 'play' button again.
" ―inst the taut fabric of his boxers. 'I like it,' Nathan repeated, slowly reaching for his cock through the thin fabric, his fingertips brushing the shape of it, well aware of Gabriel's undivided attention."
The rest of the scene followed, word for word Morpheus' work, yet somehow completely new to his ears. He sat there, enraptured, his eyes staring into nothingness while the rich, luscious voice surrounded him, filled him until it became his only focus.
A lewd, enthusiastic hum rose from the headphones, making Morpheus jump. Every word he had been anticipating thus far, but artistic license? It fitted with the narrative well. Too well. Not Gadling's first brush with erotica, he immediately guessed. He played it again for good measure. The sound was deeply erotic, with just enough warmth and breath. Real. It sounded real. It was followed by a breathy sigh Morpheus could almost feel at the back of his neck. God.
He played it again. He could feel the sound, the anticipation, the desire, the pleasure. Gadling conveyed it with such ease it felt genuinely intimate. Arousing, even. Morpheus ran his hand against the front of his own trousers, feeling the very real erection pushing against the hard fabric. This was ridiculous. Yet he could not stop. The scene kept playing, Robert Gadling's voice purring in his ears, words like caresses and gentle tugs, and he could not help but cup his cock through his jeans, seeking friction. He imagined him in the recording booth, leaning over the microphone, his features fitting the suggestive sounds, his lips wet from running his tongue over them. If he could just get a little further in the scene―
His Zoom alarm went off. Instantly, Morpheus removed his hand and his headphones, his back stiff as a board, a cold wave of panic rushing through him. Fuck! He gave himself a quick look through the camera of his phone. He was blushing slightly, to his utmost annoyance. Nothing he could not blame on bad webcam settings, he thought. The rest could be concealed easily enough. Especially when he was only visible from the waist up.
It was with a slight flush and a distracting, frustratingly hard erection that Morpheus answered his Zoom call, his mind scattered between book royalties, publishing dates, and Robert Gadling's voice still deeply embedded in his skull.
--
It was hours before Morpheus found a minute of free time. Night had fallen, the evening spent in front of a screen or on the phone, discussing the imminent release of his upcoming novel, one whose cover would feature his actual name, this time. Book releases were always exhausting affairs, between planning podcast appearances, book signings, press tours, and the likes. Morpheus disliked the fanfare of it all, the exposure, but could hardly complain. There were worse flip sides of the coin, out there.
At least writing under a pen name saved him the hassle, with the other half of his published work.
Lying on his bed, fresh out of the shower, Morpheus sighed, staring at the ceiling. He felt both exhausted and wide awake, his coffee-fueled brain refusing to quiet down. There were a few things the editor needed his input on in person, tomorrow, something to do with the cover art. He'd promised himself to write, too. Perhaps clean the flat a little. Too many fires at once, his sister's voice echoed in his mind.
His phone buzzed again. Incoming email from Lucienne.
Listened to it yet? Thoughts?
Plenty. Enough to know it was good. Enough to keep the reader listening. Enough for him to want to go back for more.
Going through his emails, Morpheus found the link to the beta recordings, and downloaded it onto his phone. He reached for old earbuds in his bedside table drawer. Where were we?
" 'Come here.' "
The latent desire in that voice was enough to get Morpheus right back where he had been, a few hours ago. Lying on his bed, he kept listening, swallowing hard at any well-placed sigh, any improvised grunt and whimpering sound. Was it even improvised? Did he plan on adding those? Did Gadling discuss it with the adaptation team beforehand? Marked the exact spots where he would do it in the printed script?
" 'You're so beautiful like this, love. Look at you.' "
God.
" 'I have thought about you like this. Hard under me. For me.' "
Hesitantly, Morpheus reached under the waistband of his pyjamas, finding himself hard already. He blushed at his own embarrassment, alone in his bedroom, his hand wrapped around his cock, his own words spilling in his ears. Vain, perhaps. Awfully self-absorbed. But deep down, he knew it was not that. Not really.
" 'Do you want me, Gabriel?' Can you feel I much I want you?' "
He hated himself for including so much narration in this passage, keeping him from the lascivious heat of Gadling's voice, waiting for the dialogue to return like a starving man begs for food. How could he do that? A wanton moan reverberated in his ears, quickly echoed by one of his own, harmonies of pleasure filling his head and his room.
" 'Fuck, you feel so good!' "
Why did his editor even let him publish that? Morpheus' mind was bridging the gaps between dialogue bits, ignoring the narration in favour of more pleasurable mental stimulation. He pictured Robert Gadling in his recording booth, focused over the microphone, his lips pressed into a sinful hum, his eyes closed. Gadling next to him, his mouth pressed against his ear, spewing new words, ones he did not write, ones of his own.
" 'Let me see those eyes.' "
Morpheus whined against his pillow, both from pleasure and frustration. He hated this. This was... mortifying, and yet he could not stop. He arched his back, chasing his pleasure.
" 'Fuck! I've waited for this for so long.' "
Morpheus came in his pyjamas in a muffled grunt, the release helping nothing with the shame spreading through him. It brought him some clarity, at least. Disgruntled, he yanked the earbuds out of his ears, Robert Gadling's voice reduced to a hushed whisper, the siren's song finally muffled. He looked down at himself, suddenly aware of the mess he'd made. Great. Fantastic.
His phone buzzed again. It was Lucienne.
Do you want the edited files once they are done? They would love your feedback before they start trimming it down.
Morpheus sighed, struggling against the brightness of the screen.
Yes, tell them I would like them.
#the sandman#dreamling#dream x hob#dream/hob#sandman#sandman fics#sandman fanfiction#smut#my writing#the brain worms were too real and too demanding#so they made me do it#in my defense it was pretty fun to write#also i know nothing about the publishing or the audiobook industry#most of this is just adlib#Morpheus finally meeting Hob for the first time#being absolutely unable to handle Hob's voice without getting a hard on#now that's a thought
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Hi!i don't know if your ask is open,but if you feel like it,could we maybe get a Viktor with an s/o who preffers staying up and working as well unless he comes to bed with them?
Not Without You.
Gender Neutral! Reader X Viktor
A/N: You asked and I shall deliver :D
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Pairing: Viktor X Gender Neutral!Reader
Genre: One-Shot, fluf, established romantic relationship
Warnings: Short fic
Summary: After a long day of work, Viktor expects you to go to sleep due to the late hour, but you refuse to unless he comes up with you.
Word Count: 700
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Translations:
My dove = мой голубь
I love you = Я тебя люблю
I love you too = Я тоже тебя люблю
Love = любовь
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The two of you sat in almost complete silence, the only sound that echoed throughout the room was the scratching of pencils on paper. It was well into the night, you both knew that, the sounds of faint chatter and footsteps from outside of the lab were no longer heard.
You wondered when Viktor was going to leave, hoping that your boyfriend was actually going to go to his room this time. You didn’t mind the company, since you’d often stay up, but also worried for how how sleep Viktor was actually getting.
Viktor glanced at the clock, then turned to you, "It's late, you should be getting to your room."
You chuckled at him, "You should be heading up too, Viktor."
"Well, I have important work to be doing." He quickly said, "You know how much I have to do." He meant no malice in his statement, he had no intention to come off rude and you knew that, he was just stating a fact that you both knew.
"Then I'll stay with you and help, I'm your assistant, remember?" You smiled, pulling your chair closer to him and looking over his work, "We can split it, I have nothing to do. In all honesty, I finished my work about half an hour ago and was only proof reading it."
Viktor looked at you with concern, "любовь, you should get rest, it is important you take care of yourself."
“Not without you.” You simply said, smiling as you put your arms on the desk leaning on it as you looked at him, “Now either we can finish this now, or we head up to bed now and leave it for the morning.”
Viktor stared at you with narrowed eyes. He couldn't just abandon this important work because you wouldn't go to your room without him, right? It wasn't like he wanted to prioritise his work over his love for you, but sometimes he really did question if the work he and Jayce were doing was too important to ignore.
"You work to hard, love." You said gently, your voice as sweet as honey to his ears. "You can take a break, no body is asking you to work until you drop dead."
He had let out a small huff of air, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. This would have been seen as a moment of annoyance to some, but with Viktor's often exhausted appearance, you've learnt over the years that it was just him being so tired that his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open.
'A sign he should take a break' you've told him several times throughout the time you have, not only worked with him, but dated him.
Viktor took a few moments to reply, he looked over at you with a small expression of shock, he sighed quietly. "You won't go to your room unless I do too, will you?"
You grinned at him, your usual bright smile that Viktor loved to see. "No, no I will not."
He let out a small smile, but you knew that a part of him just wanted for you to go to bed so that you didn’t end up developing unhealthy sleeping habits similar to his.
He shook his head as he muttered quiet words under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but you knew they wouldn’t hold any malice since you could still see that smile pulling on his lips. He stood up, hauling himself up with his cane and looked up at you.
“Come on, then.” He said with a quiet sigh, his ever so small grin still remaining on his face.
You smiled over at him and stood from your chair, walking over to the door with him on your right. The soft sound of the bottom of his cane hitting the floor and both of your shoes clicking against the ground being the only thing you could hear for a few moments.
You then turned to him with a big smirk plastered on your lips, a smile that he would never be able to get enough of. "I knew I could make you cave in."
"Congratulations, мой голубь." Viktor said with a quiet laugh. "You've bested me, then."
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I Want You | ELIJAH HEWSON
PAIRING : elijah hewson x original f!character
GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers
SUMMARY: dahlia jenkinson, josh’s sister is asked to fill in as photographer at his bad’s concert. her plan is to ask him out by the end of the show as she’s been crushing on him for ever. what she doesn’t expect is that one of their songs was written about her—and she’s right there when he confesses it.
WORDS: 5.6k
WARNINGS: smoking, drinking, kissing
Friday. Underground. London.
I run through the station passing the endless people, posters and children's screams. My brother, Josh, had asked me yesterday to help out at his band's concert. He'd told me that their photographer had gotten COVID so he needed someone to fill in.
I dragged my roommate along with me as my moral support, seeing as she's heard me spill every secret in my mind about the band's lead singer, Elijah. I've been helping Josh with his band's endeavours for years and have also had to condone countless sleepovers. I've had the sound of drumsticks crashing together engrained in my head by this point. Robyn has always told me to 'stop being a pussy and ask Eli out on a date' but honestly, I'm terrified I'll ruin everything. This photography thing has really helped to get me new jobs and more exposure.
"So, you still crushing on Eli?" Robyn asks. She's been glancing over at my phone for the past few minutes. I've been texting the band group chat that I've been added to. They usually kick me out randomly. This is the longest period of time I've been in it without having an argument. I'm pretty proud.
"Shut up." I scoff. "If you dare say anything to any of of them, I will kill you."
"I wouldn't," she laughs. I give her a look. "I'll try not to..."
"You and your big mouth."
"I can't help it."
"I shouldn't tell you things."
"Who else would you tell?" She grabs at my phone, noticing a message from Elijah pop up.
It reads: "Missed you. You've always been the better Jenkinson." I try to contain my smile at the stupid message. It's just a couple words beneath a name on a screen and I'm getting all nervous. It's pathetic. God, this is getting bad.
"That's cute," Robyn says and is about to start writing a message back until I snatch my phone back. Who knows what kind of bullshit she'd start sending. She'd surely send some terrible pictures of me. That's happened on many ocassions. I've learnt my lesson to never trust her with my phone.
"Cringe." I type back, although the smile on my face is betraying the words on the screen. I stare at his profile picture for a few seconds. It's a selfie of me and the band. I look half asleep, probably drunk. Eli's hair is all over his face and Josh is squeezing Ryan's cheeks. Bobby is just angrily staring at the camera. He definitely didn't want to be in that photo. It's sweet that Eli has kept his profile picture that way for so long. We haven't seen each other in months. I send another message, "Well you're not my favourite Hewson."
He sends an angry emoji. "Who is then?"
"Bono, course."
He sends a few more angry emojis before spamming the group chat. There is already some kind of argument happening. Robert seems to be late and they're all asking where he is. I switch my phone off, sliding it into my pocket. Robyn's been unusually quiet.
"What have you done this time?" I ask with a subtle tilt of my head. She's chewing on some haribos she'd bought moments ago. She then smirks to herself, "Nothing."
I'm a little worried but decide to brush it off. We leave the train station and I'm struck by the freezing air. I sometimes forget how cold England is. Having moved from Ireland over a year ago, I feel like I should've acclimatised. But, why is it always so cold? I hold my jacket closer to myself to try to warm up.
We pass at least ten people with 'I love London' shirts. Sounds of street sellers are familiar along with the hustle and bustle of late London nights. I see the London Eye twisting in the distance. Big ben is tolling. The venue comes into view a few streets away. I'm dreading it slightly. I feel as if I'm not going to cope this time seeing that ever-so-familiar face. It's as if with each passing month, he gets better looking. It should be crime. I'll probably melt when I see him.
I instead focus on seeing Josh and my excitement for seeing the gig. They've all really improved over the years. They really know how to put on a good show. Adrenaline rushes through my veins. It'll be fine. Surely.
"You're nervous, aren't you?" Robyn takes notice of me fiddling with my earrings. It's become some nervous habit. I find a comfort in twiddling the crystals between my fingers.
"A bit," I say. Honest. "What if he finds out? We'll surely get piss-drunk. What if he only wants to be mates?"
"Lia, darling, you've got to stop overthinking it. After hearing all these stories you've told me, it sounds like he likes you a lot," she says, grinning. "I'll tell you if I see any looks passed or anything suspicious, okay?"
"You're the best." I give her a hug, forgetting for a moment about the crowded streets around us. Robyn hugs are always too good to be true. I sometimes forget how unbelievably short she is and how she tries to suffocate me with her arms.
Just as we're about to continue down the endless streets, I see someone running past us. I barely even realise he's passed me until Robyn points him out. I see long, curly hair and a massive case swung over his shoulder. Bobby. Then, he turns to face us. Blue eyes catch me off guard then a massive grin. He seems to question whether he should stop or get to the venue. He's very late.
"Is that the bassist?" Robyn wonders. "Robert?"
"That's me," he says, retracing his steps. His mullet has gone all messy in the autumn wind. He's trying to swipe away a few stray hairs from out of his face. "Hey Dally. Who's this?" He points towards my friend with a lazy smile.
"This is Robyn. My roommate. She's the one who accidentally stepped on a pigeon."
"Ah." He then turns into his bird lover mode. "How could you do that to a poor, helpless bird? How could you? Can't believe you're called Robyn. That's a disgrace. Wish I was called Robyn. Or sparrow. Or some kind of bird. God, do I love birds—"
"Okay, Robert. We get it," I interrupt with a finger in the air. He crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. Robyn is laughing at his angered demeanour. He always puts on this irritated-sarcastic face in moments like this. He looks like a child after stepping on lego.
"Aren't you late?" Robyn asks the blue-eyed boy. His phone has been pinging with notification throughout the few minutes they have been walking together. He seems to be a little stressed. I have to almost run to keep up with this speed of impossibly long legs.
We approach the venue. It's a huge, pretty rundown building which strikes out in stark contrast to the fancy buildings around it. The words 'Inhaler:tonight' are written on a chalkboard beside the entrance. The place really matches the band for some reason. There's a queue of fans outside. A lot of them are sat down on the pavement. They scream at the sight of the bassist, piling around him. Phones are being held up to take pictures of him.
"Sorry guys, I've got to get inside. Thank you for coming," Robert mumbles.
Robyn and I act as body guards, preventing anyone from getting too close. Banners have been dropped onto the ground, passersby glance over in confusion. There's colourful cowboy hats covered with jewels everywhere. That music video really drove the world crazy. It definitely drove me crazy. I probably make up at least half of the views.
The majority of the crowd continue to take photos. Some say 'Oh my God, that's Josh's sister!' I give them a smile whilst simultaneously pushing Robert forwards.
We finally get to the back door. The gathering give up after a while. They go back to the queue, attempting to slot in to their previous place.
"Well, doors haven't opened yet so you can't be that late," I remark. The front doors are still locked.
"I'm missing sound check though."
I hear music booming quietly through the walls. I open the door, pressing down on it with fingertips. It creaks open to a long corridor with white plastered walls. It smells of fresh paint. The light is barely even attached to the ceiling. It looks like some horror film scene. Creepy.
But then Josh comes around the corner. His guitar is slung over his chest and his face lights up to reveal a huge smile that I've always adored. He's taller than the last time I've seen him. He runs straight towards me, engulfing me with his arms. I'm uncomfortably pressed against his guitar but I couldn't care less. I'm so glad I came. I missed him so much.
Robert slides past us and Robyn awkwardly stands in the doorway. I introduce her to my brother. He gives her a hug as well. She seems to enjoy this whole situation a lot. She's getting all loud and giddy.
The rest of the band are still playing through songs. They're running through 'Dublin In Ecstasy'. Elijah's voice is echoing through the entire building, sliding it's way through my skull. There's a part of me that wants to turn back. I could just make my way back to my apartment, have a cup of coffee and stalk Twitter accounts of people who went to the show. I definitely haven't been doing that for the past few months. I'm not that insane. Or obsessed.
"Do you want to listen to sound check or hang out back stage?" Josh asks us. He's been talking to Robyn, getting to know her and she seems to like him, thankfully. It'd be downright awkward if she hated his guts.
"I'll follow you," Robyn says to Josh. She starts to traipse down the corridor. I watch her curls bounce from side to side as she jumps with every step. She suddenly realises that she's left me behind. "You coming?"
I groan, staring at the door. "Yeah. Fuck it."
I pick up my camera in preparation. I've been using the same one for years. It's got stickers all over it. Some of random bands, some from different countries and little letters spelling out my name. Elijah had bought me a few pages of letters of the alphabet as a birthday present when I turned 15. I still remember that day. We were all huddled inside my living room after being drenched by a sudden storm. There were about fifteen of us, including the band. The fireplace before us was the only source of light in the darkened room. I think I was dating Ryan at that point. That was a strange time. He was sweet. It only lasted a couple of weeks. Elijah had a girlfriend too. Younger me was very jealous. I think that's what made me realise I liked him.
Now, fast forward eight years and my heart is beating in my ears like I'm a teenager all over again.
I allow Robyn to go first. I trail behind. Josh has left us to our own devices and we try to figure out where exactly we're supposed to go. We decide to follow the sounds of music booming. Closer and closer. We go down a staircase, open a door then we're right at the stalls, just beneath the stage. The door crashes so loudly that all of the band stop playing. They all peer down at us.
The band name 'Inhaler' is upon the wall and coloured lights paint the stage. This room is a lot nicer than the exterior. There's a standing area then seats up along the top. The walls are painted a deep shade of crimson with gold lines intricately painted everywhere. It's too good to be true. It feels so weird being at one of their gigs again. It feels even weirder to see all of them in the same place at the same time.
I trace my gaze along the stage. I take a quick glance at Josh who is tuning his guitar, then Ryan who's staring at us with wide eyes. I shift my eyes a little further to see Elijah. He's dropped his mic at the sight of us. I take notice of the length of his hair. It's falling over his eyes, a mess of curls shrouding his face. He's wearing a white vest top and a bulky blazer which is holding onto his shoulders for dear life. I can't see him very well from here. What I can see is the complexity of his gaze. The way he's looking at me is making me nervous. I take a deep breath.
"Dahlia?!" Ryan calls out. He drops his drumsticks similarly to Elijah.
"Surprise?" I say. I thought Josh had told them I was coming. "Wait, did Josh not tell you?"
Elijah picks up the microphone from the ground, not taking his eyes away from mine. "Josh, you gobshite. I thought she was coming next week," he says into the mic, words jumping through my ears. I hate how warm his voice is through those speakers. It's sickening.
"Well, I'm not complaining." Ryan jumps down from the stage, giving me and Robyn a hug. It's a group hug where we're all squashed together. He's grinning from ear to ear.
"You're still short," I say. I can still look down on him, especially with my chunky boots. He rolls his eyes. "This is Robyn." I introduce my roommate to both Ryan and Elijah.
"Nice to meet you," Elijah murmurs as he jumps off the stage. He's left the mic on the stand. He's pushing his hair from his face.
Robyn gives me a look, raising an eyebrow in the direction of Elijah. She's got a malevolent smile. What's she going to do? Maybe I shouldn't have brought her.
"I've heard all about you." Robyn gives Elijah a little wink. I kick the back of her leg .
His lip raises the slightest bit. I find myself staring at his mouth for far too long. There's stubble lining his chin and a splatter of freckles on his cheeks. "Have you, now?" His low voice drifts through the air. He's maintaining eye contact with me. I'm trying to evade his gaze.
"She's exaggerating." I assure him, trying to stop myself from giving Robyn another thwack.
"Eli! We have like 5 minutes until door opens and Dublin In Ecstasy is a mess. Get up here. You can swoon later." Robert is already playing the introduction to the song. Ryan and Josh join in.
"Swoon?" Eli shakes his head with a grin.
"We're just that amazing," Robyn whispers to me.
I hold up my camera, taking a picture of the three lads on stage. Then I point it at Elijah. I take a few of his confused face before he leaves us to sing along to the music.
"He's whipped." Robyn watches as he climbs back onto the stage. "Likes you so much he can barely even function-" She points out how he can't even plug his guitar in. He's been trying to shove the lead in for a while but his eyes are wandering elsewhere. "You've got to say something to him. He's leaving tomorrow, isn't he? Maybe tonight.."
I breathe in. "Alright. I'll try."
Robyn and I hum along to the tune. Elijah's rough vocals make my mind go cloudy. He sounds so much crisper in person. I think back to the cuts and bruises vinyl on my shelf. Robyn had bought it the day it came out. Josh sent me every version possible. Robyn went on about supposedly being 'the first person in the world who bought it'. She said she saw the record in HMV and instantly thought of me. We had stayed up late that night to listen through each track. Eating popcorn, drinking alcohol, talking about random shit. That was when I told her everything about Elijah. From the schoolgirl crush, to the trying to forget him then to the full-blown infatuation. She enjoyed listening to every detail I had to offer.
Elijah continues singing. I'm holding my breath, my palms are sweaty, I feel my heart pulsing at my throat. Robyn is swaying to each beat of the drums. Elijah won't stop looking at me.
Then the song ends and we all tun backstage, in an attempt to evade the incoming fans. I hear shouts echoing in the distance. We've gathered in a little room backstage. Josh is showing me some fancy chocolates he bought in Rome. I'm taking pictures of the band members. Robyn keeps photobombing. I rest my head upon the armrest of the sofa, closing my eyes. It feels nice. Calm. Until, someone settles beside me. They grab my legs so that they can properly sit down. The hands are cold and fingertips are calloused. That someone is Elijah. "Excited for the show?"
He's got his pre-show drink in one hand and his phone in the other. I close my eyes once again.
I shift around in the soft cushion attempting to get into a more comfortable position. He scoffs and pulls my legs up by the ankles to rest them over his thighs. "I know you're tired," he says. He takes a sip of his drink. "But if you dare fall asleep during the show, I will throw my guitar at you." I move my legs around his thighs then actually raise my head to look at him. I take a picture as he makes a stupid face. I don't know how he can do that whilst still looking pretty.
"Is this comfortable?" I ask. He's been very still. "I can move if you want."
"It's nice... fine," he mumbles as he scrolls through messages on his phone. "Reminds of that music lesson. Must've been our first year of secondary school. You fainted after some practice test we did. We were sat in this exact position for at least an hour. I think my legs stopped working."
I try to bring my head back to the memory. He was so different back then. Shorter hair, insanely asthmatic. He only knew me as Josh's twin sister. Somehow that was enough for him to stay there with me and keep me safe. After that, he had some complex where had to look after me with his life. It was charming.
"I had to kick you about nine time because you feel asleep, " I recall. My mind is wandering through moments I can barely even remember. "You were so strange."
"I could've left you there in the practice asleep. You should be thanking me for saving you from embarassment-"
"Why, thank you. Oh how you've changed my entire life. I owe you all that I have."
He shakes his head, squeezing the skin at the bottom of my ankle. He then rests his hand there. As if it's normal. He's still reading through messages, biting the top of the plastic cup.
"When do you lot go on then?" I ask everyone.
Robyn has started drawing eyeliner onto the other boys. She just pulled it out of her pocket randomly and asked if they wanted her to do it. They've filed into a queue. She's done some graphic liner on Bobby with little stars that makes his bright eyes pop out all the more.
"Ten minutes." Ryan is putting some hair gel through his hair. He puts some music on using a bluetooth speaker they placed in the corner. Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley comes on. I'm trying to stop myself from falling asleep but it's getting harder with each passing second.
"I'm so excited," Robyn says as she does Josh's eyeliner. She's made his more smudgy and messy. It suits him a lot. "Elijah, should I do yours? Or Dahlia can do it?" She passes the tube towards me. There's some malicious intent behind her eyes. I narrow my eyes down to the black contraption, taking it uneasily between my fingers.
He lays down his phone and drink. He's trying to push all the hair out of his face to give me some access to his eyes. I kneel down on the sofa beside him. I grab a hair bobble from my wrist then tie the top half of his hair up. He groans as I pull some strands way too hard then relaxes into my touch. He smells like cigarette smoke and cologne.
"How should I do it?" I wonder out loud. I've opened the tube and I'm trying to figure out the best way to go about this. He looks like his teenage self with his hair like this. His eyes are maintaining a hard eye contact as I near him. There's a warmth rising to my face.
Robyn pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of Rodrick Hefley. I snort. "Try it like that," she says.
Elijah closes his eyes as I begin to draw little lines then smudge. I've grabbed his chin to keep him in place. I can feel the sharp stubble poking at my fingers. He opens his eyes every now and then. They're half-lidded, watching. I poke his eye by accident. I scold him for opening his eyes. He decided to instead keep them closed.
I admire my work once I've done. It's not my best liner but it's alright. The other boys gather around to get a look at him. His hazel eyes come into view and he smiles widely at the sight of us all. "Does it look good?"
"Looks class," Ryan says as he grabs a mirror. The other boys nod along.
Elijah looks at himself. He seems to not know if he likes it or not. He smiles at me and says, "Thanks, love."
I just smile back, pulling out the bobble from his hair. An unruly splatter of curls cascade across his forehead. There's something about him wearing eyeliner that's stopping me from thinking straight. It's different. I'm still sat half on top of him, one knee resting on his thigh and the other on the sofa. He helps me off of him then stands up.
He ruffles his hair as he says, "Let's get going lads."
The four boys grab everything they need for the show. Water bottles, instruments, drumsticks, their sanity. They all give each other a group hug. It must be some pre-show ritual because they all down their drinks at the exact same time. If that wasn't planned, it was uncanny.
"Good luck." I wave them off and they travel down the corridor in a straight line. As each of them walk out, I take a picture. Elijah is the last to leave. He stops in the doorway, still holding his plastic cup. He raises his lip to reveal his white teeth as I take the picture. He really enjoys making the strangest faces.
"If you don't get our best angles, I'll have to think about firing you." Elijah warns me just before he turns around. He then disappears down to another asylum-like corridor before I can get a chance to insult him. I let out a breath.
"That went well, right?" Robyn's trying to figure out what's going through my head. I can't even comprehend anything that just happened. The feel of his hand still lingers at my ankle. "That whole time you were talking to Josh about those chocolates, he was staring you down. It was pretty creepy, to be honest." She laughs. "Don't even get me started on the eyeliner. All of us felt like total third wheels."
"Sorry," I say. I play around with the bobble at my wrist. It had been wrapped around those glorious curls only moments ago. "God, I'm so in love it hurts."
"That's how I felt when I started liking Emmy. Literally all I could think about was her." Robyn is in a daze, eyes glued to the wall. "You need to do something before it's too late."
"After the set, I will tell him." I finally accept my fate. I could possibly not see him until next year. Or the year after. Who knows how busy I could get?
"Good," Robyn says. "I'm tired of hearing Elijah this Elijah that. Girl, I get it."
"You had an Emmy this Emmy that phase. Don't even start."
She frustratedly sighs. "Come on. I think they're going on."
I hear the crashing of drums reverberating through every wall, every floorboard. Slowly, we approach the main room. The bodyguard lets us through to the wings of the stage. I can see all the crowd from this angle. There are phones, cowboy hats and banners littered through the crowd. Some of the audience are people we had seen when Bobby was surrounded. They're screaming at the sight of the band.
The first song they play is These Are The Days. I keep my camera handy through every song. Elijah takes notice of us standing there. He steals a glance at us when he has a chance to breath. He's singing a lot stronger than I'd ever seen online.
Then they play through a few more songs on the new album. I sing along, I dance, I try not to get blinded by the flashing lights. Then all of a sudden they've finished playing Love Will Get You There and he turns to look right at me.
"This next song..." His words are pretty slurred. He's drunk. "This is an old one. I wrote this when I was about 17. There was this girl at my school who I just liked so much— I couldn't even focus in class. I played it to her once we'd got it perfect and she had not a single clue that it was about her. She still doesn't. It's been six years and I've never told her." He pauses and looks at me. "This is for you."
I'm overwhelmed by emotion. I raise an eyebrow at him. He just starts strumming along with his guitar. That's when I realise he's playing I Want You. They'd played that song to me in Elijah's garage. I asked him who it was about. He lied and said it was about his ex-girlfriend. I never thought twice about it. I never listened to it because it made me sick to my stomach that it was about her. A girl who I had been so jealous of.
"You got your lipstick on..." He starts singing. He's literally pointing at me. The crowd looks confused. They can't see me.
"Oh, Jesus," Robyn exclaims. "Oh, wow. I can't believe this. He's fucking confessing! Dally, I'm so happy for you right now. What the hell!"
Robyn is just as shocked as I am. We're both slack-jawed, wide-eyed yet caught in a silence as the song goes on. The crowd sings along with each and every line. The other members of the band have caught on with what is happening. They all seem to be pretty proud. Especially Josh. He's smiling so big it's making me smile too.
The truth is, I don't want the song to end. Or the show. I just want this moment to drag on forever. It all feels too good to be true.
The song finishes, the lights switch off, the crowd screams. I'm left in the darkness. Robyn is holding onto my side for dear life. The only thing illuminating the world around us is a tiny light bulb above us. My eyes start to get used to the darkness. I see a figure approaching.
"Can you come with me?" It's Elijah. His cheeks are tinged a shade of bright red. There's sweat lining his throat and his chest. He's taken off the blazer and has slung it over his shoulder. The eyeliner has bled down a little.
"Yeah..." I'm exasperated. My throat is raw from singing so much. My brain can barely process what is happening around me. My hands want to reach out and hold him close to me.
He grabs my hand, pulling me down through a corridor. We're both running towards the back door. I'm trying to match his pace but his longer legs give him an unfair advantage.
We finally reach the exit. He opens the door for me, allows me to pass through then shuts it. I'm met by London streets. Brick walls, crooked alleyways, a rubbish bin. It's not particularly romantic. But, with him standing there in front of me, it becomes the most romantic place on Earth.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that," he admits. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you when you left. I was going to tell you at the airport when you were about to leave Dublin. So that you could think it through without us seeing each other every day. Then I got fucking terrified."
"I was going to tell you then too." I press my back against the wall. He's pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He offers me one. I let it rest between my lips. "I had plucked up some courage after I went to the toilet but then I sat beside you and forgot the whole script I'd planned out in my head. That was a pretty awkward five minutes. Felt like a century."
"We're idiots, aren't we?" He says as he lights his cigarette. "Josh has always known. I don't know how he never told you. He's great at keeping secrets. Six years of keeping his mouth shut. I don't know how he has that much self control."
"Six years?" I blow out a puff of smoke into the air. My eyes wander across the star covered sky. The moon is looming and watching us.
"I know." He's blushing again. He's trying to keep his distance from me, leaving a slight gap between us. "I'm pathetic."
"I liked you for longer."
"What?"
"Eight years. Since the day you started dating the blonde girl." I feel stupid saying it out loud. He's laughing at me.
"That's class."
We stand there in silence just looking at each other. I can hear ambulance sirens and birds calling. The brick walls is hard against my back. My shoes are covered in water from standing in a puddle. I can imagine that there's a camera above us. This could be a scene straight out of a film.
"Are you going to kiss me then?" Some sudden burst of confidence brings those words from my lips.
He's taken aback. His eyes fall down to my mouth. He then takes a step closer. I can feel his breath at my cheeks.
"Do you want me to?" His voice goes all low and his accent gets thicker. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. Metal presses against my cheekbone. His thumb lazily draws a line across my bottom lip. His words hang in the air. "Dahlia, my love. Do you—"
I press my lips to his. I can't hold back anymore. I can taste the smoke on his tongue. His mouth is minty and his lips are soft. I've imagined this moment countless times. In a bookstore, in a train station, in the garage. But, this is perfect. Perfect.
My fingers sink into his hair. He groans into my mouth as I pull a few strands at the back. His thumb is sliding across my cheekbones. He's dropped the cigarette to instead use his other hand to clutch my waist. My hands are at his chest. His heart is beating incredibly fast. He holds me tight against him until I feel his chest rise and fall. Up and down. Breathing in and out.
We hear voices behind us. He pulls away quickly. We both turn to see a group of fans. They're teenagers and they're all dressed in bright outfits. They didn't see anything but they seem rather suspicious, whispering.
"Eli! Oh my God!! Can you take my BeReal please?" One of them shouts over.
Elijah runs his fingers over his lips. His ears are a pink shade. He slides his hand away from my waist.
"Yeah, sure!" He approaches the three girls with a small smile. He's trying to act normal. "I love your hats." He points at the 3 cowboy hats which spell out the word 'Inhaler' when they're all stood side-by-side.
"Thank you so much!" The darker haired girl passes him her phone. "Your eyeliner looks so good. You should do it like that more often."
"I had a grand makeup artist." He winks. I roll my eyes.
"Could Dahlia be in it?" The girl with glasses notices how I've awkwardly shifted to the side.
"Course she can," Elijah says.
I stand in the frame next to Elijah as he holds up the phone. His lips are red after being stained by my lipstick. I drop my head onto his shoulder and close my eyes. He nestles his face into my hair as he takes the picture. We're both giggling like lunatics.
I'm so glad it happened like this.
#inhaler#elijahhewson#imagines#inhalerimagines#fanfiction#romance#bobbyskeetz#robert keating#elijah hewson#josh jenkinson#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#inhaler dublin#inhaler band#eli hewson#ryan mcmahon
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Thinking about your posts where you said people at Gigi’s school don’t particularly like Matty. Could we get a blurb of maybe RG and Matty or just Matty showing up at the school to pick up Gigi and a parent or school staff member confronts him? Maybe he gets to defend himself or even Gigi does?
matty is at the school gates with his hands in his pockets. it's chilly, and matty is tired. he is always tired. work is long and there's always people wanting things, wanting him, his words, his time, his thoughts. all he wants right now, is to watch his little girl's face light up when she sees him at the school gates, is to hold her hand as they walk home to you, is to hear about her art project or her circle time or her sums she's finding hard.
there is a group of women next to him, one in yoga pants, one in a pant suit with a skirt, one with those huge nike trainers on women are wearing these days. matty, despite his bank account, gets on more with the ones who rock up in trackies, like he is wearing now, dads who spend their evenings at the pub, mum's who work two jobs trying to get by. today he is too tired to talk to anyone. anyone except gigi, anyway, and you (you've already got the kettle on ready for his return.)
the woman are looking at him, he can feel it. he's got his eyes trained on the doors, where no children have emerged yet, still five minutes to go. one of the woman laughs. they turn to him then turn back to the group. they're all turned inwards, towards each other. one of them is kayleigh's mum. kayleigh who tells gigi she can't play with her. kayleigh who told gigi her halloween costume was stupid. kayleigh who got paint all over the table and told everyone it was gigi. gigi takes it better than him. she shrugs and says kayleigh is mean, and that she doesnt want to be friends with her, and that the teacher always knows that gigi is a good girl and wouldnt do what kayleigh blames her for. gigi says that kayleigh doesnt understand her halloween costume cos she still likes baby stuff. and matty, since he can't drop kick a six year old, has learnt to just do a half smile at kayleigh's mum, breathe and let it go.
except today he is in a bad mood and they are talking about him. he can hear it. he has heard the word "band" and "tour" and he has heard someone say "missing school" which he assumes is about gigi, because she spends some time on the road with him. he has no doubts that if he didnt bring her out to tour, then these women would complain too, about leaving her behind. there is no winning. he is a bad father. because of his career. because of everything they know about his past. everyone knows about his past.
he's trying to breathe and let it go. he's trying to pretend like he can't hear. he should move. the kids will be here soon. gigi will be here. except then he hears the words, "never here," and something inside him snaps.
"i'm here now, aren't i?" he barks at them. he tries so hard. and he misses his daughter with his whole heart when he is not with her, and do they not think, if he could, he would spend more time with her? they all look round in faux surprise, as if they are completely innocent.
"oh don't do that," matty says, "i have ears."
they all look at each other and shrug, frowning, except kayleigh's mum, who stares him out.
"we're just discussing parenting styles. that's all. and yours is... different," she says, still staring at him.
"i'd rather be on tour a few times a year, than have my daughter raised to think that it's okay to talk shit about people in the playground," he shrugs.
"can you not swear please?" one of the other mums says, "we're in a school."
"the kids aren't out yet?" matty says, gesturing at the playground, where only adults stand, "or are you deluded about that too, the same way you're deluded about the fact you were definitely talking shit about me a few seconds ago."
the door opens and kids pour out, running at parents, gigi in the doorway but not quite here yet.
"they're here now," kayleigh's mum says.
"your powers of observation astound me," he says, just as gigi cries out "daddy!" and runs at his legs.
"hi baby," he says to her, putting a big hand on her head where he neat little plaits you tied for her this morning have come loose and are wild and fraying. she looks between you and the other mums, sensing something is wrong, when kayleigh appears, thrusting something glittery into her mum's arms saying "look what i made mummy."
"oh wow that's beautiful darling," her mum says, crouching down to her to zip up her coat that is open. kayleigh starts fussing. whining.
"you ready babygirl?" matty asks, and gigi nods, putting her hand in his, as kayleigh dissolves into a full on tantrum, screaming with a red face on the floor, as the whole playground turns to her.
"kayleigh's crying," gigi says, plainly, as if it isn't obvious to everyone in the playground, or in a one mile radius.
"hmm," matty says.
"she's just getting her coat done up," gigi says, staring too, stopped.
"come on, love," he says, nudging her arm, "don't stare. it's not nice to be rude, is it?"
"no," gigi agrees.
matty starts to walk away, gigi trotting along beside him, not staring, but he does throw back one look at kayleigh's mum, who catches his eye. he waves, doing his little half smile, turning away and smirking.
#ruins#ruins behind the scenes#matty healy#matty healy x reader#matty healy x you#matty healy x y/n#the 1975 fanfic#matty healy fanfiction#dad!matty
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icarus rising
(benji dunn/ethan hunt)
tw: suicidal ideation, talks of depression. if you struggle with any of those, please talk to a loved one or a health professional. you’re not alone.
Benji’s quiet, these days. Ethan would know, because he doesn’t dare stop at this desk all that often anymore. His friend’s focused on work, drowns in it, in his own little world.
It worries him. In a way. He wishes he would smile more. He would smile again. He misses the Benji from so many years ago, the freshly appointed field tech, the one who would flash him grins, teeth bared, his singular canine standing out, sharper than the left one.
Instead, this Benji is wistful. It’s what Ethan tells himself, to stop himself from using another word. Worn out. Depressed. Suicidal.
He recognises the pattern. Sees how empty his friend’s eyes are. How his hands seem rougher, how he’s heard about how he was often at the fighting ring. It was unusual, was it not ? For someone as soft as Benji to be amongst the sweaty crowds, throwing punches left and right. Hook, uppercut, swing—a nose is broken. It makes him sick, because he realises that maybe, just maybe, Benji had never been that sweet. Maybe it had been a facade to fool others. Maybe he’d always been so cold. Detached.
Benji’s not eating lunch anymore. They don’t see him leave his office at the break, but they never see him bring any food from home either. He’s lost weight, too. His face is sunken, and he looks visibly thinner. The muscles on his arms and back are more noticeable, and so are the scars on his wrists.
He’d stopped covering them with gauze the day Ethan confronted him about Kashmir. When he’d learnt about the hanging. It had been a slap in the face, and he wishes Benji would’ve just punched him. It would’ve been better than the furious look he’d gotten instead.
Or something.
He’s not in therapy, too. He knows this, because Benji told Jane about it. Said he didn’t have the time. Even with the IMF psychiatrists ? she’d asked. He’d just scoffed, apparently.
Ethan counted the scars on his wrists, actually. He had when he and Benji had gone on a mission together and his friend had fallen asleep in a teeshirt. He’d counted all of them, and now his stomach turns everytime he spots a new one. Fresher. Deeper.
He misses how warm Benji had once been. The field took the light out of him, and he hates himself for it. Hates himself for calling him in Shanghai. For Vienna. For having put him through all the hardships, over the years. Benji did not deserve any of the pain he’d gone through. The bomb. The rope. The torture.
He feels sick. Sick with guilt.
Benji should be laughing with other technicians, maybe have a partner to go home to, have dinner, watch TV. Share a pint.
Not this. Not the countless hours in front of a screen. Not the hideouts in shitty safehouses. Not the quick patching up after missions. The agony of on-the-spot stitches. The silence. The hurt.
The guilt.
The guilt.
The guilt.
Ethan moves at once, knocking on his friend’s office door. Despite their rooms being a few metres apart, he’d felt them drifting away from one another ever since Kashmir. Breaks his heart. His throat is tight, and he waits.
Seconds pass before the door unlocks.
Benji’s standing behind it, the first buttons of his shirt undone, his hair slicked back, except for a few strands. His eyes don’t exactly meet Ethan’s. They’re painted purple, a testament of the sleepless nights.
They stare at each other for a while. He wonders why he’s so afraid to speak. It was just Benji.
His best, most cherished, dearest friend.
It felt so foreign, now.
“Hey,” Benji finally, finally says. His tone is dry, like he doesn’t exactly have time for this. “Do you need anything ?”
Ethan’s voice’s missing. He just gapes.
“I don’t have all day…”
“We need to speak,” he ends up choking out, voice strained. “You and I.”
Benji recoils, but doesn’t add anything. He steps aside, letting him inside the room. He closes the door.
“What is it ?” he calmly asks, “is this about a mission ?”
“It’s about you.”
A pause.
“I don’t follow.”
“It feels like you’re…drifting away,” Ethan mutters, anxiously playing with his fingers. “From the team. From me.”
No answer.
“I miss you.”
“You see me everyday.”
“I miss your sarcastic remarks,” he bravely continues, “I miss how you’d protest against my stupid plans, and how you’d always have something kind of rude to say to me. I miss your smile, I miss…I miss the blue and gold of your eyes. Your laughter. I miss it. You. I miss…you.”
“I don’t understand, Ethan,” Benji softly replies, “I’m still me. I just…grew out my hair, I guess.”
“I miss us,” Ethan whispers, “it’s not been the same, those past months. You hide yourself in your office, you work until well after we all leave, you don’t come for bar nights, you don’t—you barely eat, I just—I’m worried about you.”
His friend’s face crumbles, and he averts his eyes.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not. You’re not ! And I’m afraid—I’m afraid you’re going to do something desperate and Benji, I can’t—I can’t stand being so scared for you. Everyday I come in and worry you won’t be here anymore. Please,” Ethan begs, “it’s just me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Benji…”
“You’re right,” Benji admits, “I’m trying to bury myself under work. It keeps me busy. I don’t sleep…a lot, and yeah, I forget to eat but I just—“ he swallows, blinking rapidly, “I…I’m just tired. I’m tired, Ethan.”
There’s a silence, where the words try and form themselves into sentences into his friend’s head. Trying to make sense of it all.
“Tired of the IMF ?” he asks gently, almost shy. “Of…of us…?”
“What ? No—yes—I—“ Benji shakes his head, going to sit on his chair again, face in his hands, “I don’t know. It feels like I’m drowning and I can’t…I can’t seem to stay afloat. It’s scaring me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me…?”
“Because you have other things to deal with, Ethan. My issues aren’t that important in the grand scheme of it all.”
“You’re more important than any nuclear weapon in any dictatorship,” Ethan then says, like it was the most obvious thing on the entire planet. “I’ll skip missions if it means I can stay with you.”
Benji scoffs, halfway between disbelieving and frankly haughty.
“Don’t stay things like that,” he breathlessly laughs, “I’m not a child who needs a nanny.”
“You’re a man who needs a friend,” the other one retorts. “Do you eat proper meals at home ?”
“Go ahead and say I look like shit.”
“You don’t look like you’re okay, Benji.”
“What do you know about that ?” Benji snaps, and the look of devastation on his friend’s face immediately makes him want to take it back. “I—no, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s because I know,” Ethan says, still, quietly walking up to him, “that I’m worried. That I recognise the signs.”
“I’m not mentally ill,” he blurts out, eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears, “I don’t need help.”
“But you do,” the other man whispers, cupping his face ever so carefully, worried he might just break from his touch. “And it’s okay. I want to help. We all do.”
“I’m not okay,” Benji finally breaks, letting the sob escape from his lips, face glued to Ethan’s shoulder, hands shaking so hard he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not fucking okay, it’s so scary, E. I’m scared.”
“I’ve got you,” Ethan whispers, holding him so tight he could just crush him, nose buried in the silky blonde hair, “I’m here. I’m going to stay.”
“Don’t let go of me,” he cries, grasping the other’s back desperately, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.”
“I won’t let that happen, Benj, I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never leave you. I’m with you, okay ? Rely on me.”
“I’m so scared—“
“I’ve got you. You’ll be okay. I promise.”
“I need you,” Benji sobs, undignified and loud, “I need you so much. I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared, and alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Ethan reassures him, “I’m here. So are Luther, Will, Jane and Ilsa. We’re all here for you. Yeah ? I promise it’ll be okay.”
“I want to die,” he admits, and that breaks Ethan’s heart. “But I was too scared to do it. So I’d just cut, or stop eating, and sleeping. It’d be a way to punish myself. Like I deserved it.”
“You don’t deserve any of it,” the other man chokes out, “you never did. You deserve—you deserve to be loved. You deserve warmth.”
Benji slightly pulls away, the retina of his eyes turning a light shade of pink, holding Ethan’s face in his own.
His eyes search for his, hesitant. Like he doesn’t quite dare.
Ethan is the one to close the gap between them, soft lips gently landing on rougher, chapped ones.
It doesn’t matter. They’re here, now. It’s all that matters.
He pulls away merely a few seconds later, daring to send Benji the smallest of smiles. The other man mimics him.
“You have a pretty smile,” Ethan whispers. “I missed it.”
“I missed you. I’m sorry for hiding, and…the dishonesty. For worrying you.”
“No more hiding, yeah ?”
Benji nods, resting his forehead on the other man’s.
“Promise.”
He knows he will not heal from a kiss. But he realises, upon waking up the next day, Ethan’s arm slung around his waist and his nose against his neck, that he feels like he can breathe again. That he wants to breathe again.
Maybe, he thinks, things would turn out okay.
Maybe, he will be okay.
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The Princess & the Football Player | Chapter 1
Summary: "They say they want to make the monarchy more modern, to be closer to the people, but then your parents would prefer it if you married a guy whose Godfather is the freaking Prince of Monaco, instead of a guy from Kingston."
Or the love story between Princess Eleanor, heir to the British throne, and Declan Rice, English football player.
Author’s note: This story has been sitting on my drafts for maybe two months because I never was completely happy with it, and tbh, I still feel the same. Though sometimes those are the ones people like the most 😂 I got inspired to write it during the World Cup when people here in Spain went crazy about the idea of Princess Leonor and Gavi dating and him becoming the future King because she, apparently, is her fan and has a crush on him 😅 That's why on this story, the British Royal family has the name of the Spanish one 😁
Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜
Next chapter
Masterlist
"Ok, ask me one more."
"Dad..."
"Just one more, please."
"Fine" I say, rolling my eyes. "Who is that one?" I ask, pointing at the papers he has on his hands.
"That's easy. Aaron Ramsdale, goalkeeper, plays for Arsenal."
"See? You know them all. Relax."
"I just want to do this right. You are the one into sports, not me."
"You'll be fine, you already know them all from the Euros."
"Yeah" he says, letting out a big sigh. "What about you? Are you nervous?"
"Why would I be?"
"You may be meeting one of your crushers."
"I don't have a crush on anyone on the national team."
"Oh, c'mon Eleanor. You watch all their games, you must fancy at least one of them."
"I don't" I shrug.
"Not even Mason Mount? I've heard girls think he is fit."
"That he is what?" I laugh.
"Fit. That's what Sophie says about boys who are handsome and attractive."
"Yes, Sophie. But not you."
"Why? Because I'm old?"
"No, because you are the King of England."
"Whatever" he says. "You don't like anyone, then?"
"No one. So you better not try anything or do what you did when we met One Direction years ago."
"What did I do?"
"Tell Niall Horan that I had a crush on him? That I had photos of him in my room?"
"Oh, yes" he chuckles. "But don't worry, I won't do it again. I learnt my lesson."
"You better. Just imagine that someone hears something and runs to the press with it. I can already see the headlines: Princess Eleanor in love with a football player. And they'll probably pick the worst option."
"Like Grealish."
"You said it, I didn't" I laugh.
"We've arrived, sir" our driver says.
"Good, good. Are you ready?"
"Ready" I say, taking a deep breath before we step out of the car.
As part of all the media events the national football team is doing before they travel to Canada for the World Cup, we are meeting with them to say our farewells and also give them a little something to remember the occasion. And when I say we, I mean my dad, King Philip of England, and I, Princess Eleanor, heir to the throne.
"Welcome to St. George's Park, your Royal Highness" Gareth Southgate says when we walk in. "The boys are waiting over here."
"Wonderful" my dad says. "How are they feeling?"
"Ready. They can't wait to get on that plane."
After a few words from my dad and the gaffer, it's time to give the players that little something we had for them: a shirt with their number and the name of all the players who have previously worn it.
"We'll do one each, ok?" my dad tells me.
"Ok."
We start calling each player, congratulating them and posing for a photo, everything going smoothly... until it doesn't. Until I froze in place when I find myself looking at the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.
"Your Royal Highness" he says with a smile as breathtaking as his eyes.
"Hi" I reply, my voice sounding all squeaky.
"I was looking forward to meeting you."
"Me? Really?"
"Yes, ma'am. My mum is a big fan of yours, she says you are the best royal."
"Oh, she's too kind" I giggle. I giggled. Why did I do that? What am I, 12?
"Should we pose for the photo?"
"Uh?" I ask, still looking at him. How is he real? How is it possible that I had never noticed that Declan Rice was this handsome?
"The photo, Eleanor" my dad says behind me.
"Oh, yes, sorry. The photo" I repeat, trying to compose myself a bit.
"Big smiles... Perfect" the photographer says.
"Thank you" Declan smiles, taking the box where the shirt is, our fingers touching slightly but making me feel electricity through my whole body. And call me crazy, but judging by the way he looked at me when it happened, he felt the same.
Once we are done giving all the shirts, Southgate gives my dad and I a tour of St. George's Park, but I can't stop thinking about Declan. About his eyes, his smile, about the way that small touch made me feel. I still don't know how I managed to keep going, to be honest.
When we walk outside, some players are practicing free kicks on the training pitch, Declan among them.
"Eleanor, why don't you show these boys how it is done?" my dad says.
"What?"
"We all saw you training with the lionesses, ma'am. That right foot of yours can do things" Mount chuckles.
"But I'm not wearing the right shoes."
"C'mon, ma'am" Southgate insists.
"Ok, then. But if I end up breaking a window, or worse, my ankle... it is your fault" I say, making them all laugh.
"Ready, Rambo?" Rashford asks before shooting.
"Give me your best!" Ramsdale shouts.
"That was so good" my dad says when Rashford scores. "Your turn now, darling."
"Ma'am" Declan says, giving me a ball.
"Thank you" I reply, trying to avoid looking at him, my cheeks already getting hot. "Don't go soft on me, Ramsdale."
"I won't, ma'am" he says with that big smile of his.
"See?" I sigh after shooting and sending the ball far far away. "Wrong shoes."
"Try again" Declan says, putting another ball in front of me. "I know you can do it."
"Will you pay for the window I'm going to break?"
"And I'll carry you to the infirmary myself if you break your ankle" he smirks, making me feel funny things on my stomach, and my father clear his throat behind us.
"Ok" I whisper, trying to forget the thought of his arms around me and taking a deep breath, focusing only on the ball.
"I knew it!" Declan says next to me when the ball goes in, Ramsdale not being able to stop it.
"You believed in me more than I did."
"I've seen you play before, I know what you can do."
"You have?"
"Yep. When you were like... 15? You played a charity game in my area and my mum took the whole family to watch you. I remember that you scored and amazing free kick."
"Oh, wow. I don't know if I remember that day" I chuckle. "I'll have to check the photos back home. I may even see you."
"I didn't look this good, tho. You may not recognize me" Declan says with a cheeky smile.
"But you still had the same eyes, didn't you? Those are hard to miss."
"Thank you, ma'am" he replies, his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. Did I just make him blush? Me? Oh, wow. "I also remember that I didn't expect a princess to play football like that."
"What did you expect, then?" I ask, raising a brow.
"I don't know" he shrugs. "Maybe that you enjoyed other type of sports, like cricket or that thing with the horses."
"Equestrianism."
"That one, yes."
"Posh sports."
"Yeah..." he chuckles, scratching the back of his head and making the muscles on his arm pop. Why did he have to do that when I was finally acting normal around him, maybe even flirting? Now I'm stuck again just looking at him.
"We must go, Eleanor."
"What?"
"It's time for us to go, the boys have to train" my dad says.
"Oh, yes, of course."
"It was really nice meeting you, ma'am" Declan says.
"You too."
"See you in Canada?"
"See you in Canada" I repeat
"Great" he says with a big smile that makes whatever I'm feeling on my stomach be more intense. "Until then."
"Bye" I say, definitely smiling like an idiot.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"That was nice, wasn't it?" my dad says once we are back in the car.
"Really nice, yes."
"Fell in love with any of them?"
"What?" I say, feeling my cheeks getting hotter and hotter by the second.
"I was only joking, relax."
"Oh" I reply with a nervous laugh.
"You are a clever girl. You know that you can't fall in love with a football player."
"Why not? You married mum and she was a journalist."
"One with a degree and a PhD, a serious career. These boys have nothing beyond money and being good looking. At least some of them" he chuckles.
"These days more and more players are studying while playing, tho" I point out.
"Still, it isn't enough. You are meant to be the next Queen of England. You must marry accordingly."
"Dad, this isn't the 15th century."
"I know, I know. But there are certain things that must still be kept in mind. So when you travel to Canada to support the team, do not fall for any of them, ok?" he laughs.
"Ok" I say, rolling my eyes and looking out the window, thinking that it may be a bit late for that.
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